I'm standing-squatting, rather, outside their house. What used to be their house, but what now looks much more like some god awful ancient ruin, even though it's only been fifteen years. Okay, fifteen years is a long time, but people don't usually think that in fifteen years a house full of love and warmth and puppies and all that other god awful shit that makes me almost sick to my stomach can turn into some kind of sacred ruin.

But it did. And that's why I'm here again, like I was one of those nights so many years ago, one of those nights, I'm realizing, that must have been one of her last.

I shouldn't be here, I know, and I should let go of her, I know, but I won't. I can't. She was happy, I know, much, much happier than I'm sure I could've made her, because she never wanted me. Not before Hogwarts, and surely not after I'd fallen into the Death Eaters and dark magic and whatever else I've gotten myself roped into. But I did, and even though if it weren't for that and it weren't for me, she'd still be here, I'm past regret. I'm past wondering what things would be like if I'd just opened my god damned mouth for once in my life and said something that actually meant something and might've done something besides ruin something for somebody. I'm past wishing and hoping and dreaming and deluding myself.

There's nothing that can bring her back, and there's no way I can change things, but that doesn't mean I can't miss her. She was never mine, but that means I can't be lonely.

She got her hold on me, whether she meant to or not, and even after god knows how many years, even from beyond the grave, she still hasn't let go. And neither have I.

I'm pulling myself up, my hand in my hair, and for a moment I stand here and stare at that house like I have so many times before, the wind blowing whatever hair I don't have a hold on. Of course I know I shouldn't be here, of course I know that it's wrong for me to miss her, that I shouldn't be allowed to miss her because it's my fault she's gone, but I do. I can't not miss her, I just can't. That's the way it's been for so many years, nothing can change something that deep-rooted. No type of magic and no amount of potions and herbs can change something like this.

I take a few tentative steps towards the house, that house that I'm sure must have been beautiful if not for the man she shared it with, if not for the years of neglect. She crosses my mind again, like she has so many times before, her eyes and the way she'd smile with a pile of textbooks in her lap and the sun dancing through the strands of her hair, but then it's gone and when I try to bring the image back, all I can see is him.

I'm standing on the doorstep, where I'm sure, somewhere a long way back, there must have been a welcome mat. There's pots hanging from rusted chains all around the porch, but anything that lived here has long since died.

I lean my forehead softly against the dusty window, barely able to see inside, not that I really want to see what's in there. What they shared, and what I'm sure I'll never be able to get a taste of. Not now. But I can see anyway, I can see the rotted remains of broken tables and wooden three legged chairs, the smashed cabinet, the broken glass scattered across the floor. I press a hand against one of the panes, not sure what exactly what I'm doing. Not sure what I think is going to happen, but whatever it is, it doesn't happen. Nothing happens. I just feel pathetic and empty and robbed.

At least, I think I do. I must, but I can't tell. It's been that way for so long now. First it was years and years of this active pain, where it felt like somebody was stabbing me in the chest whenever she crossed my mind, whenever I saw her with him, and when she died, it changed into this undercurrent and it never went away. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried not to think of her and no matter what I occupied my time with, something was always missing. Something would always tug at the edges of my mind, at my whole heart, telling me that nothing would ever be the same, that happiness could never find me now, and I gave into it. Nothing hurts, nothing makes me feel anything. Fifteen years of being numb.

I breathe out as I turn and walk back down the steps, feeling them creak and groan under my weight, and I watch my breath as it floats away.

There's snow, just beginning to fall, and it lands on my clothes and hair and sticks to the brown, weeping blades of grass that stand in patches around what used to be the lawn.

I lean down next to the sign hammered into the ground, and write with cold, shaking hands, "We believe in you Harry," before I stand back up and walk away, down to the very edge of the property, and turn back to the house one last time. I'm not coming back here again.

"Rest in peace, Lily,"

--

I know I normally write girlxgirl, but this really is the most heartbreaking, perfect couple I've ever seen in any story or movie. I can't really do it justice, but I kinda wanted to write something. Straight couples never really.. do anything to me, but this is the one exception I guess.