Leaves on the Wings of Wind

by elelel

Oh how she hated the fall. It was the time of dying things, cold wind, and a past she would rather leave buried.

A/N: The song used in this fic is The Brilliant Dance by Dashboard Confessional.

Leaves on the Wings of Wind

The lake glittered in the fading sunlight of an autumn evening. Leaves crackled as they were swept away by the wind, fluttering around the ankles of students still relaxing outside after a day of exams. Some just sat by the lake with their backs up against a tree, watching as other students taunted the giant squid lingering beneath the surface. Some were talking and laughing, sharing ideas and fears, talking for hours but never really saying anything at all. Still others ran through the thickening bunches of leaves, scattering them in all directions, yelling "Catch me if you can!" while giggles followed.

Two young students, however, separated themselves from the others and began to walk around the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry and Hermione had felt the need to stretch their legs after a long day of sitting. They walked at a slow but steady pace while exchanging idle chat about how well they thought they did on exams.

"Oh, I'm just sure I failed the Defense exam. I just know it!" said Hermione worriedly.

Harry let out a snort. "Yeah and Crookshanks will sprout wings and fly off into the night."

She slapped him wryly on the shoulder, completely ruining the effect with the bright smile radiating from her face.

"Well, we all know I didn't pass History of Magic." Harry said after their laughter had died down.

"Oh come on Harry, don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure you did fine."

"Look who's talking Ms. "I'm sure I didn't pass my Defense exam"!"

Hermione's face reddened. "Well okay, I guess I didn't fail Defense but I'm sure I didn't do as well as I could have."

"I'll restrain myself from saying the always amusing phrase of, I told you so! You overreact too much, Hermione. You could never fail anything."

A comfortable silence fell between them as each was caught in their own world. Hermione in particular was thinking of how amazing it would be just to stay stuck in this moment in time forever. The bright red, orange, and yellow of the leaves falling gently from the trees as well as the horizon streaked with yellow, purple, and pale pink was enough to take her breath away. She turned her head towards Harry to comment just as the wind picked up, blowing a strong breeze through the trees.

Leaves fluttered madly around them, sticking to their clothes and in their hair. Hermione giggled as the breeze let down as a bright smile lit up the features of Harry's face. He looked so boyish just then, his raven-black hair speckled with red and orange leaves and his sharp green eyes sparkling like the most beautiful stars in the universe. All breath left her lungs and she realized just how much she loved this man. This definitely was crossing the invisible line between friends and lovers. She loved him more than life itself and it was a scary thought.

"I love the fall." He muttered, so quietly she almost didn't catch it.

She wanted desperately to say 'I love you,' but the words caught in her throat and instead she murmured weakly, "So do I."

So this is art,

Painful realization,

That all has gone wrong and,

Nobody cares at all,

Nobody cares at all,

The wind whipped wildly around her as the cloak she wore flapped around her ankles. Oh how she hated the fall. It was the time of dying things, cold wind, and a past she would rather leave buried. But, as usual, she could not forget. The wounds left behind in her heart were still fresh, even after all these years.

"How long has it been?" she asked exasperatedly to herself.

Too long. Her inner voice replied.

So you buried all your lover's clothes,

And burned the letters lover wrote,

But it doesn't make it any better,

Doesn't make it any better,

And the plaster dented from your fist,

In the hall where you had your first kiss,

Reminds you that the memories will fade,

Oh, how hard she had tried to forget. She thought that she could bury the pain just as they had buried him. Six feet within her the pain would reside, never to be felt again. She soon realized it hurt just a much to be wrong. So she turned to the alcohol just to feel blessedly numb, if only for a little while. But everyday she would wake up feeling worse than the day before, and even more guilty. It suffocated her, making her weak to her knees and hateful of herself. After that she couldn't stop, knowing the drink wouldn't help the hole left in her heart but not caring. Every gulp was a step towards nirvana; every glass helped her forget he wasn't there.

She tugged at the edges of her cloak, pulling it tighter around her to keep out the cold. The weather mirrored her insides, churning with a murky grayness, cold and empty.

So this is strange,

A sidestepping has come to be,

A brilliant dance where,

Nobody leads at all,

Nobody leads at all,

Maybe someday she will be able to block out the sensation of his lips upon hers and erase the memory of his embrace. Maybe sometime she will be able to forget the day they stopped tiptoeing around each other and started their relationship anew as something wonderful, something beautiful. Maybe someday she will be able to cry tears of happiness again, instead of the ones echoing from the deep sorrow of her soul.

Maybe someday.

And the picture frames are facing down,

And the ringing from this empty sound,

Is deafening and keeping you from sleep,

And breathing is a foreign task,

And thinking's just too much to ask,

And your measuring your minutes by a,

Clock that's blinking eights,

She will never be able to understand why he loved this season. For her the fall would only ever represent depression and despair, the tattered memory of a dark-haired boy with leaves tangled in his hair, forever burdened by his destiny. To her, the season would always represent death, destined to begin again in the spring. But in this cliché tragedy of her life, there was no spring and no new beginning. Only a constant autumn, cold and gray in its constant predictability.

A blood-red leaf floats before her and she drops to her knees, catching it lightly within her cupped hands. Without thinking, she brings it to her lips and kisses it gently. It flies up and beyond, riding on the wings of the wind and she watches it wishing desperately she could do the same.

Well this is incredible,

Starving, insatiable,

Yes this is love for the first time,

You'd like to think that you were invincible,

Yeah,

Well weren't we all once,

Before we felt lost for the first time?

This is the last time,

This is the last time,

"I love you." She whispered, kissing two fingers and bringing them to touch the name inscribed on his gravestone: Harry James Potter.

She stands, brushing the dry leaves off her knees. She turns and walks slowly from the cemetery, intending to leave and never come back but she knows it's not true. She's drawn to him like a sheep to the slaughterhouse. But, until the next time, she will just keep telling herself…

This is the last time.