GRRRRRR!!!
Gah! OK first attempt at multiple cuts= FAIL!
But I will not give up!!
At least not yet...
Title: November Rain
Pairing: Ron/hermione
Summary: Songfic, sad. Full of angsty goodness.
The tall, red-haired man leant silently against the window-frame as he watched the rain fall from the wintry November sky.
A sudden voice startled him from his reverie, “Ron... I... I’m going...”
The man turned slowly to face the woman who was standing nervously a few paces behind him. He stared at her, his navy eyes intently taking in the look of finality in her amber ones.
He did not say a word as he studied her, and because of his silence, she was growing even more nervous; he could see it in the anxious way she stood, and her refusal to meet his gaze.
After a long and painfully silent moment, he turned away from her to stare out at the rain again.
That surprised her, he heard it in her voice when she said, “Aren’t... aren’t you going to... to say... goodbye...?”
His shoulders tightened, and he straightened up slightly, but he did not turn around and he did not reply.
“Ron... I must go... my cab is here... I... I’m sorry.”
She was crying now, but he refused to acknowledge her. This was her call, this was her doing, and this was her decision. This was her fault. And now she was paying the consequences.
Yet why was it his heart that was being torn to pieces inside his chest?
He forced himself to stop staring at the rain, and he turned once again to face the woman he had loved for the past 10 years.
She was standing in the doorway; her bags clutched in her hands, her eyes full of tears, looking back at him as if she wanted his goddam blessing before she walked out the door and never came back again.
But it wasn’t his consent she wanted, he knew that. It was his forgiveness that she was hoping for. His forgiveness for what she’d done. His forgiveness for falling out of love with the man she’d loved for the past 10 years.
Well, she wasn’t getting it. She would never get it. He would never give it.
Why? He wanted to scream, why did you do it? Why did you stop loving me? What did I do so wrong? Why did you cheat...? Why don’t you love me anymore... why why why why why?????
But he did not shout any of this. He simply took one last look at her and said, “Goodbye.”
She let out a choked sob, “Ron, please... forgive me?!”
Why should I? How could I? You don’t deserve it...
She received silence in reply.
“I never meant to hurt you Ron...” Then why did you?
“I never meant for this to happen...” Then why did it?
“I’m so sorry...” Then why...?
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
“Goodbye Ron.”
The door banged shut behind him and he heard her hurried footsteps on the path, then a few moments later, the roar of a car engine sounded, and just like that, she was gone.
And just like that he was all alone.
And just like that he was empty.
And just like that he sunk to the floor, and ran his thumb over the gold wedding band on his finger, and his heart broke.
Outside the rain fell.
Inside he cried.
It was November and it was raining and she was gone forever and she didn’t love him and it was over and he was left with nothing but an insincere wedding ring and his pain and he cried for a long long time.
And that is how it would be remembered, because that is how it ended.
In November, in the rain.
Title: Only you
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Summary: Death-fic. Heartbreak-fic. I suck at summaries
In a moonlit room, there is a young woman. She’s sleeping alone in a bed. The window is open; the white curtains are stirred by the weak breeze that is the gift from the night sky.
The girl shivers slightly, and rolls over onto her side, and as she does so her deep mahogany hair fans out against the white pillow.
On the table next to her there is a rose. It’s deep blood red is the only colour permitted in the room, save for the silver, black and grey of the night, the white of the bed, and the girl’s wavy brunette curls.
Next to the scarlet long-stemmed rose there is an envelope. In the envelope there is a letter. Its words are written in ink of brilliant emerald green, and they are delicately formed, in a beautiful, intricate and cursive hand.
Hermione...
I am sorry.
I had to leave, I’m so sorry... I had to.
I cannot do it, my love; I cannot turn my back upon my own my father... I have to help him... but once he is safely away I will return to you and we need never speak of him again.
I love you.
Please believe it, and please do not ever forget it.
I know you will be mad at me for doing this, and angry that I did not wake you... but it was all for the best, sweetheart.
I shall return soon darling, do not despair.
Yours, forevermore,
Draco.
The girl awakens in the morning. She spies the rose on the bed-side table, and smiles. Then she sees the letter and her love turns to sudden wariness. Was her fiancé not in the next room? Why was it that she could not hear him moving around their apartment...But wherever would he be if not here with her?
Her fingers graze over the startling red rose as she reaches for the envelope. Her vivid brown eyes fill with anger and dread and tears as she reads and re-reads the ten lines of the letter. Suddenly, the phone rings, its intrusive noise cutting through the stillness like a knife. She scrambles hastily from the bed to answer its summons.
A mere 10 second later she falls to the ground with a sob, and the letter, with its elaborate writing, and the rose, with its stunning colour both lie forgotten as screams full of heartbreak and horror fill the air.
The girl kneels on the cold hardwood floor with her in her hands as she cries. Her sapphire blue nightgown is soon darkened as her tears overflow in her hands and soak into the silken material.
On the table, the rose still lies. On the bed, the letter still rests. On the floor the girl still weeps. The scene stays that way, for hours and hours and hours until the bedroom door opens and a boy steps into the room. But he is not the boy she wants. He runs a hand through jet black hair and crouches next to his beloved friend and holds her tightly and tries to numb her pain but he cannot.
His own eyes close and his own tears fall, for he knew how much love was between the inconsolable young woman before him and the deceased young man that she cries for. The green eyed newcomer tells her, in vain hope of putting some degree of an end to her hurting: There is nothing to be done. It is impossible to turn back time, there is nothing they could do, and it is over. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead.
All the girl can do is cry as she chokes out her reply: He was my only love Harry... it was only him... it was only ever him... I loved him... I loved him.... only ever him... only ever him...oh god Harry, oh god, oh god, oh god...only him...
It is sad, this tragic scene. The rising sun lights the room, but there is no warmth. And what is sadder still, is the rose on the table. Its dark red petals are wilting. And the saddest thing of all in the room is not even the crying girl.
The most saddest thing of all is the words. The words on the page of parchment that are written in such breathtaking hand. The words of the letter lying on the bed that the girl did not see. They are at the bottom of the page, the girl did not see them... they read: Only you, my darling. The only one I’ll ever love is you. Only you.
Yes, that is the saddest thing of all.