Even in Death

"For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been."

- John Greenleaf Whittier

I found you there, couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you lying there. Still, lifeless you rested, your long, beautiful mahogany hair feathered around your head, framing that gorgeous face whose porcelain doll features had never seemed to age. Eyes that had once held wisdom, beauty, and a youthful light, now empty, dull, glassy marbles showing no emotion, save that of fearful acceptance.

What was it you had succumbed to, though? Voldemort? No, you were brave enough to withstand him till the end. Even when I could no longer save you, even when you knew it was over. So what was it then?

Oh, why am I questioning you? Not exactly like you can hear me, standing here in this stiff suit... Imagine, me in a suit. Doesn't happen often, as you know. In fact, the only time you ever saw it was graduation. I wish you could have been able to see it on another occasion. But that's all it will remain: a wish.

Looking down into that cruel oak box, seeing you lie there, too still for my liking. Your eyes are no longer open; at least they did that much for you. Even in death you still seem so dignified.

I place a bouquet of daisies into the casket next to you. You always did have a taste for the simpler things in life, never wanting anything more than to be common. I wrap your arm around them, and once I've placed it just how you yourself would hold them in life, I let my fingers slide down your arm and grasp your icy fingers. I wish with every ounce of my being that you would just wake up, just to be with me again.

And now's when I let it all out. It's nothing that can be heard; it can be only be felt and seen. I allow myself to actually grieve for the first time since the night I found you. Then she puts her hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. I push it away, and she doesn't try again.

Oh how I wish it were your hand, no longer icy, resting on my shoulder. Not that I wish she were in your place. Only that you would be here. It pains me so much to see you there like that, so empty of all that you were, all that I loved.

I dry my eyes on my sleeve, in hopes of being strong for everyone there. Then I remember how you would tell me not to hold it in, that the grief could kill a person. I start to cry again, unable to get your voice out of my head. Is that a good thing? Another thing you always used to tell me was to not live in the past, for the best things were always yet to come. But what good could result from this? I don't have you anymore.

I look back down at where you lie and pull a small, black velvet box from the inside pocket of my jacket and pull out the ring I had planned to give you not very long from now. I slip the ring onto your finger and return the box to my pocket, letting the tears once again run freely. I kiss my fingertips and brush them against your lips, closing my eyes and wishing only for just one more day with you..

I stand there and try to capture your beauty in my mind one last time, and then I move to the side of the casket to allow everyone there to pay their final respects. As the last few pass by, and three others, like myself, move to the side, I prepare to step forward one last time in front of these people who loved you as much as I did, and take my place in front of the casket to shut the lid.

The last person passes by, and I begin to pull down the lid. As I do so, I begin crying again as I see you there, so close, and yet so far away. In my mind's eye I can see you telling me to do my homework, one of the most common things you'd ever said to me. I decide then to say something you'd never heard me say.

"Hermione Jane Granger... I love you," I whisper. I look at your beautiful face one last agonizing second, and then let the lid fall.

Fred (Or maybe George) puts his arm around my shoulder and guides me back to the side as the preacher says a prayer, and then the four of us begin to carry you out to your grave. As we lower you into the ground, people begin to leave.

Of course, I stay. I decline many requests to take me home. After everyone has gone, I kneel by the gaping hole you rest in.

"I love you, Hermione."

A slight breeze begins to blow just then.

"I love you, too."

I don't know if it's just my mind, or if you really did say it, but I feel more at peace. As I walk away from your grave, for a brief moment I see you standing there. As the breeze begins to strengthen, the vision of you vanishes, and I hear your words again, fading away, traveling in the wind.