Disclaimer: Insert witty comment here.

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Harry knew there was no such thing as meant to be, at least not for him. He might have had a once upon a time, but there would be no happily ever after.

All he really had, he'd found, was himself. And sometimes, that was even enough.

Sometimes.

But most of the time, he found himself yearning for something he didn't dare name, at least not aloud. He knew he was weak for wanting...it, for wanting love...and yet he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but yearn for affection, even when he knew it would never come. Not with them gone.

So maybe it was shame that brought him there, shame at needing something, at wanting something as much as he wanted love. Or maybe it was pain or despair.

Or maybe, just maybe, hope.

He smiled when he passed through the front gates of the prison, when he felt the chill tingle along his skin. He waited, then, but not for long. Walking shadows converged, soon surrounding him. And because Harry wasn't one to give up without a fight, even when he wanted to, he raised his wand and whispered the words.

Nothing happened, but he had expected that. Nothing good could come, when he had no happy memories.

The cold seeped through him, settling in his bones and freezing his marrow. He wasn't smiling anymore, but he neither did he fear, not even as pale bony hands gripped his face. Not even as a lipless mouth moved to cover his.

Because, in the end, it was better than being alone.