Title: Rain is Sad
Author: Becca
Email: lordsbecca@yahoo.com
Summary: Hermione is sad.
Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue!
^*^*^
I don't know what it is, but watching the rain fall is so sad. I hate when people say to their children, "it's raining because God's angels are crying." Watching the rain is sad enough: you don't have to add to the depression. Life is depressing as it is. You don't need people telling you Heaven is crying. I always thought angels were to bring hope and love, and peace. Not tears.
I've cried enough in my day. Especially today. Today is just a sad day. It's dark, raining, and cold. Very cold. I hate the cold. I hate the rain. I hate the dark. I hate today.
Today was the funeral for Harry Potter, the bravest, kindest, and stupidest person I ever knew. He tried to kill Voldemort again. Alone. He denied help, though Ron insisted he would go. Ron did indeed go, and the poor boy watched from behind a tree as his best friend fell to the ground.
When Ron came back to Hogwarts, holding Harry's body, I realized just how much I loved him. He held himself so upright, despite the fact he held in his hands his best friend's limp, heavy body. He handed Harry to Dumbledore so carefully, as if moving him too roughly would just kill him again. He was so sad. So sad...
The hardest part was informing Ginny. Her heart only survived because of Harry...she only lived for Harry. I couldn't bear having to be the one to tell her that her reason for living was gone. I sat her down, in her favorite chair in the common room, and spoke to her softly. As the words "Harry" and "died" seeped out of my mouth, her face transformed from a worried little girl, to a sad old woman. It was one more sad person.
And then, there was Sirius. I don't think I've ever seen a face so sad. Much worse then the face he had when in Azkaban...much worse then when he was at Remus Lupin's funeral. I asked him why he was so much sadder then normal, and he told me that it felt like his best friend, James Potter, had died all over again. I hugged him, telling him that everything would be okay. That Voldemort was going to pay for what he had done.
But by far the saddest face was Dumbledore. His sadness made him look two-hundred years older. I knew why he was so sad: regret. Regret because he never told Harry that he wasn't alone...that he did indeed have family. Dumbledore was that family. He was Harry's great-grandfather. He loved Harry in every possible way. But he never got the chance to tell him.
All I could think about what how Harry died feeling unloved and unwanted by so many people. He had no family, that he knew of, Cho Chang had rejected him once again, and we had just been in a fight. I never got to apologize . Regrets: they're all over this field where we're burring the Boy Who Lived, though no one could call him that any more.
I held Ron all through the ceremony. He refused to cry, the little twerp. He leaned on my shoulder. His regret was that he allowed Voldemort to kill Harry, that he hadn't done something to save him. I told him it was all right, that no one expected him to step in front of a Death Curse.
It wasn't only Harry's funeral that we would be attending to this week: Ginny killed herself, no longer wishing to live in a world without her true love. I can't say I blame her. I don't know what I would do without Ron....
I'm sad. It's raining, dark, cold, and I'm sad.
Rain is sad.
Author: Becca
Email: lordsbecca@yahoo.com
Summary: Hermione is sad.
Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue!
^*^*^
I don't know what it is, but watching the rain fall is so sad. I hate when people say to their children, "it's raining because God's angels are crying." Watching the rain is sad enough: you don't have to add to the depression. Life is depressing as it is. You don't need people telling you Heaven is crying. I always thought angels were to bring hope and love, and peace. Not tears.
I've cried enough in my day. Especially today. Today is just a sad day. It's dark, raining, and cold. Very cold. I hate the cold. I hate the rain. I hate the dark. I hate today.
Today was the funeral for Harry Potter, the bravest, kindest, and stupidest person I ever knew. He tried to kill Voldemort again. Alone. He denied help, though Ron insisted he would go. Ron did indeed go, and the poor boy watched from behind a tree as his best friend fell to the ground.
When Ron came back to Hogwarts, holding Harry's body, I realized just how much I loved him. He held himself so upright, despite the fact he held in his hands his best friend's limp, heavy body. He handed Harry to Dumbledore so carefully, as if moving him too roughly would just kill him again. He was so sad. So sad...
The hardest part was informing Ginny. Her heart only survived because of Harry...she only lived for Harry. I couldn't bear having to be the one to tell her that her reason for living was gone. I sat her down, in her favorite chair in the common room, and spoke to her softly. As the words "Harry" and "died" seeped out of my mouth, her face transformed from a worried little girl, to a sad old woman. It was one more sad person.
And then, there was Sirius. I don't think I've ever seen a face so sad. Much worse then the face he had when in Azkaban...much worse then when he was at Remus Lupin's funeral. I asked him why he was so much sadder then normal, and he told me that it felt like his best friend, James Potter, had died all over again. I hugged him, telling him that everything would be okay. That Voldemort was going to pay for what he had done.
But by far the saddest face was Dumbledore. His sadness made him look two-hundred years older. I knew why he was so sad: regret. Regret because he never told Harry that he wasn't alone...that he did indeed have family. Dumbledore was that family. He was Harry's great-grandfather. He loved Harry in every possible way. But he never got the chance to tell him.
All I could think about what how Harry died feeling unloved and unwanted by so many people. He had no family, that he knew of, Cho Chang had rejected him once again, and we had just been in a fight. I never got to apologize . Regrets: they're all over this field where we're burring the Boy Who Lived, though no one could call him that any more.
I held Ron all through the ceremony. He refused to cry, the little twerp. He leaned on my shoulder. His regret was that he allowed Voldemort to kill Harry, that he hadn't done something to save him. I told him it was all right, that no one expected him to step in front of a Death Curse.
It wasn't only Harry's funeral that we would be attending to this week: Ginny killed herself, no longer wishing to live in a world without her true love. I can't say I blame her. I don't know what I would do without Ron....
I'm sad. It's raining, dark, cold, and I'm sad.
Rain is sad.