Moment

(Even Death is not to be feared by those who have lived Wisely)

There is no time in a moment.

You cannot think, "How?" or "Why?" or "Can we escape?"

You cannot contemplate what will happen. There is a knowing deep down in your bones that this is it, that you will not survive this time, but it does not register anywhere in your head.

You do not think about the woman, idly puttering around the room. How when her perfect red hair catches the bright sunlight, it creates a hue that you have never seen before and are suspicious that it does not occur anywhere else in the universe. How the emerald of her eyes make all precious jewels seem dull and lifeless by comparison. The way the softness of her skin never failed to send shivers down your spine, no matter how many times you've touched it.

You do not ponder about the child. Chubby and bright, the most gorgeous mix of her beautiful green eyes and your jet black hair. The way his laughter makes your heart stop with joy and each new action makes you swell with pride. How you wanted to be there for every achievement, every milestone, every single event that this perfect little child will ever experience. You had wanted to meet his friends, his girlfriends, his enemies. You wanted to be so immersed in his life because it was the only way you could think of that might possibly convey this overwhelming sense of love and loyalty you felt towards him.

Nothing of what you have been told is true. Memories do not jump to the surface of your consciousness. About the first time you saw her and knew then that she was going to mean trouble, because no one that pretty ever meant anything good. How the way she insulted you felt like knives in your heart, but is what led you to fall madly in love. Of your magical first kiss or the hundreds of subsequent ones which had previously seemed permanently etched in your mind. The trembling of your hands as you awkwardly lowered yourself down onto one knee. The way your breath caught in your throat when you saw her in that brilliant white dress. Of when reality shifted permanently when she told you that they were going to start a family and how you could only sit there with a goofy grin on your face. The complete awe and reverence you had when you saw this tiny creature that you helped to create. None of these flash through your mind, slowing down time, allowing you to savor them one final time.

Plans are wiped away. The goals you have strived to achieve. The plans you mapped out as you held her close and stroked her hair while she slept soundly. The four children and a large house where they could all laugh and grow and just simply be a family. The first steps, the first games of quidditch, the first time they rode away on that crimson train that you wouldn't be able to stop from hating just a little because you loved the passengers it carried so much. Watching the children become men and women and start families of their own while giving her hand a squeeze, knowing that your love had created this perfect world. Being able to grow old and watch the way her skin may have gotten a little droopier, or how her hair may have faded into grey, but being able to stare into those perfect emerald eyes and knowing you loved her just as much as you did when she was only eleven years old. A life built around hopes and dreams come tumbling down as she listens to your instructions and dashes up the steps, clinging to the child.

You do not stop and consider how you came to be in this situation. How the world had slowly been enveloped in a shadow while you created memories and imagined a future. The pain and suffering of others that felt like a kick in the stomach every time you read the papers even after you learned to expect the worst. You had seen their tears and even shed a few of your own. You had the same grim determination you feel now as you packed up your life into boxes and fled into an invisible house. You do not have time to abhor the part of yourself that whispered that at least this is a break from the utter monotony of a runaway's life. You don't stop to consider how the house's location must of been reveled. There is no time to feel sorrow for your friend who must of suffered hours of the cruciatus before breaking and was no doubt thankful for the sweet relief of death after the torture. While part of you hates him, another cannot help but pity him, though neither of these emotions even register.

All you can do is stride into the hallway and stand tall. Spread your arms and block the stairway, because even if you can't register why, you know you must.

You have to do it for the woman you love.

You have to do it for your child.

You have to do it because love is stronger than any memory, dream, or thought.

And in this moment, love is all you have.

A/N Because he deserved the life he didn't get. Reviews appreciated. Constructive criticism more so.

All Harry Potter characters, events, allusions, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling.