Gloomy Sunday by Hineraukatauri
Disclaimer: JK Rowling would never do this to her fabulous characters so obviously I'm not her. I'm only borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended. Also, the song Gloomy Sunday is by Rezsô Seress and the lyrics are by Sam M. Lewis. Once again, no copyright infringement intended.
A/N: This is my first ever story so please be kind. It is probably horrible, but I don't have a beta and my grammar is not so great. The story is I guess a little sad, or at least meant to be. I was listening to Gloomy Sunday, otherwise known as the Hungarian Suicide Song because it was associated with the deaths of several people in Hungary, and I was also reading Hermione-G-Weasley's beautiful piece "Because of Me," and I wondered what would have happen if Hermione had taken a different approach with Ron's death. I took out the last verse of the song, by the way, cause it defeated my purpose and wasn't part of the original song. It was merely added to lighten the song, which I think is very wrong and wasn't the original intention of Rezsô Seress.
A/N 2: If this is anything like anyone else's stories then I'm horribly sorry. I didn't mean to, I just didn't know. Just tell me and I'll remove the story. I don't want to offend anyone but I don't read much fanfiction, usually only stories on a larger scale.
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 thoughts
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 said I know
But 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
Lyrics by Sam M. Lewis
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't go to the funeral.
She couldn't see him like that, lying in a box, lifeless, his family and friends surrounding him, weeping, mourning his loss.
It wasn't how she wanted to remember him.
The last time she had seen him had been the night before it happened, the night before he was torn from her. They had been happy, laughing along with Harry, drinking butterbeer just like they always had. He had held her hand under the table. Leaned over and whispered in her ear how much he loved her when he thought no one was looking. Then everything had fallen apart. Her world had tumbled and her life had left her, with his. Which was why she was here, in this room of white porcelain, a knife stolen from the kitchen in her hands. If her life had left her with his, then she wasn't really living. Only her heart was beating.
She moved over to the shower stall and stepped into it, sitting on the cold tiled floor. She reached above her, turning the knobs, feeling the water rush over her body. She didn't want to make this any harder on anyone else, didn't want to leave a mess in her wake.
She lifted the knife to her wrist and placed the cold steel against her skin. It wasn't a horribly brave way to go, nothing like his brave actions, but she would be with him. She wouldn't have to live a life with no soul, live a life with never bickering with him, seeing his beautiful red hair and boyish freckles that still remained, even at eighteen. She would be happy, happier than she could ever be without him.
The pain was sharp, but it dulled quickly. She looked down and saw the sign of her action, the red that would lead her back to his red hair and fiery temper. Seemed fitting in a way.
She thought of her parents. They would be overcome with grief. But she hoped they would understand, come to terms with why it had happened. She only hoped her mother was not the one to find her. Her father was the stronger of the two, the less emotional, and the more capable of handling the sight of their only daughter, lying in the bathroom, cold and lifeless. She would miss them, but she would see them again someday.
Her head fell back against the wall as the water washed away the red. And she waited. Waited for the blackness to overcome.
Her thoughts turned to Harry. He would be her greatest regret. The immense pain he would feel at having not only lost his best male friend, but to then lose his best female one. She wished she could have told him goodbye, hugged him one last time, told him not to cry for her. Told him how much she loved him that he was the brother she never had. But it would have been futile. He would have stopped her. So she had written a letter. It was the cowardly way out, but at least he would know what she felt for him, how much she would miss him.
She couldn't imagine what he would feel losing the only two people he had left. After Sirius' death Ron and her had been his only family. But he was strong, always had been. He would make it through. He would know that that was what they would want for him. That they would want him to find happiness.
Her body was feeling heavy and she was cold. She felt a strong wave of fatigue wash over her. She knew it was close. Soon she would be in his arms again, the only place she ever wanted to be. It brought a smile to her lips, the first one since his death.
She closed her eyes and pictured him. His tall frame, trademark hair, blue eyes, freckles. She imagined his smile, seeing it as clearly as though he was standing in front of her. She loved him, loved everything about him, from his bravery to his incessant teasing of her. As annoyed as she had always acted, it had thrilled her to the core whenever they bickered. He had brought out a side of her that no one else could, a passion so great that it was all consuming.
Her head grew light as she felt her life slipping away. But she wasn't afraid. She knew, just knew, that he would be waiting for her with open arms, ready to embrace her for all eternity.
And then her life was gone. And he was there. His arms were around her, engulfing her with warmth. He didn't say a word, just raised her chin and kissed her. And she knew that she had done the right thing.
Fin
Disclaimer: JK Rowling would never do this to her fabulous characters so obviously I'm not her. I'm only borrowing them. No copyright infringement intended. Also, the song Gloomy Sunday is by Rezsô Seress and the lyrics are by Sam M. Lewis. Once again, no copyright infringement intended.
A/N: This is my first ever story so please be kind. It is probably horrible, but I don't have a beta and my grammar is not so great. The story is I guess a little sad, or at least meant to be. I was listening to Gloomy Sunday, otherwise known as the Hungarian Suicide Song because it was associated with the deaths of several people in Hungary, and I was also reading Hermione-G-Weasley's beautiful piece "Because of Me," and I wondered what would have happen if Hermione had taken a different approach with Ron's death. I took out the last verse of the song, by the way, cause it defeated my purpose and wasn't part of the original song. It was merely added to lighten the song, which I think is very wrong and wasn't the original intention of Rezsô Seress.
A/N 2: If this is anything like anyone else's stories then I'm horribly sorry. I didn't mean to, I just didn't know. Just tell me and I'll remove the story. I don't want to offend anyone but I don't read much fanfiction, usually only stories on a larger scale.
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 thoughts
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 said I know
But 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
Lyrics by Sam M. Lewis
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't go to the funeral.
She couldn't see him like that, lying in a box, lifeless, his family and friends surrounding him, weeping, mourning his loss.
It wasn't how she wanted to remember him.
The last time she had seen him had been the night before it happened, the night before he was torn from her. They had been happy, laughing along with Harry, drinking butterbeer just like they always had. He had held her hand under the table. Leaned over and whispered in her ear how much he loved her when he thought no one was looking. Then everything had fallen apart. Her world had tumbled and her life had left her, with his. Which was why she was here, in this room of white porcelain, a knife stolen from the kitchen in her hands. If her life had left her with his, then she wasn't really living. Only her heart was beating.
She moved over to the shower stall and stepped into it, sitting on the cold tiled floor. She reached above her, turning the knobs, feeling the water rush over her body. She didn't want to make this any harder on anyone else, didn't want to leave a mess in her wake.
She lifted the knife to her wrist and placed the cold steel against her skin. It wasn't a horribly brave way to go, nothing like his brave actions, but she would be with him. She wouldn't have to live a life with no soul, live a life with never bickering with him, seeing his beautiful red hair and boyish freckles that still remained, even at eighteen. She would be happy, happier than she could ever be without him.
The pain was sharp, but it dulled quickly. She looked down and saw the sign of her action, the red that would lead her back to his red hair and fiery temper. Seemed fitting in a way.
She thought of her parents. They would be overcome with grief. But she hoped they would understand, come to terms with why it had happened. She only hoped her mother was not the one to find her. Her father was the stronger of the two, the less emotional, and the more capable of handling the sight of their only daughter, lying in the bathroom, cold and lifeless. She would miss them, but she would see them again someday.
Her head fell back against the wall as the water washed away the red. And she waited. Waited for the blackness to overcome.
Her thoughts turned to Harry. He would be her greatest regret. The immense pain he would feel at having not only lost his best male friend, but to then lose his best female one. She wished she could have told him goodbye, hugged him one last time, told him not to cry for her. Told him how much she loved him that he was the brother she never had. But it would have been futile. He would have stopped her. So she had written a letter. It was the cowardly way out, but at least he would know what she felt for him, how much she would miss him.
She couldn't imagine what he would feel losing the only two people he had left. After Sirius' death Ron and her had been his only family. But he was strong, always had been. He would make it through. He would know that that was what they would want for him. That they would want him to find happiness.
Her body was feeling heavy and she was cold. She felt a strong wave of fatigue wash over her. She knew it was close. Soon she would be in his arms again, the only place she ever wanted to be. It brought a smile to her lips, the first one since his death.
She closed her eyes and pictured him. His tall frame, trademark hair, blue eyes, freckles. She imagined his smile, seeing it as clearly as though he was standing in front of her. She loved him, loved everything about him, from his bravery to his incessant teasing of her. As annoyed as she had always acted, it had thrilled her to the core whenever they bickered. He had brought out a side of her that no one else could, a passion so great that it was all consuming.
Her head grew light as she felt her life slipping away. But she wasn't afraid. She knew, just knew, that he would be waiting for her with open arms, ready to embrace her for all eternity.
And then her life was gone. And he was there. His arms were around her, engulfing her with warmth. He didn't say a word, just raised her chin and kissed her. And she knew that she had done the right thing.
Fin