Forbidden Mourning

It was a beautiful, bright April morning. A Sunday. Birds were singing, leaves from trees scattered about the grounds were sparkling like living emeralds, and fluffy white clouds were making their voyage from one side of the horizon to the other. Ginny hated every bit if it.

This day was not cheerful. This was not a day for bright, hot sunshine. This was not a day for singing birds, not a day for pretty trees, not a day for fluffy clouds. This, Ginny thought, was a day for rain. This was the day her beloved had died.


Sunday is gloomy
my hours are slumberless
dearest the shadows I live with
are numberless


Draco Malfoy, casualty of war. The only death from Hogwarts when Voldemort finally brought his Death Eater army to Hogwarts. No one really knew whether he died in the name of the light side or the dark side- most of the Gryffindors didn’t really care. Most. One did.


Little white flowers
will never awaken you
not where the black coach of sorrow
has taken you


The hardest part for Ginny was to act like she didn’t care, like it didn’t matter to her that Malfoy died. It had been their secret- their relationship. No one knew about the time they met in the library for the single copy of a book for an essay, at which time had Ginny realized that maybe there was another side to Draco after all. It had taken a long time to crack through the ice shrouding his heart, but it was well worth it. Draco Malfoy had been more that her true love. He had been her best friend, the one she could tell anything to, even more so than other sixth year Gryffindors or Hermione.

The pain in her was so great she just wanted to scream out to everyone, “Draco Malfoy was a good person! He was my best friend! He was my boyfriend!!” A hand on her shoulder startled Ginny out of her thoughts, and she turned quickly. “You okay Gin?” asked her brother. “This is Malfoy, remember?” Hermione stopped him from saying anything less tactful in the presence of so many Slytherins by putting her free hand around his shoulders; her other hand was being held by Harry. Hermione shook her head sadly as people started to leave the site of the fresh grave, off to their dormitory to either mourn the loss of a friend or pretend not to be glad Malfoy was gone. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned away too, looking back at Ginny expectantly. “I’ll be right there,” she said.

Ginny looked around. The last of the teachers were finally leaving. Looking at their faces, she saw that they all looked sad, even Snape, whom Ginny rarely saw without a look of loathing on his face. Now he almost looked like he was about to cry. As the teachers stepped through the threshold into the castle, Ginny finally freely approached the grave of her beloved. She knelt at the freshly turned earth, allowing tears to fall from her eyes for the first time.


Angels have no thought
of ever returning you
would they be angry if I
thought of joining you?


Gloomy Sunday


Ginny traced her fingers in the soil, trying not to drown in memories of the times she and Draco had spent with each other. A sob left her lips, but the pain in her didn’t lessen. Keeping her feelings inside her had done nothing other than hide them, it didn’t destroy them. Now that they were allowed to show themselves, Ginny realized just how much pain at his loss there was. Tears slowed their stream down her milky white skin as she reached into her pocket for her blade.


Sunday is gloomy
with shadows I spend it all
my heart and I have decided to
end it all


Ginny knew she wasn’t acting rationally, but she didn’t care. The pain inside her was so great she just wanted to lessen it, end it, even if by a different pain. She held the dagger in her right hand over her left wrist, pausing for a moment. Then with a flash of silver, it moved quickly against her flesh, severing the vein within, life-giving blood spilling out of her like the pain pouring out of her very soul. Ginny repeated the motion with the blade in her left hand moving against her right, and she knew she’d be with Draco soon. She smiled. Really smiled, for the first time in a while.


Death is no dream
for in death I’m caressing you
with the last breath of my soul
I’ll be blessing you


“Draco, my love… I’m coming…”


Gloomy Sunday