Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel

By: angel-eyes

Fred stumbled across the tightly packed gravel and pebbles that divided the graveyard. In the background, an eroding and towering building stood. The building was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - destroyed during the epic battle between Voldemort and the rest of the wizardingworld. Now, the grounds of Hogwarts served the purpose of a memorial to all those who had perished.

The newly cropped grass was littered with rows upon rows of grey marble sepulchres. Hundreds of Ministry Officials, professors and former students lay in their final resting place. The lawn was divided by four stone gravel paths - in the shape of a cross. Each section was home to one of the houses - Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. The Slytherin and Gryffindor section lay side by side; a reminder that even in death, the rivalry was never fully solved, while Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were beside each other.

In the two years since the War had ended, Fred noticed a tradition forming amongst various witches and wizards. Every June witches and wizards from all over the UK would migrate to come pay their respects or just take a look at how many people had risked their lives to give them the world they now had.

* * *

Like he did every year, Fred moved from each section, glancing vacantly at the gravestones. He moved through the Hufflepuff and Slytherin sections quite quickly; there weren't many people he had fond memories of. Lastly, he arrived at his former house and took plenty of time standing above each gravestone. The names floated around him like a haze, causing many of the gravestones to be blurred. As he neared one grey-marble tombstone with a carved statue of a racing broom, he realized at once that he had found Harry Potter's grave. He read the familiar inscription:

Harry James Potter
July 1980-July 1998
His courage and nobility
Will lay in our memory forever.

Probably not what Harry would have liked to have seen, but after all, when others were in grave peril, he was always there. The ever fearful avenger. It was because of him that Voldemort and all his destruction was ended.

"A true Gryffindor," Fred mused.

"Fancy seeing you here, Fred," a voice called out from behind him.

"I come every year," Fred replied, not turning around. There was no need, he knew who it was.

His brother, Percy Weasley.

"Penelope says hi," he said, stepping next to him. They were both facing forward, in a position that invited confidence, and yet, they didn't say anything.

Eventually, Percy said something. "Have you been to her grave yet?"

In an instant, Fred was reminded of the 'her' that Percy was speaking of.

In his mind's eye, like a movie reel, the past moved in front of his eyes. Him, at fifteen, hearing her name being called out at the Sorting Ceremony. He remembered seeing her slightly relieved look when the hat placed her in Gryffindor. She was a beauty then, bushy hair and all. Then, when she was twelve, petrified and lying so close near death in the Hospital Wing. The next year, she was thirteen, and he remembered her as the girl who was juggling more than a full course load, staying up until all hours to do her work. She was fourteen the next year, and growing up. When she was at their house for the summer, he remembered her laughter, her slight overbite, and her long bushy hair. Fred always assumed no one knew that he was pining after a girl who was younger than him, but as luck would have it, Percy found out.

And yet, despite the brother-to-brother conversations they seemed to have while Fred finished school, he never could approach her. Ironic, really, Fred thought. He was fearless on the pitch, chasing after Bludgers, and yet, when he saw Hermione it seemed all the fearlessness was gone, and replaced by a crimson faced boy. Now, standing in the Hogwarts Memorial, he knew it was too late.

Percy was waiting for an answer. Clearing his throat; an attempt to choke back tears, Fred nodded. "No, not yet. I always save her grave for last."

Satisfied with his brother's answer, Percy continued to stare at Harry's gravestone. Fred moved along, seeing the faceless names loom at him. Finally, he reached his destination: Hermione Granger's tombstone.

Her tombstone had been engraved with a stack of books, her name, birth and death dates and an inscription:

Hermione Marie Granger
September 1980-July 1998
A scholar even in death.

His heart broke every time he saw her name. A cold reminder of everything he should have said, and never did. Like he did every year, he would bow his head, and murmur all the endearing words he wished he had said then. "You fascinated me. Surrounded by your books, panicking about exams, it was amazing. You were amazing. Even when it came to the final battle, you stood tall, head high, a determined look on your face. Hermione, you were a crusader. An avenging angel. I loved you then, and I love you now, Hermione Marie Granger."

He held a red rose tightly to his chest, and watched as a single tear fell onto the silky petal. He stood there for awhile, thinking. "I just wish you were still alive, so that I could say all the things I wanted to say." He fingered the petals of the rose, before he kissed it. Fred bent forward and placed it atop the gravestone, and finally, he kissed the cold stone. "I love you, always and forever, Hermione, my fallen angel."

Gathering his composure he walked away, leaving her grave behind.

Hermione Marie Granger.

In Fred's mind, she would always be his fallen angel.

~ Fin.