Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

The sections written purely in italics are present time. Italics are also used for dialogue in the flashbacks.

Green
—

The sounds of battle are everywhere, and he dodges all of the jinxes sent his way, but he doesn't see the Death Eater coming up behind him.

There are a lot of things he doesn't see.

AVADA KEDAVRA!

—

He was on the train, sitting beside the most interesting boy he'd ever met. A girl came in, and she was smarter than that computer his cousin had gotten for his last birthday, and he couldn't decide if she was so fascinating that he wanted her to stay forever, or so irritating that he wanted her to leave immediately.

He saw the smirk on the girl's face, the superior look in her eye. But maybe it was just well-placed pride.

He saw the glare the boy was giving her, and the way he rolled his eyes as she spoke. But maybe it was just because she intimidated them.

And as he sat there and listened, he thought that this might just be the beginning of the strangest, maddest, most important thing in his life.

—

He was wrong, of course. He was always wrong.

The most important thing in his life came much, much later. She had red hair and freckles, and early on in their acquaintanceship, her eyes burned holes into the back of his head whenever they were in the same room.

His eyes may have been as green as a fresh-pickled toad (though he wasn't even sure what the hell that meant), but he didn't appreciate her telling him through a poem delivered in the form of a singing dwarf.

—

Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.

Something inside of him screamed to be let out. And he knew that if it was the last thing he ever did, he would get her back to her brother.

—

His friend suggested that he go to the Ball with her, and she announced that she already had a date.

He was relieved.

But still, he wondered . . .

—

Sometimes, he dreamt he went through the veil with Sirius.

Sometimes, he wished he had.

—

Is it okay if I sit?

He looked up and realized that she was talking to him.

Are you going to make me talk about my feelings? he asked, thinking of his best friends, who were currently having lunch in the backyard with the rest of the family. Each time there was a break in conversation, one of them would try to bring up his godfather.

She smiled and shook her head. He patted the spot beside him on the couch.

In any other situation, he would have tried desperately to fill the silence. But small talk seemed below them, somehow. And so he sat perfectly still, unable to explain the stupid smile creeping across his face.

He realized that it was the first time they'd ever intentionally been alone together.

And he thought maybe he should try it more often.

—

He flew on his Firebolt, trying to block out the streaming red hair to his left.

He didn't want to lace his fingers through it.

He didn't.

—

He registers the sound of someone throwing the curse at him in the back of his mind, and is overcome, suddenly, by its green light.

His brain does not make the connection.

NO! he hears her scream, and wants to find her, to make sure she is okay.

If he looks at her, if he sees the look of terror and sheer desperation cross her features, he will know.

But there is no time to turn and look at her, and so he doesn't see.

—

Her hair was nothing compared to her lips.

He kissed her in the Common Room, and then out by the lake. And then back in the Common Room. They held hands in the Great Hall, and in the library. They snuck away to deserted corridors and to empty classrooms after hours – and, once, to the Room of Requirement.

Of course, he did a lot more than kiss her in the Room of Requirement.

My brother will kill you.

I reckon you're worth it.

—

She was worth so much more than that. She was worth so much more than him.

—

Her love scared him.

And the thought that her love for him could – would – be used against her was scarier.

—

The Burrow was his home, but it was her home first. And so he let her have it.

Are you going to say goodbye to her?

He shook his head at his friend.

No. Let's just go.

Beside him, his two friends Disapparated. He didn't look back before doing the same.

If he had, he would've seen her watching them from her bedroom window, her finger against the glass, tracing his outline.

—

His cousin experimented with drugs.

He had his own addiction.

It smelled like flowers, and had red hair and brown eyes and a smile that could stop him in his tracks.

We have to stop this.

She never acknowledged his words. She merely pulled off her top and pushed him back onto the bed.

And when it was over, when they were both breathless and sweaty and feeling alive, if that was even possible anymore, they dressed with their backs to each other.

Same time next week, she said softly, just before he left.

It wasn't a question, and even if it was, he wouldn't say no.

—

The three of you have been gone for months. It's killing you.

Her voice shook.

If he turned to look at her, he would see the concerned look etched on her face.

But he didn't, and so he would never see the love that accompanied it.

Only on the inside, he said.

—

They took her and they hurt her.

He got her back and left her with his best friends, with the instructions to do nothing and to wait here.

Then, he went out in search for those who had hurt her.

And he made sure the bodies were never found.

—

How would you know? Did you read that in a book? his best friend snapped at their other best friend.

But there was no time left for arguing, and maybe they both knew it, because they fell silent, their eyes slowly slipping shut.

It wasn't as easy for him. There was so much hate inside and sometimes, he thought, he could just burst.

He stared out the window. His mouth sucked in air and then pushed it out again, in a feeble attempt to remain alive.

When he was alone with his thoughts, he secretly wished for a fatal Muggle disease to take up residence in his body, for his heart to give out.

He loved the irony of dying before going off to face his death.

—

I love you. Did you know that?

He rolled over and looked at her. Don't say that, he said in that pathetic, broken voice of his.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his for something, and although he was lying there naked, it was the way she could see into his soul that made him feel exposed.

Fine, she sighed.

And he could feel the next question forming on her lips before even she did.

But, she whispered, looking afraid of the answer, but she wouldn't be her if she didn't push onward, don't you love me, too?

No, he told her, without a moment's hesitation, and he wished with everything he had that he could mean it.

She didn't look at him as she got out of bed and dressed.

Come on, he said. Don't go. Tomorrow is –

I know damn well what tomorrow is. It's the Battle, she said, and he hated the way he flinched, but saying it aloud never made it easier to accept. And after that, I never want to see you again.

She stormed off, and if he'd known it would be the last time he'd ever see her, he would have followed.

Instead, he rolled his eyes and told himself that she'd get over it.

—

They say that your whole life flashes in front of your eyes in the moment before you die, his best friend whispered, her mouth a tight line as they walked through the night, possibly toward their dooms.

You think that's true? his other best friend asked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

His voice did not tremble when he said, I'll let you know, but his friends' did when they reprimanded him.

—

The faces are gone now, and the sounds of their laughter and tears and shouts have long since evaporated.

Memories fade and emotions are gone and time ceases to exist.

He is falling, and he is heavier than the heaviest stone. And yet he is motionless and weightless at the same time.

There is no her, and there are no best friends, and there is no answer as to why.

There is only green.

—