Post by Diamond on Jun 11, 2004 14:17:28 GMT -5
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WARNING: Harry/Hermione shipping.
(I submited this to The Dark Arts, a Harry Potter fanfic website. I hope you like it!)
Dead. The word sort of rings in your head, doesn’t it? Gone. It makes your mind swim. Dead and gone. The phrase is sort of like a telephone that won’t stop ringing and when you pick it up, there is no one on the other line. I feel like that. To this very day his name kind of creeps across my skin, his voice is melted into my brain, his soul is trapped in mine. But at the same time he’s gone. Dead and gone. I hear his voice, and when I turn and look around, he’s gone. But he’s been gone all along. He isn’t coming back.
And as I stood there, on what should have been a mild, warm spring day, I felt cold. Like when your somewhere and the people have the air conditioning on even though you feel deadly cold. Of course, in the wizarding world people don’t use devices such as telephones and air conditioners. But he would have known of them. Just as I do. And I can’t believe I let it happen. I let him slip through my fingers like dry sand on a beach. I watched him go. I watched him leave, and save us all at the same time. I let it happen. And so I hate myself for it. He did, however, do what he had sought out to do. To kill the one that killed him. To kill the one who stopped his family. To save all of us. To save me.
He was so perfect, the way he’d look at me and smile. The way he’d laugh at me when I actually made a mistake. The way the wind would blow back his hair and show on his forehead the scar that is so well known, the mark I’ll never forget. I remember all the adventures we had. When he saved me from that troll. When I turned myself into a cat! Flying Buckbeak, teaching him Accio, seeing him in so much pain when someone very close to him left. How could I have done this to him? Let his life slip away, without even much of a chance? It was a mistake I should have never made. I should have stood up, and let the dark lord take me instead. I would have been dead, but maybe I could have saved the one I’ve always loved. And if he had died, we would have died together, peacefully. But, maybe that is the key- death. Does death of a loved one mean death for yourself? I feel dead already. My hands are like ice, as though all life in my soul was slowly slipping away; the pain of emptiness filling my entire being. Then again, what is life but life it self? We live once to live it through. Does that mean he had nothing more to live for? The purpose of life, a life full of purpose. And that was his life. Not a good one, but a true one. And I should have told him. I couldn’t, and conveniently enough now that I can’t tell him I have the courage.
I wonder if I could have made him feel happy, had I told him in the last few seconds of his life? I don’t understand why God would choose such an incomplete life to take. He truly had nothing much to live for, though he would have if he’d known. I love him. I’m no longer paying attention to the world around me. How obliviously it goes by, without even a look around to see what’s truly happening! And as they laugh and make horrible things happen to this world, they expect to still get to say good-bye before it’s gone. After his funeral ends, I walk away, almost to shocked to shed a tear. I think my eyes have been in the same position since I saw him die. Ron walks up to me, and puts his hand on my shoulder. I want to tell him to go away, but I’m sure if I do he’ll die three seconds later or something. Eventually after a minute of just standing there, Ron leaves. I stand there. It’s quite brave of him to be able to walk. I don’t think I can. Not right now; not quite yet. Slowly a turn my head over to the gravestone. “HARRY J. POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED.” It says. But he isn’t the boy who lived. I wish I could walk over there and switch the letters until it said “HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO DIED.”
Why must life be this painful? But I know what I should do. I’ll take myself too. I’ll be with him. It’s been there in the back of my mind for so long, and it’s only just hit me. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll do it, and I’ll be happy. I walk so fast and the very thought of seeing him there, smiling at me makes the tiniest grin spread across my face. But then, suddenly it leaves. How greedy of me to think of doing something this drastic for myself! I realize, still having that cold feeling all over my body, as I stand there, as a single tear rolls down my cheek, as the wind ruffles my hair in a way it never had before, I realize. I didn’t make this decision for me. I didn't plan to do this for myself at all. I did it for Harry.
*~:.Please tell me what you thought when you reply!!.:~*
WARNING: Harry/Hermione shipping.
(I submited this to The Dark Arts, a Harry Potter fanfic website. I hope you like it!)
Dead. The word sort of rings in your head, doesn’t it? Gone. It makes your mind swim. Dead and gone. The phrase is sort of like a telephone that won’t stop ringing and when you pick it up, there is no one on the other line. I feel like that. To this very day his name kind of creeps across my skin, his voice is melted into my brain, his soul is trapped in mine. But at the same time he’s gone. Dead and gone. I hear his voice, and when I turn and look around, he’s gone. But he’s been gone all along. He isn’t coming back.
And as I stood there, on what should have been a mild, warm spring day, I felt cold. Like when your somewhere and the people have the air conditioning on even though you feel deadly cold. Of course, in the wizarding world people don’t use devices such as telephones and air conditioners. But he would have known of them. Just as I do. And I can’t believe I let it happen. I let him slip through my fingers like dry sand on a beach. I watched him go. I watched him leave, and save us all at the same time. I let it happen. And so I hate myself for it. He did, however, do what he had sought out to do. To kill the one that killed him. To kill the one who stopped his family. To save all of us. To save me.
He was so perfect, the way he’d look at me and smile. The way he’d laugh at me when I actually made a mistake. The way the wind would blow back his hair and show on his forehead the scar that is so well known, the mark I’ll never forget. I remember all the adventures we had. When he saved me from that troll. When I turned myself into a cat! Flying Buckbeak, teaching him Accio, seeing him in so much pain when someone very close to him left. How could I have done this to him? Let his life slip away, without even much of a chance? It was a mistake I should have never made. I should have stood up, and let the dark lord take me instead. I would have been dead, but maybe I could have saved the one I’ve always loved. And if he had died, we would have died together, peacefully. But, maybe that is the key- death. Does death of a loved one mean death for yourself? I feel dead already. My hands are like ice, as though all life in my soul was slowly slipping away; the pain of emptiness filling my entire being. Then again, what is life but life it self? We live once to live it through. Does that mean he had nothing more to live for? The purpose of life, a life full of purpose. And that was his life. Not a good one, but a true one. And I should have told him. I couldn’t, and conveniently enough now that I can’t tell him I have the courage.
I wonder if I could have made him feel happy, had I told him in the last few seconds of his life? I don’t understand why God would choose such an incomplete life to take. He truly had nothing much to live for, though he would have if he’d known. I love him. I’m no longer paying attention to the world around me. How obliviously it goes by, without even a look around to see what’s truly happening! And as they laugh and make horrible things happen to this world, they expect to still get to say good-bye before it’s gone. After his funeral ends, I walk away, almost to shocked to shed a tear. I think my eyes have been in the same position since I saw him die. Ron walks up to me, and puts his hand on my shoulder. I want to tell him to go away, but I’m sure if I do he’ll die three seconds later or something. Eventually after a minute of just standing there, Ron leaves. I stand there. It’s quite brave of him to be able to walk. I don’t think I can. Not right now; not quite yet. Slowly a turn my head over to the gravestone. “HARRY J. POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED.” It says. But he isn’t the boy who lived. I wish I could walk over there and switch the letters until it said “HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO DIED.”
Why must life be this painful? But I know what I should do. I’ll take myself too. I’ll be with him. It’s been there in the back of my mind for so long, and it’s only just hit me. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll do it, and I’ll be happy. I walk so fast and the very thought of seeing him there, smiling at me makes the tiniest grin spread across my face. But then, suddenly it leaves. How greedy of me to think of doing something this drastic for myself! I realize, still having that cold feeling all over my body, as I stand there, as a single tear rolls down my cheek, as the wind ruffles my hair in a way it never had before, I realize. I didn’t make this decision for me. I didn't plan to do this for myself at all. I did it for Harry.
*~:.Please tell me what you thought when you reply!!.:~*
;D
