One Shot (Harry Potter) for MichelleWeasley's Contest!

A Harry Potter one shot. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Chapter One

9th of May, 1998: England.

"When you grow up, you never imagine the impossible anymore, because you don't want to be disappointed. You stop believing in magic, you stop dreaming that you will meet your true love on the street. You stop trusting everything to turn out like a fairytale.
What if, in a sheer minute, your life was turned around? What if it suddenly began in a new, breathtaking way? What if all you had to do was close your eyes and really breathe, really live. In that moment, that single minute, your world is turned upside down and you are reborn as a whole new person."

She seals her lips and allows the water to rush over her bare feet. Sand spills in between her toes and when she tips her head back, her eyes meet the gloomy blue sky in which seagulls swerve around, crowing loudly. One spreads its wings and shoots towards the water, only to pull up at the last second. The sound of waves fills her ears, and she knows that right now, she is truly alive.

"Well said," her friend, who appeared out of nowhere, says quietly, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Well said."

"There is so much more to say." The other young woman looks towards her companion, unsurprised, and gives her a diminutive smile. "But not everything can be said in words." She places her hand on her own shoulder, above the girl's cold fingers, and squeezes them timidly. "I know why you're here."

"His funeral is in fifteen minutes, Lucy. He would have wanted you to be there," she presses, her eyes grief-stricken. There is bitterness in them, too. She knows how liberated Lucy feels: it's not right. No one should be glad on a day like this, especially not the woman whose soul mate is dead--killed in a battle, just to defend a young boy with a scar.

"I will apparate there," Lucy says decisively, turning her head back to the grey ocean. She hears the retreating footsteps of her friend and then a pop, which reassures her that she is alone again. Lucy looks at her feet, buried within the sand, and exhales. She is aware that she is supposed to grieve and feel guilty--perhaps others even think she should tear her hair out and cry like there is no tomorrow--but she simply can't. She is alive. Lewis's death made her realize that more than anything.

She puts the apple wood wand she was holding into her back pocket, bends over and scoops up some of the muddy substance, rubbing it between her fingers. It feels cold, yet comforting. Her chest heaves with each breath, and the salty, frigid wind causes pangs in her lungs.Goosebumps are present on her skin, but she can't be bothered. Instead, she closes her eyes and swallows the lump in her throat.

Sometimes, she thinks, we have to give up on those that are gone, even if it hurts. Sometimes, we just have to let go and realize that right now, we are absolute. Sometimes, we just have to begin living the life we deserve, even if that means that we have to stop mourning those most important to us.

Lucy pulls the rough woolen scarf that she is wearing over her head and shoulders and gently lifts her feet out of the blubber. Instinctively, she turns her head towards the end of the seashore--where they met--and watches as a white dove looks back at her with intelligent eyes. He remains on the sand for a moment and then flies up towards the sun, his wingspan broader than Lucy had expected--first the sight of it startles her, but after pausing for some seconds, her features relax, and then turn content.

"Goodbye," she says.


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