Author's Note: This is my first published story, so feel free to bombard (what a funny word) me with constructive criticism. I welcome it. It makes me a better writer. However, out of courtesy and deference to a fellow writer, please refrain from outright flames. If you find something wrong with my work, feel free to say as much, but do it politely and tell me why you don't like it. That's all I ask. And keep in mind this is un-beta-ed.
Disclaimer: If I really owned Harry Potter, do you think I'd be publishing FANfiction? O.o Really? But alas, it must be said. Only the plot bunny belongs to me, and sometimes I wonder if I even own that. He's quite the independent little nutter.
Also, a lot of this is loosely based on the song If I Die Young, by The Band Perry. Not a songfic, just incorporates a lot of the same elements and I was listening to the song when I wrote it. If you haven't heard the song, I suggest you listen to it. It's quite the thought provoker. Now, the story!
Not What I Expected
I didn't really think my death would come as it did. I was supposed to either die fighting next to Harry and Ron, or live a long, happy life. It was either the fierce heroine or the loving, frizzy haired great-grandmother ending.
I ended up with neither.
Two and a half years after the Final Battle, I was killed by an errant curse thrown by some random criminal in a back alley on my way home from work.
That was it.
I saw the green light.
I fell to the ground.
I wasn't found until morning.
Ron cried.
They buried me four days later, at dawn.
It was a simple wooden box, lined with satin and rose petals. Fitting really. I wouldn't have wanted much of a fuss.
No one but the Bloody Baron knew I had chosen to become a ghost at Hogwarts. I watched my funeral from the shadows.
I watched as various people spoke about me, all good things, of course.
The one that surprised me was Ron. Not only did he speak at length of everything that he loved about me, he actually cried.
He spoke about how he loved me at school, how we fought in the War, how we dated after the War ended. All of this was common knowledge, thanks in large part to that damned Skeeter woman, but I guess he needed to make it clear how much he loved me.
It was the end of his speech that made me wish I could cry in my ethereal form. He knelt to my body, frozen in time, and slipped an emerald ring on my finger.
It was supposed to have been my engagement ring.
Ron never got the chance to ask me.
I would have said yes.
Next came someone from some publishing agency saying he would publish my research from the War and the proceeds would go to Hogwarts.
I knew it would be worth more now that I was dead. Books are always worth more when the author has passed.
And then it ended. They sent my coffin down the river that ran behind the Burrow and then I went back to Hogwarts.
It wasn't the death I expected, nor the funeral, but then again, I guess Hermione Granger was always one to go against expectations.
Additional Note: Reviews and criticisms are always welcome. It's quite simple. Just press that fun little review button. Go ahead. It won't hurt you. =)