One-shot, Sounds of a Forgotten Piece, by Me.

Era: Post-Hogwarts

Rating: PG - 13

Warnings: Violence, mostly, kinda. -snick- Suicidal things, also.

Author's Comment: Not the best writer. Sue me.

Disclaimer: I do not own JKR's characters.

Sitting here waiting for the Harry Potter to come up to your room and sweep you off your feet is not an easy job, my dear. You have to watch your best-friend, soon to be ex, get letters from him and your brother.


I feel like up-chucking my breakfast just thinking about it.

Besides, that's not the point. Ze point is, as my lovely future sister-in-law would say, "I am sick and tired of zis waiting. I am ready for zis to happen and ready to become hiz wife."


Okay, I wouldn't exactly put it like this per se, but close enough.

Clip, clip.

I hear my scissors go as I cut the picture of me and Harry in the common room kissing.

Clip, clip.

I cut my heart into pieces while feeling the pain and watching the blood spill out.

Clip, clip.

The scissors are saying all the words that I am screaming, the words that need to be said.

Clip, clip.

They are telling a story. A story of heartache. A story of a person who has waited, but only to be put down by this opportunity.

Clip, split.

My skin is ripped open by the sharp edge of these scissors. On purpose? No, but maybe.

Split, split.

I continue though, not caring if one of my brothers come in and see me playing with sharp scissors and skin.

Split, split.

I feel no pain.

Split, split.


Split, stab.

No heartbeat.

I can't hear you Hermione. There's no hearing the words I love you. No feeling of the heat of our bodies. No hearing the words "I love you." No seeing the flowers bloom in the spring. No thinking of the consequences of this decision I have made. No heartbeat that continues a pattern in this body of mine. No life at all.

(There may be a sequel. Most likely. I would like to see reviews. -nods- )