Hermione looked in despair at the letter in her trembling hands and screamed. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she had to smack herself in the head to convince herself she wasn't dreaming.
The letter itself was neat and perfect, and contained no hint of the depressing meaning inside. It was in a maroon envelope, sealed with green wax that had the Auror's Department crest imprinted on it. Inside the envelope, the paper was cream colored with cleanly typed black ink. It was so impersonal, and she hated that the news wasn't delivered in person.
Dear Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley,
We regret to inform you that your husband, Mr. Ronald Weasley, passed away while fighting dark wizards in America. He was trailing a wizard who had brutally killed sixteen muggles and five wizards, and was ambushed by the wizard's accomplices. He fought as hard as he could, but eventually took a Severing Charm to the heart, that killed on contact. The wizards were apprehended, and are currently awaiting trial. Mr. Weasley's body will soon be transported to Great Britain, where the body may be prepared however you see fit. Financial aid for you and your future child will be provided by the Ministry.
Our deepest condolences,
The Ministry of Magic
Hermione sank to her knees, hyperventilating. Sensing her stress, her unborn daughter kicked and did her best to make her mother more relaxed. She sobbed, and tears became flowing out of her like a partially turned-on showerhead. How could this happen? Why did this happen? She sat there weeping, while memories flowed through her in a steady stream.
She remembered the day she and Ron had their first kiss, the day he told her he loved her, the day they got engaged, the day they got married, the day they first had sex, the day she told him she was pregnant, and every other high and low of their lives together. She regretted everything that she had ever done wrong. She had nagged and snapped at him, but all it ever did was make him seem more happy. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone or anything in her entire life! No matter how little she said it, she couldn't live without him. Ron was the love of her life!
She realized with a sickening feeling that she had used past-tense. As more sobs racked her body, the cold truth gripped at her. Ron was dead, and absolutely no magic could bring back the dead. The Resurrection Stone had been lost in the war, and she wouldn't dare try to use it after the story of Cadmus Peverell. No matter how much she wished, she would never see Ron again.
In minutes, her sadness turned to anger, which turned into hate, which turned into red-hot fury. She tore her way through the house, turning over tables and breaking plates and vases. She whirled through the rooms, leaving nothing anywhere intact. She worked her way up to the roof, and relaxed when the cool night air hit her face. She looked over the edge of the building, her tears falling down to the pavement below. In a second, she was standing on the ledge. One leap, and it would all be over.
She didn't want to live a life that was with no Ron. She didn't want to be that poor widow that has no purpose in life. She would never be the same again. She stepped off the building.
Never again.