Grayish Purple

Death is a strange feeling.

My ever scientific self does not consider that a well drawn conclusion, 
but since I've only got one chance to experience it, it's the best I can do.

It's strange, because it doesn't seem like it's really happening to me. 
More like it's happening in a corny movie, and I'm just watching. 

You know, every piece written on death compares it to a 'darkness' or 
'a white light', or even a red blur filling the eyes. 

They're wrong. It's actually more of a grayish purple. 

They've also said that the pain seems to fade, or diminish, or simply 
become unimportant as the death throes progresses.

That's also wrong. From my limited experience, I feel that I can safely say 
that death is extremely painful. 

It's very strange, to feel the blood ooze out of my body. To feel the 
constricting pain in my chest every time I struggle to take a breath. To 
feel the beats of my heart, loud as a drum in my ears, gradually space apart. 

I blink (or at least, I try to). 

My heart is stopping. 

Oh, god...

Pushing through the gray-purple haze that has begun to seep into the corners 
of my eyes, I see my friends. My professors. All crying, or looking 
remorseful. I try to call out to them. Tell them that I'll be okay. Voldemort 
has tried to kill me tons of times. I've always survived. Why should 
this time be any different?

But I can't do it. The words are stuck in my throat, my voice seems to have 
taken leave. I can't summon enough breath for the effort of any action. 
And all the while, blood seeps everywhere. 

This...

This is for real? 

They're kneeling over me now, trying to stop the blood oozing from the fatal 
wound on my chest. Their actions are in vain, of course. They know it 
as well as I do. I don't know why they try.

I summon a deep, gasping breath. So much effort... 

I look around, taking in the last moment through the haze. Ron, standing 
back, looking bitter and sad. Hermione, clutching my side, her grip loosening 
as she realizes that it's hopeless. McGonagall, as close to a breakdown 
as I've ever seen her. Snape, looking hassled and upset...

Hold up.

Snape? Upset? 

About my death?

I'd laugh, but it's too damned hard. 

And there, in the middle of them all, stands Dumbledore. God, he 
looked old. Weary. Anguished, I think. But I can't really see too good anymore. 

I sigh and shut my eyes, hoping that the end will come when my eyelids are 
firmly closed. That's how it always happens in the movies, at least.

...

Great. Now it's just dark purple-gray, and I can't open my eyes again. 

Oh, wait, here comes the tunnel...

Well, it's not a tunnel, really. What a gyp. More of a pinpoint of really 
bright green purple. It is getting larger, though.

Well, at least all those books had something right about this. You know, 
I could right a book on death and make a fortune!

...

Except for the fact that I'll be dead.

Lightheadedness must be a syndrome of death. Or maybe it's caused by the 
bloodloss. I seem to be missing a lot of that.

I feel sleepy. And the light is changing color.

Well, this isn't so bad. Kind of like a muggle disco.

I hear sobbing, but it's distant now. Everything is distant. The only 
thing I hear clearly is the beating of my heart, throbbing in my 
ears with a vengeance. 

This is it...

God, this took a long time...

Not that I'm complaining, or anything...

I hear it beat, loud and clear, one last time. The light is bright, 
brighter than can be described. There are no angels to greet me, nor flames. 
No celestial visions of my dead parents, welcoming me into their eternal 
heavenly kingdom. Just...light. 

The blur of brightness parts. 

And then...

...and then...