Hanging By a Thread

Hanging by a Thread

He couldn't feel anymore. He knew he should have gotten up and gone to work hours ago, but he couldn't move. She was gone. Gone forever. He didn't want to move or feel.

It had not in fact, been only a few hours, but a few weeks. He hadn't moved since the news of her death three and a half weeks ago.

There's a certain kind of pain that can numb you.

"She can't do this to me," he thought to himself. "She made me a promise." Indeed, on their wedding night they had vowed to each other that they would never leave the other behind, and that nothing would stop their love. Well, something had. She had. He was now free of her, but he didn't want to be.

There's a king of freedom that can tie you down.

We can't find out what's wrong with him." The doctors said. It was an enigma of sorts. He didn't move, but he wasn't sick or injured. He hadn't spoken, eaten, or woken up. They didn't know what to do.

Sometimes the unexplained can define you

The silence, it pressed on his eats so he couldn't think. There was to be no more "good morning sunshine," or "Coffee's ready darling" in a lilting Irish drawl.

And sometimes silence is the only sound.

He was brimming with emotion or lack of it really. He couldn't figure out which, with all his grief. He was empty, emotionless.

There's a kind of emptiness that can fill you.

Oh, how he yearned for her! He was never to hold her again, never to satisfy the hunger of his love. Never. The word resounded through the cold, dark recesses of his mind. Never, Never, Never.....

There's a type of hunger that can eat you up.

He was the moon shining brightly through the St. Mungo's windows. She had loved the moon. Always, she would drag him out at ungodly hours of the night to look at it. To stare at all it's silvery splendor and beauty. He had once seen moonlight as warm, loving. Now, it was cold, hard and cruel. Unforgiving.

There's a cold and darker side of the moonlight.

It had been months, but he still loved her. He would until the day he died. But he didn't know if he could handle his love for someone who wasn't there when he was alone. It was almost unbearable, the loneliness.

And there's a lonely side of love.

When she was alive and they were together, he had been invincible. He couldn't lose; he was completely self-confidant. He knew the Dark Lord would be defeated. He knew that everyone would be happy someday. Now, he was but a shell of himself, nothing.

With you here, baby I am strong, no sign of weakness.

With you gone, baby I am hanging by a thread.

After 4 months of almost coma like trances, he finally awoke and got out of bed. She didn't greet him, and he knew what he had to do. He would be reunited with her, no matter what the cost. It would be done tonight.

The next day, they found his body on the floor, an assortment of pills scattered around him, bottle rolling on the tile. They checked his pulse. Nothing. Why he picked a Muggle form of suicide, no one could figure out. But it didn't matter.

They buried him next to her beneath the willow in the backyard. The willow where they had first kissed. Their gravestones are heartbreaking to see.

Hermione Jane Granger-Potter

Beloved wife and friend

Brightest witch of our time

1981-2003

Harry James Potter

Beloved husband and friend

Boy-Who-Lived and Boy-Who-Died

1981-2004

With you here, baby I am strong no sign of weakness.

With you gone, baby I am hanging by a thread.