Title: Continuing On
Disclaimer: I do not own, wish I did, but I don't. Anything recognizable including all characters, places, and images are under trademark through JKR and the companies that publish the books and make the movies.
Author: ShaeLynn Teelle I only own my plot line.
Warning: Implied slash/yaoi/guys with guys. Character death(s). 1st person p.o.v.
Summary: Harry continues on with his life after the war and his lover's death in it.
If someone wants to archive (why?), please ask first. You won't be turned down, but I would like to know where it's going. Thank you.
Polite constructive criticism is welcome; FLAMES WILL BE FED TO THE DRAGON IN MY BED.
It's been a month since the last time I saw your face. Only minutes less that I destroyed Voldemort once and for all. We learned afterwards that destroying him would have killed you as well, but by that time it didn't matter. It destroyed everyone that had the mark including Draco and Pansy. Voldemort never knew what hit him until it was too late. Imagine, to be so full of hate that when it's taken away, there's nothing left of your soul.
As horrible as it may sound to anyone else, I don't think I could have destroyed him if you hadn't been killed by his hand right in front of me. We knew, thanks to yours and Hermione's research, that the spell would defeat him and leave him drained long enough to, hopefully, find a way to end his terror, but it shouldn't have had such an impact on him.
The moment he turned his wand on you and I saw that green light form and disappear into you, I lost all control of my magic. I kept hoping subconsciously that somehow in that final burst of magic, you would be revived. You would wake up and sneer at me once again, saying something about always having to save the day. But you didn't and by the time I returned to consciousness from the drain on my magic, you had already been buried.
Minerva was laid to rest beside you and barely two days after I awoke, Albus was placed beside her as well. Headmistress Sinistra assured me that the two of them would now be able to find peace to be together as they couldn't here on Earth. I hope that they can achieve that.
I asked her about the empty plot beside you. All she could tell me was that when the person that belonged there died, the name would appear on the headstone and they'd be laid to rest beside you. It seems the Hogwart's cemetery has magic of its own. Something to do with the magic from those that rest there after death. I wish...
Sinistra has offered me a position within the school. Nearly any position I wanted. I would have taken Potions, but I feared that might bring you back to kill me, knowing how abysmal I've always been at the subject and you deserve whatever peace you can get where you are right now. I'm not really planning on joining you, yet. I doubt that you would be amused by my selfishness in wanting to be near you.
I've accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. However, at my insistence the board of governors has agreed to alter the name of the class to Defensive Arts only. Much less of a mouthful and more accurate to what I teach. It's nice to know my fame is good for something.
There were of course other offers than becoming a Professor. The Ministry has offered me a position wherever I would like, except for Minister itself, that Molly Weasley has filled quite satisfactorily. I turned down all the other offers to remain here where we both considered home for so many years.
I have also taken over your duties as head of Slytherin House. You're children will indeed be well looked after. There are more people that mourn your passing than you ever though possible. But none shall miss you as I do. As I always will. I know it is still possible to marry anyone else of my choosing, though the thought makes me nauseous, but the bond we took together will always linger, a reminder of you until it is my time to join you. A reminder I never want to let go.
I don't know how long I'll stay here. It seems like everyday there's a tiny fraction less of me. I asked Poppy about it since I know it's not a bout of depression, but she was as confused as I am. That news didn't comfort me, but at least she is aware of what is happening and has promised to look into it for me.
There is so much that has changed since the end of the war. Molly is doing very well as Minister. It's helped to keep her mind off Percy in St. Mungo's and Arthur's death. The twins keep her entertained and Bill's son is the apple of her eye for the moment until Charlie's wife gives her another grandchild in a few months.
Though Pansy and Draco are gone, their daughter seems to be adjusting well to her new guardians. Ron and Hermione are expecting their own child soon so Silver will have a companion in the years to come. They've already asked me to be their child's godfather. I couldn't turn them down. I just hope Silver doesn't get jealous when she discovers that she won't have me all to herself anymore.
It's strange. As time goes by the pain doesn't lessen as everyone says it will. It's still as fresh as it was when I saw it happen, though it's been nearly ten years already. Those that haven't seen me for a long time always comment on how I've changed. Neville put it quite well earlier in the week when he said that it seemed like I was only half there.
Everyone had a good laugh about it except for Poppy who simply watched me as she has taken to doing lately when she can. It's annoying, but I know she simply worries. Neville's comment was rather accurate as that's how I described it myself to Poppy at my last check-up that she insists upon. Poppy has exhausted every resource she could find with no more answers than she had when I first mentioned how I felt to her. Now, we are only waiting to see where this heads and find out what the results will be. I miss you terribly.
In the last ten years things have slowed with this feeling of losing bits of myself, but now something else has begun that has Poppy fussing over me. I've become... weak. Like I have been ill and abed for too long, though I haven't been. It is harder to do many of the simple things that I've always taken for granted, like walking from the Quidditch pitch to my classroom. Also, there have been... moments when I seem to forget everything around me, even who I am. They've only lasted a second or two at the most and only every few days, but Poppy is worried, very worried.
Silver has had a daughter this past month. She's beautiful. Her hair is a honey-blonde with green-blue eyes that stare out at the world around her in curiosity. Silver asked if I'd be willing to be baby Rose's godfather, but with what's been happening to me lately, I declined. However, I am now unofficially another of her grandfathers. Between the lot of us she will be even more spoiled than Silver was with Pansy and Draco.
Your house has thrived. There has been talk of disbanding the houses at Hogwart's but it has been denied so far. However, they serve little more than a way to divide the responsibility of the children up now. The students no longer stay restricted to their houses and many Slytherins are even friends with numerous Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. You may roll over in your grave now, but there have been so many positive, unexpected benefits to the mingling that even you would praise the change.
Any abused child of any form is more apt to approach a Professor about it because they are seeing what's been happening to them from different types of people's perceptions. There is little hiding the truth or a silent agreement that it is not something to speak of. There are rarely any more students like Draco or I that went through their entire school career with no one knowing the extent of what we went through, though Draco's was more physical than mine was.
You know that well enough though. You were the one that somehow managed to but us both back together again after seventh year. I thank you for that and I know Draco would as well.
These last five years have been hard. I can no longer teach and I've moved in with Ron and Mione. They've been good through this, though I know it hurts them when I can't quite remember a thing about them at times. Every day it gets harder. It takes more effort to remember them, even to remember myself. Mione found out what it was.
I don't recall the name, I never can, but she said it's something Muggles discovered. They have no cure for it and it only grows worse as time goes on until the one afflicted can't recall anything about themselves or those around them. Of course with my unwanted fame every Potions Master from here to New Zealand have tried creating a potion to help me while equally every Charms Master has tried to create spells of all kinds to help.
Of course I will never accept an unknown potion from just anyone. I always insist that I see the ingredients, the procedure, and see a test myself before drinking anything. Some have been none too accommodating of my insistence of questioning their work, but not many are aware that we spent five years living together after I finished Hogwarts before the final battle.
There have been some potions that work temporarily and most of these were made by students of yours or those that followed your research on various potions. I took the liberty almost fifteen years ago to publish the things that you had accomplished. The Wolfsbane was perfected by one of the last students you taught.
The transformation occurs, but it is no longer painful and the instincts of the wolf are completely subdued. She has given you complete credit for the work. I asked her why and she said that it was your teaching that had led her to the final formula. She has so far come the closest to finding a cure for me.
She will not finish it before I am gone. Even sitting here, doing nothing more than writing has winded me. I will soon have to stop and rest. I don't know which will happen first. Either I'll completely forget everything I once knew for good or I'll be too weak to continue on. I rather hope it will be the latter. I don't relish continuing on when I no longer know the reason why I try so hard to not give up.
I only have a short time. It has been years since the last and this is the first time in a week I've been able to remember who I am. I don't know how much time I have left, my love, but I hope to be with you soon. My strength is nearly gone. It has been leaving almost as fast as my memory lately. I don't
I'm sorry, Severus. I can barely remember anymore. Not even Voldemort could frighten me as much as not remembering who I am, who you are, who my friends are, who anybody is. I want to tell you once more before I forget again. I love you, Severus. I'll never stop, even if I can't remember. I will always be your
Come home, my Harry.
A teardrop fell onto the last page. Hermione gently closed the book; the last journal of Harry Potter and the one held dearest to his heart. This was the only journal of many he wrote that was to someone and Hermione had never known it. She nodded once to herself and took the stack of volumes from their place beside her, fitting them onto a shelf near the east wall of the library between two large windows. She looked out on the small group of mourners still near the Victorian house on the outskirts of Hogsmead. It had been a beautiful funeral and Harry had been placed where his name appeared on the headstone beside Severus's in the Hogwart's cemetery. It was near the lake, one border created by the Forbidden Forest, but hidden from all but those who knew of it.
"Be happy, Harry. Love with all you have, Severus. May you both find what you seek once again.
The words rang out through the silent room, a hint of magic following them.
Nine months later, somewhere in the Wizarding World, a cry was heard. A baby's cry as it took its first breath. Not too far away a second cry was heard; a toddler, waking from a dream... or a memory with one firm thought in his mind and the image of a dark-haired, green-eyed playmate.
'My Harry.'
Disclaimer: I do not own, wish I did, but I don't. Anything recognizable including all characters, places, and images are under trademark through JKR and the companies that publish the books and make the movies.
Author: ShaeLynn Teelle I only own my plot line.
Warning: Implied slash/yaoi/guys with guys. Character death(s). 1st person p.o.v.
Summary: Harry continues on with his life after the war and his lover's death in it.
If someone wants to archive (why?), please ask first. You won't be turned down, but I would like to know where it's going. Thank you.
Polite constructive criticism is welcome; FLAMES WILL BE FED TO THE DRAGON IN MY BED.
It's been a month since the last time I saw your face. Only minutes less that I destroyed Voldemort once and for all. We learned afterwards that destroying him would have killed you as well, but by that time it didn't matter. It destroyed everyone that had the mark including Draco and Pansy. Voldemort never knew what hit him until it was too late. Imagine, to be so full of hate that when it's taken away, there's nothing left of your soul.
As horrible as it may sound to anyone else, I don't think I could have destroyed him if you hadn't been killed by his hand right in front of me. We knew, thanks to yours and Hermione's research, that the spell would defeat him and leave him drained long enough to, hopefully, find a way to end his terror, but it shouldn't have had such an impact on him.
The moment he turned his wand on you and I saw that green light form and disappear into you, I lost all control of my magic. I kept hoping subconsciously that somehow in that final burst of magic, you would be revived. You would wake up and sneer at me once again, saying something about always having to save the day. But you didn't and by the time I returned to consciousness from the drain on my magic, you had already been buried.
Minerva was laid to rest beside you and barely two days after I awoke, Albus was placed beside her as well. Headmistress Sinistra assured me that the two of them would now be able to find peace to be together as they couldn't here on Earth. I hope that they can achieve that.
I asked her about the empty plot beside you. All she could tell me was that when the person that belonged there died, the name would appear on the headstone and they'd be laid to rest beside you. It seems the Hogwart's cemetery has magic of its own. Something to do with the magic from those that rest there after death. I wish...
Sinistra has offered me a position within the school. Nearly any position I wanted. I would have taken Potions, but I feared that might bring you back to kill me, knowing how abysmal I've always been at the subject and you deserve whatever peace you can get where you are right now. I'm not really planning on joining you, yet. I doubt that you would be amused by my selfishness in wanting to be near you.
I've accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. However, at my insistence the board of governors has agreed to alter the name of the class to Defensive Arts only. Much less of a mouthful and more accurate to what I teach. It's nice to know my fame is good for something.
There were of course other offers than becoming a Professor. The Ministry has offered me a position wherever I would like, except for Minister itself, that Molly Weasley has filled quite satisfactorily. I turned down all the other offers to remain here where we both considered home for so many years.
I have also taken over your duties as head of Slytherin House. You're children will indeed be well looked after. There are more people that mourn your passing than you ever though possible. But none shall miss you as I do. As I always will. I know it is still possible to marry anyone else of my choosing, though the thought makes me nauseous, but the bond we took together will always linger, a reminder of you until it is my time to join you. A reminder I never want to let go.
I don't know how long I'll stay here. It seems like everyday there's a tiny fraction less of me. I asked Poppy about it since I know it's not a bout of depression, but she was as confused as I am. That news didn't comfort me, but at least she is aware of what is happening and has promised to look into it for me.
There is so much that has changed since the end of the war. Molly is doing very well as Minister. It's helped to keep her mind off Percy in St. Mungo's and Arthur's death. The twins keep her entertained and Bill's son is the apple of her eye for the moment until Charlie's wife gives her another grandchild in a few months.
Though Pansy and Draco are gone, their daughter seems to be adjusting well to her new guardians. Ron and Hermione are expecting their own child soon so Silver will have a companion in the years to come. They've already asked me to be their child's godfather. I couldn't turn them down. I just hope Silver doesn't get jealous when she discovers that she won't have me all to herself anymore.
It's strange. As time goes by the pain doesn't lessen as everyone says it will. It's still as fresh as it was when I saw it happen, though it's been nearly ten years already. Those that haven't seen me for a long time always comment on how I've changed. Neville put it quite well earlier in the week when he said that it seemed like I was only half there.
Everyone had a good laugh about it except for Poppy who simply watched me as she has taken to doing lately when she can. It's annoying, but I know she simply worries. Neville's comment was rather accurate as that's how I described it myself to Poppy at my last check-up that she insists upon. Poppy has exhausted every resource she could find with no more answers than she had when I first mentioned how I felt to her. Now, we are only waiting to see where this heads and find out what the results will be. I miss you terribly.
In the last ten years things have slowed with this feeling of losing bits of myself, but now something else has begun that has Poppy fussing over me. I've become... weak. Like I have been ill and abed for too long, though I haven't been. It is harder to do many of the simple things that I've always taken for granted, like walking from the Quidditch pitch to my classroom. Also, there have been... moments when I seem to forget everything around me, even who I am. They've only lasted a second or two at the most and only every few days, but Poppy is worried, very worried.
Silver has had a daughter this past month. She's beautiful. Her hair is a honey-blonde with green-blue eyes that stare out at the world around her in curiosity. Silver asked if I'd be willing to be baby Rose's godfather, but with what's been happening to me lately, I declined. However, I am now unofficially another of her grandfathers. Between the lot of us she will be even more spoiled than Silver was with Pansy and Draco.
Your house has thrived. There has been talk of disbanding the houses at Hogwart's but it has been denied so far. However, they serve little more than a way to divide the responsibility of the children up now. The students no longer stay restricted to their houses and many Slytherins are even friends with numerous Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. You may roll over in your grave now, but there have been so many positive, unexpected benefits to the mingling that even you would praise the change.
Any abused child of any form is more apt to approach a Professor about it because they are seeing what's been happening to them from different types of people's perceptions. There is little hiding the truth or a silent agreement that it is not something to speak of. There are rarely any more students like Draco or I that went through their entire school career with no one knowing the extent of what we went through, though Draco's was more physical than mine was.
You know that well enough though. You were the one that somehow managed to but us both back together again after seventh year. I thank you for that and I know Draco would as well.
These last five years have been hard. I can no longer teach and I've moved in with Ron and Mione. They've been good through this, though I know it hurts them when I can't quite remember a thing about them at times. Every day it gets harder. It takes more effort to remember them, even to remember myself. Mione found out what it was.
I don't recall the name, I never can, but she said it's something Muggles discovered. They have no cure for it and it only grows worse as time goes on until the one afflicted can't recall anything about themselves or those around them. Of course with my unwanted fame every Potions Master from here to New Zealand have tried creating a potion to help me while equally every Charms Master has tried to create spells of all kinds to help.
Of course I will never accept an unknown potion from just anyone. I always insist that I see the ingredients, the procedure, and see a test myself before drinking anything. Some have been none too accommodating of my insistence of questioning their work, but not many are aware that we spent five years living together after I finished Hogwarts before the final battle.
There have been some potions that work temporarily and most of these were made by students of yours or those that followed your research on various potions. I took the liberty almost fifteen years ago to publish the things that you had accomplished. The Wolfsbane was perfected by one of the last students you taught.
The transformation occurs, but it is no longer painful and the instincts of the wolf are completely subdued. She has given you complete credit for the work. I asked her why and she said that it was your teaching that had led her to the final formula. She has so far come the closest to finding a cure for me.
She will not finish it before I am gone. Even sitting here, doing nothing more than writing has winded me. I will soon have to stop and rest. I don't know which will happen first. Either I'll completely forget everything I once knew for good or I'll be too weak to continue on. I rather hope it will be the latter. I don't relish continuing on when I no longer know the reason why I try so hard to not give up.
I only have a short time. It has been years since the last and this is the first time in a week I've been able to remember who I am. I don't know how much time I have left, my love, but I hope to be with you soon. My strength is nearly gone. It has been leaving almost as fast as my memory lately. I don't
I'm sorry, Severus. I can barely remember anymore. Not even Voldemort could frighten me as much as not remembering who I am, who you are, who my friends are, who anybody is. I want to tell you once more before I forget again. I love you, Severus. I'll never stop, even if I can't remember. I will always be your
Come home, my Harry.
A teardrop fell onto the last page. Hermione gently closed the book; the last journal of Harry Potter and the one held dearest to his heart. This was the only journal of many he wrote that was to someone and Hermione had never known it. She nodded once to herself and took the stack of volumes from their place beside her, fitting them onto a shelf near the east wall of the library between two large windows. She looked out on the small group of mourners still near the Victorian house on the outskirts of Hogsmead. It had been a beautiful funeral and Harry had been placed where his name appeared on the headstone beside Severus's in the Hogwart's cemetery. It was near the lake, one border created by the Forbidden Forest, but hidden from all but those who knew of it.
"Be happy, Harry. Love with all you have, Severus. May you both find what you seek once again.
The words rang out through the silent room, a hint of magic following them.
Nine months later, somewhere in the Wizarding World, a cry was heard. A baby's cry as it took its first breath. Not too far away a second cry was heard; a toddler, waking from a dream... or a memory with one firm thought in his mind and the image of a dark-haired, green-eyed playmate.
'My Harry.'