Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.

A/N: Originally for the HP ficathon, July 1st.
Thank you to HPalto87 for beta-ing.

Can't Say Goodbye

The war ended years ago, but I still feel caught up in it. I try to move on with my life, but I can't seem to manage it. Everyday life seems… unnatural. In a way, I'm afraid I'll never grow past that. I'm continually stuck in the past, in those days of war.

It makes sense, though. I lost so many friends, people I couldn't imagine living without. Growing past those war days would mean leaving them behind. When we were in school, Harry and Ron and I were inseparable. Now they're gone.

Sometime after a war I got into the habit of lighting a candle for each of them. I just did it one night.

One for Harry, who was the best friend I could ask for. It's a shame he had to go like that, but a blessing that he took Voldemort down with him.

One for Ron, who I grew to truly love. Despite his famous Weasley temper, he was kind and gentle with me. We were happy together, and it hurt when he was ripped away like that.

I lit one for Neville the next night, who was able to hold on until after he killed Bellatrix. He showed the courage I knew was in him all along. His parents would be proud.

Later I added one for Percy, who was not such a git that he'd abandon his family when they truly needed him; and one for Remus, who turned out to be like a father figure to all of us. Tonks was heartbroken when she found his body.

And one for Moody, who wasn't mad at all, just over-cautious. I understand why now. As an Auror, he must have seen so many friends and colleagues perish.

Then there was one for Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, who both defied their parents and joined the light side.

And another for Hannah Abbott, Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot, all of whom I went to school with, but regrettably, never truly got to know.

One for all those who I have forgotten; or whose names I don't know; or who were simply innocent bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Durring the final battle I was inside 12 Grimmauld Place. I was planning, strategizing. That was my main role through the war, and I was good at it; but that meant I wasn't there when the Order was ambushed. By the time they got the message to us, in the form of Tonks' battered patronus, it was too late. We immediately set off for the battleground outside of Hogwarts, but by the time we got there, it was all over.

The dead were… everywhere. Broken, battered, bloody. The Aurors sent those of us who couldn't handle it away immediately. They tried to send me away, but I wouldn't go without finding Ron and Harry first. I fought, screamed, and cried, and they helped me.

Harry laid in a heap, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Compared to some of the others, he didn't look that bad.

Ron was one of the broken and bloody ones, and I retched when I looked at his body. Tonks found me and took me back to Grimmauld Place then, and the two of us, and Mrs. Weasley cried. Mrs. Weasley tried talking about it, but Tonks and I weren't very responsive. She talked, and we just agreed with her a lot. Luna sat nearby, staring into space. Her eyes were glossed over, and she appeared to be lost in her own little world.

The memorial service was a few weeks later, but I didn't go. I've been told it's beautiful, but I wasn't ready to say good-bye.

I'm still not ready.

So every night, I light a candle for each of them, showing my appreciation for what they did, my sorrow for what they lost, and my hope that the meager little light will somehow keep their spirits alive within me.