Broken Lives
Chapter One: Not-so-sweet Victory
"Harry, please talk to me," Hermione pleaded, raising my chin slowly. "Come on. Tell me what's going on!"
I avoided her eyes. I couldn't let myself, I couldn't let myself, no matter how much I wanted to, because I knew what I'd see in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes: happiness and anxiety mixed.
"What happened to Ron? Where is he?" she asked.
I hit the ground with my balled fist, looking at the body lying twelve feet from us. I looked away quickly, tears streaking down my pale cheeks.
"Come on, Harry, what happened to him?" she asked again, wiping away my tears.
I looked back at my trembling hands without saying a word.
"I don't get it, Harry!" Hermione smiled worriedly. "You just defeated Voldemort himself! Why are you so upset?"
I can't tell her the truth. It would brake her heart to know half the reason I was so upset I was ready to kill myself at that instant.
In truth, now that Voldemort's dead, I have no escape. No escape from the Hell we call Earth. Voldemort was the only person who could save me - that's what I was planning on. Just one spell,one simple curse, and it would all be over - I could be with Sirius, and my parents again, and Ron wouldn't be. . .
"Ron. . ." I choked out, unable to finish my sentence. "Oh God, Mione!"
She hugged me tightly, and I knew she understood what I was trying to say, because I could feel my hair growing damp where she had buried her face.
It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay, we'll get through this together, won't we?"
I remembered the look on Ron's face as he spoke his last words. Pure loathing, and terror - and at the same time, somehow calm, and surreal.
He was always like me in that sense - afraid of dying, but not of being dead.
But the look on Ron's face hurt me more than dying ever could - more than being continuously tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Because that hatred wasn't directed toward Vodlemort, no matter how I try to make myself believe it was.
"Oh, God!" I sobbed into Hermione's shoulder.
She didn't question me. She knew that I've always hated talking. . . about anything, really. Everything that I can, I keep to myself, and she understands that. Ron did, too.
"Come on," she whispered after a long moment, pulling backa nf sniffing slightly. "We'd better go tell Dumbledore what happened."
I shook my head slowly. "I just. . . I just want to stay here for a while. I just want to be alone."
"She nodded and walked slowly over to the portkey that Dumbledore had set up. Within a few minutes, she was gone.
And I was left with Lord Voldemort's idea body, and the distant memory of my old life - a GOOD life.
Why couldn't I have been a squib? None of this would have happened - Ron would be alive, Hermione would be happy and oblivious to anything except her schoolwork, and I would be back at the Dursleys', thinking life was a bitch.
Back at the Dursleys', before I even knew what a muggle was, I thought God was unfair. . . . What I would give to be back there now, to be nine again, to forget every single detail from the past seven years. . .
"You sick, twisted bastard," I murmured. "How could you do to us? How could anyone be so heartless?"
I stood and walked over to the lifeless body, and my tears stopped abruptly. Something about seeing HIM dead disturbed me. It was supposed to be me lying there. It was supposed to be me rejoining my family.
"You ruined me!" I shouted. "You son of a bitch, you ruined everything! You won!"
As I fell back on my knees, I swear I could hear a cackle echo through the dense forest around me.
Chapter One: Not-so-sweet Victory
"Harry, please talk to me," Hermione pleaded, raising my chin slowly. "Come on. Tell me what's going on!"
I avoided her eyes. I couldn't let myself, I couldn't let myself, no matter how much I wanted to, because I knew what I'd see in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes: happiness and anxiety mixed.
"What happened to Ron? Where is he?" she asked.
I hit the ground with my balled fist, looking at the body lying twelve feet from us. I looked away quickly, tears streaking down my pale cheeks.
"Come on, Harry, what happened to him?" she asked again, wiping away my tears.
I looked back at my trembling hands without saying a word.
"I don't get it, Harry!" Hermione smiled worriedly. "You just defeated Voldemort himself! Why are you so upset?"
I can't tell her the truth. It would brake her heart to know half the reason I was so upset I was ready to kill myself at that instant.
In truth, now that Voldemort's dead, I have no escape. No escape from the Hell we call Earth. Voldemort was the only person who could save me - that's what I was planning on. Just one spell,one simple curse, and it would all be over - I could be with Sirius, and my parents again, and Ron wouldn't be. . .
"Ron. . ." I choked out, unable to finish my sentence. "Oh God, Mione!"
She hugged me tightly, and I knew she understood what I was trying to say, because I could feel my hair growing damp where she had buried her face.
It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay, we'll get through this together, won't we?"
I remembered the look on Ron's face as he spoke his last words. Pure loathing, and terror - and at the same time, somehow calm, and surreal.
He was always like me in that sense - afraid of dying, but not of being dead.
But the look on Ron's face hurt me more than dying ever could - more than being continuously tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Because that hatred wasn't directed toward Vodlemort, no matter how I try to make myself believe it was.
"Oh, God!" I sobbed into Hermione's shoulder.
She didn't question me. She knew that I've always hated talking. . . about anything, really. Everything that I can, I keep to myself, and she understands that. Ron did, too.
"Come on," she whispered after a long moment, pulling backa nf sniffing slightly. "We'd better go tell Dumbledore what happened."
I shook my head slowly. "I just. . . I just want to stay here for a while. I just want to be alone."
"She nodded and walked slowly over to the portkey that Dumbledore had set up. Within a few minutes, she was gone.
And I was left with Lord Voldemort's idea body, and the distant memory of my old life - a GOOD life.
Why couldn't I have been a squib? None of this would have happened - Ron would be alive, Hermione would be happy and oblivious to anything except her schoolwork, and I would be back at the Dursleys', thinking life was a bitch.
Back at the Dursleys', before I even knew what a muggle was, I thought God was unfair. . . . What I would give to be back there now, to be nine again, to forget every single detail from the past seven years. . .
"You sick, twisted bastard," I murmured. "How could you do to us? How could anyone be so heartless?"
I stood and walked over to the lifeless body, and my tears stopped abruptly. Something about seeing HIM dead disturbed me. It was supposed to be me lying there. It was supposed to be me rejoining my family.
"You ruined me!" I shouted. "You son of a bitch, you ruined everything! You won!"
As I fell back on my knees, I swear I could hear a cackle echo through the dense forest around me.