I don't remember anything that concerns him. As if he was a side effect of the booze, or the smoke of my cigarette that killed me and run for its life. A friend used to say that lies don't kill you. I bet my life he was wrong.

Chapter's soundtrack : Hero - Regina Spektor

Talents

Hey.

It sure took me long enough, right?

They couldn't decide where to bury you, you know. They kept moving your body around for years, as if they had gotten jealous of the Christians' Saints and had finally found one of their own.

And now you're buried here, by yourself. Honor is loneliness, I always believed that. I look around the rain-washed grass shivering in September's chilly winds, pale green mixing with cold silver, knowing they went for peaceful but fearing they managed to make you feel isolated instead.

So, how are you?

Where.

Are you.

Why do I even care.

Lung cancer. How lame. I think you never really believed you were a wizard. Deep inside you felt Muggle, didn't you?

Pathetic.

"I didn't save you so that you could die like this, you fool." I don't know why I speak this out loud, I just always hated it when you disregarded me, and I have to let you know even now, 'late' is not a word I recognize. As soon as the phrase leaves my mouth a gush of wind swirls around my body, blowing my hair away from my face and making me shiver. I hate coincidences.

Especially when they are paired with a huge gap in my memory and an irreversible spell of my wand.

Irreversible. The word echoes in my head. I take my wand out of my pocket and stare at it in a trance wondering why I always feel numb when I think about it. What is it that I wanted to forget. When did I become such a weak man that I can't handle memories.

What have you done to me, Potter.

I found a box with your name on it in my closet, it had a shirt in it. A black shirt. I think that's when I finally understood.

What fool performs a memory charm without destroying the evidence first. What kind of a desperate fool.

We were sleeping together, weren't we.

I take a smoke out of my pocket and fire it up. Word was out they found you dead in an abandoned apartment, your tobacco within arm's reach, a different wedding ring on your finger. I won't even dare think about that. No, no.

I simply came by to say hello. I simply came by to say…

I take a pull of my smoke, and feel my throat react in disgust. I don't smoke that regularly anymore. Only when it rains and I'm alone, I guess. But I felt as if I owed this one to you.

I don't know why, Harry Potter. I don't know why, but I am sorry.

"I'm sorry"

I point my wand at your grave and watch as branches and leaves hug that cold stone that reads "Harry Potter, beloved husband and father, world hero". My brow furrows and anger boils in me in an instant. I hate it. The branches launch, all angry and blanched, until only your name is left visible. The white blossoms peek out from between the mass of green, filling the air with a tantalizing perfume of spring .

I kneel and plunge my smoke in the ground in front of the tombstone, watching as it swirls and hugs the earth, burning up…burning…

"my treat" I whisper, caressing the little flowers and pressing my palm against the stone.

Why did you give up, what couldn't you bear, couldn't anyone help? You were the man that dragged me out of Fiend Fire, you were afraid of nothing, I was the coward, I was the loner. How did it come to this?

"Here. Have the whole pack. I guess it gets lonely"

I think I have to leave now.

I stand up, my heart pounding inside my chest, my throat feeling dry and my eyes watery.

I miss your smile sometimes.

You had said the world could be better, that the dark times were behind, that you could finally be happy.

You were wrong about everything - I guess it was a talent.

I turn around to leave, feeling as if the ground has grown hands and is keeping me still.

"See ya"

It's high time you let go.

- The End.