Harry Potter 1. Prelude: Author's Note

A/N: Well, I had an idea for a one-shot. It just hit me while I was Betaing one night and, naturally, I just had to write it down. Now, originally, it was going to be this semi-sad but overall having a fairly-cute ending (sort of). However, I ending up finding this poem while I was trying to look for something else, and it just took it in an entirely different direction.

Needless to say, being the absolute angst-lover that I am, went the darker way. However, thinking back on it, and talking about the other ending I was thinking of with a few people, I've decided to write the other way I saw it happening too.

So now it's up to you, the reader, which one you want to read first! You can pick either scenario #1 (an original name, I know), which will be the darker, more angsty one-shot (with multi-character death, so be warned!) or scenario#2, which still has character death (but had happened a while back) and a cuter, and probably more plausible ending (sort of).

I encourage you to read both though, as I am proud of both. And please, please review!

Thanks to all who read and review!

P.S. Yes, the person who's died already will be switched with the scenario's... but that's just because I'm such a bottom!Potter lover (that goes for Harry, Albus-Severus, and of course James)

Claira


	2. Scenario One: AlbusSeverus

**A/N: Well, here is it, the first of two in my little two-shot. That is, if it can even be called that. Enjoy, and please review! Also, my apologies for any misspellings, as I was raised Canadian, I spell like it! **

**Lastly, thank you to C. Adrien Cummings for betaing and for his opinion, as well as to XxRon-luverxX and ! I love you all! *squashes***

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just wish I did. All characters are J.K Rowling's. The poem 'The Beginning' is not mine either, but was written by a wonderful poet by the name of Rupert Brooke. Lastly, I do not own the epitaph, as that was taken from Google.**

**Warnings: Multiple character death, implied slash, suicide, angst.**

As he walks along the crowded streets of London, he almost wishes that the footsteps he heard were meant to be chasing him. Almost.

The rain pours down in torrents, soaking his clothes and making his already pitch coloured hair seem even darker. He smiles humourlessly at how the weather seems to match his emotions.

"Seven years," he says to himself, his footsteps slowing as they reach their destination. "Seven years as of today."

The man stands in front of the gravestone, the place that marks where his love now lies. He runs his hand over the front, fingers lingering over the letters carved into it, forever acknowledging who lay beneath.

_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_

_October 17__th__,2005 – May 13__th__, 2031_

_Son - Lover - Friend_

"_There never was a night that had no morn."_

Only now does he let the tears fall from emerald eyes. Only now does he allow his knees to buckle and his heart to clench. This, to him, is reality in its finest, as he takes out the well-worn book and begins to read aloud, his voice shaking:

Someday I shall rise and leave my friends  
And seek you again through the world's far ends,  
You whom I found so fair  
(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),  
My only god in the days that were.  
My eager feet shall find you again,  
Though the sullen years and the mark of pain  
Have changed you wholly; for I shall know  
(How could I forget having loved you so?),  
In the sad half-light of evening,  
The face that was all my sunrising.  
So then at the ends of the earth I'll stand  
And hold you fiercely by either hand,  
And seeing your age and ashen hair  
I'll curse the thing that once you were,  
Because it is changed and pale and old  
(Lips that were scarlet, hair that was gold!),  
And I loved you before you were old and wise,

When the flame of youth was strong in your eyes,  
-- And my heart is sick with memories.

His voice shakes until the end, as does his body, his very soul. "'The Beginning'," he mutters into the rain, an often remembered memory playing behind his eyes. "It always made me think of you, you know. I never told you, but I always did love poetry, as much as I'd deny it to you. The way you read it, your voice shaping the words, it was almost seductive."

His eyes gaze upon the gravestone once more, as if expecting it to answer, the final line blurred but still legible.

_There was never a night that had no morn._

A ghost of a smile crosses the man's face at that, at seeing his lover's favourite quote etched where it would not be forgotten.

He knows it is time then — that, just as he read, there would be a 'Beginning'. However, to this night, for him at least, there would be no morn.

He thinks of him then, of his bright, smiling face, and of the mornings they'd spent in each others' arms... of the memories he hadn't let himself dote on in a long time. How he wished they'd have been able to see themselves grow aged and ashen together! However, he does not dwell on this, knowing that they'll be together again soon.

He lifts the gun to his head then, raising his face to the sky, the rain washing away the tears. His declarations of love are lost in the crack of the gunshot as he ends his own life.

His body falls to the ground, lifeless, the rain now washing away blood instead of tears.

And, for the first time in seven years, he is at peace.


	3. Scenario Two: Scorpius

**A/N: Okay, well, here's the second (or first, depending on which order you've read them in) part of my little two-shot. Please, enjoy this one too! It's a little fluffier, but may just make you cry (my apologies to you if I do, though I do love tear-jerkers). I actually made **_**myself**_** cry writing this! Don't forget to review!**

**Also, once again, a special thank you to C. Adrien Cummings for betaing, as well as to XxRon-luverxX and ! I would never have had the courage to post these without you guys!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters mention, except for Maia. That little ball of cuteness is all mine :P I also do not own the epitaph used; you can thank Google for that one.**

**Warnings: Character death, implied slash, implied Mpreg, angst.**

As he walks along the crowded streets of London, he almost wishes that the footsteps he heard were meant to be chasing him. Almost.

The rain pours down in torrents; soaking his clothes and making his white-blonde hair seem golden. He smiles humourlessly at how the weather seems to match his emotions so seamlessly at times.

"Seven years," he says to himself, his footsteps slowing as they reach their destination. "Seven years as of today."

The man stands in front of the gravestone, the place that marks where his love now lies. He runs his hand over the front, fingers lingering over the letters carved into it, forever acknowledging who lay beneath.

_Albus-Severus Potter_

_March 21__st__, 2006 – May 13__th__, 2031_

_Son - Lover - Father - Friend_

"_At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember him."_

Only now does he let the tears fall from silver eyes. Only now does he allow his knees to buckle and his heart to clench. He pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket, and, pushing the now golden hair from his eyes, begins to read in a shaking voice:

_Dear Daddy,_

_I turned seven today; I wish you were here for my party! Daddy says that we can have chocolate mousse! Did you like chocolate mousse daddy? I'll have to ask Uncle James or Auntie Lily later._

_Papa Draco's writing this for me, Daddy doesn't know. I want to show him as a surprise later. Don't tell him, okay? _

_Grandpa Harry says that you're in a better place now. I hope so. Is there chocolate mousse where you are? I think that anywhere with chocolate mousse would be a great place to live._

_I remember Daddy told me once that I got my love of chocolate from you. He said you used to eat so much of it, he'd have to hide it from you just so he could made cookies for when Great-Aunt Andromeda would come over with Grandma Cissa! You must've really loved chocolate, huh Daddy?_

_Oh, well I've got to go now, Daddy's back with the chocolate mousse! Maybe he'll let me try some before my friends get here. Don't worry though; I'll save some for you! I'll show him this letter after my party, and then I'll put it in my treasure box with all my other letters for you._

_Daddy says owls can't go where you are, but I'm saving up my letters just in case one day they can!_

_Bye for now Daddy. I love you and I miss you! Daddy does too!_

His voice shakes until the end, as does his body, his very soul. "I do, you know," he mutters to the clouds above. "I miss you every day, every single _minute_ of every day. And I still love you. I always will."

His eyes gaze upon the gravestone once more, as if expecting it to answer, the final line blurred but still legible.

"_At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember him."_

He thinks of him then, remembers him. More tears fall from mercury eyes as he thinks of the time they spent together. He thinks of the laughs they shared, and the love they had. And he thinks about what they created.

"So much for me not being the father type, huh?" he asks to the gravestone. A car pulls up behind him. The door opens.

"There you are, Daddy!"

He turns around to see their little girl running toward him, her black curls bouncing from their pigtails. He raises an eyebrow at his father, who's also come to stand beside him, albeit at a much slower pace.

"I thought you'd be here," his father says simply, shrugging off the raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I woke up and you were gone! I told you I wanted to come too!" the girl adds, her silver eyes shining with annoyance.

"It was raining, Maia. I didn't want you to get sick."

"Well, it's not raining now! Can I stay?"

He looks to the sky. "It's not stopped for long. We'd better go back to the house, it's past your bedtime as it is."

"But I brought a picture!" she pouts.

He raises his eyebrows at this; she'd not shown him a picture earlier. He takes it from her. "Oh, and when did you draw this? Not after bedtime, I hope..."

"I drawed it in the car! Even ask Papa Draco!"

He looks at his father once more, who nods his head at the silent question.

"Okay, love. Did you want to leave it for Daddy, or put it in your treasure box?"

"I want to leave it for Daddy! That way he'll have something to put in _his_ treasure box!"

He smiles. "Ok. Now, where do you want to put it?" He glances at the picture; it's Maia and himself and Albus, all holding hands, with Maia in the middle.

"See those fluffy things, Daddy? Those are Daddy's wings!" She smiles as she points to the light blue arcs attached to either side of Albus.

"It's beautiful sweetheart," he says honestly, before taking out his wand and framing the picture. He places it against the grave. "Is that okay?"

Maia nods, yawning, before nuzzling into his leg.

"Alright, I think it's time we got you back home and in bed," his father says, picking her up and bringing her back to the car.

"We'll see you back home, alright Scorpius?" he asks, asking with a look if he's alright.

"Sure, I'll see you there," he replies, nodding to his father. He wants to stay a little longer.

"Bye Daddies!" Maia waves to them 'both' as she's placed in the car, her eyes struggling to stay open.

His father shuts the car door before turning back to him. "You'll be back after sunrise, I'm assuming?" He knows the routine, knows his sons traditions.

"Yeah, I will be. Thanks for looking after Maia."

"I'm not the only one. Thank Rosie too," he says with a final nod before getting into the car.

And so he sits, long after the car's pulled away. Long after his hair has dried and the sun's risen.

He sits, and he remembers. He remembers that dawn was Albus's favourite time of day, though he'd always argued that dusk was just the same.

"It's not the same though, Scorp," Albus would always argue. "Dusk signals the end of the day. Dawn is just the beginning. It's the beginning of a new day, of a new adventure."

"You always did think that every day was an adventure." He smiles to himself, talking to the clouds once more. "And I bet that death is an adventure for you, too."

"_At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember him,_"he quotes again, his smile widening as the tears stream down his face.

It begins to rain again, washing away those tears. He lays back, thinking of Albus once more.

Remembering.


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Tragedy