A/N: This was a spur of the moment angst thing. My muse broke out of the closet (again) and demanded this in retaliation.
(Ken: Damn right.)
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They called us the Dream Team.
We were inseparable, the Hogwarts Trio. One was never seen without the others. Best Friends until the end. The bittersweet, cruel end.
No one could separate us. No one. No one but ourselves.
Ironic, isn't it.
Back then, when I pictured myself now, I didn't pictured this. Oh no, I pictured a golden walk off into the sunset, the three of us with our arms linked, forever together.
When I was a lonely little girl, I imagined entering a different world, finding love and friendship. Everlasting bonds of happiness until the end of my days.
Pity only some of it came true.
I didn't imagine this lonely, cold, little flat. Didn't imagine being here by myself.
I didn't imagine Ron living who knows where, or doing who knows what.
I didn't imagine Harry....
I didn't imagine Harry, dead at seventeen.
But things change.
Here I am, sitting on a faded settee, cigarette in one hand, wine bottle in the other.
I'm celebrating.
Why?
Because today is September the First.
Eleven years ago today, I met the two best people of my entire life. And here I am today, all alone.
Cheers.
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They called us the Dream Team.
The inseparable, Golden Trio of Hogwarts. I don't understand, if we were the Golden ones, why didn't we get the golden ending?
No light at the end of the tunnel for us.
So I sit here, the lights and music and noise pressing down on me. The heat of many bodies weighing me down.
Muggle night clubs, the best place to get plastered. Montreal night life, as far away from England as I could bear to get.
If they could see me now, with a bottle of Labatte Blue in my hand, complementary peanuts at my elbow.
Harry would smirk, raise an eyebrow and order one for himself. Hermione would scold. Alcohol is bad for your health.
George once told me that you start to die the minute you are born, so what's the harm in helping it along? There's no use in denying the inevitable.
It all depends on how long you have.
For some it's ages, for others....
Harry.
Harry, Harry, Harry, maybe we should have paid closer attention to Trelawny...
Why did you have to be so damn noble, so damn brave.
It's hard to lose a brother. And you were the best one I had.
I glance at my watch. It's September the first.
I wonder what Hermione is doing?
Here's to you, my Best Friends.
Cheers.
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We called them the Dream Team.
We called them many things.
It started out as a Slytherin joke, but spread, turning from taunt to praise in the process.
Always together, always smiling, always winning.
But all good things come to an end, sooner or later.
They were the biggest enigmas of my naive little life then. They didn't adore me, they didn't suck up to me, they didn't even like me.
It was the first time that my name had failed to secure me what I wanted. Their friendship.
And oh, how I wanted that.
How I still do.
Little bit late for it now though.
I stood by, and watched, with mounting envy, as their friendship grew. As they became closer and closer. The Hogwarts Trio. The Golden Trio.
I watched as their ivory tower was built, climbing higher and higher.
I watch, with a certain amount of satisfaction, as it came tumbling down.
Who knew he'd be that brave? Who knew he'd willingly give his life to end a reign of terror? Sacrifice the one for the needs of the many, my mother always said.
Who knew they'd take it that hard?
Who knew they'd disappear into the shadows, nursing their grief, leaving each other in their time of need?
Maybe I did.
Such a Gryffindor thing to do.
Too proud, too noble, to accept help. Better to hide away,dignity intact, wasting, than to take the hands offered to you.
Too proud, too noble to accept loss. Even when it's staring you in the face.
Together, they were unbeatable. Separate they were human, just like the rest of us.
It's September the First today. Eleven years.
I raise my glass of wine, the best money can buy.
We called them the Dream Team.
Together, they were.
Cheers.
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They called us the Dream Team.
I wonder why?
Surely we were never the stuff that dreams are made of, we were just close friends, that's all.
Was our friendship the dreams of others?
I don't know. I never really noticed. But Ron always said I was never too brilliant when it came to emotions such as admiration and love.
Can he blame me? Admiration and love, those were foreign to me. At least, up until eleven years ago.
They were the two best friends I could ever ask for. I'm sorry I had to leave them.
But I didn't have a choice.
I gave my life to fighting him, when presented with the option, I made the only decision I could.
The graveyard is empty today. I'm all alone amoungst the graves.
I hate my gravestone, it's so....melodramatic.
Harry James Potter,
July 31 1980- May 16 1997
The Boy Who Saved Us All.
My father teases me relentlessly about it.
He hates his too, he wishes it was a brighter colour, maybe bright yellow. Mother tells him to shut up and be grateful, though she doesn't mean it. I've personally heard her say she wishes hers wasn't "that dismal grey".
Pity our magic doesn't reach the mortal world.
I don't know why I'm here really, probably because today is September the First. I'm not a ghost, because I'm happy. But sometimes I can touch the mortal world, if only in this spot.
Perhaps I should go back, it's dreadfully lonely here.
I wish they wouldn't mourn me. It's really silly.
I wish I could comfort them, tell them it's okay.
I do miss them.
My greatest friends.
Cheers.