He was dying.

He was on the ground and bleeding and Voldemort was gone and he was dying.

And he had failed. He had lost Lily, over and over, and he had failed.

He had failed Albus. He had failed the Wizarding World.

He had failed Lily. Lily had sacrificed her life, given up everything trying to end this. Harry was supposed to follow her example.

Harry wouldn't know what to do.

He had failed.

The blood was gushing, covering the floor, the grimy floor, and staining his robes.

Why did it matter? He had failed.

He was haunted. The memories there, intact, unshared. The look in her eyes, the words Dumbledore said, his past, her past. Their past. The instructions. The way to end it. The slaughter.

Haunting him

He was dying, a failure.

Except.

The boy was there.

Harry was there.

He was dying and Harry was there.

The green eyes locked onto his, the rest of Harry's features fading away.

He wouldn't fail.

"Take… them." He pushes all the memories to the front of his mind, shoving them out, using his last bit of strength to get those memories out, to tell Harry. He felt some of his more precious memories leaving him, needed to explain to the boy.

To explain to Lily's son.

The memories poured out of him, painfully, oh so painfully.

But not any more painful than they were in his head.

They came out wherever they could, anywhere that they could leave,

The girl, of course the girl, the girl he hadn't even seen before, hadn't noticed, is the one to conjure a container. The memories are lifted off his face, taken away. They're gone. The memories, the haunting memories are gone. They're where they need to be.

A sense of peace rushed over him, but it was fleeting.

He needed her.

He needed her, but he'd lost her. Fear took over, fear of the unknown, fear of never having another chance.

He needed Lily. But he'd lost her so many times. And now, when he was losing everything, everything he didn't know he had, all those little things he never looked twice at, everything.

All he needed was her.

"Look…"

He was dying. And he was thinking.

"at…"

He felt his head getting lighter, losing consciousness.

He'd lost Lily. He always lost Lily. He always failed. But maybe, this once,

"me."

he hadn't failed.

He locked his black eyes with the green eyes, and took his dying breath.

He saw Lily.

A/N: So this is it. I sold my soul for... Wait, no.

Sorry this last one took so long. I was out of town all summer and this school year has been insane for me.

Let me know what you think!