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"Even In Death, I Will Worship You"
I'm not afraid to die. Death, after all, is the only natural end to life. It is also a very wonderful beginning. What I am afraid of is being left behind. I didn't want him to leave me in his death. He once told me, "Even in death, I will still worship you." What good did that do me now? Looking into his eyes, they were still open. Not a mark on his body. Why not me? Why hadn't I died? I didn't fear death. I feared this. Being left, while he went on. Without me. There was once life in those eyes. It sparkled with hope and love and joy. He always made me laugh.
Where were the others? Did they survive? Or did they leave me, too? It didn't matter I wasn't leaving him. He had to come back to me he just had to. I couldn't bear to live a life without him in it.
I must've been weeping because I didn't feel the hands on my back, lifting me from the ground, at first. Someone was trying to make me leave him. Didn't they understand? I can't leave him, I am he and he is I. We are each other.
"Hermione, come on, you can't save him now," It was a male talking to me, though I couldn't be sure which one. I fought them, though. I would not leave his side he needed me. I needed him.
"No!" I screamed tearing away, but the arms were too strong and held me back. I shuddered and cried.
"Oh, Hermione, I know," I looked at the person who was keeping me from him then. It was Harry. Harry, with eyes still alive and a body not broken. Harry, who had just conquered Voldemort. Harry, who had let his best friend die.
"It should've been you!" I yelled at him and he looked as if he might cry, "He died for YOU! And now I'm alone." I wept again.
"Hermione, I know it should have been me. Ron should never have died," He looked beaten and worn down. He looked as I felt. When he began to weep, I cursed myself. He loved Ron, too.
"Harry," I whispered and fell into his arms. We wept together for him. I, who had been his lover, Harry who had been his brother. He had left us both. "Even in death, I will worship you," I whispered to him and kissed his freckled face one last time.
Reviews are appreciated
"Even In Death, I Will Worship You"
I'm not afraid to die. Death, after all, is the only natural end to life. It is also a very wonderful beginning. What I am afraid of is being left behind. I didn't want him to leave me in his death. He once told me, "Even in death, I will still worship you." What good did that do me now? Looking into his eyes, they were still open. Not a mark on his body. Why not me? Why hadn't I died? I didn't fear death. I feared this. Being left, while he went on. Without me. There was once life in those eyes. It sparkled with hope and love and joy. He always made me laugh.
Where were the others? Did they survive? Or did they leave me, too? It didn't matter I wasn't leaving him. He had to come back to me he just had to. I couldn't bear to live a life without him in it.
I must've been weeping because I didn't feel the hands on my back, lifting me from the ground, at first. Someone was trying to make me leave him. Didn't they understand? I can't leave him, I am he and he is I. We are each other.
"Hermione, come on, you can't save him now," It was a male talking to me, though I couldn't be sure which one. I fought them, though. I would not leave his side he needed me. I needed him.
"No!" I screamed tearing away, but the arms were too strong and held me back. I shuddered and cried.
"Oh, Hermione, I know," I looked at the person who was keeping me from him then. It was Harry. Harry, with eyes still alive and a body not broken. Harry, who had just conquered Voldemort. Harry, who had let his best friend die.
"It should've been you!" I yelled at him and he looked as if he might cry, "He died for YOU! And now I'm alone." I wept again.
"Hermione, I know it should have been me. Ron should never have died," He looked beaten and worn down. He looked as I felt. When he began to weep, I cursed myself. He loved Ron, too.
"Harry," I whispered and fell into his arms. We wept together for him. I, who had been his lover, Harry who had been his brother. He had left us both. "Even in death, I will worship you," I whispered to him and kissed his freckled face one last time.
Reviews are appreciated