A/N: This is a translation of my German songfic "Das Ende der Tapferkeit". English is not my first language, so there may be a few odd sounding phrases here. I especially apologize for the prophecy-poem, I never made a poem in English before, it was really the best I could do. Feel free to suggest improvements and R&R.

... only sadness

a Songfic

inspired by "No Bravery" by James Blunt

There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
Tears drying on their face.
He has been here.

Brothers lie in shallow graves.
Fathers lost without a trace.
A nation blind to their disgrace,
Since he's been here.

And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

Houses burnt beyond repair.
The smell of death is in the air.
A woman weeping in despair says,
He has been here.

Tracer lighting up the sky.
It's another families' turn to die.
A child afraid to even cry out says,
He has been here.

And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
But no one asks the question why,
He has been here.

Old men kneel to accept their fate.
Wives and daughters cut and raped.
A generation drenched in hate.
Yes, he has been here.

And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

So it's over, the battle is lost. A dark man sits alone at the shore and stares into the fog flowing across the lake. The harsh wind is stinging his eyes and he wipes a tear away. He hugs his knees an tries hard not to think about these last days, tries hard to forget the terror. Why did things have to turn out this way?

The old man is dead and so is the boy and many, oh so many others who had lived, laughed and loved. He knew every single one of them, their names, their faces, their voices. He digs his nails into his palms, presses his forehead to his knees and closes his eyes in a futile attempt to extinguish the horrible pictures; but they are inside his head. Burned into his memory for always.

His heart is aching as his head keeps repeating one question over and over again: "Why?" Why, oh why had he given in to Dumbledores pleas?

„Promise to do whatever I ask you to do, Severus!"

„Albus, I don't see why ..."

„It's the only way, Severus. I'm going to die, there is no remedy to neutralize the vile poison. And Malfoys son has to be barred from taking on this terrible guilt. At any cost, do you hear me, Severus? We need him! The prophecy ..."

The Prophecy! He groans and covers his face with his hands. He should have known it. That madwomen hasn't uttered a sensible word throughout her entire life … but Albus believed her. Of course, he always believed and trusted too much, he always saw good in everyone …

If fear and terror once prevail
If darkness caps this teary vale
Child of snake and lion's bairn
Will subdue thy powers stern

But the prophecy had turned against them. It was not the unification of Malfoy and Potter to destroy the Dark Lord which the prophecy foretold … no, Albus, YOU were the powers stern, it was not until your death that the evil could take over completely.

And it had only been the beginning. Nobody saw, nobody realised how powerful the Dark Lord had become once again, how many devoted followers he had gathered once again. Nobody expected this to happen so quickly. The day after Dumbledores funeral horror befell Hogwarts. All those brave, stupid children, trying to thwart the dark powers! Alas, Albus, you never should have encouraged them!

Needless to say, they didn't stand a chance. They died in bunches, the Death Eaters crushing them like ants, burning them like tinder, torturing, slaughtering, killing them before they even knew what happened.

In the end, nobody was resisting anymore. The few survivors, numb with fear, could only watch helplessly as the Dark Lord finally destroyed the boy-who-lived. All hopes, all dreams of a better, happier life died within seconds.

Maybe the final battle could have been avoided if he had spoken, if he had refused to do it? Had it been in his power, to avert this cruel future? No, the mistrust he was facing was too overwhelming, who would have believed him? The only one who ever trusted him was dead, murdered by his own hand. Never will he be able to clear himself from this guilt.

His hands are clutching the clay beneath him, he wants to howl in desperation. All his knowledge, all his skills – nothing will help to heal this. There is no potion powerful enough to make everything undone.

He had watched, helpless, powerless, he had not lifted a finger. A heroic death in the last battle, a last attempt to put everything right and he could have gone in peace. But his courage was already shattered, died together with the only person who ever found a way into his heart.

No, not the wind is to blame for his tears! He will never be able to forget, never be able to forgive himself. There's only one thing left to do. His fingers close around the flask hidden in his cloak. Master of potions, you proved your skills one more time! It's will be fast, it will be painless. Laughing bitterly, he opens the flask and pours the contents down his throat. Sinking down on his back, his eyes are seeking the stars above him, darkness already drawing a veil over his sight. Coldness is seeping through his limbs. Soon, he will stop to feel the despair, soon it will be over. Peace. Finally peace.

END