Disclaimer: I Don't own Harry Potter...Just in case you needed to know that...

Author's Note: This is set in Half-Blood Prince and the first part (in italics) is based off a scene in the book and belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Dedication: This is actually a birthday fic for Carnival Girl, Love yaxxxx

(P.s-Go read her fics!)

Memories Worth Fighting For

"And incidentally, I was interested to see your new patronus." And the gates slammed in my face. "I think you were better off with the old one, the new on looks weak." A malicious voice. A flash of light before being plunged into the dark of the night. A vague recall of Harry speaking to me and I reply with a soft "See you Harry"

Snape's an absolute git I swear. My patronus isn't weak. Not that he really meant it anyway; he was just taking a dig at…him. I don't even want to say his name; I don't want to think about him. It hurts too much. But Snape's words are bugging me, they really shouldn't, I know….But it hasn't stopped me sitting here in Mrs Weasley's living room attempting to release my patronus. So far, I've failed.

"Arggghhh!" I groaned out loud pushing a hand through my mousy brown hair mentally noting that I should give it a wash later. My life is pathetic. I can't even think of a happy enough memory to perform the bloody patronus charm again. I felt tears forming in my already sore eyes as my head started throbbing with pain once more.

I'm so sick of this. It's been like this for months, me, laying here depressed, waiting for my life to change and yet knowing it never will. Not until he comes to his senses. For my own good, my arse. He claims it's better for me in the long run; I deserve more than he can give me. But I don't want his distorted view of what's best for me, I want him. Doesn't he see how much I need him? I'm drowning here without him. Ever since he told me we wouldn't work, I've been like this; lost in misery, I've got myself stuck in a rut and no matter how hard I try, I can't pull myself out. And now these tears have broken free and are falling rapidly down my face. Again. I'm so tired of having to wipe them away. He's a fool, he truly is. If he really knew what I needed, I'd be laying in his warm arms right now, revelling in one last sweet moment, waiting for the world to pass us by, as we sit and wait for the final fight to arrive. But no, I'm here, in someone else's home purely because I can't stand to be in my own, risk remembering that night, scared of the thought of never being with him and mourning for who I used to be, when he was with me, struggling to perform a simple charm I've been able to do for years.

Unable to sit her any longer, I stood and, grabbing my coat, I left through the kitchen door. The cold, harsh wind hit my face, leaving me breathless and I welcomed the refreshing sensation as it cooled my heated and blotchy face. I walked down the road and carried on walking until I was reasonably far form the village and I'd entered a small, rundown and vandalised town, where the streets were pretty much deserted apart form a few teenagers dressed in tracksuit and hoodies, inhaling dirty smoke from their cigarettes and boasting about 'Da Bling'. I shook my head as I passed them, Man, muggles are strange. Eventually I came across an isolated park which didn't look even remotely safe for children to play in. I trudged my way across the muddy, trodden grounds until I came across a huge willow tree, towering over in all his elegant beauty, looking completely out of place in the desolate park, I smiled. Strange, how beauty appears in the unlikeliest of places, ignored by the majority, but there nonetheless, standing out from the ugliness of the world around it, waiting for someone to discover its deepest levels. I sat beneath it, ignoring the wet, soaking through my jeans. I closed my eyes blocking out the cruel war the life around me has become. I listened to the gentle sound of birdsong, lulling me to my inner calm. Suddenly stuck by a sense of security, shielded by any form of contact with the world beyond my willow tree, I decided I should try the patronus charm. Just one more time.

I took several deep breaths before trying to conjure a strong image of happiness in my mind. I mentally flicked through boxes of memories in my head trying to find one strong enough. That's when it came to me, crashing into me so hard, knocking the breath out of my lungs, leaving me in the sweet surrender of memory that overtook me. I gripped my wand and let it embrace me completely.

Warm, tentative lips pressing gently against mine, moving slowly, softly, comforting arms encircling my waist, protecting me form imaginary, unseen dangers, the half-light reflecting in amber eyes before they shut close in the need to feel more of the sensation, my eyes following his lead, and the kiss deepened, allowing me to feel more, to taste more, more of him. And I ran my hands through his greying hair, drifting along his neck, lost in the ecstasy of the heat of his too-thin body pressed close against my own and then a shot of silver as my patronus emerged from my wand, pulling me back to the present moment.

Our first kiss, the last kiss before he pushed me farther away from him. I opened my eyes and let out a shout of laughter, as the beautiful wolf stood before me, watching me, pride evident in its stance. I held out a hand and the wolf came to me nuzzling my hand like a tame, little puppy, a juxtaposing image compared to the ferocious, fierce, blood-thirsty beast it appeared to be, before it ran off before fading and becoming a part of the air.

I sat there still, lost in the aftermath of the memory. Of course, it would be that one to cause the patronus, what else could it have been? But still, this experience, however short-lived it may have been gave me hope, for what must have been the first time since Sirius' death. Okay, so Remus doesn't want to take this any further, he doesn't want to drag me down. Well, am I really expected to raise the white flag and simply accept that? Hell no! As much as I hate to admit it, I've still got Black blood running through my veins, the spirit of my cousin has always matched my own, and since when has he ever given up? Never. He fought right up to his dying breath, for the ones he loved and you can bet your last galleon I'm going to do the same. So whatever Remus says, it doesn't matter. I'm not surrendering that easily. I'm going to show him, somehow, how beautiful he truly is, and that he really does deserve to be loved as much as everyone else. And this time next year, I'll be laying in his warm arms, revelling in one last sweet moment, waiting for the world to pass us by as we sit and wait for the final fight to arrive, and when it does, we'll be there, standing side by side, hand in hand, fighting for the memories that we constantly fight to keep, putting off the final day when they'll all fade away.

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Peace,

Tictac Angel xxxx