This is a one-shot I came up with out of the blue. I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: NOT MINE.
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I was up in my room, reading a book of muggle fairy tales, when I heard the news. I was in the middle of one called "The Little Mermaid" and I was thoroughly horrified by it. Who, in their right mind, would cut their tongue of for a man? I certainly wouldn't.
Or, at least, that's what I thought while I was reading the story. I'd thought that no man was worth that kind of physical pain.
Well, I was in the middle of "The Little Mermaid" when an owl flew into my room through the open window. I was utterly confused as to why, though, as it was one in the morning. As it turned out, it was an emergency issue of the Prophet. I wasn't surprised by it, an emergency issue came out every time a big battle ended, and I'd been aware that there was a battle going on that night. That's why I wasn't asleep at one in the morning.
What I hadn't been aware of, though, was that the battle had been the battle. That that was the night Voldemort would finally, really and truly, die. I hadn't been aware that I would never have to fear over who in my family would be murdered next after that night. I really hadn't been aware that my life would change forever, and that it would change while I was reading a gruesome fairy tale.
War Over - Voldemort Dead, was what the headline on the front page of the Prophet read. That's when I'd dropped my book on the floor. I hadn't been in the war at Harry's request. He didn't want me to get hurt so we could be together after the war.
It was at that thought that I ripped the paper away from the owl. I didn't pay it, give it food, or pet it. I didn't even look at it. My eyes were glued to the paper.
I'd started to read, but the article was a long, boring recount of the whole battle. Instead I searched through the paper for the list of survivors, as the Prophet had given after every battle.
The list was long, but not half as long as the list of the dead. I didn't look at the dead, I looked the survivors. They were listed in alphabetical order. I searched for familiar names. Hermione Granger, Angelina Johnson, Draco Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks, Arthur Weasley, Fleur Weasley, George Weasley, Percival Weasley, Ron Weasley, William Weasley
I was so happy that I hadn't lost any more brothers that it took me a moment to notice that Harry's name was not on the list of survivors. When I finally did realize that his name was nowhere to be seen, something cold started in my chest and spread throughout my whole body. The only time in my life that I ever felt true fear.
It was with shaking hands that I turned the paper over to the list of the dead. I hadn't had to look hard to find Harry's name. It was right at the top, just under Voldemort's. All of a sudden, I didn't feel anything. Not fear, not heartbreak, nothing. I was numb. All I remember is being vaguely insulted that Harry's name came after Voldemort's name.
I just stared at the printed words, "Harry Potter" until I heard the heartbroken cry from Mum's room. It was then that it hit me. Harry was dead. Harry, my Harry was dead. The man who had given me a beautiful diamond ring in promise of marriage was dead.
I suddenly felt a stabbing pain in my chest as sobs wracked my body. I hugged the Prophet to my chest and Mum ran into my room, holding her own copy of the paper. I didn't stop sobbing, I just stared at her in an agony that I hadn't thought possible.
Mum dropped her Prophet, and walked over and sat on my bed. She wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me close to her; I moved so that I was sitting on her lap and buried my head into her shoulder. She held my while I cried, and to this day I still don't know how long that lasted.
All I know is that Mum held in her own tears, held in her own sobs, to comfort me. All I know is that, on that night, I ceased to be a twenty-three year old woman and reverted back into the small and confused girl that I'd been at the end of my first year. I cried on my mother's shoulder, and she whispered to me that everything would be okay one day.
When I was finally out of tears and pulled away from Mum, I told her that I needed to be alone. She left, but not before giving me words of wisdom.
"You will never stop loving Harry, but, maybe one day, you'll find a man you might fall in love with as well."
I said nothing, just watched her leave. I'd heard her words, but I hadn't really listened to them. All I could focus on was the pain in my chest. The suffocating pressure building in my chest, I was so sure it would kill me. I almost wished that it did.
I laid down on my bed and rolled over to stare at the floor. My eyes landed on the still open fairy tale book. It was then that I realized why the Little Mermaid had cut off her tongue. The pain of cutting off her tongue wasn't half as much pain as living without her one true love. I wished that I could cut off my tongue and be with Harry. I wished that some sort of physical sacrifice from me would bring him back.
I wished that I had been there, that I had been able to say good bye. My last words to Harry had been "I'll see you next Christmas." There was no closure, and I was suddenly happy for the Little Mermaid. She was putting herself through unbearable physical pain for the rest of her life, but she would have closure.
And besides, unbearable physical pain is preferably to a broken heart. Well, it is for me at least. I wish things could be as simple as they are in fairy tales. To this day, I'm still jealous at how simple things were for the Little Mermaid. I wish I could be her, and Harry could be her prince. Then, at least, I would've gotten a happy ending.
But this is real life, and real life is nothing like a fairy tale.
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This is a one-shot I will NOT be updating it. Ever.
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