Monologue

Disclaimer: J.K (I'm ever so rich) Rowling.

I'd thought I'd call this what it is. One of those random monologues spurned by something someone said to me. The first sentence was originally going to be applied to a nice angsty little Remus muse I wanted to do, but, then...it grew into something completely different. (At least I managed to stay in the same fandom though!)

The night when Harry Potter became the legend that he is.

~/*\~/*\~/*\~

Running...why is it I'm always bloody running?

Running away from...them...all of them. Have to get away from that...before...before...

Oh God!

Please, stop...no...anything but that.

Please don't. I'm begging you. Please. Take me. You can have me. But leave them alone. I'll stop running, if you leave them.

Do we have a deal?

Agreed? Splendid.

[Crash]

No... You...

[Avada Kedavra]

*

Shh, it'll be all right my love. Just hush now, go back to sleep, daddy will be here soon.

Oh...

Why? Why do you want him? What harm can he possibly be to you?

Nonsense, he's only a boy! I won't let you have him! No! You shall have to go through me first, you fool!

Back, back I say. I'm warning you!

[Baby cries]

No! You can't have him, you won't kill him!

[Chuckle]

Stop it. Damn you! What did you do to...?

He didn't...no...

You're lying! He wouldn't. He's my – our – best friend...

Liar!

[Crash]

No, Harry, please, not Harry!

[Avada Kedavra]

*

A child cries. The Dark Lord bends over the small figure swathed in bedclothes, whom he has knocked to the floor along with the cradle. He smiles, and levels his wand at the defenceless child.

Downstairs, a man lies still, cold. Eyes wide open, glassy, lifeless. His hand is outstretched towards a thin rod of wood, his lips curved in a grimace of determination.

On the landing, lies a beautiful creature – hair soft as silk, radiant as a sunset. A single tear perches on a cheek that is still flushed, still seems to be alive.

*

There were three deaths in the Potter house that night. Innocent blood, and that blood which was not so innocent, mingled together in the eternal damning coldness of death. Three deaths, and only one survivor...

This tale became a legend amongst the magical folk. It became their light, their all, their salvation from the horror that had been before. The survivor regaled as a hero, when they were in fact defended only through blind luck and a love stronger than death itself. None think to what the survivor will face.

For now, they are happy that they too, have survived...

How long will it last?

I don't care to estimate...

I hope...

It is a long time...

~/*\~/*\~/*\~

Tada. [Waves her 'morbid and proud of it baby' banner.] Why I always write these things about death, I'll never be able to fathom...ah well.

Soda