There Is No One

Emwah

There is No One

How can I love when I know that everything I love is in danger?

How can I stay sane without any kind of love?

I can't.

Every day of my life, I put the people I most love, the people I most cherish in danger. Just by knowing them, by loving them, by needing them, I'm killing them. As hard as I try to go on without them, I can't. Even if I could, they wouldn't let me.

I've known a life without love. The first and better half of my life was devoid of any human emotion save hate. All they ever did was hate me. A little boy, trying to grow up, in a foster family that punished him for his existence, in a place where he was looked down upon by everyone around him. Trying to find a place in a world without love. That was me. And I was sane then, wasn't I?

But I didn't know what love was. I do now. And now that I know what it is to love, to be loved, I can't go without it. It drove me forward in my darkest hours. It saved me from myself. Love has given me a reason to live. All I ever needed was the love of my friends.

And that selfishness has lead to their demise.

Their bodies lay lifeless against the ground. Their eyes are open, but they don't see me. They wouldn't want to see me. I as good as killed them. I wonder, will ever know? I wonder, that if they do, will they ever forgive me?

It's true I didn't commit the murder. I could never cause such direct harm to my lifelines. He and his minions could, though, and they did. But if it weren't for me, none of them would have battled anyway. I gave them cause to fight in the first place, and here their shells lie mangled and cold.

Hermione. The intelligent spark that was always present behind her eyes is lost, lost forever. They are dim and inert and they won't ever see anything again. She died painfully, of that it is sure, because the wound that killed her was to her stomach and the blood had seeped out in a large pool. I'll miss the way her brow furrowed when she was thinking. I'll miss the way she scolded me for not doing my homework. I'll miss the way she could always find a solution. Not this time, 'Mione.

She has died for me.

Right next to her, as though they had died together, was Ron. It appeared as though he was struck down with a Killing Curse. One instant, he was there, a tangible presence. The next he was gone and he had no means of return. His powerful blue eyes had widened, and told tales of surprise and shock. But the stories were ones that had not been listened to, and now his eyes had become glazed over. His hand was reaching out for something, perhaps for help. I had not been here to help him. And now I'll miss the way we laughed together about trivial things. I'll miss the way he blushed when he was embarrassed or angry. I'll miss the games of chess we played, the ones where he could always see what was going to happen next. Not this time though, Ron.

He has died for me.

My best friends. Hell, my first friends. The only ones who were prepared to see me suffer and suffer in return for my sake. They guided me through a new world full of mystery and magic and things I didn't understand. What could I do now? Without them, surely I would lose my way.

It hurts to admit that they are dead. It's such a permanent thing, death. I can't reverse it. Sometimes I wonder if, given the chance, I would spare them the pain of years of torment and simply refuse their friendship. I don't think I'm strong enough to do that. Without them I'm still the scared little boy I was seven years ago.

They loved me enough to die for me. Their casualties lie heavy on my heart and conscience. How can I possibly bear such a grief this big alone, without anyone to carry me through? How can I do this alone, and without their love?

And perhaps I can't. There is a point that when one crosses, they cannot come back. I am standing on the borderline. Behind me is a life where I existed almost happily. That is the life that has been tainted now, tainted with the knowledge that I am alone. In front is an altogether different existence. It is a non-existence.

Aspects of the life behind me have been wiped out. My friends. My mentors. My caretakers. Anyone I have ever cared for and received their love in return as given up so much for me, too much. The proof is the bodies, hundreds of bodies, which lay in piles around me. And yet I stand alone on the battlefield. And that I stand would mean that I am victorious. But I am not.

For how is one victorious when they have lost everything?

They aren't.

I do not know what life may have been like. I don't know if I could have made new friends. I doubt anyone could ever replace Ron and Hermione. Perhaps I would have found a new love. But I don't think anything is strong enough to make me whole again.

I know only that my life meant nothing but an endless torment.

And now I lay with them, on the battlefield, my wrists seeping my life essence onto the unforgiving earthen floor. And, as my dark red blood pools around me and mingles with the grass and mud, as it stains the robes of my two best friends, I still have no one. But now I don't even have myself.