After reading HBP, I was inspired to write this oneshot using "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Miserables. This takes place after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, would I be posting this? I think not.
HALF-BlOOD PRINCE SPOILERS!
Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
The cold basement kitchen was completely empty save for one individual resting on a bench in front of a wooden table. His head was placed in his hands to hide the tears streaking down his face. Shivering, wet and tired, he tried to block out the ghostly sounds of laughter haunting him, for this kitchen would never hear the sound of laughter again. There was no one left to laugh.
The smells of food still lingered even though the house had been deserted for quite some time. He supposed it was just another memory from happier days. How he wished it were not a memory! Memories could not comfort. They could not soothe. Memories only brought more tears to already stinging eyes.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.
Everyone he had ever cared for, ever loved, was gone. There was no one to sit across from him and share in the grief. No one could ease his pain. He was the one who would have to comfort others. The meaning of loneliness finally clear in his heart, he understood what others had endured being the only ones left behind.
His parents, Sirius, Dumbedore, he had accepted their deaths, however grudgingly, to fight against Voldemort knowing he could enjoy days of peace when the final smoke had cleared away to reveal a white light into happier days. He had thought those deaths were preparing him to stand on his own as a man. He was not prepared to be the last one standing.
Here they talked of revolution.
Here it was they lit the flame.
Here they sang about tomorrow'
And tomorrow never came.
Raising his head, he remembered the conversations that happened in this very room. They talked of hope and peace. A burning desire for victory drove them forward into dangers no one should have to face. It was here that fears were confessed, love began, arguments started. The silence that he heard now was more heartbreaking than anything he had yet experienced. The silence made him realize they were never coming back.
He ran his hand over the smooth wooden surface of the table remembering the happiness he had felt in this room. Here, in this deserted kitchen, they spoke of tomorrow with uplifted voices knowing that a better life was drawing ever closer. No one uttered the word death because they prayed it would not creep up on them before they saw the 'tomorrow' they planned.
From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
Nothing could dampen the spirits of his friends. They fought until they couldn't fight anymore, risking their lives to save another's. He could still see them; battered and bloody, trying to survive a few moments longer to make sure the other was okay. A few more tears trickled down his already stained face.
I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On the lonely barricade at dawn.
The final battle took every one of them to an early grave. Hermione fell first, taking with her at least five Death Eaters; Ron died protecting her. Remus and Tonks were next, then the Weasleys. He watched them die one by one, yet there was nothing he could do. They died for him to live on. After all, no one could defeat the Dark Lord, but him. By the morning sunrise, the battle was over. He could remember they're bodies scattered across the fields, the first rays of light cast over them.
He felt no joy at having completed his task. How could there be joy when no one remained to celebrate? The only comfort was the magnificent castle looming in the background promising a new era of life to begin.
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Some nights he would wake from dreams shaking in his bed. An overwhelming sadness would sweep through his body bringing with it a new wave of tears. Guilt would wash over him that he lived on when they were dead. They deserved to share in his triumph for it was their triumph, too.
A sleepless night had brought him to this lonely kitchen. Nightmares threatened his sanity, and he had walked for hours in the freezing rain. His endless footsteps had brought him here to the one place that had welcomed him as he searched for the truth in a world of lies.
Phantom faces at the window.
Phantom shadows on the floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.
He wished that he hadn't come here now. The shadows of his friends seemed to move across the wall like dark ghosts. Their footsteps echoed eerily on the hard floor along with the clink of silverware. Looking in the direction of the stove, he could imagine the figure of Mrs. Weasley cooking dinner with Hermione and Ginny helping her. Bill would be laughing as Fleur played with his hair. He inhaled a deep breath. Spider webs hung from the ceiling, and dust rested on the surfaces of the stove. The kitchen had once been so clean.
Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.
Moments like this made him realize that their sacrifice was in vain. Each empty place at the table would always be empty now talking with it a small piece of his heart.