The Inevitable Heartbreak That Is Death, a harry potter fanfic

Sorry I haven't written in quite a while, so I'll make up for it with some angst!

Please note that the format of the sentences is supposed to look like this (no, I don't have bad grammar) because it helps get the pain across.

Also Note: this is slightly au (extra character deaths, and it doesn't go along with how some characters died/Harry's reaction)

Hope you like it :)

Silence.

The first thing you hear is silence.

There is crying, wailing, but it is muffled, and the only sound that is even distinguishable is the silence.

Quiet is flowing in your ears, muffling everything and engulfing you but you know it won't last.

Everything is muted; out of the corner of your eye you see Lupin, rushing at you; you can see Bellatrix, laughing.

You cannot see Sirius.

And now Lupin is in front of you, wrapping his arms around you in what might look like an embrace but was, you know, a restraint.

In the background: a shout, a yell, and then the quiet is pressed down and your temper flares up and-

Screaming.

Horrible, horrible screaming.

He's gone

he's gone

he's gone-

No.

No.

You shake your head wildly, so fast it hurts, just staring at the spot where your Godfather disappeared, where he had been laughing only

seconds

before.

You can feel the tears building up, threatening to spill and show your weakness and vulnerability but at the moment you don't care because

he's dead.

You close your eyes, squeezing them tight and start to thrash around violently in Lupin's arms-

Let me go let me go let me go GET OFF OF ME.

Why isn't he coming back why won't you let me go please-

You try to run towards him, you wait for him to come back up but he won't and why does this happen to me.

It always happens to me.

A piercing screech interrupts your agony and you spin around wildly in Remus's grasp looking for the source-

please stop screaming

-but then you realize that the sound is coming from you, yet you cannot stop yelling and crying and this pain burns and nononono-

Not Sirius.

Please, not Sirius.

I just got him back.

You try to scream louder but your voice cracks and now you are sobbing, sobbing, clutching your wand so tight that it hurts.

Stop stop stop stop STOP-

Your body is racking with sobs, and your lungs are compressing you cannot get any air you cannot-

breathe.

You are going to howl, howl your anger and pain and this is just so

unfair.

You open your eyes, looking around for him, even though it has been a minute or so and he would have been out by now but

you

can't

give

up.

Not yet.

A tortured cry escapes your throat, mingling with the echoing screams in the air.

Are they your screams? Perhaps they are Lupin's, because you can hear Lupin's heavy breathing in your ear and maybe he is crying.

If Lupin won't cry, or scream, or shout or yell or howl, then you will have to do it for the both of you.

So that's what you do.

And your throat is burning, your voice is cracking, scratchy, but you do not stop because if you do then there will just be silence.

Salty tears are running down your face, stinging your various cuts and bruises, but even this pain won't relieve you of the hole that was recently ripped in your heart.

You are frozen.

Frozen, watching in slow-motion as the headmaster falls, lifeless, to the ground.

No! You shout, but no sound comes out.

Your bat-like professor

murderer

grabs Malfoy by the scruff of his neck and drags him down the stairs, and you want to follow and curse them but first-

You creep forward, shaking with rage and grief, then peer over the edge of the tower, where down below, you can see the hint of a white beard.

A small gasp, and then you are falling back, lying on the tower floor, clutching your chest to stop the aching in your heart because

Dumbledore is gone.

This isn't fair.

This

not

fair.

And you blame yourself, though you did nothing.

You blame Snape, because he did everything.

You blame Draco Malfoy, because he is a coward and he is one of them.

You blame your heart, for allowing you to feel this pain and why is this happening.

You are alone, your hair falling into your eyes and tickling your nose and you want to brush it away but you can't because

You are numb to the bone.

You are numb and cannot feel yet your limbs are heavy and your glasses are weighing down on your nose and you should probably go help the battle or get Dumbledore but you can't.

You are filled with grief and pain and agony and there is a terrible ache in your chest that can't be healthy-

this isn't fair.

And that is when the tears begin to fall, begin to spill down your grimy cheeks that are now red with sweat, because nothing is fair.

It never is.

You taste blood in your mouth, but you don't care, and you are clenching your fists so tight and willing this to just be a nightmare.

Sobbing.

Sobbing so hard your chest hurts, and you are just so angry and upset because Dumbledore didn't tell you enough and you are all alone and

he's dead.

And Snape killed him.

You stand up, wobbly at first, licking your lips and tasting the tears, then make your way to the stairs, still crying.

You cannot bear to think of Dumbledore's body lying on the hard ground, curses flying all around him.

There is a screech, in the distance, and you look up to see the Dark Mark.

The hole in your heart is filled with rage.

III

You stare at the body in front of you, biting the inside of your cheek so hard that your mouth is suddenly filled with the taste of metallic liquid.

Good.

A stream of tears, mingled with blood and sweat, cover your face, and you cannot bear this any more because

Not Remus.

And before you know it, you are on the ground sobbing, clutching his dead body and listening for a heartbeat but

there is none.

He is cold,

so cold

but your face is warm from you tears and

why, why, why.

There is screaming to your right, and crying to your left, but the only thing that captures your attention is the

silence.

The absence of sound coming from your trusted friend body is agonizing, and

please

breathe

please

don't

die.

For me, you think.

Please don't die for me.

Your dark hair is falling into your face, and you want to push it away but you can't because you are holding the

dead

body of your friend.

Stop

Doing

This

Me.

You scream,

loud.

Louder.

And then once more.

The Great Hall's floor is hard, and you punch it with your free hand, your other one still cradling the limp body of Remus Lupin.

You are pretty sure your fingers break.

Perhaps that will distract you from the emptiness you feel inside.

All of the air in your lungs is leaving, because suddenly you cannot breathe and this pain is unbearable and beside you you can hear Ron screaming but you block it out and instead focus all of your attention on

Hermione.

Your bushy haired friend is lying on the ground, her normally lively brown eyes staring off into nothing and-

Hermione.

No.

And before you know it you are rushing forward, a scream of agony rising in your throat as you race to her body, and then you reach it.

The scream escapes.

Ron joins you, and then you are both on the ground of the Great Hall, bawling over the still body of your

best

friend.

Your green eyes are swimming with tears, and you cannot see, you cannot breathe, you can only feel the coldness of one of the best people in your life.

Ron is saying something, and you squint through your tears and dirty glasses to see him stroking her hair and murmuring things like,

"I love you", and, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry too.

I'm so, so, sorry.

You are numb, yet in your veins is a fire that burns, burns, and

Why her.

You reach forward and grasp her hand as if she were still there, sobbing

Hard

You rub circles into her palms in a soothing manner, as if she could feel it, then tilt her chin up and look into her glassy brown eyes.

Ron is gone. He has left, presumably to kill Avery, who was the obvious one who

murdered

Hermione.

You bawl your heart out, hugging her body and

You shouldn't have died.

It should've been me.

I'm sorry.

This is the most pain you've ever felt, and you

scream.

The loudest you can, stretching out a syllable that sounds like a prayer.

Please, Hermione

don't

dead.

There is a shattered chandelier a few meters away, and you stare at it for a bit, still clutching Hermione's hand.

The shattered chandelier represents the state of your heart.

Fiery red hair, matted with blood and dirt.

Pale skin, paler under the trees and then filtered-through light of the moon.

Mud-stained hands, nails bitten to the quick.

Muscled yet slim limbs, now bent at odd angles and horrifically maimed.

Scattered freckles, many invisible under all of the grime that coats her face.

You try to cry, try to bawl, try to do anything, but you cannot.

You can only fall to your knees and ache, ache like you never have before.

There is an emptiness inside of you, a void that no one can fill.

Your heart has been damaged. Your heart has been ripped apart and broken then sloppily pulled back together.

And now the last seam, the one that has been barely keeping it from falling apart, has been cut, and you break.

Because there, in front of you, is Ginny Weasley.

She is lying on the ground, dead leaves covering her, her torso and clothes ripped.

There is blood covering her chest, her legs, and your face crumples and you are crying.

But this is a silent cry, really.

You cannot make a sound, you cannot get your mouth to work, but you can still love her.

You kiss her cheek, kiss her hand, peck her nose, and then kiss her lips.

At least her eyes are closed.

You trace the constellation of her freckles, hold up her limp hand and brush off the leaves then kiss each of her fingers.

You are now taking shuddering, deep breaths because

she

dead.

But that is not what hurts the most.

What hurts the most is that she died in pain, mauled to death by Fenrir Greyback.

What hurts the most is she died alone, and the only reason you found her is because you were walking in the forest, walking to your death.

You ache for her; you would cry for her if you could.

You want her to wake up, to smirk at you then lightly peck your lips and charge into battle.

You want to see her hazel eyes spark with determination.

You want her to be alive.

The Forbidden Forest floor is crawling with bugs, and some of them are climbing on her right now and get off of her.

I'm sorry, Gin.

I love you.

You slowly stand up, taking one last look at your love, take one last look at her fiery red hair spread out on the forest floor, then turn around.

My heart cannot take much more of this, you think, and you are pretty sure your heart agrees.

The forest is quiet.

Serene.

You stare at the Resurrection Stone in your hand, cherishing for a moment, and then the silence is broken by your feet crushing and crackling leaves as you throw it, far, far away.

As quick and easy as falling asleep.

You close your eyes for a brief second, thinking of Ginny, Fred, Sirius, Hermione, Remus, Dumbledore, Ron, Luna, Neville, the Weasleys, everyone, and it fills you with strength and determination and-

You are ready to die.

And there you have it, folks!

This didn't stick to the books, really- but it was only a slight au.

In case you didn't get it (though why wouldn't you? I explained it like five times?), the protagonist is, yep, Harry! (duh)

Hope you liked it, and please excuse the minor spelling mistakes (if there are any)

~ Brynn