Disclaimer: I don't own them. I never will. They belong to JK Rowling.
Notes: This was inspired partly by She's a Star's fic 'Sadly Beautiful'.
Proud
We walk through the grass, the morning dew still clinging to the ground and our shoes. On either side of our path gravestones pass, unnoticed by us both. We have a specific destination and it isn't the cold, gray mausoleum to my left or the towering stone angel on his right. We have no use for the tiny grave of a child, though it startles me for a moment. A baby buried so close to my parents . . . it could have been me.
Instead of voicing my thoughts, I let his hand on my shoulder guide me through a black wrought iron gate. It seems quiet past the gates, truly a more peaceful place, but it's probably all in my mind. Sunlight filters through the leaves of the trees, broken patches thrown over the headstones.
"This is it, Harry," he whispers, then his hand leaves my shoulder and I can sense that he's backed away. I'm glad that Sirius has come with me. He knows what I need better than anyone.
"Thanks," I manage to say, though I'm not sure how I found my voice.
I stare ahead, my eyes passing over the stone, taking in the words. For the first time in my life, the first time in the seventeen years since they had died, I look upon the graves of my parents.
I can't explain why I haven't come before, or at least asked to be taken. Maybe I was scared that Voldemort would be there, defacing their resting place and preparing to kill me. Well, I'm not scared anymore. He's dead and I'm not. I'm still here, able to look at my parents graves, able to talk to them.
"He's gone," I say in a quavering voice, looking at the stone that read 'Lily Potter'. "For good," I add as an afterthought. "He won't take anyone else away."
There is only silence.
Of course, what did I expect? Her voice on the wind? His laughter in my ear? Who was I kidding?
"I brought you flowers, mum," I say, laying the flaming lilies at the foot of the headstone. "They reminded me of you. Or rather . . ." I stop, thinking about what I would say. "They reminded me of the pictures I have of you."
It's still so quiet.
"Sirius brought me to see you," I continue, sighing deeply and sitting cross legged at the end of the graves. "He said he'd wanted to take me for a long time, but that Dumbledore didn't think it was a very good idea. I don't see why he thought it was bad . . . I would have loved to have seen you guys."
The morning sunlight glints off my father's name and I turn to look at it. James Potter, the man who gave me his hair and his eyesight. The man who loved my mother and me more than anything in the world and who gave himself up to save us. I wish that I could have known him.
"I hope I made you proud, dad. Sirius says I did a great job and that you would have been so proud." I stop and smile softly. "I did it for you guys, you know that? I did it because you gave up your lives so that I could live. He had to die, because of what he did to you. You're my parents and even though I don't remember you, I feel you." I bit my lip and press a hand against my chest. "In here," I murmur. "I feel you mum, your smile on my lips and I feel you dad, your sense of humor in my words. I'm part of you."
I move slightly, crawling up toward the matching stones that mark their places. My shaking fingers reach out and trace the words on her stone, her name, her birth date and death date. My hand moves to his next, fingers running over cold stone and pressing into tiny crevices. They're here, even if I can't see them or talk to them, I still know they're here.
I can feel them and that's all that matters.
"I'll come visit more often," I say, standing and pressing my hand against each of their headstones in turn. "I promise, now that I know where you are. I'll come every week and I'll bring you flowers, mum."
Still so quiet.
I wish I could hear their voices whispering words of encouragement, telling me that they're proud of me. I've gone through seven years at Hogwarts, I've faced Voldemort four times and I've come out on top, I've done everything to the best of my ability and I hope they're proud of me. That's all I could ever ask for.
"Well, goodbye," I murmur. "See you soon, hopefully." I turn to walk back to Sirius, then glance back and add, "I miss you guys and I love you. I hope you're happy."
When I turn back toward Sirius I can see him angrily balling his fists into his eyes. I made him cry . . . what else is new? A big suck that man is.
"They would have been so proud," he murmurs hoarsely as I near him, repeating his earlier words. "You're an amazing kid, Harry and your parents would have been so proud."
I smile because right now, that's all I need to know.
That I've made them proud.
End
Notes: This was inspired partly by She's a Star's fic 'Sadly Beautiful'.
Proud
We walk through the grass, the morning dew still clinging to the ground and our shoes. On either side of our path gravestones pass, unnoticed by us both. We have a specific destination and it isn't the cold, gray mausoleum to my left or the towering stone angel on his right. We have no use for the tiny grave of a child, though it startles me for a moment. A baby buried so close to my parents . . . it could have been me.
Instead of voicing my thoughts, I let his hand on my shoulder guide me through a black wrought iron gate. It seems quiet past the gates, truly a more peaceful place, but it's probably all in my mind. Sunlight filters through the leaves of the trees, broken patches thrown over the headstones.
"This is it, Harry," he whispers, then his hand leaves my shoulder and I can sense that he's backed away. I'm glad that Sirius has come with me. He knows what I need better than anyone.
"Thanks," I manage to say, though I'm not sure how I found my voice.
I stare ahead, my eyes passing over the stone, taking in the words. For the first time in my life, the first time in the seventeen years since they had died, I look upon the graves of my parents.
I can't explain why I haven't come before, or at least asked to be taken. Maybe I was scared that Voldemort would be there, defacing their resting place and preparing to kill me. Well, I'm not scared anymore. He's dead and I'm not. I'm still here, able to look at my parents graves, able to talk to them.
"He's gone," I say in a quavering voice, looking at the stone that read 'Lily Potter'. "For good," I add as an afterthought. "He won't take anyone else away."
There is only silence.
Of course, what did I expect? Her voice on the wind? His laughter in my ear? Who was I kidding?
"I brought you flowers, mum," I say, laying the flaming lilies at the foot of the headstone. "They reminded me of you. Or rather . . ." I stop, thinking about what I would say. "They reminded me of the pictures I have of you."
It's still so quiet.
"Sirius brought me to see you," I continue, sighing deeply and sitting cross legged at the end of the graves. "He said he'd wanted to take me for a long time, but that Dumbledore didn't think it was a very good idea. I don't see why he thought it was bad . . . I would have loved to have seen you guys."
The morning sunlight glints off my father's name and I turn to look at it. James Potter, the man who gave me his hair and his eyesight. The man who loved my mother and me more than anything in the world and who gave himself up to save us. I wish that I could have known him.
"I hope I made you proud, dad. Sirius says I did a great job and that you would have been so proud." I stop and smile softly. "I did it for you guys, you know that? I did it because you gave up your lives so that I could live. He had to die, because of what he did to you. You're my parents and even though I don't remember you, I feel you." I bit my lip and press a hand against my chest. "In here," I murmur. "I feel you mum, your smile on my lips and I feel you dad, your sense of humor in my words. I'm part of you."
I move slightly, crawling up toward the matching stones that mark their places. My shaking fingers reach out and trace the words on her stone, her name, her birth date and death date. My hand moves to his next, fingers running over cold stone and pressing into tiny crevices. They're here, even if I can't see them or talk to them, I still know they're here.
I can feel them and that's all that matters.
"I'll come visit more often," I say, standing and pressing my hand against each of their headstones in turn. "I promise, now that I know where you are. I'll come every week and I'll bring you flowers, mum."
Still so quiet.
I wish I could hear their voices whispering words of encouragement, telling me that they're proud of me. I've gone through seven years at Hogwarts, I've faced Voldemort four times and I've come out on top, I've done everything to the best of my ability and I hope they're proud of me. That's all I could ever ask for.
"Well, goodbye," I murmur. "See you soon, hopefully." I turn to walk back to Sirius, then glance back and add, "I miss you guys and I love you. I hope you're happy."
When I turn back toward Sirius I can see him angrily balling his fists into his eyes. I made him cry . . . what else is new? A big suck that man is.
"They would have been so proud," he murmurs hoarsely as I near him, repeating his earlier words. "You're an amazing kid, Harry and your parents would have been so proud."
I smile because right now, that's all I need to know.
That I've made them proud.
End