Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood
Characters:
Luna Lovegood
Genres:
Angst
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Stats:
Published: 04/06/2007
Updated: 04/06/2007
Words: 1,584
Chapters: 1
Hits: 511

The Last Thing I Do

Elissy

Story Summary:
The last thing we do: will it be something that is filled with confessions, or regrets of never making them? Will it harbor feelings, whether loving or hostile? As Luna Lovegood reflects on the death of her first love, she knows that the last thing she'll do is never forget.

Chapter 01

Posted:
04/06/2007
Hits:
511

So here it is... I really enjoyed writing this piece, and I hope that you feel what I did when I typed this. Please let me know what you think of it.


The Last Thing I Do

By now, one might think that I'd be over it. One might think that after all the years of pain and suffering, my heart would have healed. But it hasn't, and the hole that is there is just as wide as the day it first appeared. When I close my eyes, I can still see his torpid body on the ground. I can still relive the screams, the pain, everything about the day. I doubt I'll ever forget. Forgetting that would be forgetting the last memory I have of him. If it's the last thing I do, I'll never forget.

To forget him would be to forget to live.

But even though I'm not as young as I used to be, even though everyone else has moved on and left me behind, the one memory that still burns the brightest is the last one I have. As much as my efforts have failed, I'm nearly happy that they have. But I guess I couldn't say that I was happy. Happiness has been the furthest emotion from me in several years. And without him, it's never coming back.

The night that my heart fell into pieces was the night that Harry Potter left this earth. I will never forget the determination in those beautiful eyes as he fought to his death. I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw what was coming. But I'll never forget watching in horror when his lifeless body fell to the ground in a flash of green light.

"Harry!" I screamed, dashing to him, ignoring the consequences. "Harry! Say something." But there was no reply. No voice. No proof that the empty body ever held a human's life.

Sobbing, I closed my arms around him and brushed his thick hair from his eyes. "Harry, come back," I wept. "You can't leave." I aimed spell after spell at him, but nothing worked. I should have known then that even love couldn't bring someone back from the dead.

But I was so terrified, so scared of what my life would be without him. I didn't even notice the form of Voldemort fast approaching. I didn't even see his wand being poised over my heart-broken self. And I didn't even hear it when the spell hit me square in the back, causing me to forget everything except that of the sight in front of my disbelieving eyes.

"Obliviate," he hissed at me, kicking my desolate body to the side. However, through the corner of my eye, I could still see him.

He's just sleeping, I told myself as Voldemort fast approached him. That's all he's doing. He's just asleep. Although I couldn't allow myself to believe my own lie, I had to watch to see what would happen next.

But nothing happened. The ominous form of Voldemort stood triumphantly over Harry's body, and when he was satisfied to see that he was no longer living, he walked away, laughing.

I can still hear that sound echoing through my mind, even today. The vicious laughter was so evil, so empty. And yet it held so much power in it. How could one laugh at someone's lifeless body? Did that evil man find pleasure in seeing my only love succumbed to death? No matter how hard I try, I'll never forget the look on his face as he walked away. The sheer enjoyment in his eyes chills me to think of it. The evilness he had, the malice in those red eyes... It was almost as if he had never had more fun in his entire life, and killing was what he did for entertainment.

How could one be so evil? How could he take the lives of so many good people? It wasn't fair. Those who died on that battlefield that day didn't deserve what they got. They didn't deserve to die like they did. Voldemort did! Some one so evil and so cold-- it's not fair that he stayed alive while loved ones of many passed away.

Harry was the only one who ever showed me kindness. He was the only one who kept my spirits lifted through the hardest times I faced. And now, he's gone. He'll never come back.

My heart aches to reflect in these memories. I cared deeply for him, and he never even knew. If only he could have seen what was in my heart, if only he could have only glimpsed at my true feelings, he wouldn't have been the same. Such emotion, such power could only be described as one word: love.

If I had only told him, things might have been different. Maybe with the truth in the air, he would have had the strength to defeat Voldemort instead of welcoming his fate. Maybe if I had only said three small words to him, they could have given him the hope to push through the struggle.

But I guess I'll never know. And if it's the last thing I do, I'll never forget the pain.

How I remember every event of that night, I don't know. One would think that after I was hit with a Memory Charm by the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time, I would forget. But the one thing Voldemort didn't realize was that when he hit me, the curse could have gone straight through me. I hardly felt it, and the only thing I can deduce from my constant thoughts is one, simple word: love.

I loved him! And Voldemort had no care. I revel in the thought that it was Harry's last act of kindness to me before he passed away. Even in his death, my love for him protected me from any danger. He had protected me once again, just as he always had.

Even now, nearly half a century later, I find myself an elderly woman. And everything I see somehow reminds me of the mischief and joy in those green eyes. Simply everything my eyes view pushes the thought of that luxurious black hair into my mind.

For the years that I knew him, I couldn't be anything more to him than a friend. And it satisfied me to be just that: his friend, a companion, a shoulder to lean on and ears to listen when everything fell apart. Where ever I go, he's there, too. Every time I look, I see him. Every time I hear, I listen to his voice caress the wind.

I often entertain the thought that he's around me, watching me, longing to come back. I love to stare at the stars in the evening and think of him. Every star, every twinkle that litters the midnight sky is a tear cried-- a love lost. He didn't deserve to die like he did, and even now the pain is beyond bearable.

How I long to share a conversation, a glance, a smile with him once more. But I know that I'll never see or feel those things again.

This longing in my heart is something so foreign but so common at the same time. I've felt it for most of my life, but the pain and memories are still so fresh, so unhealed that I feel as if the event happened just yesterday.

Seeing his grave makes my heart break into pieces. I'm not as strong as everyone thinks. I've lost so many people in my life, and he's the one I always hoped I'd never have to say goodbye to. But I did; it's so unfair. To love someone with your entire being is a feat in itself. But to have to tell them goodbye is the most pain I've ever felt. So young, so innocent, so trusting--Harry Potter didn't deserve the fate that he got. I didn't deserve to say goodbye like I had to. A half-whispered, half-weeping plea of "Come back" some how doesn't complete the confession that I'd always planned.

If I could rewind time, I would have told him everything. I would have confessed how I'd always felt for him. I would have welcomed any reply that he could have given me. But now he's gone. And I have to live with the regrets of keeping my secret to myself. The regret? I'll never forget it.

But as I sit, completely alone, I can't shake his memory from my mind. I've wanted to. Yes, oh yes, I've wanted to project every trace of him from my thoughts and regret ever meeting him. But then a silent voice, a sound so low below a whisper softly says, You'll never forget.

And then I realize that I don't want to ever lose his memory. I never want to be separated from the last thing to which I cling.

Every time I access these thoughts, waves of emotion control me, hold me, torture me. I can't take remembering him any longer. I simply feel as though my mind is being pulled from consciousness, running, fleeing. And it doesn't want to come back. As tears start to fall from my desolate eyes, I send three words into empty space. Three words which hold so much regret, so much pain, so much emotion, and so many feelings:

"I loved you."

If it's the last thing I'll do, I'll never forget.