Disclaimer: I really don't own them. Honest. They belong to J.K. Rowling.
Notes: Tis slash. Tis also short and … odd.
Chocolate
By Bohemian Storm
I still taste like him.
Sometimes the taste is so strong that I think I must be able to put my fingers to my lips and pull part of him away, but I know that it's just wishful thinking. Nothing is left of him. Nothing is left but my memories of his smile, his laugh, his face and his taste. He always tasted faintly of chocolate, like a child who had just raided the cookie jar without anyone knowing, but there were other tastes beneath that. He tasted clean, like fresh air coming off the lake outside, like I always thought the air tasted like after being locked up all night.
His smell was a little different, hot and damp, like a humid summer night spent by a lake or a beach. He smelled like a bonfire that had just been put out, a smoky, musky scent of wood and trees. I remember that his smell reminded me of camping trips I had gone on before Hogwarts, before I had known any of them. His scent reminded me of a time when I'd been safe and happy, and because of that I had felt safe and happy with him.
As the time went by I started to find that I was forgetting things about him. I was forgetting the memories I had of him, the curve of his smile was gone and I couldn't remember the exact shade of his eyes anymore. I never thought it would happen, but it did. I had loved him, I still love him in a secret part of my heart that has started to close, and I never thought that my memories would begin to fade.
Sadly, the years went by and I started to forget.
I panicked, searching desperately through my belongings for something that had been his, anything that would help me remember. All I needed was a photograph, a book, a scrap of clothing, anything that would remind me what it was like to have him alive. I found nothing. I had thrown out what I had left of him, burned photographs of us as students, destroyed everything I had that could never do justice to the man I had lost.
There was nothing. I owned nothing that could bring back the memories of him, nothing that could help me put a name to his eye colour or help me remember his laugh. There was just nothing and the rest of my memories were rapidly slipping away.
And then one night, while standing by a bonfire built for Harry's twenty third birthday, I drew in a deep breath and felt him there. I remembered the smell and while I still couldn't picture his face as clearly as I used to, I remembered the essence of him and that was enough.
Now I sit, tasting him and remembering his scent, knowing that nothing can be said or done to bring him back. Nothing on this world can return him to me, but I know parts of him that other people never knew, and his taste belongs to only me. He gave it to me one last time before he died. He gave it to me and no one else.
"Don't do anything stupid."
He smiled. Oh, now I can remember the smile.
"Never," he said.
And then his lips were on mine and my mouth was flooded with him.
He tasted like chocolate, and now real chocolate can't even compare to the taste he left tattooed on my lips. I miss him and sometimes I can't remember him, but his taste is always there.
End