Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, all rights go to JK Rowling. The poem in this fanfiction also doesn't belong to me.
This one shot was based off of a poem by Hungarian composer, Reszo Seress entitled, Gloomy Sunday. It has the reputation of being the 'Hungarian Suicide Song' so if you don't like dark subjects of sorts, don't read it. If, however, you want to listen to the song version of the poem, I suggest you youtube it. There are a lot of covers of the poem. :) Oh right, it's an AngelaxFred pairing, set in Post-War Harry Potter era! Please read and review. Enjoy.

May 2nd, 1998
That day, the day of the Second Wizarding War, the day that her beloved died, the day that everything in her world had turned upside down.
They had promised each other to continue living if the other died, but neither of them had expected their worst fears to come true.
Watching as the tall and gangly red head was blasted back several feet by a burst of red light, Angelina Johnson shrieked and began running towards the lifeless body of Fred Weasley.
"Fred! This isn't the time for joking around, get up! The Death Eaters are still coming at us, Fred! Why won't you get up? Fred!" She shrieked hoarsely, furiously shaking the empty shell of her fiancé. "Fred, st- stop joking around...This isn't the time, Fred...Why aren't you listening to me?" She asked, feeling as though everything around her had suddenly merged into a giant blur. Shouts of anger and cries of pain were drowned out by the silence, the deafening silence that was, Fred Weasley. The only thing she could see, the only thing she could feel, was Fred and the gnawing pain that was now manifesting itself in her heart. "Why aren't you speaking to me, Fred? Did I do something wrong?"
Laying her head on her fiancé's chest, she felt nothing, she heard nothing, the constant beating of his heart that used to reassure her so; it wasn't there anymore. For the next few hours, she had refused to move from that spot, unable to swallow the fact that Fred Weasley was dead. Even when Percy had tried to pull her away from his body after defeating Augustus Rookwood; the one who had killed her beloved, she hadn't moved. Even when George Weasley had come to grieve the death of his twin with her, she hadn't moved. Even when Fred's mother, Molly Weasley, had approached her with tearful eyes, she hadn't moved. Even when Harry returned from the Forbidden Forest, finally able to defeat the enemy of the Wizarding World, she hadn't moved. No one was going to make her move from this spot, no one would be allowed to take her Fred away.

Sunday, May 2nd, 1999
Angelina stirred in her bed as she heard the solemn, sorrowful voice of a woman drift into her ears. Gingerly opening her eyes, she found that she'd been crying in her sleep again; as she had every single day after the death of her, now-ex, fiancé.

Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?

Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad I know
Let them not weep let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream for in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you

Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here
Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling me how much I wanted you

Gloomy Sunday

She slowly rose from her bed, feeling as though this act alone were enough to drain all the energy out of her. After the Second Wizarding War, Angelina had cut off all connections to her friends and family, not wanting to be looked at with the sorrowing looks of pity she was so used to seeing.
"Oh you poor girl, he died in the Wizarding War, you say?"
"That's such a shame, he was such a handsome young lad."
"My condolences go out to you, Miss Johnson."
"You two were engaged? Oh, I'm sorry."
Those were just some of the phrases that she was all too used to hearing, the fake emotion, the shallow words, the condescending looks of pity behind their beady, suspicious eyes. She could never trust them. She could never fully wrap her head around how mere acquaintances, strangers even, could feel as if they knew what the pain of losing her fiancé felt like.
Rubbing her long, dark fingertips over the glossy photo they had taken on their six month anniversary, she felt a cold sensation wash over her. "What day is it?" She murmured to herself, gently opening the wooden drawer door to take out her calendar. Sunday, May 2nd 1999.
Exactly a year after his death, exactly a year after the Wizarding War that had taken the lives of so many others.

"You've been gone for a year now, love." She murmured to the picture, smiling as Fred's impish face grinned back up at her from the photo. "I'm wondering when you'll ever come back. I leave you these beautiful little white flowers on your bed, every day. They're amazing, Fred, I wish you could see them. They have this heavenly smell, one that just pulls you in, one that you can recognize from twelve feet away. It reminds me a little of your smell, Fred. But I know that if you were here, you'd protest and say something along the lines of, 'I don't smell like a flower, Angie!' But you're not here." She said, picking up a bouquet of little white sweet pea flowers and setting off towards his grave; as she did everyday.

May 12th, 1998
Angelina watched as a black coach pulled by two, pure white horses rolled away from her. It was the coach that was going to take the shell of her beloved, Fred Weasley, away to his death bed. She was so numb. Numb and void of all the pain that everyone around her was experiencing. To protect herself, and her memory of him, she had created a wall; one so thick that no amount of love could ever penetrate it. Flinching as Mrs Weasley placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she stared off into the distance, watching as the back of the coach became smaller and smaller; eventually disappearing into the fog-ridden distance.
"Angelina, dear. It isn't your fault. Sometimes, horrible things just happen to good people. He loved you, we could all see that. We all loved him."
She hadn't replied, she felt as though she couldn't reply; not without bursting into great, heaving sobs. Wrapping her hand around Angelina's thin, bony arm, Mrs Weasley frowned.
"Angelina, please don't punish yourself like this. He wouldn't have wanted it to be this way."
How would she have know? Did she ever realize how beautiful, how much of a gift her son was to world? She hadn't eaten in days, but that didn't matter. The growing pain in her stomach would never overpower the numbness of her heart. Silently and without protest, Angelina was led into the childhood home of her fiancé, cringing as hundreds of memories crowded together in her mind.

"Hey Fred, are you sure your mum's going to be okay with us snogging in the chicken coop? Wait, I'm not even sure I'm okay with this, it smells like...chickens in here." Angelina said, crinkling her nose as the musky scent filled her nostrils.
"Yes, Angie. I'm sure my mum's going to be okay with this. I mean...I'm pretty sure that one of my siblings were conceived in here. George and I have this ongoing bet that they'll try to conceive a child in every room of the house." Fred joked, pulling Angelina in by her waist.
"Ew! Fred, way too much information, thanks." Angelina wailed, bursting out in laughter and unconsciously leaning closer to the younger of the twins.
"Fred Weasley, you get out of the chicken coop, RIGHT NOW! We won't be able to produce a good batch of hens this year, with you bothering them all the time!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, pulling open the latch to the coop; only to find Fred and Angelina kissing on a barrel of hay.
Needless to say, the chicken coops were officially an off limit snogging ground for the rest of her stay at The Burrow.

December 24th, 1998
Staring blankly out the window at the white, frosted ground, Angelina Johnson involuntarily moved her finger to brush the fresh pink scar that marred the beautiful dark skin of her arm. "I can't do this, Fred. Every time I raise the blade, all I can do is touch the shallowest part of me. Why cant I do it, Fred?... Do you remember, we were supposed to get married today? Would you have shown up, Fred? Would you have held back tears as I walked down the aisle?" She asked, eyes searching the barren land outside; knowing that deep down, her fiancé wasn't going to come back. "Remember that one time you gave me a knitted tea cozy for Christmas, Fred?" She asked, rubbing the slightly worn photograph of the two at their six month anniversary and faintly smiling at the nostalgia.

"Fred Weasley! This has got to be the worst gift I have ever received in the world!" Angelina hollered, holding up the tea cozy with her index finger and thumb as if it were an item of disgust; staring at Fred with anger burning in her eyes.
"Angie! I thought you'd like it! I asked you what you wanted, and you said that a tea cozy was fine if it were from me!" Fred wailed, reaching for the tea cozy that was now hovering dangerously close to the fire in their apartment.
"Give me three good reasons why I shouldn't throw this into the fire, and my gift for you!" She added, quickly grabbing the handle of All Purpose Broomstick Servicing Kit from Fred's hands, smirking as he reached frantically grabbed for the black box.
"Angie! Come on now, be reasonable!" Fred continued, glancing furtively from his girlfriend to his newly acquired Broomstick Servicing Kit.
"Unless you have something more meaningful for me, Fred Weasley, your new Broomstick Servicing Kit will be going into the fire. Shame, isn't it?" She asked maliciously, inching closer and closer to the fire.
"I was just kidding! Look inside the cozy! Look inside!" Fred hollered, flailing his arms in front of his face.
"What? You better not be kidding, Fred Weasley." She said, feeling extremely foolish as she reached inside one of the holes and found a small black velvet box. Widening her eyes as Fred grabbed the box from her, tears started rolling down her cheeks.
"Angelina Johnson, you've been such an amazing girlfriend and the last few years I've spent with you have been horrendously funny, supremely superb and fabulously fantastic. I love you, Angelina Johnson. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?" Fred asked, kneeling down onto one knee and grinning up at her.
She hadn't had to say anything; the act of throwing herself into his arms was enough.

May 13th, 1998
Angelina watched as lines and lines of red haired Weasley relatives filed into the church, some weeping, some stoic, some not understanding. Rows of candles had been placed at the sides of the church, occasionally being accidentally kicked over by a stray leg or foot. She was still numb, the huge, gaping wound was there, but the pain wasn't. Staring up at the balding minster, she wondered how many deaths he'd had to have attended. How was this supposed to celebrate her fiancé's life, if this man had been minister to hundreds of other deaths? Watching as rows of ginger heads leaned forward in prayer, Angelina followed suit, tuning out the droning voice of the minster.
"Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today to worship God and to give thanks unto him for the life, the death, and the resurrection of Fred Weasley...
Eternal rests, grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed
through the mercy of God rest in peace.
Amen."
She wasn't praying for Fred, she was wishing he was alive and wishing that he was there with her at that moment. If only the doors of the church door would suddenly open and reveal her fiancé, she would ask for nothing else in life. Her lips slowly cracked into a smile, remembering the funeral she had attended with the younger of the Weasley twins.

"Sorry about this Angie, I know you didn't know my great-aunt Muriel, but I don't think I can go through a two hour long procession without you." Fred explained, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.
Shooting him a look of exasperation, Angelina nodded. "Fine, Fred Weasley, but don't expect me to laugh at your jokes at a funeral!" She shouted, hoping that Molly Weasley would finally accept the fact that her second youngest son was now in a serious relationship.
"What, are you saying that my funeral jokes aren't funny?" Fred asked indignantly, following Angelina out of the joke shop "Here's a good one, there were two women discussing funerals. One pointed to the other and said, 'you know, if you're not at my funeral, I won't be at yours!'" Fred shouted, bursting out in laughter.
Angelina stopped in her tracks, causing Fred to crash into her, and glared at him.
"Seriously, Fred? That's the best you've got?" She asked, shaking her head and continuing off to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour.
Following Angelina into the shop with tears streaming down his eyes out of laughter, Fred couldn't help but admire the zest of his long-time girlfriend.

January 1st, 1999
Today was the day, the day that Angelina would join her dearly beloved in the heavens above. She couldn't take the pain of living without him anymore; she would never be able to take the pain of living without him. Picking up a sharp, glistening razor, she slid it across her bony wrist, staring blankly at the gushing red liquid as it started flowing. She gingerly lowered herself onto the cold ceramic bathtub and lay there, anxious to rejoin her fiancé. Lying in a pool of her own blood, Angelina couldn't hear the great heaving sobs that were coming from Molly; neither could she hear the frantic cries that were coming from George. The only thing she was focused on was the bright light at the end of the tunnel, holding her beautiful saviour, her irreplaceable lover. The scars that continued marring her skin didn't sting anymore, she couldn't feel any pain. It was as if she'd floated up from the heavy chains that her human body had shackled on her soul, and was now flying away; towards a place where she'd be safe, to a place where she could spend the rest of time with the man she truly loved.

"Hey Angie, what are you doing here?" Fred asked, reaching his arms out towards his fiancé, his silhouette basked in a beautiful white glow.
Smiling and walking towards Fred, she quickly responded with, "I came here to join you, Fred. Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Of course I am, Angie. But you have your whole life ahead of you...You shouldn't do this just for me," He murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, staring into her eyes with concern.
"You're worth it, Fred." She responded casually, smiling up at her dearly beloved, never wanting to let go.
Lips cracking into a smile, he breathed, "I'll always watch you." It was as if she were being basked in his golden light, being enveloped by his love and her love for him. She felt as though she could stay here forever.

Sunday, May 2nd, 1999
It was the same dream again, the same painful retelling of the memories they had together, the memories she had without him. The tears rolled down her face as she looked beside her and found that he was once again, gone from her life. Her beloved would only ever visit her in her dreams; only ever touch her in her dreams, only ever caress her in her dreams. But she could never bring up enough courage to join him, and so she continued living her life without him, broken and shattered, on this gloomy Sunday.

"You're worth it, Fred Weasley."

I hope you enjoyed it, or were at least somewhat touched by the emotion Angelina portrayed. I know my fanfictions haven't exactly been the most cheerful ones, but I've been inspired by dark imagery. Please review and add some critique for me!