SIYE Time:19:11 on 14th July 2024
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By Charlotte Rain

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Category: Alternate Universe
Genres: Angst
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Reviews: 3
Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2004 ***

Somethings aren't meant to be remembered...
Hitcount: Story Total: 2612


On one bright and snowy morning Harry Potter received a letter. He didn't open it, he just put it on his desk in plain view. He knew what it was and he wasn't ready for it. Not yet.

He had tried so hard and so long at forgetting that he had almost suceeded. And now she had to do this to him. Make him remember things that didn't need remembering.

And so the letter sat there until he had almost forgotten it. Almost. It was always there, always dancing at the back of his mind. Damn letter.

But a year ago today, was the day she had left him. Today was different. Harry couldn't have stopped himself from remembering even if he had tried. He had given up trying. He had no energy left to do it with. So he picked up the letter and with a strange sense of calm, he opened it.

It was dated a year ago yesterday and didn't even mention his name. A bitter smile passes across Harry's face.

I'm sorry.

Harry snorted. Did she think you could wipe away all the hurt with a few words? It was so typical of her, her and her bloody earnest Weasley morality.

I know you're probably snorting right now. Ready to call me a hypocrite, a fool, and probably worse. I probably deserve it too - except you know, it's not nice to speak ill of the dead.

Harry sank against the chair, smiling softly as his eyes continued to scan the words, almost too caught up in memories to read what was actually being said.

And this letter will probably open up a lot of old wounds, and might even cause you pain. It will probably make you remember things that shouldn't be remembered. And I know how hard you were trying to forget. You were always that way. And that wasn't my intent, but then, it seems that despite my best attempts, I've done nothing but cause you pain. And I'm sorry for that, as well. But of all people, you deserve some kind of last words. An explanation, if you will; the things I could never say when I was alive.

Harry wanted to tear the paper into shreds. He wanted to throw it in the fire, or tape it to his roof as a way of telling God, "Look! Look at this! This is what you have put me through! This is what I have to wake up remembering every day!" He should have.

But he didn't.

I remember the first time you kissed me. You didn't say a word. You were never good with words Harry Potter.

But you were good at kissing.

Harry smiled.

Do you remember the day when I found you sitting out by the Forbidden Forest? You were just sitting there, reading a book. While it was raining.

Your were always a bit crazy Harry.

But then at the same time you'd wonder what I was doing out in the rain wouldn't you?

I remember I wanted to see what book you were reading so I went over and sat in front of you.

You were reading the Bible. You were afraid of your own sins.

I thought your sins were beautiful Harry.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Watching the rain," you said.

"You're drenched."

You shrugged. "So are you."

Good point.

And then, you looked so wonderfully beautiful Harry. And I knew I wanted to kiss you, so I did.

I always loved the rain Harry.

It was raining now Harry noted. "You would have loved today Ginny," he said out loud.

Then, the third time. Do you remember what I told you Harry?

He remembered.

"Don't you dare fall in love with me Harry Potter."

You didn't say anything. You just stared at me. Those bright green eyes just stared at me and it made me angry.

"It's really all the better for you that I warn you, you know. I lie. I cheat. I whine and cry and manipulate." I sighed. "It's for your own good, Harry Potter. I can hurt you. I will hurt you."

"You do won't," you told me. Now your green eyes were laughing at me.

"Well I certainly don't love you Harry Potter."

I lie.

Harry saw a small drop of moisture hit the page in his hand. He looked up to see if his roof had sprung a leak. Then he realized he was crying.

Damn letter.

I'm sorry Harry. I should have told you then why I did it. I did have reasons you know. It wasn't spontaneous or anything. Its not like I woke up one morning and said, "Today I think I'll break Harry Potter's heart."

Because I do know I broke your heart Harry.

No, I did it because I knew that, in fact, you could hurt me. And that scared me so bad Harry. So I ran.

I ran, rather cowardly. You were The Boy Who Lived. I was a Weasley. I pushed you away. I thought that was far better; I thought I could live with that.

But I couldn't. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't.

Do you know why Harry? Because I loved you.

I really did try to find you Harry. Really and truly. You did a good job of hiding yourself from him. I, however, must not have done such a good job because if you are reading this, I must be dead.

Which means I'm probably torturing you for no good reason.

I guess I felt guilty. I wanted to make sure that you knew it had nothing to do with you. You were the most important person in my life.

I love you, Harry.


"I love you too," the boy whispered.

Harry folded up the letter, placed it back in the envelope, and tossed it into the fire in his study. He forced himself to look at it as it burnt away to cinders, and then turned back to his desk, his entire body stiff with self-control. There was work to be done. And he had no time for dreams.

Damn letter.
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