The two figures walked silently in unity, their feet trudging through the high snow. Both their faces were wet with tears, and the girl clutched a bundle of bright red roses. They stopped immediately in front of a strong iron gate beside a small cozy church, adorned with brilliant Christmas lights, and inside voices sang in chorus to familiar Christmas songs.
They both stared beyond, unsure of whether to go in or not. The red-headed boy made his decision first and leaned on the gate, crying into his hands. The girl seemed unable to look at him, and her gaze was locked by a white marble tombstone that was remotely new.
She made a small movement toward him, reaching out her hand, her eyes still fixed on the stone, but then deciding against it, walked inside the empty graveyard.
She walked on, her feet feeling like lead. She was scared to see those words, scared that somehow something inside of her would be wounded far more than it already was, but now she had to be brave. Somehow she would hold her confidence …
She lastly arrived, and read the words to herself silently, “Harry Potter. A hero, a friend, a symbol of innocence and bravery that we all have inside of us.” She shook her head, but almost instantly she wailed, and dropped to her knees.
Angry tears ran down her eyes, and her pale face turned a blotchy red.
Memories buzzed inside her head: the first time they had met, on the train. She was surprised to actually, physically, see Harry Potter, who was much different in person. When he had saved her from the rampaging mountain troll – how bravely he had jumped on the troll's back and attempted to attack him with his wand. How he showed so much concern in second year, and risked his own life to save Ginny's. How they had both saved Sirius and Buckbeak together. Fourth year, the long hours they had spent studying, how much she had worried that his rash decisions would cause him to meet horrid ends. How upset she had been when he hardly practiced Occlumency, and his cries of despair because of Sirius rang in her head.
When he described to her how Snape had killed Dumbledore – the pain and sorrow, when she finally realized that this was more complicated then she could have imagined.
Her memories faded, and she longed for them to come back. She wanted to relish them, replay them for ages and ages, but she didn't dare remember anything after that. She didn't have enough courage to see his vacant stare and pale face, while those around him shrieked with joy. How a whole seemed to have ripped inside her – how lost it had seemed.
'Harry?' She had asked, her voice was close to breaking, 'Harry, get up! Look ,everyone is so happy. Please, Harry.'
She remembered faintly how she had cried, and how others tried consoling her. They were sad, of course, but they had admitted into believing Harry wouldn't survive.
And after that, how she lived, was weird, different. She wasn't happy – she didn't enjoy school work, hardly argued with Ron, and barely spoke to her confused parents.
Blinding pain, that's what she felt. Her heart had ached, her dreams broken, her best-friend no more.
How could she live now that she knew he was gone? Why did death have to pounce? She knew Harry was happy now that he was reunited with those he loved, but why couldn't he wait? Just until she was hanging on to her last life thread …
She realized, with deepening regret and sadness; he was gone. Gone forever. As simple as that. She'd never playfully scold him, support him in his Quidditch games, act like a mentor when he didn't finish his homework ..
She would never see him laughing or smiling at the twin's jokes … never, ever.
“I love you, Harry.” She whispered, almost to herself. She had never said these words before because they didn't feel right. She didn't think she would have to. Harry already knew she cared for him and wanted what was best. He did too, and they both did love each other. She figured she would have forever to express her feelings – how she appreciated his commitment to her, something she had never experienced before because of how she was always alienated. How he had changed her from someone who was worked up about school, to someone bright and understanding – who believed that more important things then good grades existed. Who taught her that courage and determination could go a long way …
She felt a sinking, nauseating feeling in her stomach, and she understood perfectly. No matter how much she wished, or begged, Harry would never come back alive, smile his cheeky grin while staring at her through his round spectacles, his emerald eyes gleaming with happiness, and say, “I love you too, Hermione.”
She sobbed louder, and threw the roses away, before summoning a Christmas wreath and placed it delicately on his tombstone.
“Goodbye.” She said, her voice coming in between sobs. She knew, no matter how hard she said otherwise, that this would be her last goodbye.
Ron had been watching quietly, but now came up behind her and whispered, “We shoul-” His voice broke midway, and both of them stood paralyzed before Hermione nodded, and just like a year ago, she walked away from that church, consoling herself and her broken friend, the warm songs fading into the distance.