Work Text:
Sharp loosened his cravat and poured himself a more than healthy glass of Firewhisky before moving to the record player.
The first notes of the sombre melody echoed through the room, and he sank down into the chair by the fire.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Another year had passed, and the pain of Scarborough was still no easier to bear. He’d started this tradition a long time ago, back when he’d first moved to Hogwarts. One day, Aesop had been exploring a local Muggle town when he heard this song and its lyrics had almost brought him to his knees in the streets.
Since then, each year on the anniversary he would play the record in his chambers and just sit there and feel. He would sink into the pain, reliving everything as raw and fresh as the days after his injury. By the time the night was over he would neatly box everything back up again and bury it in the deepest depths of his psyche. As far as he could push it down.
Tell her to find me an acre of land
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Washes the grave with silvery tears
Between the salt water and the sea strands
A soldier cleans and polishes a gun
Then she'll be a true love of mine
He thought of his friend, his partner. As an Auror, he was a soldier of sorts - protecting the magical world from harm, only for the worst harm to come to him. Because of Aesop’s lapse in judgement. He remembered the funeral, which had taken place in a hilly part of the world so like Yorkshire’s wild plains. He remembered the agony he felt looking across the grave into the eyes of his friend’s widow as her tears ran silently down her face.
Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Generals order their soldiers to kill
And gather it all in a bunch of heather
And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Sharp could smell the crackle of dark magic as if it were yesterday. Explosive and almost gunpowder like. The lights had been blinding. All of the screaming... He’d seen battle before, but nothing quite like that night. He would never be able to forget.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
The scratch of the record player and crackle of the fire were the only sounds remaining as Sharp stared at the flames, unseeing.