Not a Chain but a Choice done

It was the last day of this school year. The air was thick with excitement for the summer camp and the reunion of families. Most students were scrambling to collect their belongings, catching up with their friends one last time or making plans for the summer with them. Thus the grounds further away from the busy castle were almost abandoned. Not a voice or laughter interrupting the calming sounds of nature, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves. No one was out here. Only Ileen, all by herself. The wind played with the waves of her long hair that was falling down on her plain white t-shirt and softly brushed the bare skin of her legs, exposed by her jeans shorts.
She herself had a last open task before she would return home, a last goodbye for now.
Ileen had found a place that she redeemed worthy. Not too close to the dangerous shadows of the woods, he probably wouldn’t have liked that. Although she didn’t know him that well, that was her prediction. Last they had spoken he had seemed afraid of the dark and the shadows with their own will. She wanted him to find peace and not be haunted by them even after he left. The place she had chosen was close to the lake, a small group of trees granting relief from the sun, the sounds of the waves on the stones of the nearby shores almost as soothing as a lullaby. It was a bit tucked away behind some other tree oases and not a popular, often frequented spot. She had come here a lot during her sixth years of Hogwarts to be alone with her thoughts and not once had she been disturbed. Now it was time to share this place with someone.
Her chest was heavy as she turned her head, looking at the small grave she had built. It was just a small heap between the thick roots of her favorite maple, marked by a big flat stone whose edges had been smoothed by the waves of water.
She was sitting next to it on another rock, leaning against the trunk of the tree, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her hands were still sticky with the earth from digging the grave - the muggle way without any tools. There was no body to bury. Resting under the rock was only the letter she had written a few weeks ago. As if of its own accord, she gently touched the silver bracelet dangling from her left wrist.
How did you mourn someone who never truly left? How did you move on? She had chained him to herself for over three years, hoping he would come back to - what? - her finally getting the chance to say goodbye herself? Getting another chance to live a full life? Deep down she knew that her attachment was more selfish than appropriate.

When she started to speak her voice was so soft that it was almost carried away by the wind before reaching anyones ears. But did it really matter? The last words at the grave were not for the living. They also weren’t for the dead. They were for the one speaking them. “I knew that your body was a hag doll, you know? In the end, at the ball. But I always believed that I saw the human in you. The boy that people seem to forget. And I thought you were… are worth saving.” She chuckled, but there was no humor in it. It was a confession to her own obsession and a justification of the curse she had loaded on herself. “I failed at that, but maybe that is what you wanted? I don’t know. I don’t know how dolls feel. How this works. And I don’t actually think... “ She stopped. She didn’t think she had that much of an impact, that much meaning. But she hoped that he saw her and that he felt she cared. That he mattered. She’d like to think so. The bracelet could have meant that. If it was for her. But why would it? Wouldn’t it more likely be for the Marion girl he was so fixated on? One of the charms looked a lot like her necklace though. The tear of the phoenix, curing all wounds. Would it cure this one as well?
After all, their bond wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t perfect - but it was real. “I will remember you for the boy you were and not the shell. The boy who dropped his pants.” Now she really chuckled, she couldn’t even stop. That probably wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered, but it was the most human moment he possibly could have parted with. The full teen experience.
Her hand swung down to the grave and touched the soil, trying to connect with him. “I hope you can find peace and that the shadows stop haunting you. I wish I could have replied to your goodbye, but at that moment, you know, I wasn’t ready to accept that this actually was goodbye.” Suddenly, her throat felt like it was constricted. The pressure on her chest seemed overwhelming and her eyes began to sting.
A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto her shirt, leaving a dark stain on the fabric. Ileen hadn’t cried in years. She had learned long ago that it didn’t change anything. But in this very moment, the emotions took over. It felt too real to bear. This really was it. This really was goodbye. With the acceptance that he wouldn’t come back, she would leave him to finally rest.
The ache in her heart pushed more tears on her cheeks and finally, the Slytherin girl started sobbing. Burying her head between her tucked in keens, she cried all the tears that she had held back over the past years. She was mourning him, she was mourning the months that she had tortured them both by making his memory her curse and she was mourning the person she moved on from, the version of herself, that she would try to leave here as much as she would leave him.
After a few minutes, when there were no tears left, she sat up again and whipped her eyes with shaking hands. A weird feeling of relief and grief was storming through her body and this time, she touched the bracelet completely intentional. “I will remember you. As the boy, not the monster. We all made mistakes. You just never really got a chance to make up for it in the end.” She iterated her promise that was her new burdon. But it was easy to carry.
She slowly got up and dusted her hands off on her legs. She knew she would come here in the future, but she wouldn’t carry his memory as a ghost anymore. They both deserved better than this. Remembering Victor, carishing his memory, wasn’t a chain anymore. It was a choice.

Mentions | @Victor Moore