Scrawled Upon My Soul

Scrawled Upon My Soul

I thought you'd be out of my mind

And I'd finally find a way to

Learn to live without you.

I thought it was just a matter of time

Until I had a hundred reasons

Not to think about you...

It was earky autumm when Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts for the first time since finishing his education nearly five years before. Dark storm clouds covered the sky and rain poured from the heavens, the weather matching Harry's mood. Despite the rain which washed down on him, plastering his bangs to his forehead, and drenching his clothes, Harry was hesitant to enter the castle. Memories of times when he had never felt happier threatened to enter from the edge of his mind. But he forced them away. Because, as always happened, happy memories from the past always brought dark memories with them.

When Dumbledore had first approached Harry with the idea of returning to Hogwarts to offer a lecture on the war and the role he had played in it, Harry had turned his former headmaster down. Yet he found himself standing outside the great oak doors that were the main entrance way of his old school, still unsure exactly what it was that had caused him to come. Perhaps he longed for a sense of closure. Longed for his conscience to release him from his own private hell, to tell him that he had made the right choice. But deep down he knew that salvation would never come.

Harry pulled open the heavy door and stepped inside the entrance hall. Water streamed from his clothes and pooled at his feet, and he briefly wondered whether Filch would attempt to punish him for this infraction. Torches lit the room, casting most of it in shadow. As much as Harry tried to fight them off, the memories came cascading back to him, causing his heartbeat to quicken and his breath to shorten.

Echoes of laughter. Flashes of a girl with long bushy brown hair and a boy with short red hair. Flashes of a beautiful blond. Blond hair, blue eyes...soft lips and a gentle touch. Harry shut his eyes in a desperate yet futile attempt to block the images from his mind.

"Harry, just go talk to him."

"I can't, Hermione."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if you don't talk to him, I will."

Harry bit his lip, shook his head. He forced back the emotions that were bubbling up from within. He had spent years trying to turn off his emotions, and this weekend threatened to shatter the stone he had so carefully cultivated around his heart. Slowly he made his way to the Great Hall, which remained much the same as he remembered. He tried to keep his eyes from resting on the Slytherin table.

Memories. Memories of receiving his very first broom stick. Of rushing from the Great Hall to open the package and then turning around to see--

No, he didn't want to think about him.

He left the Great Hall and followed the familiar path to the Gryffindor common room. The students had yet to arrive and the halls were empty. The Pink Lady still stood guard at the entrance way. Harry muttered the master password that Dumbledore had given him and the portrait swung open to reveal the common room where he's spent so much time.

The dark scarlet sofa was still there, the one that Harry had been laying on when he'd received his first kiss. Harry traced his fingertips across his lips, as if trying to feel the exquisite pleasure once again. It had been dangerous, sneaking someone from another house into the Gryffindor common room, especially when that person was--

No, he didn't want to think about him.

Still, the images filled his thoughts. Warm flesh, soft kisses...ice blue eyes meeting emerald green. Passion so intense it took Harry's breath away just thinking about it. Fighting back tears, Harry fled from the common room.

He didn't want to think about him. Didn't want to think about how things should have been, how things could have been...if only...

If only...two small words, but they held all the possibility in the world. All the missed chances, the reverse outcomes of regretted decisions.

"Come with me."

"Harry, I can't"

"Why not?"

"Because. Things are different for you. You have the whole world laid before you. My destined path has been paved for me since I was born. Paved by my father. I don't have a choice. I never did. You wouldn't understand."

"Understand what? That you're turning your back on us because of choices your father has made?"

"My father's choices are my choices. That's how it's always been. You just don't understand. I don't have a choice."

"Then I guess nothing has changed. You're still your father's son. And you're still my enemy."

Harry reached a hand up to the cheek where the blond boy had smacked him after his final comment. He imagined he could still feel the sting. He knew he could still feel the pain in his heart, and in his soul. Despite his efforts to forget the only love he'd ever known, to forget the pain that he woke with everyday of his life. To forget the boy that he'd turned his back on. To forget the boy that he might have been able to save. If only...

And so he ran. He ran from Hogwarts, ran from the memories that lived within the school's very walls, ran from the pain that was always at his back.

I've still got your face

Painted on my heart.

Scrawled upon my soul.

Etched upon my memory.

I've got your kiss

Still burning on my lips

The touch of my fingertips.

A love so deep in my memories.