A/N: This story was intended to turn out a lot less dark than it did. To be fair, I didn't really plan it. This was partly inspired by some other fanfiction I found wandering around this site and is in no way intended to breach copyright or other claims. I do not own any of these characters. I would be a lot happier if I did. ALSO. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE THIS. TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE THIS WARNING. Alright, that's all. Enjoy…
I stare dry-eyed at the shapes on the ground in front of me. They aren't making any sense. They can't be real. Fred, cold and lifeless. Tonks, frozen in time. Lupin, next to her. And the worst. I refuse to recognize it. It can't be true. No…
I don't remember falling, but suddenly someone's arms are around my shoulders and I'm being cradled gently. Tears fall from my eyes, but I refuse to close them. What if I blink, and it's still there, and he's still…
"Hermione," comes a voice into my ringing ears. "Hermione, I know. I know." Why is Harry saying that? It's not true, it's not true…
"It's true, Hermione… I… I'm sorry." It's Harry who has his arms around me, and he's crying. Tears catch on the inside of his glasses, blurring them. Without thinking, I wave my wand, still clutched in my hand, and the lenses are clear again. Harry closes his eyes. "Hermione, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are crying now. They're bending over the bodies of two of their family. Fred, and… and…
Ron. RON. No… it's not true, I refuse to accept that. It's not logical. It's not true. It's a boggart, it's a trick, he's pretending, I…
Ron is dead.
I pull myself into a sitting position and wrap my arms around my knees, trying desperately to hold myself together. My heart is broken, it's not working, it's on fire. Something's wrong. The world is dark. Harry stands up awkwardly, probably trying to leave me to myself. Maybe that's what I need. Is that what I need? Do I really need anything but him? My face is cold from the wind blowing through broken windows. One single tear drips off of my chin onto my shirt. My shirt that smells like Ron, like the first time he kissed me, like the way things should be.
Everything's wrong. People are watching me. I need to leave. I need something else. I slowly rise to my feet, ignoring people's outstretched hands. Mrs. Weasley looks up, red-eyed and sniffling, and I can't bear it. George is here now, and he looks up too, and even though he just lost his lifelong companion, he looks at me with pity. That's not what I need. That's not what I need, I just…
I turn and walk calmly out of the Hall, past rows of people on cots or with makeshift bandages, past Neville with the Sword of Gryffindor, past all of these people who are just too living and too… real.
I start to walk faster, my legs jarring with every step stretched just too far, far enough to make it real. To make me feel. I need to feel. I turn randomly, avoiding rubble and students and parents and people, really, climbing any staircase that presents itself to me, until I find myself outside the Gryffindor common room, but the door is open; apparently, nobody is really worried about security or keeping the houses separate today, not when Voldemort is dead.
Voldemort is dead. Harry did it. But others died, too many others. I can't deal with the darkness. I can't handle the pain in my heart. I need something else to focus on.
Gasping, my thighs burning, I take the steps two at a time to the highest tower. This is where Dumbledore fell. I don't need to fall, I just need to feel. I still have my wand. Sitting down, a sob escaping from my painful, closing throat, I put the tip to my wrist and let the pain bring me back.
A/N: I told you it was dark. Well, anyway,, sorry about that. I promise (I swear on all of the libraries in the world) that the next chapters will be muh less dark. Promise. Okay? Okay. Thanks for reading!