i fixed the layout it was weird.
how old do you think i am?
just curious
I dont own HP or anything HP related
Ginny stared vacantly as they lowered the dull silver coffin into the ground. The rain belted against the few mourners present. One of the grey ropes broke. The coffin crashed to the ground in one swift motion.
The lid slid off with a clang.
Ginny winced when she saw the cuts encrusted with dry blood strewnon his once unmarred body.
The rain hit against the body, the dead body.
The coffin bearers yelled at each other for one to go into the grave and close the lid. They yelled at each other pointing at the muddy pit. Ginny watched silently with the black mourning veil hooding her eyes.
She watched when a lady with the same pale blonde hair walked forward and walked next to the grave.
Her tears and the rain mingled together with the black tint of her washed and smudged mascara. Narcissa Malfoy slipped into the pit and ran a hand over her dead son's cheek. She cried silently as she slowly shut the coffin lid.
Narcissaslid out of the pit and kneeled next to the grave.
The coffin bearers did a quick spell and the pit was filled with dirt in seconds.
Her dress was covered in mud and rain.
All the jewels and money in the world couldn't bring her son back to life andhe was all that mattered.
Narcissa wept through the whole ordeal of her son's burial.
"The heart" Voldemort stated, slicing into the ham, "is the muscle which pumps blood into your veins, it pumps lifeā¦"
"It's ironic that you're telling me this, because all you do is take life" Ginny said coldly. Voldemort smirked.
"It's ironic your telling me this since you steal hearts, break hearts and destroy hearts on a totally different level."
Her eyes narrowed while she drummed her fingers impatiently on the table.
"It pumps life into the veins. People can live without any type of intelligence and all because of the heart. Aristotle believed that the heart was the seat of the soul and the centre of man. The heart represents compassion, love and life"
"It's interesting since you can live without being compassionate and without loving" she muttered sarcastically.
"That is why my loyal subjects and enemies say I have no heart," he said with a bitter twist in his smile.
Seamus coughed and spat out blood as he reloaded the machine gun. His arm was bleeding from a stray bullet and the bandages around his left leg were coming off fast. He was considered lucky.
Staring at the starry night he turned to look back at the large plain full of screams. There had been another search expedition for missing soldiers when they had been caught.
It was a common order that nobody was to try and rescue the body recoverers.
Nobody listened.
All felt it was their duty to try and save them although in the process many more would get killed.
Glaring at the Death Eaters who were swarming forward at an alarming rate, he jammed the line of bullets in and began to shoot.
Many were shot down from both sides. The few, who were prepared for it, immediately got up and fought.
Lunging onto the wet trench dirt as a curse shot overhead, he fell beside something warm, something alive.
With a look of horror on his face he stared at the face of the deceased Oliver Wood. Choking slightly he realised that Oliver had died just then. Five seconds ago Oliver was fighting against the Death Eaters... just like Seamus. Five seconds ago Oliver was alive.
Seamus got up and screamed spells and curses all the same. It was as if he was possessed and unstoppable.
"You bastards! I'll kill you all!" he screamed watching as the dark figures fell with dying screams escaping their lips.
Death is rarely ever a beautiful moment in anyone's life; Seamus was hit with seven Cruciatus curses. The cruellest fact about Seamus' death was he died a minute before the American Allies came and overtook the Death Eaters.
Seamus had wanted to be a fire fighter.
