If he could he would drown himself in the memory that swirled in the pensieve. Never to surface. To join her wherever she was. It was one of the few "good" memories he had of her and there was no chance of more. The war was over Voldemort had won and she had been killed, just like the rest of them. The young blonde man, now in his twenties, once again plunged into the memory.
In the memory his sixteen year old self had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew his failure would mean his and his families deaths. The brunette Gryffindor had found him in an alcove in an abandoned hall crying. Even while reliving the memory he couldn't figure out how they had ended up kissing. Clothes being hastily disregarded, and within a matter of moments they were naked finally releasing each other both panting. No words were spoken just a few moments of staring in each others eyes. It was their silent agreement. Then he moved over her, eyes still locked, when he slipped his length into her. She winced as he stretched her, and he kept his movements slow for a few moments while her body got used to accommodating him. When her body tensed he couldn't help but groan with want nearly overcoming his control. She nodded and he started to thrust into her faster she moaned in pleasure. She met his every thrust both panting and moaning with pleasure. His hands traced her curves down her body, then he ran his fingers across her hip bone stopping on her clit before he began to massage it. Her back arched with the new sensation. Her expression and sounds nearly caused him to release, but he held on to the edge. It wasn't long before he felt her clamp around him and with one more thrust her walls began to spasm. He finally allowed himself to spill over the edge into the blissful release. In that moment the weight was temporarily lifted, and he felt a strange peace.
It was strange that it would be her, the girl he loved to hate and hated to love, that found him that day when the pressure was too much, and all he could think was that he, in failing to kill Dumbledore, was essentially killing his mother. She was the one person in his whole deranged family that he loved, and who openly showed him love in return. He cursed his father for damning him to this life when he lifted out of the pensieve once more. If time turners still existed he would have gone back to right his mistakes. If he had trusted Dumbledore before when he said they could keep him and his mother safe maybe he could have found happiness, maybe even with Hermione Granger. But that time was lost to him forever. He downed another shot of fire whiskey and fell asleep dreaming of the life he had lost.
A/N: Thanks for reading and please consider clicking the button and leaving a review for me this is my first fanfiction in quite a long time my muse abandoned me for a while there but it seems she has returned for now. I'm hoping now I can finally finish my other story and write some more, but anyway thank you for reading.