It's been hard, this past year. There are so many eyes that have lost their brightness. So many faces have grown gaunt and sallow. So many memories wracked with trauma, guilt or loss.
The seats around me have been filled with people that I don't know and don't care to get to know. Some of them I knew, of course, from my previous years of schooling, but most have moved on. In many senses of the word I graduated last year. I graduated from the immaturity that comes with being a teenager. I graduated from the carefreeness of school-girl days and transformed into a world-traveler. I am so weary and so aged now that even the happiest things bring me to tears.
Sometimes I can't believe I actually came back. Part of me wants nothing more than to curl up and cry until so much water has poured out of me that I die of dehydration (I know that's not possible). I want to scream because I hope that he can hear me. I want to stay still in a moment that has already passed.
I want to die so I can be with him.
He's gone.
He's gone.
I know it, and there's nothing I can do to change it.
He's gone.
And he's never coming back.
For some god-only-knows reason, Draco Malfoy turned to the good side. In the past I'd grown to hate him. Now my feelings towards him are confused. I can't bring myself to hate him properly, but I can't bring myself to like him either. I put up with him. It's the best I can do.
Still, he's one of the only people here who can understand, and he can't even understand to the extent that I'd like. One of his best friends died in that battle too. It's just a little different for him. You couldn't call Crabbe a friend of his. He was practically the servant to Draco's self-indulgent master. But I suppose it counts.
Neville gets it, probably more than anyone could imagine. He's back here too. Nobody would have expected that Neville would become the hero he had been forced to be. Nobody would have expected that Neville, who had once needed a Remembrall to remember he'd forgotten what he'd forgotten, would be so bold and so brave. He's an unlikely person to have around, but he gets it. He understands loss and pain in a way that no other person I've ever known does.
And there's Ginny as well. Lost so much, she has. She fights through it, but I can see the pain in her eyes when we talk. It mirrors my own, I would imagine. She lost two brothers in that battle and even though Harry survived she still suffered the worst kind of pain. Harry's consolation probably makes a huge difference in the mending of her soul.
That's how it's been this year. Neville, Ginny, Draco Malfoy (of all people) and myself. Hanging out in silence. Silently remembering. Silently consoling. Crying in turns and hugging in turns and never forgetting.
Harry's joined the Aurors, or he'd be here too. I guess because he's the Chosen One (and he did sort of defeat Voldemort) he gets to bypass his examinations and get whatever bloody job he wants. He bears the weight of it too, I know. It's unbearable, being together. The sorrow fills up the room and presses down on us until we can't breathe.
There's an emptiness that can't be filled. There's a presence that I'm longing for. I want to scream because I hope that he can hear me. I want to stay still in a moment that has already passed.
I want to die so I can be with him.
He's gone.
He's gone.
I know it, and there's nothing I can do to change it.
He's gone.
And he's never coming back.
I miss him. I miss his idiotic comments and I miss correcting them. I miss the way he used to sneer at me while simultaneously begging my approval. I miss the way he would (obliviously) make me feel wanted and make me want him.
I even miss the pain he caused me when he did something wrong. I miss his smile, a smile I'll only ever see again in a photographic reproduction that cannot do it justice. I miss the way his hair fell in his eyes, hair of a precise colour that I can see on any number of his family members and eyes of a precise shape that I can see in the eyes of his brother. I miss his voice. A voice I'll never hear again.
The memories I have of him are dying. Dying the way he did. In the way that they're still there only less alive. Less vivid. Less convincing. Maybe in a few years I'll think I dreamt him up.
He was never real, he was only imaginary.
This can't be real! Let this be imaginary! He's not gone, I've only just imagined it! I'm asleep and when I wake it will all have been a bad dream!
I miss the way he used to hold me, like I was made of smoke and he wanted desperately to hold on to me. Like I would melt away at any moment and he wanted to delay that moment as long as possible. Like if he let go of me he would die.
He let go of me.
He died.
I miss him. I miss him.
I miss him!
I want him back. We all want him back. Even Draco misses him (although I'm not sure it's the person and not the ill-conceived jokes that he misses). I miss everything about him (who am I supposed to tell to stop eating now?)
When he left, when he died, a part of me went with him. A part of Ginny, a part of Harry, a part of every survivor. When he left he left a gaping hole in existence where his own should be.
It's like that blasted chess game. He should have known never to sacrifice himself. He shouldn't have done it. He should have known I couldn't live if he died.
I want to scream because I hope that he can hear me (maybe I can warn him that it's coming).
I want to stay still in a moment that has already passed (safe in his arms forever, never letting go).
I want to die so I can be with him.
He's gone.
He's gone.
I know it, and there's nothing I can do to change it (so maybe I'll join him).
He's gone.
And he's never coming back.
A/N: Review?