Dawn rose. Its glorious rays danced gracefully through the hills, casting a shimmering, beautiful glow over the landscape, everything it touched seeming to turn to gold. It reflected in the deep darkness of the lake, lighting it up so that it sparkled so magically, that it was hard to believe it was real.
The early morning mist clung to the dewy ground, shining a shade of gold so pale, it was hard to tell it was there. The frosty dew droplets had a fresh scent, and merged all of the morning colours together, creating tiny rainbows across the lush green grass and enhancing the aroma of the summer wildflowers of the Scottish highlands.

There was silence. Not even the birds were out yet, their joyous song still unsung. There was no wind. Utter peace caused the green-gold leaves to stand perfectly still.
There was no one outside. Everyone was still sound asleep, dreaming away the hours, within the strong, secure stone walls of the castle, which towered above even the tallest trees. Nothing moved – there was not even the faintest trace of movement; no flutter of a butterfly, not buzzing of a bee, no person walking the ground – everything and everyone was asleep.

Except for one solitary young woman.

Her bare feet padded silently across the raw ground, the frosty dew numbing her delicate toes, but she didn’t feel the cold. She didn’t feel anything. Her thin, silky white nightdress only gave the slightest of ripples as she gracefully walked to the lakes edge, her gentle footfalls only causing the smooth, round pebbles to clink together very slightly – only audible to her, if she had cared to listen.

Her sad, brown eyes roamed across the majestic morning scene; so perfect it could have been taken out of a fairytale – the type her mother used to tell her at bedtime to comfort her when there was a howling storm outside. But there was no storm now; just a picturesque scene.

She wished it could always stay this beautiful. She wished that the sun never rose completely – just stayed hovering above the far-off horizon, where it could constantly cast that precious golden glow over nature’s natural splendour, making it even more beautiful.

She could hear him. His laughter ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes and pleaded for them to go away, her rosy-red lips silently moving. But, the memories came flooding back, although, she was glad that they were happy memories, and not memories of last breaths, of hushed, whispered goodbyes, and of gently closing eyelids.

He laughed, his sea-green eyes sparkling mischievously, his strong hands tickling her mercilessly, until she begged and begged for him to stop, the pain in her stomach becoming too much for laughing for so long.

He ran his hands through her hair, drawing her head towards him in a gentle, tender kiss. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and brushed his lips against her smooth, pale skin, kissing every freckle he could find.

He took her by the hand, and led her inside, the chilly early morning becoming too much without coats on, and they sat in the cosy common room, talking quietly and sharing sweet, soft kisses.

They fell asleep in each others comforting embrace, to be woken later that morning when other students began to wake, embarrassed, but still holding each other close, savouring the precious moment.

Those had been the good times. Those had been the golden times. She longed for those times once more, even if it were for a fleeting moment, she would do anything to once again feel that exciting rush of euphoria and peace, even if it had been in the midst of war.

The sun was coming up, a new day beginning, bringing forward another twenty-four hours to get through until tomorrow, whenever that may come, where she’d have to go through all the mental torment again. The gorgeous golden sheen on the leaves disappeared as the sun rose higher into the sky, and went back to how it was every summer day. The temperature, the same weather – nothing special.

The mist steadily broke apart and faded away, reluctantly taking the magical colours with it. The dew warmed up and evaporated. The sparkling surface of the lake returned to its usual darkest blue, swallowing up and consuming any reflections like a black hole. The birds came out and sung their song, breaking the golden silence and, whilst their melodies were joyous and happy, they made the young woman think only of the blissful times she could have had.

“You’ll always have me in your heart… I always be there, even if you can’t hear my voice… you’ll always be able to remember the good times… the golden times…�

She didn’t cry. She watched the last of the golden light disappear, until tomorrow morning where she would be standing here again, watching the sun rise once again, thinking the same thoughts. Wouldn’t she?

Yes, they had been golden times. They had been so fantastically happy, that it hurt that she didn’t feel it now. But, good things never last. The world is always changing, a constant cycle of happiness and suffering. No one can escape it; it’s a fact of life. However, like the golden glow of the dawn, moments of happiness can be brief.

But, like the dawn, they are so amazingly beautiful, that it’s worth all the suffering in the world to witness that one precious moment, if only to hold onto the memory forever.

Nothing gold can stay, be it the dawn or the life of a loved one, everything changes. But some changes are for the good. As the sun rises, it takes away the golden glow, but brings out a bright day, where everything is clear and wonderful. And then, the setting sun, where everything is cast in a warm and comforting orange glow. Then, the darkness; a constant confidant that cannot whisper secrets to anyone, but is always there to listen in all its terrible beauty and power, hiding… keeping… remembering.

She smiled, and walked back up to the old castle, looking forward to the clear day.

Natures first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower,
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.


A/N. So, there you have it. A rather sad fic, but I hope that it shows some hope at the end. I’ll leave what happened to Harry up to your imagination, though I think that it should be pretty obvious that he’s dead.

I’d LOVE to say that the poem at the end is mine, but I couldn’t write poetry to save my life. It’s actually by Robert Frost, and I think you’ll agree that it’s beautiful.

Please leave a review (a proper one, not just “it’s great, I love it�), I love them!

~Evie