Wish You Were Here
(songfic idea by shiningbright, based on characters and events in Rowling's Harry Potter Series. Lyrics by Pink Floyd.)

The glowing green mist wafted in the air and stung Harry's eyes as he struggled into his tent on the green hills of Scotland. The Order had been tracking Lord Voldemort for some weeks now, after the Horcruxes had been discovered and destroyed. It had been three months from the last day of seventh year, and in his mind Harry remembers it clearly. The way Ginny had shot him that worrisome, wistful look as he turned his back on the place he'd called home for the greatest part of his life. And he had avoided Ginny's eyes, even when she had started crying. She didn't understand why he was going. Why he had to do this.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skys from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

She'd been angry at him, he'd known that, even though they had not contacted each other in months. The Order was not allowed to receive or send letters by owl and only those capable of other ways of communication could contact their loved ones. The ones they left behind.

In the few battles against various groups of Death Eaters, Harry had seen death. But not death as he had known it- a whisper in the wind, a distant memory in the back of his mind, a swishing of a veil- no, this death was different. It was the pain and suffering on the faces of the friends as they slowly, torturously, took their last breath, and he had to watch, unable to see them. Death was the evidence they had seen of Voldemort's passing; whole villages, torched, bodies piled up, naked, rude, gone.

Harry wondered why someone would ever do this. Innocence was a dream he could no longer hope for. A dream he knew no one would ever have.

And did they get you to trade
Your heros for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

It was in those nights after the deaths, the discoveries, the inhuman evidence that was all too real, when Harry missed her the most. When he laid in his bed in the tent he shared with three other men, one of which had died only a handful of weeks ago, murdered by his own brother who had joined the very cult Harry hated, he could no longer think. He could just feel. And remember. The pain of her being gone was nothing like he had ever experienced. It was a deepening, painful hunger that gnawed on his very soul. He remembered her smile, her laugh, her hands on his chest and her lips on his. He remembered the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips and the way her hair smelled. He remembered everything about her and he wished he had never met her. Because life was easier in this new world where death lurked so near. Because life was easier when there was nothing to hang onto.

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

And even day after day as they grew closer to the very one they dreaded, Harry found himself wanting it all to be over. To be normal, whatever that was. To be able to walk into her arms and bury his head in her shoulder and tell her that he was alive. That she was alive.

Wish you were here.