Given A Drop of Memory

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Merlin ran into the never ending gray, head still spinning from the memory and why he had relived it in the first place. Seeing Harry had been a shock, a quiet revelation as it played out seamlessly from his remembrance. Yet, he had said to run and Merlin wondered if it was his subconscious telling him or if Harry had been stuck in the veil since his death. Merlin shook himself, it mattered not. What did matter was finding Draco and getting out of this nothingness world.

Merlin tripped, seemingly over nothing as the plane of existence he had been running on flipped and found himself on his stomach.

Blood filled his nostrils, mud caking his face as he lifted it up to find himself horrified. Sword sliding out of his hand as he registered he had tripped over a small child's body. Quickly, he wiped the blood off of his hands from where they fell in a small puddle of the red liquid and stuck his fingers between the little boy's neck to check for a pulse. Finding none, Merlin dropped his hand and silently stared at him. Merlin didn't remember which war he was fighting for this time, let alone whose side and right now Merlin could care less as he looked at the destruction all around him.

The village he had been wandering through was destroyed, carts and huts alike alight with flame, screams long since silenced by the undiscriminating hands of death. Trinkets knocked over in the struggle, a child's doll clutched in a little girl's hand, her mothers arm wrapped protectively around the girl even in death and Merlin looked back at the boy he had tripped over and mourned. His magic acted of its own accord to properly bury this little village that would be forgotten to history, but Merlin would remember.

Merlin screamed as he watched the little boy fall into the earth last, a pulse of magic so strong it startled nearby birds and fluttered the trunks of trees, blowing out what little fire remained. Merlin wanted absolution, he wanted it to end.

Merlin didn't run this time, he let himself slide past the memory, the grayness returning as he stared up at more of the same from which he lay. He struggled to his feet and cursed, as he swayed and crashed back down. "Why are you showing me this?!" Merlin yelled to the Cailleach who was nowhere in sight. "How does this help me find Draco?!"

Frustrated, but determined, Merlin rose more steadily to his feet this time. Running not to get away but to find his student, his joy and hope for the future. It didn't take long to find himself in another memory.

This time Merlin watched as Helena danced by herself in her room, music playing from nowhere and everywhere as she attempted a dance long forgotten by everyone but Merlin. He remembered showing his granddaughter his favorite dance from Camelot and her declaring it would live on through them, and that whenever they would feel alone to dance it with her as if she was there. Truthfully, Merlin danced to it by himself more often than he cared to admit after he had left, imagining Helena as a teenager and her hands in his as she glided around a dance floor at her wedding. Or really, anywhere that Merlin could imagine.

On this particular occasion, Merlin was all packed to leave Hogwarts and was saying his last goodbyes.

Knocking, Merlin opened the door. Helena, not stopping her dance to even look at him. "Helena, please, don't make this any harder than it has to be," he pleaded, stepping in front of her and forcing her to stop unless she wanted to slam into him. Instead, she stomped her little feet and raised her chin and twirled around so she did not have to face him.

"Helena," Merlin sighed, crouching down to her level and angling his face to try and look her in the eye. Any time he managed to do so, she would move her head further until she was facing back around. She obviously realized she had been played as Merlin smiled sadly at her. "There you are."

"Must you leave?" Helena whispered, tears already forming in her eyes as she glanced at him, shoulders hunched to her ears as if waiting for him to yell.

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