Title: Photographs and Memories
Author: break_myself09
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: approx. 930
Summary: Two years ago, you were perhaps the happiest man alive. Eighteen months ago, he left.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling and her publishers. The lyrics belong to Yellowcard and are from their song "One Year, Six Months." This fic is written for fun, not profit.
A/N: Yeah, another little angsty fic that I wrote in like 15 minutes. Comments welcome! Also, this is not beta-ed so any mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out and laugh. ;)



Sew this up with threads of reason and regret
So I will not forget, I will not forget
How this felt one year, six months ago, I know
I cannot forget, I cannot forget

Two years ago, you were perhaps the happiest man alive. The war was finally over, the prophecy had been fulfilled, and you came out victorious. Voldemort, the man whom had tormented you and run your life since you were a mere one year old child, who had caused so much death and destruction to the Wizarding World, was finally dead. Your side had come out victorious, with only a few casualties: Luna Lovegood, the kind, thoughtful, albeit strange Ravenclaw; Moody, the strong, cautious Auror; Ginny Weasley, your ex-girlfriend, and best friend’s little sister. Seamus Finnigan. Tonks. Professor McGonagall. All were dead, and you thought about them everyday.

You however, were alive, and preparing to move in with your lover of over a year, Draco Malfoy. Nobody was surprised when you came out, and they were, strangely enough, even less surprised when you started dating Draco. Hermione told you that she always thought there was an underlying sexual tension between the two of you, and Ron just shrugged and said he wanted you to be happy. Of course, members of the wizarding society weren’t as impressed. They wrote articles about you, and slandered your relationship, but you both held your heads high and ignored it all.

Follow me there, a beautiful somewhere
A place that I can share with you.

Twenty-two months ago, you were happily moved into your cozy London flat, and worked as a reserve seeker for the Chudley Cannons, were Ron was keeper. Draco worked a comfortable job as an Unspeakable at the Ministry. You had a mutual goal of becoming Aurors, but agreed that you’d had enough of what the job required. Yes, you were the happiest man alive.

Twenty months ago, you stood next to Ron as best man, while he and Hermione exchanged vows. Draco teased you mercilessly when you had to pull out a handkerchief and wipe away the tears streaming down your face.

Nineteen months ago, your seemingly perfect world started to fall apart. You were fighting with Draco about everything, and you stormed out of the flat during every argument to drink away your troubles at the bar around the corner. Every night you stumbled home to find Draco lying awake waiting for you to come home.

Once, you were so angry and drunk, that you slapped him. He stood staring at you with a burning handprint across his cheek, and you watched in stunned silence as he turned away, and calmly walked into your bedroom. You, left the flat, shocked by your own actions, and returned to your safe haven.

When you stumbled back into your flat at 2:30 in the morning, he was lying in you shared bed, awake. You could tell that he had been crying, and still was. You climbed in behind him, kissed his tears away, and hoped that a few apologies and “I love yous” would be enough for him to forgive you.

I can tell that you don’t know me anymore
It’s easy to forget, sometimes we just forget
But being on this road is anything but sure
Maybe we’ll forget, I hope we don’t forget

Eighteen months ago, he left. After another argument over something so insubstational, you can’t remember it now; you came home to find him, not waiting as he usually did. Instead you came home to him packing his bags. The last image you have of him in your head is of him dragging his suitcase out the door, seconds before it slammed shut behind him, closing him out of your life forever.

One year ago, your life was still in shambles. You were still coming home drunk every night, and Ron and Hermione were constantly trying to get you help. You were fired from your position as reserve seeker, and you spent all day and night in the nearby bar, often stumbling home at 3:00 in the morning. Now, Draco wasn’t there to help you.

Six months ago, your life wasn’t going anywhere. You had stopped going to the bar, but often stocked up on liquor to drink at the flat you used to share. Your friends were trying to help, and encouraging you to go out and meet someone new. Instead, you locked yourself away with your bottle of Firewhiskey, and fell into memories of him.

I’m falling into memories of you
Things we used to do

Three months ago, your life started to improve. The twins offered you a job managing their new shop in Hogsmede, and you had stopped drinking so much. You moved out of the London flat you used to share, and into a flat above the shop. Things were beginning to look up, but you still missed him.

Now, you still miss him, and you know you’ll never stop. You pull out a box of old photos that you found while you were cleaning, from one year, six months ago, and try not to cry as you hold up a photo of the two of you in happier times. A tear escapes you, and lands on the photograph, and your thumb follows it, brushing the crystalline tear across your smiling faces. The tears fall more freely, and you realize this is all you have left…photographs and memories.

Close up these eyes, try not to cry
All that I’ve got to pull through
Is memories of you.

End.