Deep Within


They all have scars, Harry knows. It's not just him and his lightening shaped one. They all have them. They may try to hide them (and they may fail), but they all have them. Everyone.


Some of them make them laugh with memories; the ones they got running around the house as kids; the ones they got when they clumsily got on their broom for the first time; the ones they got on their first day of Spells. Or Potions. Or Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Some of them mock them; the ones they got when they failed; when they failed their families; their friends; themselves.

"You're not good enough.", they seem to say, "You will never be good enough. You will always fail.", the scars mock and they just want to crawl into a corner and cry.

When they remember those scars - those are the bad days. They all have bad days, he knows.


On the good days, though, they remember the scars that praise them; the ones they got saving them; saving their families; their friends; themselves.

"You made it.", they say, "You're alive; they're alive."

They're good. The good days.


Some of them show who they are. Make them remember who they were. Who they are. Who they will be.

Mudblood.

"Mudblood."
"Don't say that."
"Why not? Mudblood; and proud of it."

One day, months after the war and when the words stayed the same, Ron grabs a knife from the kitchen table. Harry and Ginny give him a confused look, and Hermione straightens in her chair.

"What are you doing, Ronald?"

"I love you, Hermione. Always."

Hours later, when his hand stopped bleeding, they see what he carved into his flesh and tears fill their eyes.

Blood traitor.


Some can't be seen. They're hidden by inches and inches of flesh and are buried under dozens of organs and veins and blood and everything else that keeps them inside and they can't show them. They can't show the scars done deep on their souls, the ones on their heart. The ones who were carved by death itself.

Hermione's screams. One.

"Hermione!", Ron's yells. Two.

"Fred! No!", the sound of Percy's broken screams and George's heart falling apart. Three.

"Harry!", Ginny's broken voice. Four.

Remus' and Tonks' dead bodies. Five.

Colin Creevey's hand lifelessly hanging. Six.

Dumbledore's question, "After all this time?" "Always.", Snape's hoarse answer. Seven.

They might be hidden, but they're not completely unseen. Because, when Ginevra Weasley Potter looks into her best friend's - Luna's - eyes, she sees the days at the Malfoy Manner buried deep inside. Because, when Astoria Greengrass Malfoy looks into her husband's eyes, she sees the grief and regret. Because, when Angelina Johnson Weasley looks into George's eyes - or Percy's, or any of the Weasley's - she sees a part missing, and she remembers the pieces of broken mirrors she still sometimes has to collect.


There are so many scars. So many still opened wounds. So many regrets and wrong steps.

But it makes them who they are.

Until the very end.

Always.


A/N: 'Blood traitor.' was inspired by the story 'Scars' by TheRavingFangirl; credits to her. I cried reading that fanfic so you should, too. Read it, I mean. And cry, if you have a soul.
Someone once wrote; "
For months after Fred's death, George could not look at the mirror.", so credits to them.
Cherish your scars.