I usually only write for House and Bones, but this was a very good way to satisfy my tragedy mood. A random girl takes part in the identifying of the bodies in the Great Hall after Voldemort was killed. The perspective of an outsider whose only concern is finding her sister rather than being enthralled by Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: Hah, I wish.
Being Asleep
The first feeling that registered in her brain was the shocking punch of nausea. And then, as soon as she caught sight of the first anguished face, the tears flooded from her wide eyes and the sobs shook her entire body despite her best efforts to hold it all in.
She didn't want to do this, didn't want to walk down the rows of bodies because her sister had never come back. She didn't want to peer at all of these faces, looking for the one she knew best, hoping that it wasn't unrecognizably mangled but at the same time wanting it to be. She didn't want to go home with the idea that she was just sleeping instead of dead.
She made her way slowly down the aisle between the house tables, and wondered if anyone would ever be able to eat at them again. Some faces were so young, some so old but each time she moved her eyes to a new face it was like she was being stabbed in the stomach. She was sobbing for the people who were identified, when their family fell to their knees and wailed, and the ones who would inevitably remain on those tables long after everyone had gone. And when her eyes met her sister's face at the end of the first row of bodies, she clamped her hands to her mouth to cover the moan that escaped.
She didn't know how to label her emotions, but she had certainly never felt anything like it before. There was her sister's body, her sister was dead. Someone had killed her sister. She was lying there with one arm to her side and the other flung over her body awkwardly. She had just been thrown there on the table between other bodies without a care.
She reached out a violently shaking hand to lay her sister's arm at her side and delicately move her hair off of her face. She was so cold. Just as she had feared, she looked like she was sleeping except for the bloody mess that was the side of her forehead. A chunk of stone must have fallen on her head. The thought reinforced the feeling that she was about to throw up. Had the stone killed her, or was it a curse?
She eased herself down on the bench next to the table and let the tears pour for a long time, though it was only a few minutes. Around her, the wails continued but she wasn't aware of them. What was she going to do?
So? What did you think? Let me know in a review please!