Sorry for the long time without updating. I was very busy and had some writer's block. Great predicament I know. But here you go, enjoy it or not it's for you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
It was the best laugh I'd had in a while. The most fun too. Though as time past I was reminded of Miles, he was still gone. Maybe gone in the way of never returning. It hurt so much to think of it, but being in those fields hit so close to home. It brought all the memories I had locked away flooding back. My mother most of all. She loved our farmland. The rolling hills, the vines, the trees, the entire place. When she died it was hard on everyone. So many people attended her funeral. She had touched so many lives and it was a shocker to everyone. She was killed by a bear, no one understood it.
I didn't live in fear though. I didn't shut out the subject of my mother and neither did my father. We talked about her almost every day, through the tears and the laughter. It healed us, and I never really felt like she left me. She was always there, somewhere, guiding me along. I missed her terribly and wished she would one day come back. But I knew that wasn't going to happen. So I kept moving forward, because I knew she wouldn't have wanted me to dwell on things I couldn't control. She wasn't like that, her past hadn't been a crystal walkway either but she never dwelled on it. She was happy about the life she got to lead, even if the way she got there wasn't great.
That was what my father loved most about her. About me too. He said we were a lot alike, I thought that too. When she was young her mother had teased her about being "a bullet" just like my father teased me. She was like that in a different way though. She was never cold or impassive like I was, those traits came from my father. No, she was always warm and welcoming. Her kind smile and bell-like laugh were enough to lodge herself into your heart without you knowing what was happening.
From when I could first remember to the day she died she'd always called me "spitfire". My father never liked the name and tried to convince her to stop but she never would. People always said her only flaw was her stubbornness. That was true, she could be stubborn when she wanted to. She never really took no for an answer and could put up a good fight if need be. She always fought about calling me "spitfire".
It was what my best friend had always called me too. She'd laugh about the name and tell me how it was perfect. In a way, it was. When my mother passed away I had told her to stop calling me that. It hurt too much, I had said. But my best friend was stubborn too.
"Vienna," She had said. "I know you miss her. I miss her too. You said yourself you don't want to forgot. What better way to remember than to keep her nickname for you?"
That girl was always right, most of the time it infuriated me. But I knew she was just trying to help, and she did. But then I lost her too, and that hurt almost as much. We were both the only children in our families, the closest to sisters anyone could be without the blood-relation. Our parents were close too and they treated us as if we were both their children. We were even closer after my mother's death but then she died too. Her parents moved away, they didn't want to face the memories. So they left. My father said that everyone has their own way of healing. Some stronger than others. They needed to get away, not to forgot but only to dull the pain. I never thought less of them for it either.
Then there was Miles. My crazy boyfriend who could never turn down an even crazier dare. Who loved to be the life of the party. He was just as stubborn, outgoing, and patriotic as I was. He could be cold and impassive but I, unlike most people, only ever saw his softer side. All Miles had ever wanted to do was fly and fight. He always told me he didn't want to be a hero but he couldn't sit on the sidelines either. Now he was missing and there was the chance that he may never come home again. At least, not alive that is.
People always said that we were a match made in heaven. I don't know when, but at some point I actually started to believe that too. In a way, I couldn't imagine my life without him. He'd always been there, through the good and the bad times. We'd grown up together and losing him was like losing part of your life, your childhood. Just before he'd left he'd given me a bracelet that had a heart on it. I remember that day clearly.
"Open it." He had almost begged me.
"Miles you really didn't have to do this!" I exclaimed as I began to.
"Yes I did. This is war, Vienna, you never know what could happen." He'd told me.
I looked at him as I carefully opened the box. Inside was a silver bracelet, dangling from it was a very colorful heart.
"Open the heart." He ordered.
I smiled as I saw what was inside. On the left was a photo of the two of us. He was dressed in his uniform, it had to be the first time he'd worn it. I looked tiny next to his muscular build in my little flip flops, short shorts, and t-shirt. I still wore the bullet locket but I had on the earrings he'd given me. The little American flags. It was his way of saying "country strong" he'd told me. I loved them. On the right side of the locket the words "I Love You-Miles" were engraved.
I'd smiled at him happily. "It's wonderful." Was all I could tell him.
"I'm happy you like it." He said smiling back.
"Here, help me put it on." I said handing it to him and holding out my wrist.
He chuckled and quickly snapped it on.
I remember the day he left almost too clearly. I had tackled him into a bear hug.
"Promise me something," I ordered.
"Promise you what?" He asked.
"Promise me you'll come home, safe." I practically begged. I didn't care though. He was the only one I allowed to see my weaker side.
"You know I can't promise that." Was his response.
"Why not?" I asked furious. Just like him to ruin the moment.
"Country first," He murmured so no one else could hear.
"Country strong." I had finished. He'd been telling me that since he enlisted.
"Remember that, Spitfire. That and the fact that I love you." Those were his parting words for me.
"I love you too." I'd replied.
Then he kissed me. But the kiss ended all too soon as he left quickly. I knew that in a way he was separating himself from me, thinking that he was protecting me by pulling away.
Damn him and his stubbornness. I didn't need any protection.
He always had to be different. When everyone else called me Vienna when they were being serious and Spitfire when they weren't he switched it. Calling me Spitfire when he was serious and Vienna when he wasn't. I missed him so much it hurt. I was proud of him though. I knew he wouldn't give up easily or quickly, wherever he was he had to be alive. I just knew it.
Those thoughts quickly led me to my dad. He could be so cold and impassive, but he was never like that towards me or my mother. With us he was different, in a good way. Most people would probably think the words he told me every night would have gotten old by now, but they didn't. The words were like fuel to a fire, the fire that kept me going.
We'd never had much. Sure we got by and got by fine but we weren't rich or even close to it. That was the way my father liked it. When my mother was alive she liked it that way too. I didn't care. I had what I needed and that was enough. Enough for all of us. My father always told me the finer things in life you had to work for. They weren't worth it if they were handed to you on a silver platter. He was a very down to earth person and I liked that. He didn't dream too big or shoot too high and that was fine. He loved what he did and the life that he led. I always knew I was lucky to have him for a dad. I was lucky to have everyone who had passed in and out of my life, or who stayed. Fate may not have dealt me the best hand but I couldn't say it dealt me the worst either.
So that was where Draco found me, sitting alone in the field with my arms wrapped around my legs. I was rocking myself back and forth staring out into the fields, lost in my own memories. After he'd tackled me he'd ran and when I stopped chasing him and he couldn't find me he had became worried.
"Are you okay?" He asked me.
"Sorry about that." I apologized. "I just got lost in thought."
I picked myself up off the ground and quickly brushed off my clothing.
"It's fine." He replied quickly. "I probably shouldn't ask what you were thinking about."
"My life, and the people I've lost." I told him carefully about all my memories. "I guess being at a place so like home just brought them all flooding back."
"I'm sorry, my mistake…" He started.
"No!" I stopped him quickly. "I can deal. The memories, they help. I don't want to forget, you know?"
"No, I don't actually. I did some things during the war I only wish I could forget." Was his reply.
"I think," I said carefully. "that it's better to face the memories but not to dwell on the past. If you try to forget it just hurts worse. But facing it…heals you somehow."
"I don't think I understand." I could hear the pain in his voice.
"I don't expect you to." I said honestly. "But it gave me an idea."
"Not another meeting?" He groaned.
"I don't know. Maybe you should stop adding fuel to the fire." I joked before sprinting away.