You Just Keep on Drinking:
Chapter one: Nothing's Pure.
Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor... Thirteen green bottles...
The moon is casting its light through the glass. Shadows, flickers of light are dancing on the wall, like figures from a story. Condemning me.
Nothing's pure...It wasn't meant to be me who was left, although they would have had it no other way. He gave his life defending mine, protecting me, trying not to scream.
Fourteen green bottles...Having someone die in your arms is not the beautiful and touching scene that Pavarti and Lavender used to swoon over. It's sloppy and painful and there is nothing you can do. Helplessness, that's all it is. There were no touching last words, or gentle healing tears.
He was broken. I held his body together. I bathed in his blood, in his vomit. And I watched pain control his entire being. And in his dying moments I held him together.
So you just keep on drinking and you try to forget...He tried to talk to me. Between the screams and the tears, he did try to talk. Clouded, blue eyes trying to focus on me. But how do you focus when you back is severed in two? More blood, so much of his blood.
She laughs too easily and cries too hard...I cried. As he died, when he needed someone to stay steady for him, I cried. He had always needed me to remain calm for him, yet I deserted him when he needed me most. He hated to watch me cry. It scared him, things were at their worst, their bleakest, when I cried. And I scared him again, I could see it in his eyes. They were filled with panic. His breathing became worse, I could hear his chest bubbling, spewing forth, leaking out onto my skirt.
Fifteen green bottles...And when he died, I couldn't look away. I had to stare at the mutilated corpse that had been someone who I loved. Now he was gone, and I was alone.
I was scared.
I am scared.
They took his body from me. While I screamed in agony from his loss, they stole his body. They made it dance in the air, like a marionette, his body limp, his head lolling from side to side as they made it dance in the air, taunting us who were left.
Do they have no shame? Couldn't they leave him alone? Did they have to leave me on my own?
The-Boy-who-Lived saw the mockery they made of his dead friend. He became furious. He killed. He died.
I was left alone again.
Sixteen green bottles...There was a full moon that night. It reminded him of the Werewolf, it hurt him more, I think. The injustice of Moony's departure, killed by those on the same side, because one in every 28 days the sun had the opportunity to shine on the moon in full.
It's very quick, silver is. Though painful. Once strapped down, he was given time to smile quickly at The-Boy-who-was-Living, scream, then die.
She wrote in red on her bedroom walls.
When I was little, I used red to symbolize anger, rage, pain and terror.
Now I use green.
Perhaps if there had been no moon that night. They wouldn't have seen me hiding from fear. Then he would not have seen them rush towards me, and give his life for mine, dying in agony.
Then green eyes wouldn't have seen the twisting figure moving, dead, in the air. A steady hand and a piercing cry would not have caused the destruction of the greatest wizard in the world. Had there been no moon, green eyes would not have closed forever, leaving me drinking alone.
Seventeen green bottles...Had the moon not existed, the Werewolf would have been with us. Had the moon not existed, Prongs and the Flower would still be with us. Had the moon not existed, green eyes would still sparkle in delight at the thought of freedom, carelessness. Had the moon not existed, blue eyes would still captivate mine, clear and painless.
Had the moon not existed, I wouldn't be drinking alone. I wouldn't be alone.
Nothing's pure.
A/N: This story is a series of short stories about those who are left behind. None of the chapters are related to any others, and the outcome is always different. In some, they win, in other's, they lose. In this one, it was Hermione (for those who didn't get that, I'm sorry my writing was so bad!) and she was the only one left behind. In the next chapter, it will be someone else, and Hermione will have died.
The songs are taken from two Whitlam's songs, "She Cries to Easily" and "Kate Kelly".