The one promise

Authors Note


This is my first time writing anything, so be nice, all reviews and pointers are welcome but please no flames :)

Cheeky thanks to my beta- RandomReggie.


I do not own anything, it all belongs to J.K Rowling.

I wish you'd come back. Surely seven months is long enough to feel unbearable pain and emptiness? When will it stop?

I wish it would stop. But then again, I don't. It's a constant reminder that you where here.

I wasn't there when you died.

No chance to say goodbye and thank you for every time you were there for me, made me laugh to the point of hysterics and made me cry but know it was ok to.

No chance to say sorry for the times I had shouted at you. Mudblood. It wasn't always your fault.

I must always remember that. Always.

You've made me a stronger person and although I'm weak and tired from crying, I am stronger now and I've learnt my lessons.

Maybe you'll come back? Yes, come back. Just come back.

Wishing won't get me anywhere. I know that.

I don't believe in wishes.

I've tried before, wishing on shooting stars, eyelashes and birthday candles. Wishing with every fiber of my being.

They don't work. I never believed in wishes, but you did. So I tried.

But wishing to bring someone back from death just isn't good enough.

It would take a miracle... and that's another thing I don't believe in.

I still look at your picture you know.

Every day I think about you.

Your eyes. Your beautiful eyes.

In the beginning, I dreamt of you, every night, and every blink you were behind my lids.

I was the only that could see you and touch you. I hallucinated you for days.

I never told anyone. You soon faded. Leaving me a second time.

I'd have happily basked in insanity to have kept you with me even in madness.

When all this has faded to just a faint numbing pain, the type that you get used to and it becomes a comfort rather than something raw and agonizing.

Now, they don't talk about you.

You're now but a faint whisper in the air.

It's just easier that way.

It saves the tears and discomfort; the painful reminder of loss.

Occasionally your name might pop up, but it always leads to silence. Torturous silence.

Don't take offense, even now it's still too hard. Not enough time has passed, I don't think enough time will ever pass.

Sometimes, it feels like someone's behind me, I turn around and look but no one's there.

Whether that's a good or bad thing, I don't know. But I try and convince myself logically that I'm just tired and under too much strain and I'm getting too paranoid.

Though sometimes, I allow myself to think it's you, checking on me.

I feel better when that happens, only for a little while though. Those glimpses of hope, I need them.

So keep doing it. Keep visiting, sending wafts of your strawberry shampoo or I'll think I'll feel the feeling of your finger tips through my hair.

I like to go back to places we've been.

The park we first met. The small café we went to in Hogsmeade. Our bench.

It's ok to go back now. Just.

But I made the mistake of going back to a certain place too soon. Godrics Hollow.

I regret that.

At the moment, you're picture is on my coffee table. I move you, from place to place. I don't know where we'll put you next .

For now, your tucked away in my head; my heart; my memories.

In a few years you won't be there anymore, maybe just a hazy memory. It pains me to even consider forgetting any aspect of you, a single fleck in the plethora of your green eyes, a single freckle from your cheek.

But take comfort in the fact that I will see you when my time is up too.

That's one promise I am keeping.



Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it