You remembered every scent in the air that day, every second of the cool breeze, hitting and numbing your nose. I remembered every word your somber lips uttered how your eyes glimmered as You for the first time ever saw the glorious sight before you. The quidditch pitch that bare its opening to luscious forest, a home to many a great dangerous beings yet a welcoming void to fill that deep within. You wiped your nose at the back of your hand and snorted, the notion compelling you to leave, against your will without a doubt. Even when your presence graced any room it lit up with a roar of laughter or silent smiles, making everyone forget the sorrows they might have been carrying, making them willingly let go of their baggage so long your aura would surround them, so was your dispensation.
There would be a smile on your face even in disdain, never understood why hurting yourself, your wishes, your aims did not faze you as much as moderately miffing someone did. Heart always filled with an inexplicable ache as though you carried the grief of world, but now I do, I guess I do. There would always be a list of demurals filled with skeptic criticism, you still were the most defiant one, even though you would not like to accept that. The never ending complaints on how my hair was too greasy, my skin too sallow, my temper too sour. All these words articulated as your head rested on my shoulder under the tree while I dug my 'too hooked a nose' in the pages of a muggle book Wuthering Heights, you 'too' convinced I did so after Lily's recommendation, when in truth I stole the copy from your room all the way back in Edinburgh when I escorted to take you back, it was truly as good as new, no fold on the paper, the hardcover spotless and unsullied, the pages untouched, just a small note at the end of the book, written with blue ink blotting at the ends of the words 'I think I fell in love with Heathcliff determined marching on a path to destruct the love he might have formed, I think I fell in love with a boy with too sallow a skin, too greasy hair, too sour a temper and too hooked a nose'
I remember how your eyebrows knit together as I scratched words from your textbook to match the ones in mine, giving you better proportions of the potions, oh how terrible you were at it, every class ending with you covering your face with the blast of several herbs, the huffs and puffs and stomping of feet, rushing to the nearest bathroom to remove the stains, then you would come out with water dripping down your feet and wetting your robes, as I held out a little cloth. You would make a grumpy face, as though I made the potion.
How you would silently excuse yourself from being in proximity of Lily and I. How we drifted apart as I chose to be in her vicinity. I remember seeing you in the great hall, still surrounded by people, laughter still erupting near you, "How could it matter anyway?" I thought to myself, it was louche and notorious it took Lily to point the constant empty space that would be next to you, how you would cover a seat with that god awful cat of yours or the books you would carry, I never purported knowing or understanding you, but to think you would still save a seat for the boy with too greasy hair, would fill my heart with insurmountable sorrow, no, guilt., but to be around someone because of the guilt changes everything, I learnt. It however did not take time for me to put two and two together, Lily had compromised her situation for me, it was not the willingness or the closeness we had encountered over the several years but guilt. To this realisation we distanced each other too, and I set myself on the path of the Dark and Mystic, what my calling has always seemed to be the hopeless shallow depths of the great sorrows and pain, except this time I would inflict it upon myself. Scribbling on the pages the darkest tricks, the most heartless gambits and callous ploys. Staring at the the stagnant water before me thinking of what i had made myself into, what I had allowed myself to shape into, what I was about to further alter to. Could I have avoided it? By coming back to you? But even so with what face?
I heard the little crack of dry leaves, I remember that moment when i lifted my eyes glancing at the girl in her black robes with too pretty a face, glancing at you. You came back to me. You bent and dusted the rock beside me and slowly sat down, looking at me with pity? No, your eyes carried another crestfallen crushed expression, taking my hand in yours and caressing it gently, you might not have known then, but it was the greatest care I had experienced. Your eyes almost teary that is when I decided to lightly squeeze it, remind you, you don't have to play pretend with me. Your head finding its place on my shoulder again "Idiot" you muttered getting closer.
I remember the last day at Hogwarts, you helped me clean up my dormitory, folding every cloth with much precision while i handled your rather delicate items, such as the glass trophy you had won in the wizarding debates, you were indeed excellent at fighting. I remember walking back into my room to find you disarrayed, the look of confusion stunning your face, you held the copy of the Bronte's book turned to the very last page, turned to your note. I could not bare to look in your eyes but your eyes did demand it be so. You waited for me to say something, anything. I wish I lied, said I never completed the book, never got the chance to read the contents of the last page, I could not, I could not lie, not to you. I wish I tried stopping you when you stormed off, throwing the book on the ground.
You went on to become a minister, actively involved with the order of the phoenix. You went on to achieve the greatest, achieve what you were always meant to, I watched Lily get married and have a kid, I watched myself turn into the reasons for her death, the death of her happiness. I remember sitting on the bench outside the grave in Godric's Hollow, the snow layering the road thick. I remember hearing the shuffling on the right. I turned my head to see a woman in a deep blue coat. You came back to me. I remember seeing you. Your eyes laced with pity.
I fell to my knees as soon as you stood before, letting out all the emotions I planned on burying deep inside. I held onto your waist as you stroked my hair, tears did escape your eyes too. The way you held onto me, as I tried to rid myself of the grief, guilt and loss. You waited patiently till I could gather the strength to hold myself together. I held onto your hand and guided you to the seat beside me. You sat there caressing my arm, the now faded mark on my arm, you looked up to the sky, your eyes searching for answers long enshrined in the oceans.
The roses you held in your hand shaking with your hands, I remember there was a flash of a blinding green light the source of which being the wand in a masked face, I remember your now unmistakably dead body falling on the ground, I remember having to catch you. Mastered in dark arts and potions yet a fool I was, shaking your body hoping your eyes would shoot open, I glanced over you looking for the tiniest sign of hope, anything. The masked face had gone, disappeared into thin air leaving no trace behind. Even then I tried to bring you back, but there was no spell I could make for it.
Years have now passed yet I see you beside me in the mirror of erised with your head on my shoulder and your hand in mine. Would you not come back to me? One last time I regret what I became and everything it cost A piece of paper's confessional is all I have got To remind me of what I had and everything I lost
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A/N so this is something I wrote in like an hour, it's not very great, and I do not plan on making it a story. I was just struck with the idea while listening to 'the night we met' by Lord Huron. I don't even know if anyone will read this and I am not putting it out with the hopes anyone will. I just love Sevy Baby a lot and yes that in the end was my pathetic attempt at poetry. I found the artwork on Pinterest, so if anyone knows who the original artist is please let me know
