Love of a Hero

Love of a Hero

Harry stood on a hill, covered with dead grass, looking out over a valley. He looked so tired and worn, and the haunted look in his eyes only hinted at the pain of all of which he had been through. His jaw as clenched, as if trying to bite it all away and then spit it back out, leaving it for the vultures that had been having feasts among feasts for the past several years. The pain and the separation from all of it would be a peaceful bliss for him, and all of the others involved in this never-ending war.

His gaze never faulted as he surveyed the valley, full of old and dried blood from previous battles that were still stuck to the clumps of dirt and the blades of grass. The skeletons that remained laying there, an unofficial graveyard for all of those whose life had been snatched away long before their original end. He could faintly hear all of the screams of pain and torment, pleading for their lives and for him. It hurt him to no end knowing that they had cried out for him, and he couldn't save them. He wasn't able to save any of those involved on that battle of July 30th, one day before his twenty-fifth birthday.

Three months had since passed then, tomorrow would most likely provide another long battle, and tomorrow would be Halloween. It was on nights like these that he would wonder why he had survived, when so many more should have survived. He was only a baby, and the great wizards and witches that were essential to his side had died while he did not.

It was times like these that he wondered how he would be able to carry on, to encourage the others that there was still a chance of restoring peace and harmony to the magical world. If he couldn't carry on, then how could he expect the others that looked up to him to do so?

I am so high. I can hear heaven.

I am so high. I can hear heaven.

No heaven, no heaven don't hear me.

He stood there, looking at the bones that were lying in the forgotten valley, wondering why he had come here and why all of his comrades had insisted on following him. No, he knew that they had followed him for they thought that Voldemort would attack him tonight. No, he - Voldemort - would save that for tomorrow; to show that there was nothing special about him, Harry. But for himself, he was at a lost on why he felt mysteriously drawn to this place.

He had only been here a few times for battles, and nothing more. It wasn't remarkably beautiful or calming, but somehow affected all of those who had laid their eyes on the valley. He couldn't remember anybody that was especially close to him dying here, for they were either with him or already...

He made a hard swallow, trying to cover his emotions with an expressionless mask. He called it his 'shield', and the others didn't know any difference from it. For some, this was the only Harry that they knew and for others, it was the only way that they knew he could protect himself. He couldn't bring up the past and talk about the good times, as many of his colleagues did frequently. Despite their tries to get him in telling them what his experience at Hogwarts was like and to tell them how it was different now that he was one of the last classes to have a full seven years at Hogwarts, he had yet to do so.

Harry blamed himself for not seeing the attack coming towards Hogwarts. He knew that he should have known better to believe that Voldemort would leave Hogwarts alone, producing more and more wizards and witches for the 'Light' side - although there were a few of students that most likely had plans to join the Death Eaters later on. The guilt of losing his home in the magical world was too much for one man to bare it along, but he did without question or complaint. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and many regarded him as the Man-Who-Would-Save-Us-All and they held his duties to him as if they let up, he would fall through the cracks of life like the grains of sand slipping from cupped hands.

In the world outside of his thoughts, the sun was soon getting ready to set, the colors of a mixed pallet appearing across the evening sky. Soon, the stars would come out and shine upon them, and maybe even the moon, full and reminding him of those who lived in fear of the full moon and it's light. The evening breeze was here; gently caressing those who were alive like a mother handles her first-born babe. To the ones who were not open to the experience of such a wonder, it passed over them, searching for others that it could reassure and maybe even give some peace of mind into the deeply disturbed.

About twenty feet behind him, his comrades were watching him, wondering what he was doing and why he came here. Among the group, was a woman whose brown eyes looked like black steel in the night and had bushy brown hair, was silently shaking her head. She could almost remember how Harry used to be before the war, in Hogwarts... Sometimes she considered that she was making things up to satisfy her lack of memories, but they just seemed too real to ignore. They were too detailed for her just to make it up without looking at something that would inspire her mind to make up such a thing.

She couldn't remember much of anything, the after effects of being put under the Unforgivable Curses repeatedly, with no break in-between and the memory charms that were put on her, or so she was told. Sometimes, when Harry looked at her, she thought she saw hurt in his eyes or maybe old and bitter memories that he didn't need to be reminded of.

She had only talked to him a couple of times, all of which Harry had grown impatient with her and the lack of memories that she possessed. Some of the things that he described seemed so familiar to her, and yet she couldn't place it within her mind. The way that he described the one called Snape, one called Malfoy, and the group called Slytherins... it was as if she felt the same way and had heard it repeated for many years? She also noted how when he talked about his best friends, he would mention "Hermione" and would gaze at her for a few long moments, as if trying to hint something. She had remembered that only a few weeks ago; her name was Hermione. She was with Harry growing up...

Hermione stared at the back of Harry, trying to break down more of the charms that were put on her to make her forget everything that she had ever known to be right and wrong. She knew that she could be able to remember something about Harry, other then what he had already told her. But what?

And they say that a hero can save us.

I'm not gonna stand here and wait.

I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.

Watch as they all fly away.

Harry looked up at the nighttime sky, searching for constellations that he had learned what seemed to be a lifetime ago, when he was a child, when there was a Hogwarts, when he had all of those that he loved and knew, and when he knew himself inside and out. Not this mere shell of himself that he seemed to inhibit day in and day out, everyday to keep himself strong and to prevent himself from crumbling from the weight of his responsibility.

Fate had chosen this path of life for him, there was no way that he could deny it or change it. No matter all of the spells that he learned and mastered or all of the wishes that he made, he could not deny himself of his true destiny. For that would be denying him and all of those who had helped him in his early years and the present, no matter how few they were. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

He closed his eyes and smelled the crisp autumn air, taking in all of the scents around him and allowing the breeze to ruffle his hair and robes, and to caress his face. It is unexplainable on how it somehow calmed his nerves, but it did and he did not dare question it; in fear that it would no longer work if he knew the answer to it.

The night was peaceful and beautiful. The full moon lighting up the Earth, the stars shining brightly for all of those who are lost, and not a cloud in sight. It was the ideal autumn night, where it was just that right temperature where you could still sleep outside but not get too hot in the middle of the night. It was like the nights at Hogwarts, when they having early Quidditch practices due to an obsessed team captain, determined not to let the cup slip from their fingers. Or as it had been in his sixth and seventh year, meeting Draco Malfoy up at the top of the Astronomy Tower...

It had been years since he last saw Draco, and he wanted too desperately. So much had changed and happened during those two years, just when they finally realized exactly how they felt for one another.

Someone told me love will all save us.

But how can that be, look what love gave us.

A world full of killing, and blood spilling

That world never came.

He felt the instant pang of guilt and regret at the thought of his long-lost lover. Losing him was one of the hardest things that had ever happened to fall upon his life. Others may say that it would his parents' deaths, but he didn't remember him; he remembered Draco and the way that even the simplest glance would cause his heart to flutter...

Harry, sitting on Draco's bed, watched Draco, pace in front of the Slytherin sixth year dormitories, occasionally pausing for a second to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Draco had been doing this for a good half-hour or so already, or at least since Harry had been awake.

"Draco," Harry started again, watching him pace once again, "tell me what's wrong. You can tell me, love." Harry's voice sounded like a young child asking for a treat, while trying not to sound like he was whining at the same time. "Please."

Draco, who had since put on his rumbled school robes that he had worn yesterday, looked at Harry and ran his hand through his hair. His eyes showed the swirling gray full of confusion and longing. He stopped pacing and stood there for a few moments, just looking at Harry, who was looking at him as well.

Harry, not wanting to wait all day, sighed and stood up off the bed and walked over to Draco, not even bothering to cover himself up. He wrapped his arms around Draco's torso and murmured, "We could skip today, have the entire dorm to ourselves." He looked up at Draco who merely raised his eyebrows at the suggestion.

"Tough call here, Harry; all day shagging or attending classes separate. I wonder what in Merlin's name that I will choose," he whispered into Harry's ear, sending shivers down his spine. He nipped Harry's ear lobe, in that one spot that he found that would cause Harry to do just about anything. Merlin help us all if Voldemort found that out.

Draco nuzzled Harry's cheek, before kissing him hard, and full of passion, as if he wanted to get what was bothering of him out of him through the kiss...

Harry opened his eyes, after watching the very familiar memory flash in front of his eyes. Part of him wanted to never leave such a place and never grow up, while the other part firmly told it off for thinking about stupid things of how things could have been. If this blasted war never had been started, he and Draco would be...

The thought was something that was hard to think about. The life of their relationship and what it could have been was stolen before it was barely out of its egg and presented to the two boys.

And they say that a hero can save us.

I'm not gonna stand here and wait.

I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.

Watch as they all fly away.

It was one of the few things that Harry would indeed have changed if he had the chance. Maybe tell Draco about how he felt earlier, and if he did that, maybe they could have had some more time. Even a second more would have been more then worth the sacrifice. It could have been so much more...

Harry then looked out among the skeletons that were laying bare out in the field, wondering if one of those belonged too Draco. The mere fact that he couldn't see him at every possible moment was enough to crush Harry, but to think that he was truly gone would be world shattering for him. It was one of the few things that he focused on. Win the war, get the boy, marry and live happily ever after.

If only that wishful thought could come true, and the sooner the better. It would be a relief to every one that had been involved - the deceased and the living - and every one would be at internal peace, or at least be able to make their way towards it. Harry would gladly welcome it, without a second of hesitation. He would face Voldemort himself in the next moment if he were called to do so. He now knew that waiting, only proved to be the worst choice you could ever make.

It had cost him everything, and it was only recently that he had discovered that. It cost him the life that he could have had. The lives of all of those who had sacrificed themselves for the cause. It cost them the years that would be forever lost to the battlefields. It had cost them everything and then some would even say that the war and everything that was associated with it was slowly eating away their souls. Even back when he was at Hogwarts, fending off Voldemort at the end of each term, he hesitated and each time it proved that Voldemort would only come back again, and this time he would be stronger and harder to fend off.

Now that the world isn't ending, its love that I'm sending to you.

It isn't the love of a hero, and that’s why I fear it won't do.

Harry felt the additional knives of guilt stab his heart, blaming him for all of the lost time that had been taken away from the ones who were responsible for the next generation of wizards and witches, of his friends, of his lover's, and of his own life.

Nothing had ever felt the same since now that he had finally realized that he was to blame for the cause of the strained relationships that were constantly being tested time after time and for the failure of his own. It was almost impossible that such torture that it caused him was something that he had never experienced, not in his whole twenty-five years, twenty-four of them being a hero to the majority of the magical community.

It was all of his fault. He could have been better. If only he had been stronger, more powerful, all of this would only exist in his mind and in the past. If he had been better, he could still have Draco. If he had only been a little bit better he could have saved all of those that he had feared he would have lost. What would he have lost them too? The one that claimed all of the souls that were taken far from the original time that there were to depart from this world and enter the next.

Even at the one thing that he found that seemed perfect, sometimes he would find things that he did wrong or said at the wrong moment that contributed to the downfall of his own love life. If only he had love him more, more then he thought that was even possible, maybe he wouldn't be feeling like this.

If only Draco knew how much he still loved him, despite after not seeing the other for years upon years, and the hard times that seemed to harden so many different hearts that were once open and full of love and joy. If only...

If only he had been better.

And they say that a hero can save us.

I'm not gonna stand here and wait.

I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.

Watch as they all fly away.

Harry ran his hand through his unruly hair, trying to sort everything that had been happening lately out. So many different things and some of them were not from the present, but troubles from his past. So many different things, pulling him all in different directions, and it was all at the very exact moment that all of them needed his direct attention, and it alone. He had to find some way to solve all of the problems, the sooner the better as the wise ones always had told him when he was preparing for this war as a young boy.

It seemed like that place was in a different dimension now. So much had happened, that the once carefree afternoons were now aiding the ones who were wounded, comforting those who were dying, and planning the next moves with those that had survived the day.

He was not educating those in the fine tactics of war and battle, where each day was a battle for your life and you didn't receive any curves nor did they ever go anything but their hardest at you.

And they're watching us

Watching Us

As they all fly away.

Slowly, Harry turned away and made his way to his torn and battered tent. He gave the surrounding area a longing glance before turning back towards the tent and prepared himself for bed. Before he put on his - actually, he had stolen it from Draco in the middle of 6th year and had never given it back to him - shirt he looked at himself in the mirror.

The scars stood out on his rough skin, but they seemed so much a part of him that it would be impossible to imagine him without them. They were etched into the very depths of his soul, or so it seemed. He traced one that looked like the Grim Reaper's scythe had ripped part of his abdomen open and had left it there for him to bleed to death or for some sort of parasite or bird to eat away at his organs. It looked like that and he didn't give it another thought, other then why he had so many scars when he had been healed by the best medi-wizards of his time.

He continued to look at himself in the mirror, looking at how his lightweight build had long since disappeared and was replaced by muscular arms and shoulders. If he were to fly as seeker again, he wouldn't be half as fast as he had been during his last year at Hogwarts. No, that was long ago, buried in the past like the remains of Hogwarts itself.

He quickly scolded himself for thinking of the past like that. He had enjoyed himself there, like any boy should if they attended Hogwarts, and that now was not the time to become lost and consumed by the painful memories of the past, no matter how appealing they might look to remember or see again.

Not giving another thought of it, he put on the shirt and then blew out the sole candle that had been lighting the entire tent - although the tent itself resembled more of the Muggle type for it was hardly large enough for his cot. He strode back over to his cot and sat down, before reaching under and pulling out a small book, covered by a sheet of dragon hide. He carefully took the sheet of dragon hide off and folded it neatly and put it beside him.

The book itself was nothing special. It was a simple black leather - although it was now hard from all of the years that he had been using it and the countless amount of times that he had nearly lost it - photo album. There wasn't any title of any sort on the book, and it was dreadfully thin.

Harry gently opened it up, as if he was fearing that if he opened it too quickly it would fall apart and shatter, and looked at the three photographs that was contained throughout the entire book. The pages were charred at some ends and yellow with age at other spots.

He sadly looked down on the first one, the one where he had salvaged from the photo album that Hagrid had made for him, was a picture of his parents' wedding. It showed an over-excited Sirius throwing grapes at the Lily, while James tried to catch a few of them with his mouth. He paused at the page for a few moments before with great care he turned the page.

The condition of the next page was just as bad - if not worse - as the first one. However, this photo had a picture of himself and his two best friends that he would ever have in it, all smiling. He remembered when this photo was taken, during his 6th year, right after he started seeing Draco. Hermione and Ron never did know about his relationship with Draco - unless they figured it out for themselves and he doubted that Ron would believe it - and he looked illegally happy.

He quickly studied all of their faces, before pushing up his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and paused for a second or so before turning to the last page.

The last page, however, was in the worst condition of them all. Over half of it had been charred away, and it was unusually stained with age and who knew what else that had managed to find itself on to the piece of old parchment. However, the photo made up for the lack of the page's beauty.

Harry, again, felt tears spring to his eyes as he studied Draco's face that was currently looking at him. He didn't take this picture; instead he had found it on the dungeon floor during one of his many detentions with Snape. At first, he had felt guilty for taking it, but now he was more then glad that he had one thing that would forever show Draco, as he knew him. Young, beautiful, and full of life.

He slowly pried protective clear sheet of parchment away from the page and shakily took a hold of Draco's old picture, who's corner had been dog-eared and parts of it was slightly bent but he paid it no attention. The fact that he had something of Draco's - other then the shirt - which would forever remain the same, no matter what happened. The only thing better would to have Draco back here, at this very moment and that he would never leave again.

A few silent tears rolled down his face, a couple of them bumping into the rim of his glasses on their unfamiliar journey down his face. The hot, bitter, and salty tears slowly rolled off his chin, a couple of them splashed on his out stretched forearm before rolling down that and then falling towards the ground, like so many others had before them.

He sat there, gazing at the photo of his lost love, as he did every night, and each night he stared at it a bit longer then the night before. Sometimes he found maybe a small detail that he didn't catch the night previous either that seemed to make the world of a difference to him.

By the time that he finally put the adored photo back on the parchment, put the cover back over it, closed the book, and tightly wrapped the dragon hide sheet back around it, as if it had never been unwrapped in the first place. He slid it under his pillow, where it rested there next to his wand.

He stared at the top of his tent, which was lightly illuminated by the moonlight that was covering the entire valley. He again breathed in the fresh scent of autumn that seemed to be rising from the ground that he was barely resting above. Slowly, he slipped back into sleep, with the immortal pictures of his lost love etched into the back of his eyelids, and his dreams of their moments together that seemed as if they would never end, or the whole world would collapse.

***End of Fic***