This is the prologue to my sequel; Casting Shadows. I hope you like it.

I will never forget

Luke:

It had been a total of 365 days since that fateful day that marked the beginning of the end of my life. It had been a year since Hermione had taken her life in exchange for mine. I'm thankful that everyone else had forgiven me for my mistakes because that was the one thing I would never forgive myself for.

Everyone was always telling me to move on, to get over her, but you cannot get over the first person you have ever loved. You never lose the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach that is akin to heartbreak. The pain may fade with time, but it will never truly go away. It will always be there, at the back of your mind, worming its way into your heart until you go mad.

I had taken the wrong road in life, the wrong way to go about things, and they had stuck me in the Wizard's prison, Azkaban. Harry Potter, for some unknown reason, had spoken up in my defence and they had only given me a year there instead of being sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss.

I think I would have preferred the Kiss, at least then I wouldn't have been able to think on my past mistakes. Especially the one that had resulted in Hermione's death.

They were letting me out on the very day of the anniversary of her death, and they were holding a memorial in memory. A memorial I was required to go to. I would have gone anyway; not even the stone walls of Azkaban could have kept me away.

A noise outside my cell door alerted me to an unfamiliar presence. I raised my sunken and defeated eyes to the sympathy-filled ones of the Boy Who Lived, and I felt inexplicable anger. He should hate me, not pity me. It was my fault she was dead. Hermione! My one, true love. As corny as that sounded, it was true. I would love her until my dying day.

Potter entered, his eyes roving my weak figure for a moment before he spoke.

"I don't blame you."

I let out a sardonic laugh, "You should."

"Maybe," he conceded, "But I don't. No, listen," he snapped as I opened my mouth. "I was angry at first; very angry, we all were. The anger faded with time and in its place was a gnawing sense of loss. You went to Azkaban without a fight, which cannot be said about anyone else, and when we found you, you looked so defeated. I knew in that instant that you truly had loved her. I will never forget her, but I know you wont either. That's the reason I stood up for you. It's what she would have wanted."

My head, which had previously been facing the floor, shot up at his words, the meaning echoing in my mind.

"You know the last thing she said to me?" I asked, already knowing the answer. It was confirmed with his sharp shake of the head.

"She told me she loved me. It made me break through Chronos' rule and let her get close enough to do what she had to. If you had been there, would you have stopped her?"

"Yes."

The word was blunt, harsh, and I knew that, in order to save Hermione's life, he would have sacrificed mine.

"I know."

"It's been a year," he said suddenly, changing the subject, "I'm here to escort you to a safe-house and in two hours time we will set off for Hogwarts. There are many people who will hate you for what you did, so you should stay close to me."

I nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull me to my feet. My clothes were tattered and torn from wearing them for a year and I hadn't even been allowed to shower. I expect that I looked a right sight but Harry didn't even wince, his eyes fixed firmly on mine.

XxX

The house they took me to was large and hidden from view by some ancient magic put on by Albus Dumbledore himself. Harry called it Grimmauld Place and said that it had once belonged to Sirius Black but now belonged to him.

"The Weasley's, Lupin and Jase are here," he warned me before we went in, "And let's just say that they are not as forgiving as me. Ron and Ginny feel the same as me, but it's Fred and George you should watch out for, and I'm pretty sure that Jase hates your guts."

I nodded once to show that I had heard him, and allowed myself to be pulled in. We met no-one as we made our way to the bedroom right at the top of the house.

It was bare, unnaturally so, and contained only a single bed with white sheets and a tiny chest of drawers in the corner. There was a door to one side leading into a bathroom that contained only a toilet, a sink, a mirror and a shower.

"There are some clothes in the chest of drawers; meet me in an hour."

With those parting words he quickly took his leave. I took a shower, relishing in the warm water covering my skin, and dressed myself in simple jeans and a white t-shirt that, to my displeasure, emphasised the bones that could be seen in my chest. I took a look in the mirror and noticed the sunken cheeks and chapped lips. Even though I was now clean, it would be a long time before I would look okay again. I kind of hoped it never happened because that would be the day I would have to move on.

And I didn't want to move on.

XxX

I could hear voices coming from the dining room as I approached, one of them I recognised as Harry's.

"Why did you have to bring him here?" a red-haired, stocky boy, who must have been one of the twins, demanded.

"Now, now Fred, the boy has been through enough as it is," a short, plump, also red-headed woman – who must have been Mrs Weasley – said quietly. "He was obviously distraught over Hermione's death."

"Don't say it," Ron hissed, "Just don't say it."

"It feels like it was only yesterday," Ginny murmured, staring at the table-top. "It feels like it was only yesterday that she…"

"Don't say it!"

"Why?" the youngest Weasley shot back. "It's true, Ron, and nothing you can do will change that. Hermione is gone…and she's never coming back."

She started to sob and no-one, not even Jase, could stop her. In a sudden urge of daring, I moved over to her, ignoring the sharp inhales on breath from the room's other inhabitants.

"Ginny," my voice was quiet, soothing, and she turned tear-stained eyes to look at me. "Hermione may be dead but she will never be gone. She was always be in our hearts," I gently placed my hand over her heart, my eyes searching hers.

"Why do you care?" Jase snarled from her right, "It's your fault she's dead."

"I know," I replied solemnly, my eyes on the ground, "But I care because I loved her with all my heart. I will always love her."

"We have to go," said a tall man standing in the doorway. That must have been Remus Lupin. Silently, everyone followed him into the hallway where we then apparated to Hogwarts.

It looked much the same as it had before, though the world seemed a much sadder place. People were flowing through the school gates to come to her memorial, and every face was sombre.

As soon as the sound of our apparition registered in their minds, heads snapped to our direction and even a few wands were pointed. Without another word, Harry dragged me into the Great Hall.

A picture had been erected on a dais in the middle, Hermione smiling and waving from within. In front of it lay a still figure. She looked like she was sleeping and would wake up any moment with a confused grin on her face. Today she would be placed in a glass case that would then be placed in a secure room in the castle for people to view when they wished. Pictures of her and her friends would be placed on the walls, and they had even asked if one of me could be put there. I had consented.

I took a couple of broken steps forward until I was standing over her, and then I knelt down and took one, frozen hand. I placed the lightest of kisses on her forehead and murmured through the pain clogging my mind, "I will never forget."

By the way, Hermione will be in the story, she will just enter late.