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Whatever it Takes
By An An

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Category: Alternate Universe
Genres: Angst
Warnings: Death
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 0
Summary: Again, a darker reflection of myself. Or my thoughts at least. A one-shot taking into account the effects of will-power and love.
Hitcount: Story Total: 3609


Whatever it Takes

29th July 2005

They were in the room of requirement, mid-afternoon of the Saturday that would forever be etched into the mind of one Harry Potter. The room brought them to a forest clearing, it was a mid-evening scene, and Harry thought something was wrong with the almost perfect scene he himself had been hoping for in a weeks’ time.

Their seventh year was marred by problems from all sides, especially Voldemort, and Harry realized that he could lose any one he cared for at any point in time as long as Voldemort was around. He was training, yes, but that didn’t mean he could protect everyone he wanted to. Already Ron had been taken, a lightning-shaped scar slashed into his bed.

He stood opposite her, but her eyes were somewhat distant, almost fearful. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it, as she did so often, “I’m sorry Harry. I know what you’re going to say, but I have to decline.” He froze but she went on, “I’ve seen the way your eyes grow glazed, like when you’re thinking, and then you look at me with that distant, speculative, hopeful look. I’m sorry, I’m just not comfortable enough anymore. Had it been earlier, maybe even less than a year ago, I’d have had no problems with it.

“But I’ve changed my mind; I can’t, I won’t, go through with it, because there’s too much of a possibility that the eventuality will cause you so much more pain than I know this is causing you. I’m truly sorry Harry, but maybe, just maybe in future, it may happen. Don’t give up, Harry, I’ll never regret knowing you.”

He stayed there for another hour at least, frozen, his mind locked with her words, refusing, not wanting it to be true. But he ultimately had to face up to it; that he couldn’t have things his way again, that he wouldn’t have her to talk to or hug again.

Her parting words gave him hope though, that he still had, all be it small, a chance at the illusive feeling that he’d never truly known. A tear fell from his eye, and he let it fall, preceding a multitude more, silently vowing to himself that he’d win, he’d win and in the act protect her and everyone else he cared for. Training turned harsher after that.


“I don’t know sweetie, I guess he really couldn’t move on. You know, before he died, he told me ‘I made an oath. I swore that I’d always be there for her, whether she wanted it or not. I guess the magic really agreed.’ So I guess, that’s why we’re going through another funeral only 3 days after hers.” Neville Longbottom pulled his wife close, “and I’d make that same oath to you anyday.”


A/N: Again, a one-shot. I'm trying to put together an H/G, but it's still in the works.
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