Title: Contrite
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: 'And he was, because it was his fault.' The deaths of many may make one contrite in the mind.
Warning: Massively Deathfic
Word Count: 390
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Contrite
You would have thought a Death Eater would have at least been considerate enough to kill her with a book in her hands. Hermione Granger would have found the sight of herself slumped over a copy of 1001 Equally Boring Potions You Don't Really Need to Know, body lifeless and breath stilled, a lasting memorial to all she had accomplished.
And Neville Longbottom should not have been murdered in cold blood at sixteen while out for a stroll beside the pond by his grandmum's house. The poor boy was soaked when they pulled him out, the water concealing a pink tinge, and he would have been shivering had he not have had his nerves stripped. That was no way for a Herbology student to go.
Ron Weasley should have died in any way at all, instead of being forced to watch his sister and brothers be tortured. He should have died before the tears streamed down his face, his nails scrapping at his own wrists in a vain effort to end it all. Of course, when they were finished toying with him, they shot point him blank with Muggle bullets, and the blood speckled the walls for days.
Worst of all, Remus Lupin wasn't forced into anything more than the slow, tedious marching of time. It had been years since he felt anything but numb, really. Nothing that was left mattered to him, and nothing that mattered to him was left. It was a cliché circle, and he finally went insane. He drown himself in the claw-footed tub of his best friend's run down manor with nothing but the full moon's light to comfort him; it did little of that, anyway.
There were a few brief moments when things went wrong. Draco Malfoy was an instance of such. It was such a mistake that his body slumped to the floor mid stride after a ricochet spell struck him that his mother wept. A Black did not weep.
Harry Potter watched everything. Even the deaths that should not have affected him, such as Cornelius Fudge's, he knew. He knew that he was expected to feel sorry, to be apologetic for the families. And he was, because it was his fault. But he couldn't take the easy way out, nor could he pray for a swift death, because he was Harry Potter.