Search:

SIYE Time:8:39 on 29th March 2024
SIYE Login: no


The Final Symphony
By muggledog

- Text Size +

Category: Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance, Tragedy
Warnings: Death
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 6
Summary: Living with her parents undercover, Ginny Weasley hears a musical work, Tchaikovsky's Symphony no. 6 in B minor, that changes her life, recalling everything that has, and is, happening as she lives the final battle against Voldemort.
Hitcount: Story Total: 12427; Chapter Total: 2606





Author's Notes:
Well, chalk up another complete tale!! Hope the end is good, and that it opens your eyes to the pains of war, because that is what it is mean to do. Once again, I'm down on my knees to thank Peter Tchaikovsky for giving us some of the best music ever that will continue to inspire people. Okay, enough ramblin' thanks, enjoy!!




ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter


Finale: Adagio lamentoso

It was over.

What was over? The war? The misery? The pain? Bloodshed? What? Almost everyone I knew was out prancing around, celebrating, saying everything will be all right again, but I sure as heck don’t see any Elysian fields, when the first thing I do after learning of Voldemort’s defeat is put two of my brothers six feet in the ground. Celebrations. Hah.

Bill and Percy’s funeral was a quiet family affair. Dad managed to keep Minister Scrimgeour and anyone from the Ministry itself out, which impressed all of us. Both coffins were laid out in the back yard, in front of a tree which bore a tree fort that every single one of us Weasley kids used, yes even Percy. The only people to attend were me, Mum, Dad, Charlie and the twins. Dad and my other brothers were shaking with suppressed sobs, while Mum’s grief was far beyond tears. She had lost two sons in one blow, and I’ve never seen Mum look so helpless, fragile and vulnerable, and in that moment of shared grief, I felt closer to her than ever before. She bent down and kissed each of her sons in a final goodbye, and told them over and over how much she loved them.

“You were the world’s greatest git, you know,” Fred said to Percy’s coffin, “I can’t think of a time our family was more upset than when you walked out on us, and I know I may never forgive for it, but —” he choked on a sob “— you’re still my brother, and I know that…I’ll miss you.”

When I came over, I kissed my brothers, like Mum had done, but I kissed Bill on a very specific spot on his cheek that I’m pretty sure only I know about, where he is severely ticklish, as I discovered one day when I was three, playing cat, and “cat kissing” him (which meant I was licking him in a lame imitation of a cat) and he dropped me as he squealed with laughter as I hit that spot. I had landed on my bum and when I told him it hurt, I’d never seen a boy so ashamed of his actions. It was cute, and I will always cherish that particular memory.

Percy, on the other hand, has always been one who could evoke a world of different feelings in me. He was always a bit of a prat in school, and he was such a figure of authority that he rarely was aware of anything outside of rules, and the thought that someone he respected and admired could possibly do anything that was as minor as bending a flexible rule, or doing something worthy of spending time in Azkaban, was just not possible, even if the evidence of it being very possible was staring him right in the face. But he was the only male in my life who ever braided my hair. Oddly enough, I think he was the only one who could have braided my hair, since he wasn’t a eager risk-taker like Bill or Charlie, and doesn’t have a sense of humor, like the twins, or a love of Quidditch, like Ron or myself, but he did possess an amount of concentration, due to the fact that he was a stuffy authority figure who was worse than Hermione, to braid my hair, and I will never forget how his touch was every bit as gentle as Mum’s, and the finished product was every bit as good as hers. I ruffled his hair as I kissed him. Fred was right; he had hurt us all when he left us, but I still loved him, and whispered it in his ear, hoping that, wherever he was, he knew that his sister still loved him, and would be forever grateful for that day in her bedroom when she was seven years old and he had so obligingly braided her hair.

I walked away from Percy’s coffin and sat down beside Mum, burying my head in her shoulder, and cried. She cried with me, and we were joined a moment later by Dad. We would be forever a close family, but it would not be the same.

I so wanted to be happy after the war, but it just didn’t seem possible. I had lost two brothers, and had not heard a word from my boyfriend, best friend, and the brother who was closest to my own age and my heart. I had a picture of how the whole war would end, and this wasn’t it. I was furious at myself for hoping to end in a Cinderella fashioned fairytale, and yet, after everything that Voldemort had made happen for my family and everyone I held dear, I wanted more than anything to have my life end in a fairytale.

After Bill and Percy’s funeral, life began…for the most part. It was life free from terror, darkness and insecurity, yes, but while everyone else celebrated endlessly, my family grieved. I won’t say that we were the only ones who suffered terrible losses, that would just be selfish, but I will say that we were one of the more involved families, who had all but adopted the man who was fated to bring Voldy down.

It was three days after the funeral that he came back.

I saw him first. Dad and I were sitting on lawn chairs facing the back garden, looking at it but not really seeing anything. Both of us were completely lost in our thoughts. Thinking had become a popular pastime. Then, suddenly, my peripheral vision caught movement behind a tree, and I turned. Dad hadn’t seen anything, or so I assumed as he continued staring down a gnomehole. I turned, however, at the movement, and saw the emerald eyes of my boyfriend. We locked eyes, but didn’t move. It was surreal.

“Ginny?” Harry croaked. At this, Dad turned too, as I ran towards Harry, throwing myself into his arms. Dad grinned broadly at us, and obligingly left us alone.

“Oh, Harry, I missed you so much. I was so scared,” I said, feeling close to tears, “I needed you.”

“I needed you, too, and I missed you so much.” He kissed me time and time again. I responded eagerly, matching him for intensity and feeling. I kept murmuring his name over and over again, unable to believe how lucky I was.

“I love you, Ginny,” Harry whispered, “so much.”

“I love you, too, Harry, and more than that.” He chuckled. A few happy tears fell down our faces.

“Now,” I said, grinning to rival the Cheshire cat and getting up, offering my hand to help Harry up (the force of my embrace had knocked him over), “let’s go find my prat of a brother and his girlfriend and go hit Hogsmeade!” Harry looked down, suddenly; the twinkle in his eyes, if it had been there in the first place, was gone. Harry’s shoulders started to shake, and with a start, I realized he was crying.

“Harry?” I said, puzzled.

“Ginny…Ron…and Hermione are…are…oh, buggery fuck!! They’re dead!” Harry began to sob, muttering an endless stream of profanities under his breath. I sat down, shock coursing through me.

“No, no, Harry, you must be mistaken,” I said, starting to panic, “for bloody Merlin’s sake, Harry, tell me it’s not so!” He nodded affirmatively, his sobs doubling in intensity. It was so. I looked up at the stars and started to cry. I hadn’t wept this hard even for Bill or Percy. Harry and I enveloped each other in a bone breaking hug and wept unashamedly on each other’s shoulders. How do I describe what it was like? There, warm and assuredly in my arms was the man I loved, but dead and never to return was my brother and my bookworm best friend.

“No, no, no!” I wept, “Ron! Hermione! Why? Why did you? Dammit all!”

Who knows how long Harry and I cried, and frankly, who cares?? Fuck a fairytale ending to the story.

“Harry,” I said through my tears, “how did it happen?”

“Please, Ginny, I can’t bear to relive it all,” Harry said.

“Please, Harry,” I pleaded. He shook his head.

“Please.”

“I can’t.”

“I want to know how my favorite brother and sister died!” I growled fiercely through even more tears, “I loved them more than life, and I deserve to know how they died! Please, I need to know.”

“All right.” Taking huge steadying gasps, Harry sat down on the lawn chair that Dad had vacated.

We had just finished finding the final Horcrux, and were ready for Voldemort. The only thing was we had no idea where he might be. You know what Hermione’s like, she immediately began looking at all the sides of the issue, trying to look at everything from a logical standpoint. We must have spent a good two hours puzzling it out, when a Patronus came out of nowhere and alerted us. It was Kingsley’s Patronus, and we were told to apparate to London at once.

When we arrived, it was to find ourselves in a sea of dead Muggles. Hermione knew where we were, which was good, cause Ron and I certainly didn’t, but Hermione said we were near where she grew up, and wanted to check the bodies for the bodies of her parents. Luckily, after a good two more hours of looking, we were able to verify that they were not there, which gave Hermione some hope, which was good.

That was when we noticed the battle itself. Voldemort and several of his followers were on the street not far from where the bodies were. Ron was the one to puzzle everything out this time, using his chess skills to riddle it out, but before any of his plans could be put into action, it seemed that Voldemort had a magnetic attraction to us, for he apparated in front of us, with Crabbe, Nott, Goyle and Lucius Malfoy, who had Hermione’s parents bound and gagged. Malfoy conjured up two columns and Nott fastened Dr. and Mrs. Granger to them.

“What do you think, Mudblood?” Voldemort said, “what do you think of your parents now? I suppose as a girl you must have thought them strong, invincible and trustworthy. You foolish little brat, parents are not strong, invincible or trustworthy. Come, dear, and let me teach you how to right things. Come on, I know you love to learn.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hermione so mad. She just stepped back and glared at them.

“Come on, Mudblood, you’d be doing them an honor.” Hermione shook her head and mumbled something about what was truly honorable to her parents. Voldemort shook his head.

“Tut, tut. Nott, kill the father first.”

“Avada Kedavra!” I don’t know how Hermione could possibly stand by like she did as her father slumped lifeless against that pillar. She was so strong, Ginny. I couldn’t look at her mother. I’ve never seen someone look so sad, helpless, hopeless, lost and yet proud at the same time.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Crucio!” I couldn’t believe it. Hermione had used an unforgivable curse! And it worked, too, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Voldemort was ready.

“You really are daring, aren’t you, Mudblood? How dare you cast such a noble curse?! Ah, but of course, that is beside the point. Mudblood, step aside and give me Potter and I may let you go. You too, blood traitor.”

“Never,” Hermione said icily.

“If I die helping Harry win, then I will have lived a good life.” I admit, I didn’t know what Ron was saying at first.

“Say your goodbyes then,” Voldemort said sarcastically, “no one has said I’m not merciful.”

“Wha…Ron…what are you two…doing…no! You can’t!” I had said, finally understanding.

“Quiet, Harry. I will always be your friend, you know that, but if my death means that you can stop this bastard, well then…that’s the way things are. Sometimes life really is like chess, Harry.” Ron said

“I will do anything for you, Harry. I always have and I always will.” Hermione said softly. The two then arranged themselves in a wall around me.

“Hermione,” Ron said as he looked down at her, pressing into her body and taking her hands in both of his, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ron,” Hermione said, her voice breaking for the first time. I saw Voldemort raise his wand as she was speaking.

“I love you both!” I shouted.

“We love you, too, Harry,” Ron said. Just as he was hit, he and Hermione had managed to kiss. They died in each other’s arms.


Harry’s sobs broke out anew, and I crawled off of my lawn chair, and snuggled into him, sobbing along with him. We fell asleep on the lawn chair together.

The most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life was tell the rest of my family that Hermione and Ron had died. Mum’s grief was horrible. She looked like she had become a shell, empty of life and soul. Dad had banged his head against the wall, sobbing, until finally Charlie had pulled him away, and had gotten us all the biggest carafe of Firewhiskey ever seen. I’d never seen the twins honestly sob, but they were now, violently, unashamedly, and not in the least bit false, crying on each other’s shoulders, and I realized that the twins’ teasing was their unique way of showing their love, and they had teased Ron more than any of us.

The funeral was one of the most difficult things I’d ever been to. It had been so quick that I’d just attended the funeral of two other of my brothers, and that only days afterward, I was attending another funeral for another brother. Hand in hand, Harry and I approached the front where we all sat, watching Hagrid, who we all agreed should officiate the celebrations.

“We are here to celebrate the life of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jane Granger,” Hagrid said through his sobs, tears running unchecked down his face, “the wizarding world may well remember them as heroes who died to give Harry Potter a chance to defeat Voldemort, but to us, they will be always and forever be the beloved son, daughter, brother, sister, couple, and friends that they were, and to them I toast. Thank you, Ronald Bilius and Hermione Jane, thank you for being our son, daughter, brother, sister, and friend. Thank you for being born.” Hagrid barely managed to coherently say the last part, dissolving into the horrible, painful grief that had consumed us; I couldn’t hear anything other than sobbing. Neville Longbottom was in the row just behind us, sobbing beside his grandmother who looked sad and scared. For the first time since I knew her, I saw color in Luna’s cheeks and tears in her eyes. Fred, George and Lee Jordan had formed in a circle embrace, hugging, comforting each other and praying. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were in the row behind Neville, and both were fighting a loosing battle against their tears for a lost roommate and friend. Parvati and Lavender were there, too. Parvati was weeping a river, but Lavender, I was incensed to see, seemed relatively unemotional. I just managed to get up and follow Harry to Ron and Hermione’s coffins.

“Ron, you were my first and my best mate,” Harry said gruffly, “and I will never forget the times and the adventures we shared together. You will always be my brother, and I will never forget you. Ever. I love you, brother.” I approached his coffin as Harry made his way over to Hermione. My sobs had stopped, but tears still flowed down my eyes.

“Hey, brother. I’m not going to be as good as Harry was in eulogizing you, because I don’t know where to begin; I don’t know what adventure that you and I shared is the one I’ll remember best. I will always remember when you would talk to me about Hermione. Oh, Ron, I loved talking girls with you. Not because I really could offer advice, well not as good as Mum can, but I loved seeing you blush when I got to talk to you about the female body. You always knew how to make me laugh without meaning to. What about the first time you told me that story about the knight, the princess and the huge spider, when you were four and I was three? We had some damn good times, Ron, and I’m going to miss them. I’m going to miss you.

“I remember how proudly you declared to us the summer of fifth year that you were so certain that you would win Hermione in the end and that you would carry on the Weasley tradition with her. I never told you how excited I was at the prospect of nieces and nephews. Just remember, Ron, to always treat the woman with respect and love, and make sure to let her have her say. I love you, Ron, and there won’t be a day that goes by when I won’t miss you.” I ended on a half laugh, half sob, repeating word for word, one of the things I had told Ron when we did talk girls together. I moved on to Hermione, and as I looked down at her, my sobs came back. I’m not saying that I necessarily loved Hermione more than I loved Ron, but before you go away screaming bloody murder, remember that a bond between two women can be a special thing, and I certainly had a special bond with Hermione that I did not have with my brothers.

“Oh, Hermione,” I sobbed, looking down at her peaceful face, “what am I going to do without you? Who am I going to talk boys with? Share all my girly secrets to? Please don’t leave me, Hermione, please! I remember when we first became friends, how you said you envied me so much, because you didn’t have any friends prior to coming to Hogwarts. I never had any true friends, either, Hermione, before you. I will never forget the times we did things together. We talked together about our first periods together, we talked about Ron and Harry together, called them gits together. I will always cherish the times we danced together, and cuddled together, for no particular reason…well that was what we said then. I know the reason now. You’re my sister, Hermione, and my best friend and soul mate. I love you and miss you with all my being. Oh, and tell your parents hi for me up there, will you? Goodbye, Mione, I will never forget you, or stop loving you.” Tenderly, I kissed Hermione, and then my brother, rejoining Harry, burying myself into his warm embrace.

“How are you?” Harry asked me softly and concernedly. His eyes were still puffy and red, and the tear tracks were still fresh, but he also looks almost relieved.

“I’ll be okay with time,” I responded. He nodded.

The rest of the ceremony went relatively smoothly. A Bagpiper came in and played a lament while Harry and I stood in front of Ron and Hermione’s coffins and said the spell that cremated the bodies. After the coffins were replaced with marble urns, Mum and Dad carried Ron’s urn to his grave, while Harry, the closest Hermione had to a living relative, carried her urn to her grave beside Ron. We cast the ashes into the graves while Hagrid sang a lovely hymn that he said Dumbledore taught him when his own father passed away. We covered the graves, said our final farewells, and left.

As Harry, Mum, Dad, Charlie, the twins and I headed back to the Burrow, the sun was setting, and I couldn’t help but notice how the color was a flaming red, like Ron’s hair, but the light mixed with the clouds to give off the look of bushy brown hair mixed together with red hair. I smiled. For the first time since the war ended, I smiled. It would take a long time, but we would be okay. Harry would later say that Ron and Hermione were the true heroes of the war, who died to give us all a chance at a happy life. He’s right, but then, we all are.

THE END

Reviews 6
ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter




../back
‘! Go To Top ‘!

Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
Design and code © 2006 by SteveD3(AdminQ)
Additional coding © 2008 by melkior and Bear