Disclaimer: the song 'Blind' and its lyrics belong to the band Lifehouse, and Harry Potter plot and characters belong to J.K Rowling, and I am certainly neither J.K. Rowling nor Lifehouse.
One.
The black dress robes seemed to clash violently with the magnificently bright and sunny summer's day. He sat through the ceremony, listening to his thoughts and taking in the guests more than he was listening to the black-clad man giving the eulogy that he was sure Dumbledore himself would have found bland and safely boring. He heard first, then saw, the mermaids, singing a mournful lament, painting loss and sorrow, reminding him of the haunting phoenix song the night- the night it happened. His heart gave a slight jolt and ached in a painfully satisfying way. As his eyes scanned the guests and registered the hairy bass player of the Weird Sisters, he wondered for a while on the power of song, and how it could make him feel when everything else fails to rouse his emotions. In his state of grief, of shock, and of steely determination, he did not even register much astonishment at the flames that engulfed Dumbledore's purple cloth-covered body, nor the subsequent emergence of the white tomb in place of the flames. He was oddly calm, and accepted this more readily than when Sirius had died. Perhaps he thought that he should get used to it, this whole death business, seeing how he's seen so much of it in the barely seventeen years of his life, and will most definitely see more in the time to come.
He heard choking sobs beside him, and saw tears freely falling down his friends' faces. His girlfriend's face, down her cheeks, falling fast and gracefully. His best friends were huddled in an embrace, too overcome by grief to forget being awkward around one another. He remembered what Dumbledore had been telling him, convincing him all these times during their..relationship. He was, and still is, a scared teenager, barely of age, facing the most dangerous wizard ever known. He felt small, overwhelmed and absolutely ordinary and..weak..compared to this giant of a wizard, who's very name evoked terror and would send grown wizards scurrying for cover. But Dumbledore maintained otherwise, that he had a power in him that even Voldermort did not.
Love, Harry, love.
Dumbledore's unflailing belief in love baffled Harry at times. It reminded him of the 70s and the hippies, whom Uncle Vernon despised so greatly. It reminded him of the Beatles, whom Uncle Vernon also despised, and of an era in the past when people held on to the mantra that All You Need Is Love. And his memory jogged back to a time early on in the year, when he was travelling through Dumbledore's memories, of the man himself in a loud, eye-catching and rather gaudy, though in a good way, he quickly added, plum velvet suit. He found himself having to stifle a grin as he realised his present surroundings, and was brought back again to the present.
Love.
He looked around at the straggling mourners, making they're way back home. He saw Lupin and Tonks, hands entwined, her vivid pink hair as obtrusive as the sun during a funeral. Tonks, despite the circumstance, despite their world being on the edge of the proverbial cliff, looked far better than she did months ago when hope was still present in the form of Dumbledore. Her eyes shone once again with youth and life, and Lupin, though still as shabby and caveworn as ever, shared the same expression as Tonks. Hope, he realised, that's what it was. Hope, and Love.
He saw Bill and Fleur, still together despite Bill's horrendous scars. In fact, Fleur looked even more enamoured, more determined and more passionate about Bill than he had ever realised before. And there was Hagrid bawling his eyes out, surrounded by a concerned-looking Grawp and Madame Maxine, elegant as ever even in her grief. Even the Weasley twins, it seems, did not shy from that complex emotion, as he noticed them huddled together with their friends from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan and George holding and comforting the distraught Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet respectively, and Angelina Johnson, his predecessor as Quidditch Captain, blank-faced and white-knuckled as she clutched onto Fred's arm and shoulder, trying hard not to cry.
He saw Ron and Hermione. They were crying, yes, even Ron, he noticed, had given up all pretense of a stoic and stong facade. His chin rested on Hermione's head, his tears wetting her hair, his arm around her waist. Harry wondered at how, somewhere along the way, the fights and the awkwardness between those two had resulted in this, to him, rather blatant display of care and affection. Well, it's about time, he thought, and smirked slightly. He wondered how much more of their fights and petty jealousy he would have to tolerate, and shuddered as he remembered the unpleasantness of the Krum and Lavender Episodes.
And then he felt it. He felt her staring at him with that look on her face. He'd been trying to put it off for as long as he could, but he could feel her looking at him, and he could feel that his time had run out. He felt her daring him to say it, to come out with it and just say it, say what they both know he's been meaning to say since the day Dumbledore died and his last protector fell, leaving him to fight the good fight alone.
He turned around and met her fiery gaze. If he had to put it down to one reason why he was attracted to, heck even loved her, it was this. Her passion, her feisty spirit, her strength. He admitted to himself, she was what got him through the days after..after what happened. If Fleur is good-looking enough for both her and Bill, then shewas strong and feisty enough for both him and herself, he thought wryly. With that knowledge, he gathered up whatever courage he had, and he certainly felt like he did not have much at that moment when he looked into her eyes, and set about to make one of the most painful choices he had to.
He knew she would say that she did not care for the danger, but he did. And despite what the muggles of the 70s believed, he did not think that love will conquer all. Love was what killed his father, his mother. Love was what spared Peter Pettigrew, and love was what drove him to the Ministry to look for Sirius. Love was what drove Sirius out of forced hiding to rescue him from the Death Eaters, and how he ended up behind the veil. And it was that very same Love that made Dumbledore the broken man lying spread-eagled at the bottom of the tower.
No, he thought. He loved her too much to have her die for him. This time, if anything were to happen, he had to be the one. It was his turn now, his turn to die for the ones he loves. Yes, loves. Never loved. He looked back at Ron and Hermione, and the twins and their friends, Hagrid and Grawp and Madame Maxine, at Bill and Fleur, Lupin and Tonks, at Dumbledore's tomb, at the Weasley family, at Sirius, at his parents, even at the Dursleys, who he knew actually do love each other very much. And even though he believed that Dumbledore's notions on love and forgiveness blinded him into making the fatal mistake of trusting Snape, he had to agree with his old Headmaster on the power that is love. It was there, accentuated even more so in these time of despair. It made normal, peace-time days all the more beautiful, and gave hope when danger and grief seemed to be enveloping all that we hold dear.
It was beautiful, oh-so beautiful, and yet what a double-edged sword it is.
He stood up and left, not able to bear looking at her any longer without breaking his resolve. He could still feel her, eyes blazing with an emotion he could not put to words, but made him feel all weak and forget about everything else except for Her and Him. You and Me. Ginny and Harry.
It was love, oddly enough, that gave him the strength to let her go.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter based on this part of the song by Lifehouse.
I was young but I wasn't naive
I watched helpless as you turned around to leave
And still I have the pain I have to carry
A past so deep that even you could not bury if you tried
After all this time
I never thought we'd be here
Never thought we'd be here
When my love for you was blind
But I couldn't make you see it
Couldn't make you see it
That I loved you more than you'll ever know
A part of me died when I let you go
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Thank you for reading and for your reviews Knight of Avalon and LadyVi :) It meant a lot, and especially since this is my first time ever writing. Hope the next chapter would be up to par!