History Books

I have read the history books they wrote of us. They tell of every victory, but gloss over the defeats. They do not mention that star Auror Neville Longbottom's greatest fear was his Potion's Professor.

Nothing is said of Harry's frequent outbursts, or how everyone thought he was crazy during fifth year.

There is no hint the world was anything but supportive to their "hero".

I have seen my friends described as heroic, noble saviors and cruel, evil villains. So if I want one thing to be remembered about all of us, it is that we were only human. We felt pain, grief, hatred and, yes, love, just as much as any of you, regardless of our allegiance.

We are not perfect, and neither is they other side wholly evil. The so called light side held no qualms about breaking laws, or killing. On the flip side, Voldemort's forces honestly believed that they were right.

Then again, who doesn't?

My- relationship- with Harry Potter was never about love. It was about release, and lust, and that desperate need to feel something when your whole world is falling apart. He was using me, and I was using him, and somehow I fell in love with him along the way.

I was never friends with him. We were allies, yes, and lovers for a time, but never friends. Of course I loved him- it was impossible not to- but I never told him. He was already a boy forced into manhood far too early, and he blamed himself for everything that went wrong in the world. I didn't want him to blame himself for my broken heart as well.

I hated when he broke it off between us, telling me in that awkward way of his that he didn't love me. I took it with good grace, smiling, saying I understood, that I'd never loved him.

It wasn't until he was gone that I collapsed in tears, feeling as if the world had crumbled away beneath my feet. I threw things, and screamed about how unfair the world was, and finally collapsed into a sobbing heap. I wanted more than anything to tell him how I felt, to guilt him into staying with me, but I couldn't.

I thought I was going to die that day, but I chose to live. If I could not stand beside him, them at least I would stand with him. If I could not be his lover, then I would be his friend.

He loved Ginny, and he deserved to be happy. So I swallowed my anger and grief and hurt pride. I watched them fall in love, and saw how happy he was, and knew that I had made the right decision, though it almost killed me.

I never got over him, though I hope I will someday. But he is happy, and I am, if not happy, at least not unhappy. Life goes on, and next year his eldest son will start at Hogwarts, along with my daughter. I pray that their years there will be filled with fun and laughter, none of the pain and death we had hanging over us.

He never realized how much I loved him, or the loyalty he inspired in us. Every one of us that called him our leader would have laid down our lives in an instant if he asked- not that he ever would, of course.

He was far too noble to ever ask anyone for anything. He hated his fame, and he hated that the weight of the world was on his shoulders, but he was the only one with the strength to bear it. He never realized his own worth; he never saw just how extraordinary he was.

That was what I loved most about him.

He always knew he'd be the one to defeat Voldemort in the end, but he didn't accept it until the end of his sixth year. I'm sure you all know what happened then. He fought the war with a single-mindedness that astonished all who knew him, and none of us that followed him was surprised when he won.

And the rest? The rest is history.