"You wanted this," she sighs, "Not me. You've no right to look at me like that anymore."

"Like what?" A a sad smile pulls the corners of his lips but it's stretched too thin for her to ever remember, and she don't know what she's doing here anymore. (Here as in this universe, filled with more beauty than she'll ever know. Here as in this part, a celebration full of people she's known forever that she never wants to see again. Here as in this forgotten broom closet, probably the closest thing she'll ever know to hell on earth.)

.

1994; August 4th

The day's heavy with the burn of a July sun as you tried to find God in the crooked blades of grass beneath your head. Instead you stood and found Malfoy behind you, a blanket gripped in his hands and, even though you had been about to leave the blanket passes from one wanderer to another and you cover those blades of grass. There is no God here. You lie dazed in the sun's rays for longer than you planned to because you're twenty one years old and tired of never seeing the same bed twice.

(You claimed you never found God that day.

Maybe you knew the truth all along.)

.

"Like what?" He says again, harsher this time. (This is how she knows him.) "I – I - Like you know me," amazed the words still know the way to her mouth and he leans over until the strands of hair falling around his face fall onto hers. Falling.

It's always been falling with him.

.

1994; August 4th

"So you ready, Granger?" The sun spills pitfalls across your path. (You make a note to avoid them) before turning to face him, shrouded in the shadow; more hidden in the darkness than the daylight, but he'd always belonged to the darkness before you. (Maybe that's why you chose this closet, so he'll feel like he belongs. So maybe he would stay just a little while longer.) The sun's lower than you expected and you're feeling a little tipsy, like the sunlight's been poured into your veins. (You check to make sure you're not glowing - you don't think so. But maybe he does – just a little bit, mind you.) You giggle, breaking some kind of spell and the sun dips so low the pitfalls move. (They're hoping you won't notice how them leading you astray. So is he.) His face is thrown completely into the shadow andyou can pretend he's just some stranger you shared a sundyed afternoon with.

"Just a stranger, just a stranger, just a stranger," you chant pressing your lips to his, a fire thrown across the path before you and onto your very souls. But you don't notice. You don't notice anything but the feel of his hand curling into you hair and the rustle of your clothes against each other. Nothing outside the echo of your "Maybe."

.

"I do know you." It's a promise. That he still knows her, even after all these years, that he's been the only one who could ever read those twisted words of her and rearrange them until there's nothing left but a bouquet of letters and his name. And she almost wants to believe him but he's already ripped out the ending to their story (and her heart). He's leaning closer to her still until the years sketched across his face dim and the lines between then and now, who you were then and who you are now, blur and you're lost again in the tempest of '94.

(Because you've bid farewell to a thousand heroes but you'll always follow him into the dark.)


A/N: 10/5/11 The italics are her memories of '94 and the non italics are the present. Also the switching between pronouns ('she' and 'you') was show who she was then and how she's different now, but she still feels trapped in '94 so she's referred to as you in the past instead of the present. Hope that didn't confuse anyone!