*Happy Memory
Summary: They took her, the only thing that was worth fighting for.
Pairing: Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon
Disclaimer: Own nothing as per usual.

she belongs to fairytales that I could never be;
the future haunts with memories that I could never have;
and hope is just a stranger wondering how it got so bad.
(Love Song Requiem – Trading Yesterday)

They take every happy memory away from you, they suck out the love, the compassion, the happiness. They leave you broken to breathe like a dying flower in the winter; to fight for every minute, every second. They leave you to survive when you want it to be over.

They took her. Ruthlessly, with not a single glance at what they were taking: at her pretty face, at her angelic locks, at her mesmerizing eyes. They didn't flinch at the screams, at the cries. They didn't acknowledge the tears. They didn't care because they came to kill.

And she was perfect, even in death. A determined expression gracing her beautiful features, eyes the color of melting chocolate gazing at the starry, wide sky. A triumphal smile still lingering on blood stained lips and wand still in hand, ready to fight.

She will stand up…it's just matter of seconds…she will stand up and fight, beat the hell out of them with a flick of her wand and a gleeful cry.

Then she will turn around too look at him with a smirk on her face, her lips slightly cocked to one side, eyes shining with adrenaline. Did you see? She'll ask with her child-like, full of pride voice. I won again!

But she's not standing up. Why's she lying there? Why isn't she moving? Why isn't she looking at him?

They took happy thoughts of her; they took her smile and her laughter like a bell ringing on a Sunday morning. They took the touch of her hand against his shoulder, gentle and soft. They took her kisses – he didn't even remember the taste anymore – and the nervous tapping of fingers against the window pane as she watched the rain fall.

They took everything he once loved; her soul – so pure and innocent; her heart – so brave and valiant. He wanted her back so badly, to touch her, to feel her close, to hear her rhythmic breathing, to lay his head in her lap and let her run her fingers through his hair.

He couldn't quite remember how it felt; he couldn't remember her touches. It seemed almost as if someone snuck a hand into his brain and ripped the memory out ruthlessly.

He didn't remember the fullness of her lips or the length of her neck. He knew they were tasteful and elegant but those adjectives didn't fit well. They didn't describe the perfection of her being and he couldn't remember other words. He wanted to.

But all he saw – eyes closed, eyes opened, it didn't matter, it was all he ever saw – was her body spread on the floor, lifeless, soulless eyes gazing at a sky full of stars. A bloodstained shirt and bloody red lips against pale, pale cheeks. It was all he could ever recall.

Because they took his happy thoughts just like they took her. They stole them – stole her – and threw them away like garbage, like something so worthless it wasn't even worthy of looking at.

And it meant the world to him. She meant the world to him. She was the world to him.

And she was gone along with her heart-melting smile and childish dreams.

And Sirius Black knew that, when Marlene McKinnon left, she took his heart with her.