Saying Good-bye by Nephthys Moon

Saying Goodbye


A young man sat alone on a bare bed in a darkened room in an abandoned house. His eyes were closed, hiding their startling colour. He knew if he opened them the tears would begin to flow. The negative to this was the scene projected on the backs of his eyelids like a Muggle movie theatre. A man with black hair pointed his wand at an old man. A jet of green light streamed towards the old man, suspending him in the air and knocking him over the edge of the stone wall he had been leaning against. The young man shook his head, trying to clear the memory.


***


A young woman stood alone on the edge of a desolate field. The weeds had grown over her head since her last visit, and the wooden fence was, if possible, more battered and worn. Her long hair whipped around her face and she brushed it back impatiently. She searched for the path she’d worn through the weeds last summer, but the new growth covered it. Sighing, she realized she would have to wade through the green stems if she wanted to reach her destination.


***


The man with the black hair was dead now, the young man had seen to that. He recalled vividly the moment when he’d pointed his wand at the man and watched the surprise fill his eyes as he realized who would be his downfall. At the time, he’d felt triumphant. Now, he felt only sadness. Ruthlessly, he’d killed that man, and the guilt was beginning to eat at him.


***


It had been too long since her last visit, she knew. School had taken up so much of her time lately. She hadn’t been able to get away during the past year. Her parents had been worried about her. They’d kept her under close surveillance over the holidays. She was here now, though. Deep in her mind, she knew it didn’t matter how often she came, or if she even came at all. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of what she had come to do. Wiping them away, she began her journey through the field.


***


The young man was an orphan, his parents murdered by the most evil wizard of all time. A sob rose in his throat at the thought, but he forced it back down. He’d never cried about it, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. With a sigh, he looked around at the bleak room. No one had lived here since the old man’s death. Once again, he pushed the memories aside. The man with black hair was dead, and so was the wizard who killed his parents. The Final Battle had ended with a victory for the Order of the Phoenix, though it had cost many lives. The young man had been there that day. He recalled the look on the other young man’s face. He had been there as well the night the old man died. They had been enemies, but he had proven himself to be a faithful, loyal friend. He died defending the young man from an evil witch. He bowed his head as he thought of the friends and family he’d lost. He knew they could never return, but he couldn’t give up his belief that they watched over him.


***


Guided by instinct, the young woman reached her destination. As she stared upon the wreckage of the location of the Final Battle, she recalled those she’d lost. Quickly now, she made her way across the barren ground towards the scene of the last moments. The ground was so saturated with curses, hexes and the blood of the evil witches and wizards who’d died to defend their Lord that nothing would grow here. Loneliness threatened to take her, but she fought it off. This time, when the tears came, she let them, feeling their scalding wetness on her cheeks.


***


The young man smiled grimly. It was time to go. He’d tarried long enough in this place, hoping for a sign that those he loved were not erased from the world. He had been disappointed. There was nothing in this old house but the memory of those who had once inhabited its walls. He stood and stared at his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. He’d aged considerably in the last year. Gone were the smooth cheeks of his youth, replaced by scars and lines from battles and cares that overwhelmed his memory. Without a sound, the young man crossed the room to the door and walked quickly down the stairs and out of the house. He had one more place to go.


***


There they were, the tombs of those she’d loved and lost that day. White marble gleamed in the afternoon sun, encasing bodies that had fallen on this deserted patch of ground. She stopped at the first one and smiled. There he was. The leader who’d taken over the Order when the old man had died had fallen in the first rush of the battle. He’d taken four of the Death Eaters with him. The young woman’s smile melted. He’d fought bravely, but in the end, the cowardly traitor had turned on him and uttered the evil curse. She glowered. His body, and those of his comrades, had been burned inside the house that once stood on this land. The villagers had avoided it for years, and now they said it was cursed. If they only knew how right they were.


***


The young man transported himself to the place it had finally ended. He stood on the edge of a desolate field and stared at the weeds covering the land. With the determination that had always been a defining aspect of his character, he climbed the rickety fence and began pushing his way through the weeds.


***


The young woman moved to the shimmering tomb in the middle. It had been placed on a slight rise in the earth so that it stood just a little higher than the others. A gold plaque bearing the name of the owner was fixed to the end. She knelt, tracing her fingers along the letters that formed his name. The tears flowed faster than before, and she let herself go, sobbing hysterically.


***


The young man had reached the barren ground of the battlefield. There stood the skeleton of the burnt out house. Quickly, he marched to the back of it, stopping short at the sight that met his eyes. There were the tombs, as he expected, but she was there as well. Her hair shone in the light of the sun, and even at a distance, he could see the tears glittering on her cheeks. He knew she felt guilty. She hadn’t been here in over a year. He knew which tomb she was at, without looking at the name. She always came to his tomb. For a moment, pain tore at his heart, but he pushed it away. For a moment, he considered leaving her to her grief, but decided he would sit in the shadows, as he had done so often before, and watch over her.


***


I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry. The words echoed in her mind. If she had just been quicker, he’d still be alive, and she wouldn’t be here right now. Guilt washed over her. He’d given his life for his best friend; she knew that she wasn’t really responsible, but the guilt remained. It wasn’t school or her parents that had kept her away for the past year; it was this overwhelming feeling that she should have stopped him. Her family wasn’t the same without him.


***


He watched her, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. He knew her sorrow; it was his own. His best friend had died, taking the curse meant for him. It was his tomb the young woman sobbed over. Bowing his head, he allowed the tears to come, the tears he’d blocked for so long. In the shadow of the ruined house, he wept for his friend, his parents, and those who’d been lost along the way.


***


Her sobs subsided. Tracing his name with her fingertips again, she began to speak.


“I miss you so much. I can’t seem to realize that you’re gone, that you’re never coming back. Sometimes, I sit in my room and imagine I hear your footsteps. I see your face in the mirror whenever I look into it. But I have something I feel that I have to tell you. I’ve begun to talk to someone about you. He’s your friend and he understands how I feel when I think of you. He understands how I feel when I say I should have saved you. He wishes everyday that you hadn’t saved him. That’s how it started out.”


She couldn’t go on.


***


Her words were carried on the wind to where he sat. Hearing them, he understood what she was doing. She was asking permission of the dead man. His tears flowed faster. She loved him. Through all of it, she loved him. The tears he cried were a mixture of despair at the loss of his friend and joy at her love.


***


“I’m in love with him,” she continued. “I want to be with him, but I need to know that you’re okay with this. I need a sign.”


The sobs constricted her throat and she laid upon the earth at the foot of his tomb, still tracing his name with her fingers.


***


He couldn’t remain in the shadows any longer. He stood and crossed the distance between the house and the tomb. Gently, he reached down and ran his hand over her hair in a comforting gesture. Startled, she looked up. Surprise filled her eyes, but there was something else in their depths, something he couldn’t define.


“It’s you,” she whispered.


“It’s me,” he replied.

>
For long minutes, the only sound was that of the wind stirring the weeds around the clearing. She reached out her hand to touch his face.


“I love you,” she admitted.


“I know,” he told her. “I heard you.”


He pointed to where he’d been seated. Surprised, she didn’t respond for a moment.


“I had to come,” she said. “I had to ask him for a sign about us.”


“I know you did. You’ve been terrified of any happiness since he died.”


“Why are you here?” she asked.


“I needed to say good-bye,” he whispered.


She nodded her understanding. “Do you want me to leave you alone for a moment?”


“Please,” he said.


***


She walked to the end of the row of tombs. Falling to her knees in the sand beside it, she whispered the name of her best friend, the only girl who’d ever understood her.


***


“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting in the space she’d just vacated. “I tried not to let it get this far, but I couldn’t stop it. I know, had you lived, you would have let this happen anyway, but you didn’t. You died to protect me; I’ll never forget that. I’ll take good care of her. I promise. I had to come to say good-bye to you. You were my best friend, and I want you to know that I’ll always remember you.”


***


This time, the wind carried his words to her. As the sound of his sobs came to her, she whispered a good-bye to her friend and walked back towards the young man. He looked up at her with silver eyes. She smiled down at him.


He brushed the dirt from his knees and stood next to her. He looked into her eyes and drank in the love pouring from them.


“I love you,” he said.


“I know,” she answered.


Draco Malfoy reached for her hand, and Ginny Weasley gave it to him. They walked back to the edge of the clearing together. They turned and smiled as the setting sun glinted off the words of the plaque on the center tomb.


HARRY POTTER, it read.


A small cloud in the shape of a stag crossed the sky. Ginny laughed and pointed at it. Draco smiled, realizing it was her sign. He leaned down to kiss her.


After several long moments, they made their way back to the wooden fence.