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Sitting, Waiting, Wishing by Afterglow
Chapter 1 : Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
 
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A/N: This is my second fanfic ever, haha. Another angsty one. I don't own Harry Potter and its characters, though I wish I did, and the story title is Jack Johnson's.




Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heartbeat is loud in the silent room, its rhythm soothing me. I am the only one awake in the entire room, the day’s usual screaming and laughter nowhere to be heard. I think I hear someone crying off in the distance, but that just may be the echoes of my own cries. I can never be too sure anymore. My imagination likes to play tricks on me, you see. But the pain is real. It’s always real. My face contorts into a grimace then, and with a slight pull of a sore muscle, I’m there again.


There was so much blood. So much.

Our clothes were soaked in the red stuff, soaked in the elixir of life and what keeps our hearts beating. Thump. Thump.

I looked down at my hands, and wondered if I could ever make them feel clean again. Deciding that it didn’t matter, I marched on in the battlefield, revenge and murder burning in my eyes. I would do whatever it took to see the Dark Side lose.

But with so many needless killings, weren’t we dark, too?

Dismissing the thought, I spotted the wild black hair and cracked a feral smile. Thump. Thump.

I did not heed the cries floating to my ears that the war was over. It was never over.
I tapped her on the shoulder and smiled even more wildly as she clutched at her undoubtedly burning arm. Voldemort had died, and with his death came excruciating pain for his followers. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

This was the woman who had murdered her parents. This was the woman who had gone all the way to Australia just to kill them. Just for her own twisted satisfaction. For the fact that she had stuck a knife in my heart without even touching me, and had turned it over and over again until my heart was dust and I was left in ashes. Thump. Thump.

Now it was my turn.

With a dangerous glint in my eye, a huge smile on my face, and my curls crackling with my primal magical energy, I lifted my wand and pointing it at her, cast the Cruciatus curse over and over and over again.

For my parents.
For Ron.
For Frank and Alice Longbottom.
For Professor Dumbledore.
For the countless Muggles that lost their lives.
For the loss of my innocence.
For the loss of myself.

I had to be ripped away from her broken and bloodied body, kicking and screaming. I did not rest after that. I could not. My work was never over.

I went after all the remaining Death Eaters and finished them all one way or another.
Until one day someone found me using an Unforgivable curse on one and laughing, my eyes bright and alive, the way they used to sparkle eons ago.

And just like that, my brilliant career was over. Thump. Thump.


A piercing cry jerks me from my memories and I look to the side. A blonde girl is curled up on her side, sobbing uncontrollably and flapping her arms. Frowning, I reach over and cup the young woman’s cheek. Odd, I had never noticed her before. Then again, all my days are a blur now, everything melting together and making it a very pleasant delirium indeed.
I stroke the girl’s cheek softly and whisper, “It’s gonna be okay. You’re not wherever you think you are. You’re safe now.” Now with barely contained excitement, “And soon – soon, you can have that nice lady in the ugly lime green robes give you the medicine and you can be happy! You want to be happy, right? I want to be happy. Oh, so very, very happy. That’s what my parents always wanted, anyway…”
My own cry pierces the air, and that finally seems to calm the girl. I smile at her and lie back down. Fingering the tag on my wrist that reads ‘Hermione Granger, St. Mungo’s Mental Illnesses Ward,’ I fall asleep as I whisper, “I love you, Mummy and Daddy… I’ll always love you… I’ll try to do right by you and be happy…I promise…”

Thump. Thump. Thump.




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