Disclaimer: I've been trying for years to trade JKR my most worldly possessions (35 cents, a button, and an old scruffy stuffed pig) but she still wont give me the rights to Harry Potter!
A/N: Just a quick little one shot I wrote. And there are a TON more where this came from so don't get annoyed by the massive amounts of one shots I'll be updating once a week! Enjoy!
His Memory
It's windy out.
The final battle against Lord Voldemort had come and gone, and so too, had many lives. She still remembers the day, though after so many years its edges have begun to fade away and there are parts that may have been important at one point, but now no longer stand out among the crowd of screams and tears which still represent the battle in her mind.
And it hurts. It always hurts to remember the faces of those they lost, thought now those faces have started to blend together, forming just one painful memory. Their names still form on her tongue, sometimes, but die before they have the chance to slip free and be caught up in the whirl of pain which they would drain from those still alive.
But perhaps she likes it best this way. Perhaps when it is just 'those who went down in battle' it hurts less. Because if she were to stop and separate them, search for their faces, one by one, she would have to remember that Percy had stood to fight with his father in the end, and that one moment which brought him back to his family was the exact moment which tore him away again.
If she stopped to remember them separately she would have to remember the cold chills which ran through her -lifting every hair on her arms at the- at the sound of Lupin's body as it hit the torn up ground.
She would have to relive the moment when the twins; always laughing, always smiling, sacrificed themselves to keep their baby sister safe, just like their mother had always asked them to.
She would have to stop to remember the look of horror on Charlie's face as a beam of angry green light hit his father in the chest.
And she would have to recall the high pitch laughter of a Death Eater just after Professor McGonagall fell back against a wall, her eyes slipping shut ...
She would have to remember the sickly white colour Ginny's face turned as she stood by, watching the man she loved destroy himself to free the entire world.
But perhaps the most painful of all would be the moment she had to remember that he had been taken from her; that he had left her.
She would have to remember that she loved him, that she would never know if he felt the same. She would have to allow the tears she'd kept inside for some many years, to finally fall. To finally fall.
She would have to remember how the room seemed to turn silent. How her scream was the only sound, how her's was the only movement. How even before she realized what had happened she was at his side, holding on to him, screaming, shaking, hurting. Always hurting.
Though she wont allow herself to remember, to cry. But his memory is all she has left. To hold, to love, to keep alive. But she can't. Because keeping him alive is killing her.
She's letting him go and failing miserably at it. But his memory is just a whisper in the wind, reminding her of better times. Of better times. And his memory is all she has.