I Can Only Dream

I always thought I would follow you up to the gates of Hell if I had to. And that, once arriving there, I would beg the gatekeeper to take me instead of you. And if he must take you, I would ask to come with you. And if he would not let me come with you, I would wait for you on the shores of the river. I promised to watch over you and follow you always. I promised never to leave you. I never thought that death might prevent me. Not your death, but mine.

--Cassandra Claire, Draco Veritas

***

I always thought you'd die before me.

It only seemed to be so obvious. Werewolves age faster than we others do, right? You had some grey in your hair - I called it silver, and you smiled, saying that it'd kill you as well as silver would have done - in the age of seventeen. I always thought that you'd age while I stayed young, and die so much before me - before than even Muggles do - and I'd be left mourning.

I was certain I'd never take another. I could never love any other but you - no one's eyes could be the same gold, no other's voice be as soft and tender, no other's touch as gentle and loving. There was no other I could give my heart to.

It was kind of grown in me. When we started dating, I already knew - or I thought I knew - that I'd have a long, long time alone without you, crying over you every day. But I decided to enjoy our every moment together all the more, memorize every second with you, so I could have something to remember during those long years of bitter loneliness.

Merlin, how I was wrong.

I always imagined that I'd be on your side to the end. Support you, when you got weaker. Carry you, when you couldn't walk anymore, my arms clung around you, never giving you up. I thought I'd see you slipping further away every day, as your curse took better of you, I thought I'd desperately try to keep you in the life.

I even imagined I'd stand on the side of your bed, and pull the covers over you for the last time, kissing your eyes closed as you at last left me. I promised you that in our wedding - that I'd always be with you, no matter what. That I'd never leave you, unless you were taken from me through death - and even then, I'd still keep you alive in my heart.

I thought it would be the worst thing in my life - even after Azkaban, even after all those horrible things happening, I thought that your death would be the worst thing I'd ever experience. And I was sure I'd experience it - I knew, we both knew, that werewolves don't live long.

Now I can't be on your side. You have to age alone, or you will find someone else to watch over your steps, grasp your arm as you stagger, lay a hand on your shoulder as you're uncertain. I hope there'll be someone, even if I can't be there - I don't want you to be left alone, I'd give you to anyone who truly loves you rather than let you be alone, I want someone to love you even when I can't.

For I can't, since I was wrong. I didn't see your death - you saw mine.

To be honest, I don't even know if I'm dead. I don't know if this is the death. No one truly knows what's behind the Veil, not before they fall through it - and not even after it.

It's dark here, or dim rather - it's not really dark, everything is just blank greyness, misty and unclear. I can see myself, like it was the noon at summer, but everything else is like those soft shadows candlelight casts at a long, lonely autumn night, when you sit alone waiting for your loved one to come home - it's not darkness nor is it light, but something it is, and you can't quite grasp on the word and then your love comes home and you forget it, because there are no shadows at all when you're with your loved.

Besides that you won't come. Not yet, at least. I have to hope that some day you will come - some day, when you've had a full life, a life full of light and happiness and love and wonderful events, all those that you haven't had for so long - none of us has.

You deserve it. You deserve it, of all the people, you've suffered already so much, bot physically and mentally - I hope I could have prevented that suffer, that I could have taken it instead of you, let you have the happy and painless life you deserve.

I sometimes think I hear voices - voices of ours, we two and James and Peter talking as we are planning the Marauder's Map, our vows to each other, all those wonderful "I love you"s, every single sound I'd love to hear again. But they're not real sounds, they're only ghosts of their originals, like the wind going through the autumn leaves in some distant forest, making them rustle and sigh and whisper like a crowd of people somewhere in the distance, and I know that those sounds have died long time ago, that they won't come back nor will they be real again.

And then, again and again, I hear you howling in pain, screaming out loud as the transformation takes over you and your body, you crying as you've been hurt, as I've hurt you, your furious voice accusing me of betraying James and Lily, betraying you all. And they're ghosts as well, but it hurts me even more, for I remember how much you've been hurt in your life. And then I know you're still hurt and still in pain, and I can only hope you aren't still blaming me for betraying you, not through traitorness anymore but through dying and leaving you alone, betraying my word to you.

There never is anything else, only those half-sounds trying to break the silence, never becoming real sounds but always tearing my heart apart.

I hope I could die, to end this hopeless suffer, but how could a dead man ask for such easiness?

I haven't see anyone other here - no James or Lily, not anyone. If this was Heaven, wouldn't they surely be here with me?

And if they aren't, do I have hope to get you here, once your time is full?

I have to hope so. If I don't have any hope, I'll go insane. My whole existence is based on the thougth that once, one day - or one night, there's not much difference in here - you'll be here with me. That some day I can see you again, talk to you again, touch you again.

I have only hope left.

Hope, and dreams.

Oh, dreams, dreams and memories. Another source of some too brief moments of happiness, and also a source of infinite pain. I hope the dreams to cease, the memories to go away, yet I want them to stay, because they're everything that I have left of you.

It is like Azkaban, really. Only worse - I'd exchange this to Azkaban any day. I never thought anything could be worse than Azkaban. Well, now I know better.

Whilst in Azkaban, I could only see the bad memories - you struggling in pain during your transformation, the sadness in your eyes as you thought I had betrayed James and Lily, all the times we fought, every single time I've ever seen you cry. I could not remember our first kiss, nor could I remember the first time we made love, or our wedding, or any of those happy moments - I had only pain.

Now I have also those happy memories. Every one of them.

Merlin, I'd hope it wasn't so.

I'm going insane. Sitting here, remembering my every good moment with you, your every smile, every twinkle in your eyes as you were happy. And knowing that you aren't here anymore, that I can't smell your scent, feel your touch, hear your loving words to me...

I can remember it all here. And I can dream. Circe, I can dream, and it makes me feel only worse.

Last time I dreamed of a different life. A wonderful life with Harry living with us, and Voldemort being defeated, and it was summer and warm and light everywhere, and we were all safe and happy, and you laughed as I and Harry playfought on the floor.

Then I woke up to this cold, grey emptiness, your laughter still echoing in my mind.

This is driving me insane.

Nothing exists in this dimness, nothing but memories and ghosts of those voices, your voice above them all, hurting me, stabbing me, tearing me apart from the inside, and yet I starve for even a second more of it, a bit more of a reminder of your existence when my belief is falling. And I want you, I want you more than anything, and you won't come and I'm left alone again as the voices go away, as the memories fade from my mind, as I wake up from yet another hurting dream.

I often sit down, although I don't sit, or don't go down eveb, I somehow only end in a sitting position. I close my eyes, trying to close the emptiness away as well, all this grey area without even a glimpse of you in it.

And then come the dreams, and my memories and hopes and thoughts mix and make up new scenes, scenes of happy live, dreams of you. And I see you, your kind eyes and calm smile, the silver strands in your hair glowing in the light of the half-moon as we walk out into the night, holding hands, your slender fingers wrapping around mine. And then come those voices again, and I hear your voice, almost-whispering sweet things to my ear, the echo of your voice so familiar that if I try very hard, I think I can almost hear you really, like you were here, right next to me.

If I concentrate hard enough, I can even feel your thought, I can feel your fingers stroking my hand, your lips brushing slightly over my forehead, a strand of your hair tickling my cheek as you lean forwards. And for a second, only a second, I really believe that I'm really dead, that this is the Heaven and you're with me there, for any place with you is the Heaven for me, and no place without you can ever be it.

And then the voices cease, or they turn into your pain-filled screaming, or the fading shadow of it. Or I just can't concentrate hard enough, and I lose the feeling, or something else distracts me, some thought, anything. Or I heard you almost-cry somewhere among the shadow and forget everything else, wanting only to hold you and protect you and be with you till the end and beyond.

Then I open my eyes and see that I'm still here, in this cold, endless shadow, were nothing is real but the pain, where I can sit in that old memory of a lonely autumn night forever and you still won't come, never. I see that you aren't here, but somewhere else, and I can't be with you and protect you, and I have betrayed my vows, my love towards you. For a moment, I lose the hope of ever getting you here with me, and I know that this isn't the Heaven...

But the Hell.