Current mood:	weird
Current music:	Type O Negative - Christian Woman

Lamentation (13)
Title: Lamentation
Author: drusillas_rain aka Willow Dean
Challenge: written for jamie2109’s ADWT challenge
Prompt: “A door opened behind him/her.”
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 518
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kink/Squick: Necrophilia
Warning: Character Death
Disclaimer: JKR’s characters are not mine
A/N: I really should be finishing my fic for the upcoming harry_submits challenge. Instead this happened. Also, I highly recommend the movie Kissed.
Summary: War means there are no perfect moments.
Cross-posted: hp_kink, hp_squick, weasleyworship and hpangst



PLEASE READ THE WARNING ABOVE


She pushed open the door and lit all the torches with a wave of her wand. There, in the centre of the small room, was a body covered in a white sheet.

The battle had been fierce and chaotic, and Hermione had ducked curses and screamed hexes of her own. The trio had been separated almost from the beginning and now as the skirmish had begun to wind down, she searched for Ron and Harry. Suddenly, Bellatrix caught her eye, and she sprinted amidst the bodies, only to arrive too late.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Just like that, he fell.

Hermione quickly retaliated with a curse of her own, her grief and anger enough to fuel the Crucio. Aurors arrived, and she released the Lestrange bitch, pausing only long enough to spit on her still twitching body.

She sank to her knees and pulled the red-haired boy into her lap. Now he was on a cold slab, waiting to be buried.

They would never have their happily ever after. Never rent a flat with Harry in London. Or buy a house of their own.

Hurried kisses in the trenches would never be replaced with leisurely ones on a warm Sunday afternoon with the telly on and Crookshanks stretched across their lap. And she would never know what it would feel like to have Ron’s weight pressing against her.

She pulled back the sheet as tears came to her eyes again. He still looked so much like the boy who used to drive her mad, always telling her to lighten up and not study so much.

She undressed in silence, and tried to stop her tears.

They had shared a tent for only a few weeks, and never ventured past the occasional stolen moment. She cursed herself for wanting everything to be perfect for their first time. What was wrong with her, she thought over and over again. There was a war on, and it didn’t allow for perfect moments.

She undid Ron’s robe, unbuttoned his shirt, undid his trousers. His cock was soft and she whispered words she had encountered in a dusty tome that hardened it. Climbing onto the table, she straddled his body and impaled herself. Her tears came again, and she wailed as she fucked her lover for the first time.

She moved faster and faster and closed her eyes, letting her mind think that Ron was only being passive as a game. Ron was alive and she was fucking him, making love to him, and it was their perfect moment.

Hermione rubbed her clit, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting to think about what she was doing, what she would never do, what would end too soon and not soon enough.

Breathing heavily, she was still crying when the door opened behind her. She got up off the table, and put her clothing back on as the intruder closed the door and walked into the room. The figure pulled out his wand and dressed Ron again, straightening the robes and pulling back the sheet. Harry embraced Hermione as she collapsed onto the floor, crying.