Hey all, this is a quick little one shot inspired by the song, Almost Lover.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Almost Lover.

Please READ and REVIEW!

When I first received the owl I distinctly remember my heart nearly pounding out of my chest. Instantly forgetting about my kettle on the burner, I apperate to St. Mungo's. Everyone here is rushing, or maybe it's just me. Maybe it's because I'm running so fast I can't feel my legs anymore…

I find you lying on a hospital bed. All color had been drawn from your face, and the scars up and down your body shined with- Even after all this time, I still try not to think about it. I run to your side and grab a hold of your hand. I kiss it, one, two, three times. I watched a small smile appear on your lips. You intertwined our fingers, gently stroking my hand.

Your image gets blurred with my tears, but I hide them from you. I always hide them from you. "What happened," I hear myself asking.

"Betrayed," he whispered, "They knew."

I can hear it in your voice…past the pain and the hoarseness; I can hear the surrender. I kiss your hand once more, giving it a strong squeeze. I clear my throat, giving myself time to hide my sadness. "I'll get a healer-"

"-No," you rub my hand even more gently, as if you're trying to say it all just through touch. "No." I watch you shift to the right of your hospital bed. Your eyes, your beautiful emerald eyes, shine with pain. You let go of my hand and pat the bed, once, twice. I feel myself smile, despite everything; you're still the same Harry. Cautiously I climb onto the hospital bed, taking extra care not to touch you. I leave a space between us as I lay distantly beside you. I watch you turn your head. I'll never forget the sadness in your eyes as you tapped your shoulder, once, twice.

I stare at one particularly bad cut, "I'll hurt you."

Once again I watch you tap your shoulder, once, twice. I smile to myself, we both always were surprisingly stubborn, but for you Harry, I'll give in. As gently as I can I curl up next to you. I rest my head on your shoulder, ignoring the squishing sound of bl- I still cannot say it. I feel your right arm wrap around me and I smile. Despite the almost overwhelming scent of blood and sweat, I can still smell your shampoo. I rest my left arm on your chest, gently grabbing your hand.

I can feel you smile into my hair. I never told you this, but I love it when you do that.

"Tell me about-"

Just those three words leave you breathless, but I wait patiently.

"-Ireland."

I stand in the middle of the deserted beach, letting the overwhelming smell of crisp sea air fill every ounce of my body. I close my eyes and wiggle my bare feet in the white sand. A cool November wind blew angrily, creating an even messier pile of frizz on top of my head. Even with the help of magic, it would take twenty minutes to become tangle free.

"I was right."

I keep my eyes closed and smile slightly, "Hmm." You were right. We deserved a break. Even with my eyes closed I know you're staring at me….waiting for me to give in. I cross my arms stubbornly, trying to blockade myself from the almost winter wind.

I feel you behind me, rubbing your hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me up, "Admit it Mione…I was right."

I feel myself blush. I didn't know why then, but your nickname always had this melting effect on me…but I'm sure you knew that. I never was really able to hide things from you.

I shrugged, my stupid stubbornness enjoying every minute of you fishing for a compliment. You wrap your arms around my waist and rest your chin on my shoulder. I can feel the vibrations in your voice as you say, "I think you'll regret not admitting it."

Now I open my eyes. I know that tone a little too well. I knew you were up to something…

…the answer stared back at me. My eyes grew wide and I shook my head, "Harry," I warn you…but it's too late. With no effort at all I'm in your arms, and you're sprinting towards my punishment.

I wrap my arms around your neck, and even though I would pretend to be angry later, I'm laughing. I bury my face in your shoulder, "You were right!" I yell over and over again.

In the middle of November, with all of our winter clothes on, you ran into the freezing Atlantic Ocean. I cling even more desperately to you as I begin to feel the ocean with my toes. You laugh…oh how I love your laugh. Your contagious laugh. You stop, you're waist deep. I let out a relaxed breath, naively believing I was safe. I look up and find you looking down at me.

For a moment there's a spark.

And then you dunk both of us into the harsh Atlantic water.

I woke up the next morning to humming. I come out of my room, into the living room that our two rooms shared. I lean against the doorframe and watch you cook breakfast for us. I smile to myself, vacation suits you Harry. After the war you went straight into Auror training, and four years later you've been too busy to take a day's rest…not that I'm any better.

I listen more carefully to the humming, and eventually I'm humming along to the familiar tune.

I watch you jump, and I instantly feel guilty. I honestly didn't mean to startle you. I don't know if you know this Harry, but your happiness is just as contagious as your laugh.

"I'm sorry," I say. I walk into the kitchen, where you have once again created a meal that could feed an army. I stare enviously as you flip the pancake without a spatula. You notice my glare and laugh. You grab my hands and place them on the handle of the skillet. You stand behind me and delicately place your hands on top of mine. The simple touch makes my stomach flip. Patiently, you teach me how to turn the pancake. You really are a wonderful teacher Harry, I wish you had accepted McGonagall's offer.

You put me on pancake flipping duty for the rest of our vacation.

After days of hearing you hum I finally ask you, "What are you humming?"

You stop humming, the silence of our hotel suite still buzzes in my ears, "I don't know," you answer. I can tell you're desperately trying to place the song. Realization hits you and though you're face doesn't give you away, your eyes do. You shrug it off and continue cleaning up from breakfast.

I dry everything you hand me, "Your Mum use to sing it to you," I look over at you, your mother's green eyes staring back at me. "Didn't she?" I ask gently.

For a moment you just stare. For a moment I'm afraid I said something I shouldn't have-

"I think so." You smile one-sidedly at me for perhaps a second too long. Once again, I feel this, now undeniable, spark.

And then you continue washing the dishes.

The final night of our vacation we walked around the streets of Dublin. You gave me your arm, and I instantly accepted. I don't know if you knew it, but by now I realized I love you.

Maybe you also knew that I was scared.

Is that why you danced with me? Was it because you knew that there was something on my mind…or was it something else?

In the middle of the sidewalk you spun me around. Everyone was staring, but you didn't care. And Harry, I didn't care either. Dancing with you always eases my mind. It use to make me forget…but since that dance, it only made me make up my mind.

Scared or not, I want you to know.

Other carefree couples join us, and dance on the sidewalk without music. Local shop owners watch us from their store windows. Some smile and quietly reminisce about their own loves, while others complain about this scene blocking the entrance to their stores.

As the hours pass, we continue to dance. The other couples have left now. It's just you, a single streetlight, and me. My head is on your shoulder, and we gently sway.

"Harry," I hear myself say.

"Yes Mione?"

I lift my head up and stare into your eyes. The nerves return and I'm finding it hard to breathe. Strangest thing is…I like the feeling.

"I love you."

You're surprised. Not even you can hide the shocked look on your face. But then you do something that to this day, brings me happiness on my worst day.

You smile.

You smile contently as I finish that story. As the hours in that hospital room passed, I know it's a struggle for you to breathe. I know you're hanging on just to hear our story.

"I loved you first," you tell me stubbornly. Your chest slowly rises and falls, "Admit it."

I laugh, no longer trying to hide my tears. "Never," I answer playfully. "Admit it," I counter, "I love you more."

Your consistent smile wavers, and tears spill down your face, "Never," you answer firmly. You shift onto your side, a position that must be causing you so much pain Harry. Your hands are cold and shaky, but you cup my cheek, and lean in, giving me one last kiss.

You pull away and just look at me, "I will," your breathing is hard now. Loud. "Always," you say forcefully, "be with you." The shaking in your hands grows to your whole body.

As delicately as I can I force you to lie down. I rest my head on your shaking chest, hoping that if I hold you tightly, maybe the shaking will stop.

And unfortunately, it does.

I notice it instantly. You're still.

You're gone.

I kiss the only scar on your forehead, just like I use to whenever you had nightmares. I look up and catch one last glimpse of your green eyes, before I close them with my shaky hand.

The next three days went by in a blur. All I remember was being so distraught I made myself sick. And Ron. I remember Ron.

Ron stayed by my side the entire time. He held my hair back when I was sick, and he forced me to eat, despite the fact that I no longer wanted to do anything, much less care for myself.

Your funeral was simple, and you have Molly to thank for that. It forced people to focus on you. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, not the man who conquered death twice…just you.

For hours people stood in front of your casket and talked about all of the good you did.

Ron and I listened to every word as everyone waited for our turn to talk about you…but we can't. He lost his best friend…so did I. But the truth is Harry, I'm angry with you. As much as I love you, I hate you. I hate that in every inch of my blasted flat, I see you. I hate that when I close my eyes, I see your face smiling, almost mockingly, at me.

I stood alone and watched them lower you into the ground. Harry, I hate that you've left me. I hate that you can't comfort me. I hate that what should have been a lifetime full of love ended just when it was really beginning. And I'm so stubbornly angry, I blame you for everything. It's your fault that I fell in love with you.

I walk away from your grave without saying good-bye. I convince myself I'm too mad to make the words come out of my mouth…but really, saying it just reminds me that no matter how many stars I wish on, you'll still be gone.

That first month was the worst month of my life. I would gladly go back and relive the war…at least then you would still be here. I've tried many different tactics to continue on with my life…small things. I tried jogging, before remembering that I never was fond of the pointless activity. I tried writing a story, but it always ended up being our story. A story that is still too painful to put into words. I even tried becoming a better cook…but memories of our last vacation kept coming back to me.

My mind always finds its way back to Ireland. Of all of the memories I have of you Harry, they are the strongest. Yes, they are the most recent…but I promise you it's because that is what you wanted to hear about before you…

I told Ron what I was thinking, and he suggested I change my flat around. I'm embarrassed to admit how I reacted. Ron and I have had our rows before…but this was hands-down our worst.

The thought of changing around the one thing that was full of memories of you made me sick.

Harry, your memory makes me sick. I wish there was a potion or a spell that could take away this pain…

…and yet I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Can you see what you've done to me Harry?

Eventually, I apologized to Ron. I let him know that I need to move on, but I can't. He holds my hand and promised he'll always be here for me….

…and my anger for you returns. Isn't that just what you promised me? Wasn't that the last thing you said? Why was it so easy for you to leave me Harry?

Suddenly, I feel wind against my cheek, and I smell the ocean. For a moment, I close my eyes and wiggle my toes, imagining the feeling of the sand beneath my toes. And then I let the moment pass. A take a deep breath, and slowly let it out. My brain reminds me that the breeze just caught the scent of my tears…but I swear the scents are different. I know it was you. I know it was your way of comforting me.

And I promise you Harry, it helped.

It's been four years Harry.

I stand on the beach in Ireland and let the cold November air embrace me, not even attempting to warm myself up. I've come here every year. I listen to the sounds of the deserted beach and smile. They're still the same. The waves still crash against the cliffs nearby and the gulls still cry out. But there's one other sound Harry…

…The sound of a child laughing.

You were right Harry, you would always be with me.

I look over to my son, and I smile brightly. He isn't even four, and already I see so much of you Harry. Despite it's color, he has your hair. No matter what I try, I cannot control it…

…and that's just how I prefer it.

His green eyes shine brightly at me and he laughs. He knows that I've caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He instantly drops the hermit crab in his hands and runs toward the water. He gets to the very edge of the water, and runs back towards me as it chases him.

I could watch him doing this for hours…and I do.

Every night when I tuck him in, I tell him one of our many stories. Yes, I tweak them due to his age, but when he's older, he'll hear them exactly as they happened. So far, his favorite is our last vacation. Particularly the part when you dunked me in the water. He's just as mischievous as you are Harry.

He helps me everyday, and he isn't even aware of it. He helps me remain strong, and his unconditional love has helped fill quite a large hole.

There isn't a moment where I don't miss you, and I have a feeling this will never change.

I look around the beach and I can feel your presence everywhere. Ron once asked me why I go here every November twenty-third, instead of your grave. I smiled at him and shrugged, claiming not to know…but that was a lie. Your body is at your grave…but you…you're always here.

The sound of splashing pulls my focus in front of me. I run the short distance to my son's side. The poor boy finally lost his game with the ocean. I bend down beside him and motherly concern kicks in. I make sure he isn't hurt. I look into his eyes, your eyes, "Are you all right love?"

Sirius remains quiet for a moment before he smiles. He's soaked head to toe, but he continues to splash in the cold water, drenching me in the process. Suddenly he stops and beams at me, "Mummy, it's just like your story!" He rests his small hand on my arm, "Just like you and Daddy!" He studies me for a moment, "I'm right?" he asks.

I remember when you insisted you were right. I smile and laugh, "You're right Sirius."

He smiles slyly, "I know," he whispers with a quiet confidence. I open my arms to him and he rests his head on my shoulder, wrapping his tiny arms around my neck. I silently whisper a drying spell, drying the young three year old. I place a gentle kiss in his brown hair, gently humming the song your Mum use to hum to you. A soft smile plays at his lips and he shuts his tired eyes, falling asleep in my arms.

I stand at the beach for just a moment more. Tears fall silently down my face, but you wipe them away with the wind, drying them instantly. I look down at Sirius in my arms and smile. I shift him so he's resting against my hip. I bring one hand to my lips and blow a kiss to you, hoping that the wind will carry it back to you.

After all this time I'm finally able to say to you what I should have said years before, "Good-bye."

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