Never Enough
When I look into the mirror or even down at my hands, it is difficult to believe that they are mine. The once-smooth skin has been replaced with creases and wrinkles. My joints ache, a deep ache from too much use, and my hands aren’t steady like they once were.
Signs of time. I used to think that, like the wind, one could not see time, but I was wrong. Time is everywhere. It’s the white in my hair, the past in my eyes, and the feebleness in my smile.
Some say that life goes by too quickly. These people say things like ‘seize the moment’ and ‘regret nothing’. I often wonder how old they are, for when I was a young man, I held the same ideals. I am too old to agree now. I have seen far too much and have been here far too long, while others’ lives were cut far too short.
Regret nothing. That is too much to ask. Regret and guilt make up my very being. What I wouldn’t give to change the past, to sacrifice myself for them. And when I think of this, everything comes back, like waves crashing onto the shore.
I have responsibility here; I am no fool. But it’s difficult to keep to those responsibilities when all I want to see is Mary’s smiling face and my little girl’s arms around my neck.
Mary. A tear falls down my face. She’s right there. Her hand is in mine. Why can I see it, but not feel its warmth?
Johanna is in my arms, but I cannot feel her breath tickling my cheek. If I close my eyes and bring myself back decades, I can nearly feel the softness of her skin against my own. Almost. But it’s just an illusion. I know that I will never feel that again.
Harry was here again yesterday. I have to move it; it’s best for him. I know that I must say good-bye. I know I mustn’t waste away here. But, oh, how I want to.
He may never know this, but we see the same thing. That will make it twice as hard to tell him not to return. How can I ask him to stay away when it will take all of my own strength to do so myself?
The look in Harry’s eyes “ I have seen it often; it is the look in my own eyes when I gaze into the reflection.
Another tear.
It kills me. I can’t bear to see his eyes. Lily’s eyes, so sad. And then there is James; every inch of Harry is his father. And that kills me more. He is the living reminder of the two lives ended much too soon. Two lives, two friends, very important to me. Lily and James shouldn’t have died. They had so much to live for.
As I look into Mary’s bright eyes, daggers of guilt stab my insides. Then Johanna. Johanna with her curly brown hair “ my little girl. My daughter, who barely got to see life.
I cry out. Anguish so great that I am sure the whole school can hear me. My body is melting onto the floor, sobs racking my soul. It’s not tears, but gasps of breath as images of it all fly back. My whole body is in despair, unimaginable pain. No dementor could do this to a person. It is deeper than recollection.
I am back at that night.
Two things will forever stand out in my memory “ the inky black sky and Mary’s eyes. Maybe it was the contrast, the night so dark and Mary’s eyes so bright “ Mary’s eyes begging me not to go.
I pulled my cloak around my shoulders, navigating through the darkness, so I wouldn’t awake my daughter or wife.
I had to go to work. I was generally content with my job, but I hated the late nights. I hated how it ate up all of my spare time; time I could have been spending with Mary and Johanna.
“Daddy?” came a small voice from the darkness “ my daughter was up.
“Johanna, go back to sleep, honey,” I replied, squinting to find her in the night.
“Where are you going?” she stepped into the light of my wand. I sighed.
“I have to go to work.” I kneeled down and looked into her blue eyes.
“I don’t want you to go,” she answered, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her eyes were big and difficult to resist.
I stood, Johanna in my arms.
“I’ll be home soon; I promise.” I squeezed her tightly, her small body against my own. I could feel her heartbeat. That was my favorite feeling in the world. I loved holding her near; I loved her so much.
“I don’t want you to go either, Al,” came another voice. Mary was there. I didn’t need to glance over to know it was my wife. For as long as I knew her, her voice had been a song to my tired ears, a beckon to my lost soul. But that night, her voice wasn’t the same. She sounded frightened, her arms folded in front of her.
She was the only person who ever called me Al. I had always hated it, but couldn’t get her to stop. After a while, I became accustomed to it, and even grew to like it. The truth was, Mary could have addressed me as sod-head everyday, and I wouldn’t have cared.
I set Johanna down and walked toward Mary. She was beautiful. Her hair was brown, but in the sunlight it would catch and it would look almost red. Her eyes were hazel and she had a smile that lit up a room. I could never understand why she chose me.
“Are you okay?” I asked worriedly. She nodded.
“It’s not that…”
“Is it the baby?” I pressed my hand against her stomach tenderly. It wasn’t round yet, but there was a baby. Our baby.
“I just… I have a bad feeling,” Mary looked into my eyes. They were different; there was a layer of fear coating them.
I placed my hands on her cheeks and gently kissed her lips, pulling her toward me. At the time, I knew she was uneasy, but thinking back, it was more than that. She was terrified.
“You’ll be fine, I promise. Nothing will happen. Just go to sleep, and before you know it, I’ll be back,” I soothed, stroking her hair. She snuggled her head into the crook of my neck.
After a moment, I softly kissed her temple and told her to get some rest, that I would put Johanna back to bed.
“You’re probably right “ ” she started. “Albus, I really don’t want you to go,” she pleaded again, using my full name this time. I didn’t understand. I should have understood…
“I have to, Mary.” I knew she didn’t want me to go, but I couldn’t not. They needed me.
She nodded, disappointed in me. As she walked back to our bedroom, I touched her hand. She kept walking.
Rubbing my face, I led Johanna back to her bed and tucked her in.
“Daddy?” she asked. She looked so much like Mary, only her hair was curly and her eyes blue.
“Yes, my dear.” I sat on the edge of her bed.
“Am I going to have a little sister?” she asked with a child’s innocence. I smiled.
“Or a little brother.”
“A brother? Can we name him Gerald?”
“Gerald?” I responded, tickling her a little. She nodded vigorously. “We’ll see.” I glanced at the clock.
“Do you have to go to work now?” Johanna questioned, noticing my time check. I nodded ruefully.
I kissed her and said good-bye. I’ll never forget what she said as I walked out. “I love you, Daddy.” It was the simplest thing that one could say, yet the only words that could make me feel so blessed.
“I love you too, Johanna,” I managed to get out, my throat choking on tears. It never failed to amaze me how a few simple words out of my little girl’s mouth could reduce me to mush, melting my insides.
I went to work. I sorted out the problem, which was something I knew they could have handled without me, and dragged myself home two hours later. I was exhausted. I just wanted to crawl into bed next to Mary. I just wanted to tell her I was sorry and that I loved her.
But that didn’t happen. Mary and Johanna were not peacefully sleeping.
I Apparated into the living room. It was dark, but not quiet. I could hear shrieks radiating from the hallway. They were coming from my bedroom.
The blood drained from my face and my mouth went dry. Something wasn’t right. Why was Mary screaming?
The door was cracked open, and I peered in. There was a man in a black cloak. I couldn’t see his face, but his wand was pointed at Mary. She was screaming in agony.
“Please, stop!” I cried, entering the room. I pulled out my wand, hoping to stop him someway. And I did, I easily stunned him. He fell backwards.
That gave me a moment to glance around. And that’s when I saw it. Johanna was dead. Her small body was on the ground, limp.
It was as if the world was crumbling in on me. I couldn’t breathe. Nothing made sense. Johanna. My five-year-old daughter was lying on the ground dead. Why couldn’t it have been me?
I forgot that I was a wizard. I forgot that I could have tried to block the spell. I forgot everything; my eyes were set upon Johanna.
At the sound of Mary’s shrill, I quickly turned around. But I was too late. All I saw were Mary’s eyes. All I saw was the light leaving them and her falling to the ground. When she fell, so did my world.
The man was gone. The man who I later identified as Grindelwald; he man who thought he could break me by killing my family; the man who would learn that love goes much further than hate; the man who would realize that killing my family could only make me want revenge.
Mary, I whisper, looking into the mirror again. Years later, I will still give anything to be with her, if only for five minutes.
I hear noise in the corridor. Harry is back, and I expect it. I immediately sober, whisper goodbye to Mary and Johanna, and move away from the mirror, my heart breaking all over again.
As assumed, Harry comes in, wanting just a few more minutes, and it kills me to tell him he cannot return. He has never had anyone; the life I had imagined for him when James told me of his birth was so different from what he lives.
The words spill out though, too easily for my liking. I want to tell him of Mary and Johanna, that I understand what he feels, that he is not alone. But I know I mustn’t, I know I cannot get too attached to the boy. But he is living what I am, only worse, for he is young and doesn’t know why.
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that,** I say. I am a fool. I know that I am a liar, that I do not follow my own advice. I let it slide though. I don’t dwell on it; I tell myself that it is different. I tell myself that Harry has a whole life ahead of him and the opportunity to make his own family, while I am an old man. I tell myself that I can’t let him wish to see his parents too strongly, although I know he already does, because he needs to live. I tell myself that I can regret because I am the reason Mary and Johanna are dead, but Harry couldn’t have prevented his family’s fate.
I don’t know why I lie when he asks me what I see. I guess I cannot bring myself to talk about them. It’s been so many years, more than one hundred, yet it still sears me when I tell the story. It’s best this way.
It scared me how easily I lied to him. He will never know though, so I let it slide again. It’s best I don’t make a connection.
Harry nods, not questioning me, and I know it’s too late. I know that I already consider Harry part of me, that he lost his parents and I lost my children, and we fit. I know much more about him than he knows, and to me, he is Gerald.
He walks away, and I know I should go too. I can’t bring myself to, though. The Mirror of Erised is to be moved tomorrow, so I turn back to it. I will spend one more night with Mary and Johanna, knowing that one night with them in the mirror, five minutes in their arms, a day in their presence, will never be enough.
Never Enough by KASK
Chapter Notes: Thank you to my Beta, Rachel (lily_evans34)! *Hugs*
** Taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, page 214.