I Remember
Name: I Remember
Author: Flawless_Beauti
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters you might be familiar with, nor do I own any scenes I may use.
Warnings: None
A/N: DH compliant
I remember how heavy he was, his unconscious form weighing me down until it was a struggle to even stagger. Yet I would not let go. Even as flames licked at us, their fiery bite scorching my robes the way his words had only moments before, I struggled to place us both atop a charred desk and cowered from the flames, his large body behind my lithe one as if I could stop the unquenchable fire. He had been the closest thing to a friend, even if he had been cornered into turning on me at the end. I couldn’t let go. I felt the smoke start to choke me; my eyesight started to blur with tears. Then there he was.
I remember the green fire blazing in his eyes, and how the Fiendfyre seemed to dim under their very gaze. How he swooped down, amidst the flames, to reach out his hand for me to take. How he risked his life, and even his friends, to save mine. I remember how his hand felt in mine. How his large hands enveloped my slender ones; how rough they were against my own. The contrast of our skin tones, dark against light. How his jaw set in determination when my hand slipped away, and how I knew he wouldn’t stop until he had me. I remember how thrilled that made me, even amidst the fear that threatened to overpower me.
I remember how the weight suddenly left from my arms, and how I sagged as he lifted me so easily behind him. How his muscles moved so smoothly beneath my hands as he began to navigate us away. I remember how he never said a word when I clutched too tightly to him, and how he looked at me with a small, satisfied smile before turning to continue the fight. I remember how I lied, cowering yet again as the masked figure cornered me. How all I wanted was to live. Fuck my Father’s ‘master’; I wanted my mother. I remember how the figure fell, only seconds before I did, blood pouring from my bleeding mouth. How relieved I was when I saw his body-less feet running past me, and heard his horrible friend’s voice. How they seemed to pause for a moment when I gave him a confused smile. I could imagine him looking me over to make sure it wasn’t serious before nodding softly. I realize it was there I realized I was wrong about him the whole time, about him being a golden child. And I remember how I ran and hid after that incident, like the coward I would always be.
I remember watching the battles from my hiding place; behind a door with so many protection spells I knew I was safe. How the battle raged on against the ones in mask, how everyone cried when his limp form was carried in, and how I could barely see for tears cascading down my cheeks. I remember the horrible shouts, and everyone rebelling him, while the feeling of humiliation washed over me. How could they defy him while I cowered and their leader lay dead before them? But then he was gone and there was a battle yet again, so fast my eyes couldn’t follow it all. There was a Weasel fighting Aunt Bellatrix, and now there the dark haired woman was, falling to never again rise. I remember how I couldn’t summon even a bit of sympathy for her; only shell-shocked relief and mild amusement. How the voice in my head laughed at the irony; apparently muggle-born’s couldn’t be so bad after all. Minute’s later complete silence fell through the hall as our leader fought against theirs. I remember how shocked I was to hear myself thinking that; us against them. And I remember how shocked he looked when he fell, yet our leader remained upright and victorious. I remember being strangely pleased I had been able to help, even if it was insignificant. I remember the aftermath, him glancing around and his eyes resting on me before moving away with a satisfied nod. I remember how the feeling washed over me, and how only now could I recognize it for what it was.
I remember all of this in less than a second, gazing into his glowing eyes that still manage to make me forget how to breath properly; the eyes that are so foreign, and yet so familiar. I dart my eyes to his side, to his wife. His children run wild around the platform. I manage a cordial nod even as feelings I want buried resurface with surprising intensity. He returns the nod with a small smile, and I manage to look away, a hand on my own child’s head. The women beside me smiles fleetingly before slipping her hand into mine. She understands when no other can. My child’s mother, my wife, my confident, and even my friend. But she is not my love, who is currently turning away to speak to the red-haired woman at his side.
The memories rush back.