Center Aisle

~~Center Aisle~~

Thank God I'm back in my car

And driving home

Cause the air was thin and so cold

Back in there

Harry shivered rubbing at the goose bumps that had been on his arms for the past three hours. They were not helped by the fact that he had just been walking through the torrential rain to his car. He was glad the funeral was finally over. A massive amount of people had come to mourn despite the foul weather. The visitation had been cold and silent, and the congregation was a huge throng of people wearing black clothes and pale faces. The room was painted in deep soothing tones, and there hung banners of scarlet and gold, but it did nothing to pacify the assembly's anguish. The gravesite had been even worse; wet and muddy, yet the mourners had come anyway, saying their very last goodbyes in the rain that was pouring down in sheets from the grey skies, as if angels were crying for the loss of a life so young.

It was my first time

Won't be my last time

And the questions rise

Expectations fall

In light of it all

It had been Harry's first funeral, and personally, he hoped it would be his last for a long time. After the heartbreak of today, and seeing everybody's grief and feeling his own, he would rather the next funeral that he attended was his own. His heart felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice grip by an ice cold hand, and it wouldn't release him. In his heart, and many others, the questions were forcing themselves to the surface, but sadly, nobody on earth could possibly ever answer them.

He wondered why she did it. He wondered what was so bad that drove her to such a point, that she felt that the only way to escape her problems was through suicide. He supposed nobody would ever really understand.

There aren't words to say

Words aren't remembered

But presence is

A good friend once told me

And he was there

But she wasn't there

It's not fair

It's not fair

The Eulogy had been heartrending and emotional, given by none other than Ron, and Harry had also forced himself to say a few words, feeling that in not doing so he would betray her memory. And Ron told him, as he did the entire congregation, "There are not words to say, for words are not remembered. But presence is."

And she was the presence. It was her. You had to remember her. Harry could have sworn he had felt her presence lingering still, at the gravesite, waiting to finally be put to rest. Ron was there. He, Harry was there. But she wasn't there, and it wasn't fair. Why had she left them all behind? Didn't she know the pain she would cause among those who knew her?

What crimes have you committed?

Demanding such penance?

That couldn't wait for five more minutes

And a cry for help

And this room is so peaceful

And this room is so quiet

And I hate the silence

And I can't walk the Center Aisle

What was so horrible in her life that she had done this? Why couldn't she of gotten help? There were so many loving people in her life that would have been more then willing to help her. Why hadn't she gone to somebody? It could have taken but a few simple words.

But she didn't seek help, and had taken the 'easy way out', and now she had left them behind forever. Harry remembered the note she had left.

"... This is no one's fault but my own. Please don't blame yourselves for how I've screwed up my life, because from this day forth, my life is no more.... Please don't feel bad, mum and dad, it wasn't your fault; it had to be done, my only escape... I wish that Ron would give my Eulogy, and I hope that Harry would be willing to say a few words also... Harry, as my last wish to you, do not blame yourself. Please don't. It's not your fault.... I ask that a Catholic priest lead my funeral services. Mum, and Dad, I know you have never believed in Him as I did, but as my final wish, please grant me this. For He is there in all of us, and I shall soon be with him...."

Harry remembered the shock they had felt when he and Ron and found the note left in the common room. Harry had looked up at Ron, his mouth dry. Ron's shaking fingers had slowly let the parchment drop to the floor as they both unconsciously let tears run down their faces. They raced to Dumbledore, and found her where she said she would be. She sat peacefully in the Astronomy Tower, facing the mountains and trees. Her body was still warm, her eyes were gently closed, and she had a smile on her face, a relieved smile of one who had just been released from their worst nightmare. For her, life had become her worst nightmare. And she did the only thing she thought she could do. She ended it.

The funeral had been so quiet and peaceful, yet the questions rested heavily on everyone's mind. The silence had been unbearable.

I've been here for over three hours

Beside the flowers

So beautiful and so young

And so alive

And so in need of someone

Someone to talk to them

Cause theirs are fragile lives

"And I wish to be buried in my Hogwarts robes... and my coffin be surrounded by one thousand pure white roses..."

Her wishes had been granted. Harry remembered the last goodbyes before the coffin had been closed. Her shinning hair lay draped over her shoulders, her once sparkling eyes full of happiness closed peacefully, and a content smile on her pale face. So sad and so beautiful. Harry could still feel the iciness of her stiff, colorless hand, and the bittersweet smell of the white roses had been intoxicating.

She shouldn't be gone. She was too young. She had too much of her life ahead of her. She had been only sixteen. Why hadn't somebody been there for her? She told him not to blame himself, but why hadn't HE been there for her? Where was he while she became further away from them? Why hadn't he realized it? What if Ron and he had come back from practice on time, instead of racing each other around the pitch ten times before coming inside? What if they had gotten there just five more minutes earlier? Would they have been able to stop her, and convince her that she was worth it? Would she still be here today, laughing with them, her eyes sparkling?

And I think about my best friend

And how I just stood there

With my hands in my pockets

And my heart in my throat

Harry sighed and closed his eyes as he continued after the slippery roads back to Grimmauld Place, glad that he had gotten his license, because he didn't think he could bear to go back with anybody. The emotions at the funeral ran to high for him to handle anyone at the moment. He had seen a vulnerable side of many people, as death so often leaves us with. He remembered Ron and the rainy gravesite, and his anguish. How he, Harry, had just stood there with his hand shoved into his blazer pockets, tears silently streaming down his face, his heart in his throat, as his hair was whipped around by the windy rain. He would never forget the look of pain on each person's face, as one by one they left a dozen blood red roses on her coffin before it was lowered into the ground. Harry remembered the sudden gust of wind that had picked up as the water-beaded, polished mahogany coffin along with the droplet covered roses was lowered into the ground while the priest blessed the coffin with the Sign of the Cross, saying a small prayer in Latin. Shivers had been sent down each and every mourner's spine as she was put to rest.

Thank God I'm back in my car

And driving home

And driving home

But in that place I leave

All my days of taking life for granted

And the words I wrote for her

And my best friend crying

And a young girl lying

On all our hearts

He had known the familiarity of death before, but the idea that one would take their own life amazed Harry. He was now finished taking life for granted. He would live his life to its fullest, and spend each day as if it were his last, for one day, he knew it would be. And he would think about her everyday. He would remember everything that happened, and everything he went through. He would remember the sight of her body lying in the coffin and Ron's ashen face as he realized what had happened; he would remember the bittersweet smell of the roses; the sound of weeping, and the touch of her icy hand, all from the days following her death. He would always remember her; remember Ron crying, and her lying. He would never forget the picture of Ron standing unmoving in the mud out by her grave after it had been covered, his eyes red and bloodshot and his cheeks wet from the rain yet dry of his own tears. Harry had clasped him on the shoulder, and Ron abruptly turned around.

"She's gone Harry. Gone. She's not coming back. I'll never see her again..." His voice broke, and the tears began to stream again. "I can't help feeling that we could have stopped her... if we hadn't stayed out... that she might still be here... we should have realized something was wrong. Oh, bloody hell, Harry, it's all my fault!"...

Harry felt dry, like an empty shell. He felt loss. He felt that he never knew her quite enough. And maybe he hadn't.

What Crimes have you committed?

Demanding such penance?

That couldn't wait for five more minutes

And a cry for help

Cause this room is so peaceful

And this room is so quiet

And I hate the silence

And I can't walk the Center Aisle.