disclaimer: Do I have to repeat? No, not mine.
Author's Notes: Well, this should be the final chapter. I think it maybe would have been best if I hadn't written this, because now the whole thing is getting repeative and woe-is-me-ish. Ah well, I promised, didn't I? And I got a beta for this chapter! Many thanks to J. Marguerite. I'm terribly, terribly sorry for the update taking so long, but I'm very, very lazy and couldn't get myself to open the text-editor and complete it. Gomen nasai. ; kneels and begs forgivness (Like anyone is still reading this, anyway...)
And review replies again, because I love you all. Except if you read but didn't review. But I still like you moderatly much. ahem Moving on. ;
Talifiney: Sorry, the message seems to have bounced back, so I couldn't send this to you for betaing. Well, maybe I could have, but I didn't want to dump a chapter to your inbox totally out of the blue. I think JK never mentioned the exact age, but it was when he was little. Everyone has a different opinion on little. Writer's block sucks.
J. Marguerite: You're welcome. I consider reviewing to be nearly a civic duty. x) Thanks! blushes And thank you for being my beta.
Letters to a loved one, chapter three.
June 11th, 1996
I can't believe it. It's impossible. You couldn't have left me alone by just simply falling through a bloody veil. I can keep denying it, but deep inside I think I know you're really, truly gone this time. I can't accept it; I'd rather believe anything else. I could pretend you're still alive somewhere behind that veil and that you'll come back to me one day... but I know that would be just lying to myself. Somehow, I know you're dead. It's like a piece of me fell behind the veil with you. I believe it was a rather important part. Hearts are considered that, sometimes.
I don't go out anymore. I tried moving on after getting over the initial shock, but the people on the streets smiling, laughing, joking around with their friends, talking, doing whatever normal people do... It hurt; it hurt so much I thought I was going to crumble right there. I felt like the whole world was alive and in pretty, bright, overwhelming Technicolor and I was a gray shape littering the image. But what hurt the most were the lovers. First time I saw a happy couple walking hand in hand down a street in London I wanted to just fall to my knees and stop existing, just because it hurt so bloody much. Later I could cope with them, but men with black hair, no matter how little they resembled you, still remind me of you. And that is why I don't go out anymore.
Now I know what you must've hated so much about this house. It brings up so many memories, ones that have now turned from somewhat happy to haunting. No matter how much you hate it, the house does have some of your essence in it. And the time the Order's headquarters were here? Every single item or room I see here reminds me of you in someway. It's pure hell, but I don't want to leave in the fear of forgetting.
What I hate even more than going out or memories is pity. They all come to me explaining how they know how it feels and telling that you meant so much to them too. But oh! how wrong they are. There is something you should have told me, even if it would have caused me to have disturbing mental images. The only one who could possibly know how much it hurts is Harry, but he doesn't reply my letters. Not that they had anything in them, just an offer of understanding. Maybe he's still numb like me and couldn't care less for letters their teachers send them. I stopped opening my mail after the fifteenth "I'm so sorry for your loss, but I know how it feels, because my pet hamster died when I was six." Yes, I did receive that from someone.
Molly especially keeps giving me these long, pitiful stares. Well, almost everyone is. I hate it, because pity can't bring you back and they don't even know that you were so much more than a friend to me. I know I can never fully accept it, but at least I stopped hoping I would wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream. Maybe, just maybe, I won't lose my sanity totally just now.
A/N: No, I did not know how I should end it so it ended up being crap. Ah well, I moderately liked this. For some reason, Moony told me to throw in a sarcastic comment or two, but because in some cases I can't make the difference between sarcasm and sounding horribly stupid, I don't know how well it went. --;
(Oh, I would just like to say I'll maybe do a really short epilogue. Just so I could reply to the reviews I'll possibly get from this one. hint, hint
Author's Notes: Well, this should be the final chapter. I think it maybe would have been best if I hadn't written this, because now the whole thing is getting repeative and woe-is-me-ish. Ah well, I promised, didn't I? And I got a beta for this chapter! Many thanks to J. Marguerite. I'm terribly, terribly sorry for the update taking so long, but I'm very, very lazy and couldn't get myself to open the text-editor and complete it. Gomen nasai. ; kneels and begs forgivness (Like anyone is still reading this, anyway...)
And review replies again, because I love you all. Except if you read but didn't review. But I still like you moderatly much. ahem Moving on. ;
Talifiney: Sorry, the message seems to have bounced back, so I couldn't send this to you for betaing. Well, maybe I could have, but I didn't want to dump a chapter to your inbox totally out of the blue. I think JK never mentioned the exact age, but it was when he was little. Everyone has a different opinion on little. Writer's block sucks.
J. Marguerite: You're welcome. I consider reviewing to be nearly a civic duty. x) Thanks! blushes And thank you for being my beta.
Letters to a loved one, chapter three.
June 11th, 1996
I can't believe it. It's impossible. You couldn't have left me alone by just simply falling through a bloody veil. I can keep denying it, but deep inside I think I know you're really, truly gone this time. I can't accept it; I'd rather believe anything else. I could pretend you're still alive somewhere behind that veil and that you'll come back to me one day... but I know that would be just lying to myself. Somehow, I know you're dead. It's like a piece of me fell behind the veil with you. I believe it was a rather important part. Hearts are considered that, sometimes.
I don't go out anymore. I tried moving on after getting over the initial shock, but the people on the streets smiling, laughing, joking around with their friends, talking, doing whatever normal people do... It hurt; it hurt so much I thought I was going to crumble right there. I felt like the whole world was alive and in pretty, bright, overwhelming Technicolor and I was a gray shape littering the image. But what hurt the most were the lovers. First time I saw a happy couple walking hand in hand down a street in London I wanted to just fall to my knees and stop existing, just because it hurt so bloody much. Later I could cope with them, but men with black hair, no matter how little they resembled you, still remind me of you. And that is why I don't go out anymore.
Now I know what you must've hated so much about this house. It brings up so many memories, ones that have now turned from somewhat happy to haunting. No matter how much you hate it, the house does have some of your essence in it. And the time the Order's headquarters were here? Every single item or room I see here reminds me of you in someway. It's pure hell, but I don't want to leave in the fear of forgetting.
What I hate even more than going out or memories is pity. They all come to me explaining how they know how it feels and telling that you meant so much to them too. But oh! how wrong they are. There is something you should have told me, even if it would have caused me to have disturbing mental images. The only one who could possibly know how much it hurts is Harry, but he doesn't reply my letters. Not that they had anything in them, just an offer of understanding. Maybe he's still numb like me and couldn't care less for letters their teachers send them. I stopped opening my mail after the fifteenth "I'm so sorry for your loss, but I know how it feels, because my pet hamster died when I was six." Yes, I did receive that from someone.
Molly especially keeps giving me these long, pitiful stares. Well, almost everyone is. I hate it, because pity can't bring you back and they don't even know that you were so much more than a friend to me. I know I can never fully accept it, but at least I stopped hoping I would wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream. Maybe, just maybe, I won't lose my sanity totally just now.
A/N: No, I did not know how I should end it so it ended up being crap. Ah well, I moderately liked this. For some reason, Moony told me to throw in a sarcastic comment or two, but because in some cases I can't make the difference between sarcasm and sounding horribly stupid, I don't know how well it went. --;
(Oh, I would just like to say I'll maybe do a really short epilogue. Just so I could reply to the reviews I'll possibly get from this one. hint, hint