She thinks that it might have started when she was three- the day she saw the troubadours for the first time and a beautiful woman with brown ringlets all piled up on her forehead leaned down and smiled at her.
Sirius thinks about someone, about the memories of long ago, of the girl he once loved. The girl he still does. Of the memories long lost...
Severus Snape...no one knows the pain he went through to be with her. And no one knows what he felt because of her. Here it is-his story...
James Potter is dead. But his love for his son lives on.
It was hard, you know, to realize the only man you'd ever love was a murderer.
It was their wedding day. They were supposed to have forever, because she was his forever. But forever ended. And it was never going to come back.
Owls hooted, the crickets chirped...and then all fell silent. A single man opened a rusted gate, walking in, walking faster, past dusty graves...until he stopped. Stopped at a grave. Her grave.
A picture of them lay burning in the embers of a dying fire. A picture of Sirius Black and...
He left her there, on the cold, hard floor. Because they weren't meant to be...never meant to be.
I don’t remember much. Much at all. But I do remember a voice…one voice and three words.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he ran through the darkened hallways, the images burning themselves into his mind. His head leaning down, hers reaching up, that hand with that ring, the initials 'JP' sinking through her fiery red hair...he ran.
I never knew that it could hurt like this. I never knew that a broken heart would feel this way. A dull ache in the center of my chest. I never knew.
He was in a hallway. An endlessly long hallway, with nothing but a single light glowing brightly at the end. And then there seemed to be a shadow in that light, a shadow with a figure so familiar, it made his heart hurt. Sirius/Autumn
Neville writes his mother a birthday card during the War. Takes place in Seventh Book
He was pathetic. Utterly pathetic. Really, there was no other word to describe it. To describe a man in love with his best friend's love.
One-shot of moments in Peter's life.
Eleven people who died in the war.
Draco Malfoy regrets the choices he made in his youth, if only to spare his son the consequences.
Marlene McKinnon is easy. Not in the way you might think- she isn't the type of girl to smoke chain cigarettes and hop on the back of the first black motorcycle that comes roaring into view.
They are wrong, they both know. But they are both missing the person that makes them right, so what difference does it make if they try to fit the jagged puzzle pieces of themselves together?