(Prologue)
I just wanna keep calling your name.
He doesn't intend for her to read the letters. They're the half-mad ramblings of a lonely mind, one whose natural inclinations lead to her destruction. He has bullied and backstabbed and betrayed and he knows he has done his only friend wrong. He was wrong for her the moment she stepped into his life, took his hand, and asked him to be her friend.
He has changed since the Dark Days. They are hardly over and yet he can already feel the blackness fading from his soul. Not to say that he is okay. Being okay almost feels wrong, now. He knows they are right to distrust him, and he keeps his distance. If he comes across the others, he pretends not to notice their thinly veiled stares. He knows he is a monster.
The letters aren't with him; he's left them at home, out of sight and out of mind. He tries not to think about them, hidden away in the top drawer of his dresser (left-hand side, underneath things he inherited from Uncle Sev, including the old man's wand). But his thoughts stray to the envelopes more often than he should allow. The halls seem odd and empty without her in them, and he knows that if he let her read the letters she'd return. She is nothing if not a believer in loyalty and redemption.
(But of course, he doesn't deserve either.)
Till you come back home.
She can't bring herself to go back. She knows her friends miss her (or do they?) because they've said so, over and over, but that doesn't mean she's ready.
They lived, of course. The war is over and restoration has begun, and she is among those hailed as heroes. But the cost of such a title was steep, and the faces of those who are gone dance through her mind with almost constant persistence. The faces of the living come too, but she bats them away. They are the heroes; she has done nothing to deserve their praise (let alone their friendship).
The past years have taken their toll, and the once vibrant child is no longer. She knows she needs to go home to regain her former self.
(The letters that begin to arrive at the house with alarming regularity are what ultimately drive her away.)
It's just a cruel existence like there's no point hoping at all.
He promised himself he'd stop.
(That's the final thought that crosses his mind before he does it anyways.)
He is not, nor has he possibly ever been, okay. He hates that word with vehement passion. Is it possible to be okay if you have believed a lie for your entire life? Is it possible to be okay if your home was the residence of pure evil? Is it possible to be okay if that evil was injected into your life and your heart and your very soul has turned to dust because of it?
He does not wish to be called good or, Merlin help him, okay. He does not want pity or even kindness (his mother smothers him with both as if she personally could atone for his sins).
But the tiniest sliver of himself hopes that her return could bring back the friendship he once destroyed.
Author's Note:
This has been sitting in my hard drive for a while. This story will be slightly AU, which will be mostly revealed in the first chapter. No spoilers in author's notes, though ;) This is not a song fic, but I felt that Taylor Swift and Zayn's "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" fit the prologue and tone of the story well. Lyrics in this chapter come from that song.
I subscribe to the same denial as many of you (Epilogue? What Epilogue?), so yes - this story will be Dramione. More importantly, this is the only time I will tag for trigger warnings: this story will include descriptions of self-harm, depression, and recovery. If that's not for you, then I won't be offended if you choose not to read further chapters. I tried to keep it non-explicit in description, but once we get to that part in the story, if anyone feels the rating needs to be increased let me know.
Have a great weekend!