Title: Born To Die
Summary: A challenge fic, each chapter based off of an album. For this story, it is "Born to Die" by Lana Del Rey. As per challenger's request, will be Romione. May be a little dark at some points.
Characters: Ron W. & Hermione G.
Author's Note: I've taken some time off writing, and I've only come back because I was yearning for the creation of my own world. Of course, the world I am writing about belongs to J.K Rowling and her publishers and editors. Songs belong to Lana Del Rey, bless her soul.
"Choose your last words
This is the last time
'Cause you and I, we were born to die"
...
The gun down his throat tasted like metal, but that fact is obvious. It was cold and hard, much like the floor under his back. She stood over him with an evil smile on her face. God, she was so beautiful. Why did he like the crazy ones? She leaned down, nose to nose with him,
"Final thoughts, Weasley?" Her voice honey in his ears, dripping from her tongue. He couldn't speak if he wanted to, her pistol had his tongue pressed down. If he tried, he would just utter nonsense that sounded like he was making fun of her. He did not want to risk that. At least if he stayed quiet, he would have some chance to live.
She sneered, nudging him with the toe of her boot. Good for nothing, that's what he was to her. Only good for the sex. He didn't bring home a paycheck enough to feed the mouths of their children, who were taken away by social services. She had nothing now, and it was this bastard's fault.
"Lazy, like your father," she spat at him, taking the gun out of his mouth. She liked getting him angry and she knew that insult would cut through his chest into his heart.
"My father was not lazy, Hermione," he snapped. "He tried, he really did. I tried too. Give me a chance!"
Shaking her head, rage bubbled to the surface, "Are you fucking kidding me? You tried? Not nearly hard enough! You didn't go to college, you knew that the world of magic had a terrible economy while the muggle world was booming! You knew, but you were too god damned stuck up to even try to get a good muggle job! You're pretentious, you're a bastard. And now you have nothing. You left me with nothing!"
Her voice echoed off of the brick walls of the basement, each sound wave cutting through his skin and sinking in deep. He did try. He tried to bring enough money into feed his family. He wanted them to have good suppers every night. It wasn't good enough for her, apparently. She went behind his back and made an anonymous call to child services and took her own children away. Just to prove a lesson. She was a crazy bitch and he could have done better.
"Hermione, just because our marriage is falling apart ..."
"It isn't just our marriage that's falling apart, Ronald. It's our lives. We're below poverty. Worse off that you growing up. We're homeless, god damn it!"
She turned safety off of her gun, and leaned down.
"So final words, Weasley?"
He pressed his lips to hers, passionate, like the first time they kissed.
"I love you," he said, right before the trigger was pulled and blood spattered everywhere. She looked at her mess and sobbed. She held the gun to her head, and uttered a whisper,
"You fucker," she took a shaky breath, "I love you too."
She pulled the trigger.