. . All the love I've met, I have no regrets . . (zeldaophelia) wrote in hplyric,
. . All the love I've met, I have no regrets . .

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FIC: Memories

Title: Memories
Author: zeldaophelia
Rating: PG-13 (dark fic, character death)
Archive: Of course
Notes: Thank to rubykate for the lyrics, longest darned thing I've written in a long time at 1,470 words. Warning: Character death, dark fic, 7th year. Yeah. It's not like what I usually write.

He was holding the picture frame in his hands, gripping it tightly like a lifeline when she found him. He never looked up as the attic door opened and shut, as she made her way over to the worn trunk he sat on; not until she stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off and returned to his reverie.

"Harry," she whispered, hoping against hope he would take notice. Instead he continued to stare at the picture, so lost in his memories he had forgotten the world around him.

Defeated she set the plate of food next to him and let herself out of the attic room. She had long since lost hope that today would be any different from yesterday and she knew tomorrow would be the same as today.


It was Halloween, 8th year, and Hogwarts was celebrating as best it could with the spirit dampening effects of the war. Every day came notice of someone's death, every day some child got word that a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, brother, sister - that someone had been killed in the war.

And everyday it ate at him further.

Now, seeing him sitting in the Great Hall - which had been made over for the Halloween Ball - she frowned with concern and made her way to his side.

"Harry?" He looked up at the sound of her voice and gave her what was nearly a real smile - not the slight uplifting of the corners of his mouth he gave Professor McGonagall when she enquired to his health - but nearly a grin complete with a few teeth showing.

"Hermione," he wrapped an arm around her as she joined him on the bench. He couldn't help but smile at her grimace as she stealthily slipped off her shoes. "Ron didn't man-handle you too badly, did he?"

Hermione giggled softly. "No, he only stepped on my feet twice - each - much better than at last year's Yule Ball."

He nodded, remembering the previous year's Ball, reinstated in an attempted to both keep students at Hogwarts - safe from the war - and to take their minds off the war. Ron had taken Hermione's words to heart after their 4th year and asked her the very afternoon the ball was announced. By the end of the night Hermione's feet were black and blue, Ron's face was flushed red with frustration at her nagging and any crush either may have harbored on the other was laid to rest.

His own relationship with her had found its beginnings over the summer. Time spent together in an Order safe house had led to long, thoughtful conversations, where each had realized they had more than just feelings of friendship for each other. Neither had wanted to act on that revelation - each too scared of putting the other and their friendship in danger - until Ron confronted them about it. For all Hermione had complained about his lack of sensitivity, he had quickly picked up on the change in their relationship and demanded to know why they chose to ignore it. It had been at his urging that they had given dating a try and now, sitting close together in the Great Hall, both felt deeply indebted to him for it.

They sat quietly for some time, watching the dancers twirl about the room, not needing conversation but just to be close to each other.


He hadn't moved, she decided as she let herself in the attic room once again. He sat on the same battered trunk, holding the same old picture. Never once did he look up as she placed the plate of hot food next to him. Never once did he look up as she gently touched his shoulder, vying with his memories for attention. never once did he look up as she let herself out again.


It was seven months later, 7 months after the ball, when Hogwarts came under attack. Dumbledore had long been expecting it, and had long since made the plans to protect the students. Harry had hated not being allowed to take part in those plans, instead being told to focus himself on training to destroy Voldemort. His conversation - more likely argument - with the Headmaster replayed itself in his mind as he watched the Death Eaters blow gaping holes into the wall surrounding the grounds.

"Harry," blue eyes that usually sparkled now looked serious as Dumbledore spoke, "it is for your own sake that we are not involving you in the planning. You have enough to worry you in preparing to face Voldemort, you do not need to take on more responsibility."

"Just because I've got troubles enough? The entire reason Voldemort will be coming here is to kill-" He stopped, the look on Dumbledore's face enough to know he wouldn't get any further.

Now, hidden with Ron and Hermione in the ramparts of the Astronomy tower, under the protection of several Order members, the Headmaster's words rang false in his ears. There, below him, Aurers and Order members were falling to dark curses right and left; though most endeavoured to bring Death Eaters down with them. It grated on him that they hid, while others died in his name.

She said that's what made him different from Voldemort.

He looked down at where she sat, half-hidden in the shadows. Her frizzy hair had been pulled back, though a few tendrils had escaped and curled around her face. He reached out and tucked one such strand behind her ear. "Are you okay?"

She looked up, startled out of a mental review of all the curses she knew. Her face was pale and drawn, the black circles under her eyes standing out despite the shadows. "Scared." She sighed and looked over at Ron, who was no doubt worried about Luna, Ginny and the rest of his family on the front lines.

"They'll be here soon, won't they?"

He nodded, knowing full well that she didn't mean just getting to Hogwarts.

No, they were already in Hogwarts. And soon they would reach the tower where the Order had hidden them. But they still arrived too soon, he thought as a crashing noise made it clear that the Death Eater's were there.

He ignored the curses flying around them, instead focusing on the hole in the wall the Death Eaters were coming in through. Eventually Voldemort would be coming through there himself and he wanted to be ready.

But they never had a chance. There were too many of them, they quickly overpowered the Order members protecting him and there was no way to alert those who were in the castle itself - protecting the younger students.

Soon Voldemort himself stood in the doorway and no Order members stood between him and Harry.

He felt like he was suddenly the guest star in one of those old 'shoot-'em-up' Westerns that Uncle Vernon used to watch late at night. Only instead of a dusty old town he stood in a nearly empty room. Instead of outlaws he was facing death Eaters. And instead of six-shooters he and Voldemort both held wands.

It was a race.

It was as if time slowed down.

Even as his wand was raised he could hear Voldemort's curse. See the green light streaking towards him.

Feel another body slamming into his, knocking him to the ground, frowsy hair covering his face.

Hear another voice, one all too familiar grapple with an unfamiliar curse.

Hear other voices call out curses, hear the lifeless thunk of another body falling dead.

Feel something inside himself break, feel himself crawling out from beneath her body, see the surprise on Voldemort's face as he could hear his own voice intone the killing curse.

"Avada Kedavra."

A bright green flash of light filled the room, illuminating the horror on Voldemort's face.


She stepped out of the fireplace, carrying yet another warm plate of food.

Today, however, was different.

Today the attic was devoid of life; the window was open, the old battered broom from the corner was gone. And that damned picture was missing as well.

One the truck where he always sat was instead a letter. Carefully she set the plate down in its usual place and, sitting in his, opened it to read.


By now I have left, would you object to never seeing each other again? My memories are my only friends to go with me in this new quest. Maybe I'll find life, maybe I'll find death. But either is best to what I have left behind. I want no reminders, not to be remembered. I just want to be a new man in a new place. Without anyone to try to find me.


Song Title: Deathly
Artist: Aimee Mann

Now that I've met you
would you object to
never seeing each other again
cause I can't afford to
climb aboard you
no one's got that much ego to spend

So don't work your stuff
because I've got troubles enough
no, don't pick on me
when one act of kindness could be

Cause I'm just a problem
for you to solve and
watch dissolve in the heat of your charm
but what will you do when
you run it through and
you can't get me back on the farm

So don't work your stuff
because I've got troubles enough
no, don't pick on me
when one act of kindness could be

You're on your honor
cause I'm a goner
and you haven't even begun
so do me a favor
if I should waver
be my savior
and get out the gun

Just don't work your stuff
because I've got troubles enough
no, don't pick on me
when one act of kindness could be
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