I remember that day. It's caged in my memory, you see; like an imprint that won't easily be rubbed out. It can't be forgotten; so, in turn I'm cursed to remember it every waking moment. As long as there is life in this empty shell.
It's hard to think of our more jovial times. The thoughts are knocked out by the moment that sears my soul. It's not easy to see someone so strong defeated and slung across the shoulder of his rival.
Perhaps it's not so much a feeling of despair, but exasperating guilt. Suffering I cannot escape from.
I've been cruel to his memory. I've dishonored his loyalty. I've abandoned him. Inexcusable behavior on my part resulted in self-torment.
He was announced dead on arrival. Little life remained, and there was nothing anyone could do. I saw him struggle for air. His eyes welling in pain, but no tears. Never tears. I saw his eyes roll up and his lifeless lids shut. Gone forever.
I'll never forgive myself. It should have been Draco, not Harry.
No one knows what happened. But, I do know that Draco did nothing. Voldemort uttered his deadly words, and my Draco did nothing.
Remorse beats in my heart and flows through my veins. I have been ripped of my meaning, my life fraying at the seams. Nothing can hold together the scraps of my shredded soul.
His dying eyes gazed up at me. He breathed out with a fight he loved me. And then my love was gone, and nothing would bring him back.
I'm sure he saw my tears. I know. I held none back. He watched me lose hope, then slipped away.
Like hate, denial is a string word. Too strong, in fact. I prefer to think of it as a temporary disbelief, not some psychological refusal to grasp reality. No, none of that.
Is love easy to recognize? Perhaps I mistook a friendly gesture of pity for passionate admiration. But I fell for false love, and I don't believe I've yet hit the bottom.
The first gentle touch was so mesmerizing; captivating beyond belief. A comfort I thought could bring a return to normalcy. But false love will make you fall and never hit the bottom. I know.
His deep, calming voice was a reassurance as he whispered to me in his arms. Filling me with kind words and tenderness. Waiting for me to break in his hands. Anticipating my fall, knowing he won't hear me hit the bottom.
In a moment of weakness, I shunned my love's past and hoped for refuge upon the wings of a dove. Finding nothing but guilt and permanent disbelief. I deny my own denial. I've fallen and hit the bottom.
No Hermione, there is no bottom for you.