A Healing Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own the right to Harry Potter. I simply borrow the characters for a bit of fun.

Sometimes when you least expect it, the ultimate surprise comes. And sometimes that surprise comes in the form of a hobby, a new car, or a person. Mine happened to be a person.

A long time ago, I had loved Lily Evans. I really did, just more like a sister than anything else. Of course when you're young and naive, you don't know the difference. But then I lost her. I never really expected to keep her, but that was one hell of an unpleasant surprise.

And now, I find myself remembering those days with him. He looked just like her, in my opinion. The black hair, the glasses...none of that reminded me of the man she had married. Only of her. I know now that I really did love him, like I thought I had loved her. That was the biggest surprise of my life.

To realise that you love someone, only after they're gone, is one hard thing to think about. I haven't thought about it in months, trying to avoid the inevitable. I didn't want to admit that I loved him, not even then. Because I knew that the pain of losing him would worsen-if that was even possible.

And somehow, I knew that it could get much, much worse.

And it does. It worsens everyday I live my life without him. Every time I lift a potion, I remember how he had improved so much in my class with a little extra help and a few less insults. Every time I walked down the halls, or even in my rooms, I remembered how he always had that easy gait that I could never quite perfect. My face reminded me of how he would gently touch me when I was having a bad day or a flashback to darker times and memories.

I just couldn't seem to get over him.

And then one day, a few days ago in fact, I received a letter. It would seem that Gringotts had an issue with his will and were working it out since they found out he had died. The letter told me that I was to receive everything he left behind. I cried for the first time in years.

How could someone so forgiving and caring give someone like me so much? I couldn't help but to wonder and put myself down at the same time. It was no wonder why people never liked to put up with me.

Today though, is not a day to reminisce. I shall lose sight of myself and break down yet again. My pride and ego wouldn't know how to handle it, and my emotions were already giving me headaches and stomachaches. Not even my strongest potions could cure them.

In his vault, I looked around at all of the heirlooms he had. I walked around for a bit, just looking and not touching anything. I just couldn't bear to think of all these things as mine. It hurt too much.

I passed a portrait of him, and that was the last of my resolve. I shrunk it and left with haste, not wanting to waste any time. When I opened the entrance for my rooms, I walked in and broke down completely.

It has been several months since then, and the more I talk to his portrait self, the better I find myself handling the entire situation. He tells me of the times he had actually learned from me in my classes and the times that he wondered if I was really the bad guy. He talked about the person he saw me as in Dumbledore's pensieve, and what he saw when he compared the past me with the shell of a person I had grown to be.

When he talked about how he knew he would die, I broke down completely again. Remembering his cold skin, his unseeing eyes...it was just too much all at once. I had been one of hundred of thousands to attend the wake. When I told him that, his eyes flew open in astonishment. He simply couldn't believe that so many would make the effort to be there. Eventually I knew I'd have to tell him that no one wanted to plan a wake and funeral for him since he was the chosen one. No one felt like they could go through with it. And when he did ask, I explained to him how I was the only that pushed aside my grief and made sure that it was to his liking. And when I informed him that no one could force themselves to go to the funeral-it was too final for them-I saw a tear form in his eye.

I couldn't believe it either, and I was there to see it. So many had come to show their support for him...and none of them wanted to admit that he died trying to save them all. They all knew the danger, the risks involved. And yet they expected a teenager to survive where so many more accomplished witches and wizards had perished. I did my best to comfort him. I described the entire thing to him, read to him the speeches everyone gave and pushed through my tears in the hopes that it they wouldn't show.

Over the next several years he helped me sort out my emotions. We laughed, we cried, we talked and sometimes he would watch me grading papers and make snarky comments every now and again. When the time came that my heart no longer ached as much, I admitted to him what I was fearful of ever admitting to even myself. I expected him to laugh and brush it off or just to try to avoid the topic but what I got was much better than anything I would have dreamed of.

He told me he wished he had known before he died.

I will forever grieve for the one who stole my heart, but I won't ever have to grieve alone. For he, too, is grieving the loss of what could have been. The years of needless shows of hatred, the snarky comments back and forth. It was all a show, and each of us had thought the other serious.

In time, our hearts will heal. And when I die, I'll have it written that our portraits must be kept besides each other so we can truly make amends.