-Allrighty then!!! My muse, Draco, gave me this plot bunny at 3:00 in the morning. It seems my muses have
*wonderful* timing! ::glares at Neville and Draco::This has suicidal themes and it's a mystery person!!(You'll find
out who it is at the end.) I also need to know how to have an html file, because Ivanho of Canada and I are
MiSTing a slash ficcy called ' 2 Simple Words' written by Ivanho of Canada! I am also working on a humongous
song-fic and a slash ficcy called 'Spinner'. Well, Enjoy!
-Dia presents to you~*
-Regret~*~*~
December 25, 1995:
-I lay on my bed, starring emotionessly at my bedroom's blue ceiling. A question runs through my mind over and
over again. My veins throb because this decision effects them too. If I say yes, they become broken and spill a
liquid red and thick as fine wine. On the other hand, I'll decide no, and they'll continue being an enclosed channel.
-My whole body is shaking. I look out my window, into the sky for answers. The sky has been abandoned by the
moon and the myriad of stars, leaving it blank and covered by the thick blanket of clouds. The sky answers my
question with a permanent answer.
-It is time!
-I lazily get off my bed, hiding my excitement. I stumble towards my door. I reach to it with a trembling hand. I don't
know why my hand is trembling, it is either from fear or anxiosness. I grasp the door knob in my shaking hand, the
metal feeling frigid against my skin. I turn my head to look at my room. Everything is neat, and I realise how rude
of me! I didn't even leave a letter explaining why.
-Because the reason is all to clear.
-I open it, trying not to make the hinges let out a squeel into the silent night. I travel down the hallway, glancing at
pictures that are nailed and screwed into the walls. Pictures where all the smiles on them are lies themselves.
-I turn at the corner and start moving my way gradually down the wooden stairs. My hand, lightly grazing the
smooth wooden banaster as I manuaver my way down. The wood that the stair's steps are constructed of feel
icy against my bare feet. It seems everything has turned a cruel cold as a goodbye. It's like I don't even deserve
warmth on this day.
-I reach the end of the stairs and I veer towards the kitchen. The kitchen, unlike the rest of my home, is homy and
has a welcoming warmth. I can even feel warmth pulsing from it even when everything seems so cold. I enter the
kitchen feeling myself succomb to the warm air blanketing this room. I pass the dining table and reach the sink.
The knife rack is sitting beside the sink. I lift my arm and the fingers of my hand linger over the wooden handles of
the knives. I pluck a small knife out the rack and examine it. The blade's length is about the width of my wrist and
the blade is sharp enough to peirce into the skin. It is perfect.
-I hold my wrist out, directly above the sink. I wrap my fingers delicately around the knife's handle and lay it on my
wrist. Strangley it hovers over the thick, blue vein. I apply more pressure on the knife and it's blade splits the vein.
I stop suddenly. I had planned this out! I'm not going to back out now! I see blood slowly trinkle down my wrist and
slide off the side. Dripping into the sink.
-I stand here, grappeling my feelings and questioning my answer to the question. My friends at Hogwarts will miss
me! I'll be dishonoring and dirtying my name if I do this! With that thought, I lift the blade and lay it at the side of the
sink. I examine my wrist. I didn't cut deep enough to bleed to death, so I turn on the faucet with an idle hand and
bathe my torn wrist into the gushing water. I watch my wrist stop bleeding and I turn the faucet off. I take my wrist,
now dripping with water instead of blood, and apply a dry kitchen towel. Then, I slowly walk away from the
warmth that radiated from the kitchen. The warmth of the blood that left my body, and I travel towards my room
holding the towel to my wrist.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
10 years later. December 25, 2005:
- I lay on my, I mean our bed, staring unaffectionately at the ceiling. I remember doing this. I did the same thing
10 years ago. The only different things are my reason and the faded white scar on my right wrist. I turn my head
towards him. I hope he doesn't blame himself, because it isn't his fault. I do love him, Draco Malfoy in a way, but
I think I'll lead him and our child down the same path of blood and misery I led down others.
-I won't let that happen.
-The reason for my lame attempt at suicide when I was 15 during Christmas break was my family life and stress.
My reason now is that ever since that day of coming back to school, I've been regretting about taking the blade
away from my wrist. It is all my fault, I'm the only one to blame, so I have to pay.
-It rhymes doesn't it? Strange, you notice all the little things when you're minutes away from death.
-I look back at him. His innocent angelic face pointing towards the ceiling. I won't destroy him like I did with Harry
and Ron.
-Harry and Ron are dead because of my stupidity. Ever since their death's I've been regretting my fright at that
night when I had the blade hovering over my wrist. After the 'incident', people told me comforting words, saying it
wasn't my fault.
-I and they both knew it was my fault. There's no point in denying it.
-I reach over to the bottle of tylenol on my bedside, accompanied with a glass of water. I struggle with the plastic
lid,somehow I manage to get the pill bottle open. I slip a pill on my tonque and allow the small amount of water I
allowed into my mouth to slide down my throat . I do this routine approximately forty times. I place the empty pill
bottle and nearly empty glass on my nightstand and lay back down to go to sleep.
-Now I'll never wake up to the nightmare of life and regret.
-But now, as I drift asleep into the darkness of death. I start regretting the first pill.
-And now as I sail away through the dark waters of death, dreaming, regretting of not waking up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Daily Prophet headline)
-Hermione Lynn Granger-Malfoy, wife of the Minister of Magic, was found dead of a sleeping pill over-dose.
Draco Malfoy and his son, Amadeus, don't know the reason of her suicide.
-" Mommy was always happy. Why did she have to go away?" her son, Amadeus Malfoy, age 5, says.......
_____________________________________________________________________________________
-I'm not happy with older Hermione's ending. GOD! WHY DID I HAVE TO WRITE THIS! ::grumbles and curses her
over-active muses:: I may have to write a sequel now...::sweatdrop:: Everything is owned by J.K Rowling except
for Amadues Malfoy, which is mine. That was in Hermione's PoV. I know that she spends Christmas at Hogwarts,
but she decided that she wanted her parents to find her dead first. I hope everyone liked this, and no I do not find
suicide an answer. The first part ( with young Hermione) is based on my best friend, who will stay anonymous,
suicide attempt. Note from me: NEVER DO IT!!!! Well, gotta' go and work on my History homework ::skips merrily
towards the pile of books on her desk:: Ciao!
-Dia
*wonderful* timing! ::glares at Neville and Draco::This has suicidal themes and it's a mystery person!!(You'll find
out who it is at the end.) I also need to know how to have an html file, because Ivanho of Canada and I are
MiSTing a slash ficcy called ' 2 Simple Words' written by Ivanho of Canada! I am also working on a humongous
song-fic and a slash ficcy called 'Spinner'. Well, Enjoy!
-Dia presents to you~*
-Regret~*~*~
December 25, 1995:
-I lay on my bed, starring emotionessly at my bedroom's blue ceiling. A question runs through my mind over and
over again. My veins throb because this decision effects them too. If I say yes, they become broken and spill a
liquid red and thick as fine wine. On the other hand, I'll decide no, and they'll continue being an enclosed channel.
-My whole body is shaking. I look out my window, into the sky for answers. The sky has been abandoned by the
moon and the myriad of stars, leaving it blank and covered by the thick blanket of clouds. The sky answers my
question with a permanent answer.
-It is time!
-I lazily get off my bed, hiding my excitement. I stumble towards my door. I reach to it with a trembling hand. I don't
know why my hand is trembling, it is either from fear or anxiosness. I grasp the door knob in my shaking hand, the
metal feeling frigid against my skin. I turn my head to look at my room. Everything is neat, and I realise how rude
of me! I didn't even leave a letter explaining why.
-Because the reason is all to clear.
-I open it, trying not to make the hinges let out a squeel into the silent night. I travel down the hallway, glancing at
pictures that are nailed and screwed into the walls. Pictures where all the smiles on them are lies themselves.
-I turn at the corner and start moving my way gradually down the wooden stairs. My hand, lightly grazing the
smooth wooden banaster as I manuaver my way down. The wood that the stair's steps are constructed of feel
icy against my bare feet. It seems everything has turned a cruel cold as a goodbye. It's like I don't even deserve
warmth on this day.
-I reach the end of the stairs and I veer towards the kitchen. The kitchen, unlike the rest of my home, is homy and
has a welcoming warmth. I can even feel warmth pulsing from it even when everything seems so cold. I enter the
kitchen feeling myself succomb to the warm air blanketing this room. I pass the dining table and reach the sink.
The knife rack is sitting beside the sink. I lift my arm and the fingers of my hand linger over the wooden handles of
the knives. I pluck a small knife out the rack and examine it. The blade's length is about the width of my wrist and
the blade is sharp enough to peirce into the skin. It is perfect.
-I hold my wrist out, directly above the sink. I wrap my fingers delicately around the knife's handle and lay it on my
wrist. Strangley it hovers over the thick, blue vein. I apply more pressure on the knife and it's blade splits the vein.
I stop suddenly. I had planned this out! I'm not going to back out now! I see blood slowly trinkle down my wrist and
slide off the side. Dripping into the sink.
-I stand here, grappeling my feelings and questioning my answer to the question. My friends at Hogwarts will miss
me! I'll be dishonoring and dirtying my name if I do this! With that thought, I lift the blade and lay it at the side of the
sink. I examine my wrist. I didn't cut deep enough to bleed to death, so I turn on the faucet with an idle hand and
bathe my torn wrist into the gushing water. I watch my wrist stop bleeding and I turn the faucet off. I take my wrist,
now dripping with water instead of blood, and apply a dry kitchen towel. Then, I slowly walk away from the
warmth that radiated from the kitchen. The warmth of the blood that left my body, and I travel towards my room
holding the towel to my wrist.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
10 years later. December 25, 2005:
- I lay on my, I mean our bed, staring unaffectionately at the ceiling. I remember doing this. I did the same thing
10 years ago. The only different things are my reason and the faded white scar on my right wrist. I turn my head
towards him. I hope he doesn't blame himself, because it isn't his fault. I do love him, Draco Malfoy in a way, but
I think I'll lead him and our child down the same path of blood and misery I led down others.
-I won't let that happen.
-The reason for my lame attempt at suicide when I was 15 during Christmas break was my family life and stress.
My reason now is that ever since that day of coming back to school, I've been regretting about taking the blade
away from my wrist. It is all my fault, I'm the only one to blame, so I have to pay.
-It rhymes doesn't it? Strange, you notice all the little things when you're minutes away from death.
-I look back at him. His innocent angelic face pointing towards the ceiling. I won't destroy him like I did with Harry
and Ron.
-Harry and Ron are dead because of my stupidity. Ever since their death's I've been regretting my fright at that
night when I had the blade hovering over my wrist. After the 'incident', people told me comforting words, saying it
wasn't my fault.
-I and they both knew it was my fault. There's no point in denying it.
-I reach over to the bottle of tylenol on my bedside, accompanied with a glass of water. I struggle with the plastic
lid,somehow I manage to get the pill bottle open. I slip a pill on my tonque and allow the small amount of water I
allowed into my mouth to slide down my throat . I do this routine approximately forty times. I place the empty pill
bottle and nearly empty glass on my nightstand and lay back down to go to sleep.
-Now I'll never wake up to the nightmare of life and regret.
-But now, as I drift asleep into the darkness of death. I start regretting the first pill.
-And now as I sail away through the dark waters of death, dreaming, regretting of not waking up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Daily Prophet headline)
-Hermione Lynn Granger-Malfoy, wife of the Minister of Magic, was found dead of a sleeping pill over-dose.
Draco Malfoy and his son, Amadeus, don't know the reason of her suicide.
-" Mommy was always happy. Why did she have to go away?" her son, Amadeus Malfoy, age 5, says.......
_____________________________________________________________________________________
-I'm not happy with older Hermione's ending. GOD! WHY DID I HAVE TO WRITE THIS! ::grumbles and curses her
over-active muses:: I may have to write a sequel now...::sweatdrop:: Everything is owned by J.K Rowling except
for Amadues Malfoy, which is mine. That was in Hermione's PoV. I know that she spends Christmas at Hogwarts,
but she decided that she wanted her parents to find her dead first. I hope everyone liked this, and no I do not find
suicide an answer. The first part ( with young Hermione) is based on my best friend, who will stay anonymous,
suicide attempt. Note from me: NEVER DO IT!!!! Well, gotta' go and work on my History homework ::skips merrily
towards the pile of books on her desk:: Ciao!
-Dia