AN: Sadness.
Disclaimer: Characters and everything recognizable from the Harry Potter books belong to J.K. Rowling. The song "Angel" belongs to the wonderfully melancholic Sarah McLachlan. I just love this song… Everything else you don't recognize, or don't like, is probably mine. You can go blame, flame, praise, flay me by clicking on that button down there… yes, down there… just keep scrolling… you can't miss it! And don't forget to read what's in between!
Dedicated to: Whoever reviews. Here's your daily dose of Archangela Angst.
Angel
Spend all your time waiting
She was numb. Yes, that was probably the best word for it. She could feel the people brushing past her, speaking in hushed voices, nodding at her. She could see the black clothes everywhere, even on her own body, that strange black fabric clinging to her skin. She could smell the scent of flowers, hanging over the small crowd like a ghost.
But she couldn't cry. She just couldn't cry. Everyone was looking at her as if expecting her to do the crying, because mostly everyone else was dry-eyed.
For that second chance
"Hermione…" She turned around at the mention of her name. There stood Harry, pale and uncomfortable in a black suit. He held out a tissue sheepishly. Hermione stared down at it, and took in with her shaking hands. Then she tucked it into her bag, knowing very well that she didn't need it. Not yet, though.
For the break that will make it okay
People were filing past her, patting her back, a kind word whispered, or simply a sad expression. Hermione nodded back, but the numbness remained. I don't like this… I should be crying. Weeping. Wailing. Shaving my head, painting my body with ashes… Hermione stared down at her black-gloved hands.
They all wanted to make her feel better, but nothing worked. Of course nothing will work… Hermione thought bitterly. He's dead. And nothing going to save me now…
She pulled off her gloves to reveal the slender gold ring on her finger. She touched it, and felt something prickle at the back of her eyes.
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
"My ring…" she whispered.
The hardest thing to understand was that, just two weeks ago, the very same man who had proposed to her, was now lying in that coffin, about to be shoved painfully out of her life forevermore.
And it's hard at the end of the day
Hermione bent over, suddenly trying to keep the tears from coming. But come they did, and they slid down her pale cheeks in rivulets of warmth, shocking against the cold weather.
I need some distraction
She screwed her eyes shut, sobbing silently, trying to think of something… anything to distract her, to stop her from thinking about how he died, how he ended up in that cold box of wood… Anything… she pleaded, and as her mind darted back to the day he proposed, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop from crying out loud.
Oh, beautiful relief
Let memories seep from my veins
They were sitting by the Hogwarts lake, both taking a break off from teaching. The moon hung over the lake, the color of his skin, bringing a smile to her face as she leaned against his shoulder and watched the fireflies.
"Do you believe in catching dreams?" she whispered. He looked down at her and smiled. "Why not? It sounds like an interesting idea…" He leaned back into the tree and grinned at her. "Tell me about it."
Hermione looked up at the fireflies creating patterns of brilliance in the dusky dark. "Fireflies are dreams, beautiful dreams that you would wait all your life to catch. If you ever caught a firefly, you should always let it go, because some poor soul will never be able to dream again. However, the firefly you caught, if you let it go, it will leave behind a dream for you, the dream that you always had, the dream you know will never come true…"
She smiled at him. "Now, you tell me, was that stupid?" He reached out with a pale, slender hand and touched her lips. "No, it wasn't."
He removed his hand from her lips and reached up into the dark. When he brought his fist back down, it was glowing with an inner light. Hermione scrambled closer. "Oh, let it go!" she pleaded, grabbing his other hand.
He laughed softly and opened his wrist. Out fluttered not one, not two, but three fireflies. She stared up at them, and he whispered from beside her. "I… Love… You."
He held out his palm. "The fireflies left behind a dream for you. But this dream will come true, whether you like it or not…"
Hermione stared down at his open hand, hardly believing her eyes.
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
"Oh, Draco…" she whispered. Glinting in the soft glow of the fireflies was a beautiful gold wedding ring.
I'll find some peace tonight
She buried her head in her hands, ignoring the way people began to watch her. Ignoring her hands, which were becoming colder by the minute without her gloves on. Ignoring the way Harry and Ron suddenly rushed to her side.
All she wanted was Draco. Alive, and standing beside her, a smile on his lips.
In the arms of an angel
She wanted him back, with his warm smile and open arms. She wanted him back, his moods, his little tantrums, their little quarrels that always ended with a kiss.
No… Hermione felt Ron's hand uneasily drop onto her shoulder, trying to offer comfort that would not come, whatever he did. I don't' want him to come back… I want to follow him wherever he went.
"Hermione." She glanced up, and Harry nodded at her, then looked up at the cold, gray sky. "It's snowing."
Fly away from here
The tiniest flake of heaven-sent frost floated down and rested on Hermione cheek, bitter cold. The minister was reading something, Hermione was only vaguely aware of that. She just continued to watch the snow drifting down, one thought in her mind. Draco loved the snow…
From this dark, cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
Hermione held out a bare palm for the snowflakes, tears still standing in her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to die that very moment, to be taken up to the place where Draco sat and waited for her. Yes… he's waiting for me… He'll wait for the day I die, and so will I. The delicate, feathery snow came drifting down slowly, but steadily.
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
Suddenly a bright flash of color darted in front of Hermione's eyes, and she reeled back, surprised. A beautiful hummingbird, a tiny painting, hovered in front of her. "What's this? There aren't any hummingbirds in winter… In fact…" Hermione tried to smile. "I don't think there are even any hummingbirds here in England…"
Ron watched the tiny bird with a strange expression on his face, then he bent down to Hermione. "That's no ordinary bird, Hermione…" He blushed, as if revealing a well-kept secret. "My mum used to tell me that a hummingbird at a funeral would be an angel, coming to help the soul on its way to heaven."
Hermione looked back at the tiny feathered jewel, eyes sparkling. "Will you take me too? Please…" she whispered wistfully.
So tired of the straight line
As if in reply, the bird flew off. Hermione glanced down and saw the sleek, polished coffin, and the bouquet of beautiful white roses on top. It was all she needed to begin her silent pain again.
And everywhere you turn
There are vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting
Keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
"I'm never going to see him again…"
"Who's going to protect me now?"
"Who's going to wake me up each morning and present me the day on a silver platter?"
"Who's going to love me?"
Don't make no difference
Escaping one last time
Dull thuds signaled the throwing in of the dirt. Someone pressed a heavy, cold lump of mud in Hermione's hand, and she felt it as her heart, heavy, cold and lifeless. She walked towards the edge, feet taking her somewhere she didn't want to be.
She held out her hand, and looked down. People had also thrown in flowers, and they completely covered the coffin, making it like a pit of beautiful flowers, in which she could jump into, and fall asleep forever…
Dirt and flowers… how ironic… she thought, and her numb fingers let go of the clump of dirt, and it fell… and fell… and shattered, taking her hopes and dreams with it.
It's easier to believe
She felt Harry's hand support her, but there was nothing to believe in that warm, trusting hand. She wanted Draco back. She wanted him to stand beside her and take her in his arms, make her eyes shine, and tell her that everything was a joke.
In this sweet madness
Hermione felt as if there was something expected from her. As if the pale, silent crowd wanted her to wail her heart out, to tear her hair, to paint herself with ashes. As if they wanted her to go mad.
And as she took in a breath of the cold, snow-scented air, she felt like she wanted to go mad as well.
Or this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees
She shuddered at the pain washing over her, calling forward her tears. This was simply too much to bear. She was going to cave, to break, to give in to the incredible agony. And the strange thing was that she actually wanted it.
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
"It's okay, Hermione… he's at peace now." Hollow, empty words, spoken by one who simply wanted to see no more tears. "He's fine, no pain, no sadness… please, believe in him…"
Hermione believed in Draco. Yes, she believed in him with all her heart and soul. But she still believed he was alive, and calling to her through icy tears from heaven.
From this dark, cold hotel room
"His father can't hurt him anymore." A stab in the heart. Hermione gasped, the chilly air knifing her lungs. Tears traced a clear path on her pale cheeks, bringing in scant color.
And the endlessness that you fear
The snow floated down, and the congregation began to move towards the sheltered area, leaving the coffin to magically lower itself into the ground at the disappearance of the last mourner.
But Hermione stood her ground.
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
She stood there, arms out to the sky, embracing the tears of one silver-haired, dusky-eyed angel from way up high, an angel who once loved her, an angel who loved her still.
You're in the arms of an angel
Hermione stood there, the snow falling softly around her, oblivious to the stares of the crowd. She now had an angel, and wherever she went, he was going to watch over her… loving her for the rest of her life.
May you find some comfort here
Through the soft snow flew a bright jewel of hope. A hummingbird hovered beside Hermione, waiting… waiting…
May you find some comfort here.