Her perfect field is as smooth as glass. The sun illuminates every blade of grass, and every perfect petal. A cool breeze blows through the grass, sighing lazily. There’s neither a cloud in the sky nor a care in the world. Birds sing their thanks for being part of such a beautiful day. Everything is serene and a sense of content envelops it. This beautiful sun-touched field was her dream, and nothing more. A way to keep her from going insane as her eyes sweep a field so real she can smell the rotting corpses that lay in it, clashing ugly with grass meant to be green, and now soaked red.
Everything is deathly quiet, a quiet so uncomfortable that she wants to scream or yell or do something, anything, to break the haunting silence. She cannot break that silence though, because that would make her see the real field she was standing in. The silence becomes more unbearable, threatening to sweep her under as it grows in power. A sob escapes her lips and the deathly silence is broken, her cry becoming louder and louder so that she claps her hands to her ears and sinks to her knees on the rotting grass. Her beautiful field shatters into a million pieces to be replaced by a scarred and ugly one. And so she weeps, for innocence lost and beauty forgotten.
He lay staring into the unfathomable sky, wondering where it ended. He had felt pain before but now his whole body was alien to him as he stared dreamily into the never-ending gray, accepting the knowledge of his looming death. A bird flew across his vision breaking his stupor. Pain shot through him as his body reminded him that it was still there. He tilted his aching head to the side just as the sun came out from behind a cloud, illuminating a beautiful brown haired girl whom he had once known, as she sank to her knees. Bathed in the sunlight, she looked like an angel kneeling in prayer for the horrors that had occurred that day. She was his angel. His brown-haired angel whom he loved and whom had never looked more beautiful then she did now. And so with his final breath, he finally opened his eyes to the glory of the world that had hidden its face until death unveiled it, so that he had to squint with the beauty it shone, and acknowledge that he would no longer be a part of that beauty.
In a crumpled heap of pain, he lie in wait for death to sweep him under in a tidal wave of darkness. His father had been right after all. He would die for doing what was right. Trying to be angry that he had chosen the good side over the dark, he found that he could not. He did not regret his choice for the wondrous effects it had had on his life. Though he would never be best friends with any of them, he had felt his heart reach out against his will to his comrades. Above it all was the wonderful knowledge that for once he had taken his life into his own hands. Now that death had cleared his mind, he could see that he had set himself up for a great life. Oh how cruel irony should be, that only when dying can you see all that living could have been.
The light was already shining through the black, calling him away from the world he had embraced for so long. He did not want to go to the light; he wanted to remain in the darkness. At least the darkness made him feel alive. Funny that now he was finally dying, his mind and body focused on the struggle to live, when all he could do while living was wish he was dead. For the first time in months he realized just what he had missed while he wallowed in his own self pity. He regretted all the times he could have spent laughing with his friends instead of locking himself in a dark corner of his own mind. The bright light insisted though and he felt his will breaking down.
Ginny watched as Hermione fell to her knees in the blood-soaked grass, sobbing the cruelty of life. She turned in time to see Ron, her dear brother, take his last breath with an awed expression on his face. Tears threatened to spill over so she turned once again to come face to face with a dead Draco who had a beautifully real smile on his face for the first time. She stared until a tiny movement caught her eye and she looked over to see Harry, poor lovely Harry. Ginny watched in horror as one tear squeezed itself out of his eye and his chest failed to rise. Death surrounded her on all sides, pressed into her still living body. She knew she would not join them this day, and the knowledge made her scared. Ginny did not want to be the only one living. Yet, even as she raised her wand to perform an unforgivable spell upon herself, she realized she could not. She wanted to do it so badly, but something was holding her back, making her arm so heavy that it would not rise above her hip. Suddenly she understood. No, she would not commit the terrible crime of ending her own life; not for herself, but for all her dead companions. For suicide was the easy way out of life, and she would not become a coward. If her dear friends were brave enough to risk their own life for her and the rest of the world, then surely she was brave enough to live.
The field was perfect once more, though she knew that it was fragile. The wind, the birds, the flowers, all was as it should be. There was something new though this time. This time there was a bright light, a light that showed the true nature of everything in that field. Everything shone with a beauty so magnificent that no living person would ever be able to look at it and live as they had before. She realized now that this field would always be there in all its glory, though nobody would ever know see it in its depth. Contrary to her belief, it had never shattered, it had only broken, and broken things can always be fixed.