Title : Letting Go
Beta : Pickleweasel
Rating: PG
Genre : Angst, deathfic
Disclaimer: All characters depicted in this fic belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and various publishing houses. I make no profit.
A/N: In old folktales a persons soul was often described as having the form of a bird. At a person's death they fly off to the next world.
Harry sat with his back to the ramparts at the top of the astronomy tower, staring up at the stars. It would have been so easy to just pick himself up, go to the edge, and... He shook that train of thought from his mind, it wasn't the answer. He should have been happy, Voldemort was beaten.
But the victory had been bitter. Harry had lost too much to really be happy about it.
That grin … he hoped he would never forget it. Even thinking about it, knowing he wouldn't, not ever... His eyes filled yet again with tears even though in the last few days he had done little else than weep.
Huddling into himself, crying violently, he didn't see the bird flying over the tower walls to land on his knee. When he finally noticed, he looked at it in amazement. The bird was the same colour as... It couldn't be... He reached out his hand and the bird flew to perch on his extended finger.
The bird had flaming red feathers and it looked sad. It touched his cheek with a soft wing. Harry felt more at peace than he had since those awful, endless, moments when he'd watched a green light envelop his lover. He'd lost everything but the anger that drove him on to defeat Voldemort.
But now he was at peace. The bird cocked its head, observing him. It, too, was crying, singing a soothing melody that wrenched at Harry's heart.
"I knew you'd come to say goodbye.." he whispered to the bird, stroking its silken feathers. Harry'd expected it to feel more insubstantial, and yet it was as real as him.
"I'll never forget you... And I know you can't really stay." He choked, tears streaking his cheeks and a pained grimace plastered on his face. "I wish that we'd had more time, that you hadn't..." Harry swallowed back the lump forming in his throat.
The bird leaned his head against Harry's cheek, cooing sadly. The last kiss, the one Harry had never had the chance to give, he now pressed against the bird's head. Harry let his tears fall, let himself mourn. In a flash of red feathers the bird was gone. Harry, the Boy Who Lived, the one who defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, said his final farewells to the lover he'd lost.
"Goodbye, Ron..."