More Than Angels

My breath mists before me as I stand, looking at the freshly dug grave where you now rest, rest after being robbed of your future at seventeen years of age. The emotions twist inside me, and a lone tear manages to trickle its way down my cheek, a tear that wouldn't come during the procession, wouldn't come whenever everyone was comforting me.

It was odd, I think, that I got more comfort than your friends did. They only had their boyfriends to comfort them, while everyone else told me that I needed to be strong, and that it would be okay. Really, I only knew you for a few months before this happened, but what a wonderful two months they were. I can still remember the way you half-stared at me the first time that I asked you if you wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks, and how you blushed half the time that we were there. And then you laughed at me, and said that I was blushing, too.

There's a reason for that, really. I didn't realize it then, but that was because, as much as I didn't want to admit it, you were the first girl that I really fell for. Cho was a crush, really; the few weeks that I dated her were a disaster, because once I got to know her, I realized that she was just a friend, and nothing more, even if she didn't feel that way.

Oh, did you know that she told me that if I ever wanted to talk about your death, that I could come to her any time and she'd listen? Like she'd want to hear about it, anyways; I didn't even see it. It was quiet, quick, and clean, I hope, because if it wasn't, you would have suffered. And that is something that I would die to prevent. I still wish that I could go back and die, kill myself, sacrifice myself, whatever it is this damn so-called God wants me to do so that you could be here, looking at my grave, instead of the other way around.

I don't know why Voldemort decided to kill you, really. Was it because he was trying to get back at me, or was it even him? I just remember the way your body looked, clean, unmarked, and how your eyes were closed, a slight smile on your face. Was it in your sleep? Where you dreaming of me, of all of the things that we did together? Everyone smiles sadly when they hear this, because I know that I'm talking about your life.

Cho doesn't understand whenever I say anything about this, because she says that I shouldn't talk about death. I don't want to talk about your death, I want to talk about your life, and how much I loved you. She wouldn't want to listen to that, I'm sure. She'd tell me that I was crazy, that I shouldn't hang onto you, because you were gone, and not worth hanging on to. She told me that at the funeral, actually, taking my hands in hers and promising me that you wouldn't want me to remember you and worry about what I was going to do now that you were gone.

So, of course, I told her that you cared, and she started shaking a little, almost as though she was about to cry. She told me that I had to stop talking about you like you were still alive, because you weren't. I turned away and told her to please leave, and she started crying. I felt awful, but you're not gone. I can still feel you as I stand here, feel the love that we had. That does not die.

"Harry, do you want to come in?" Hermione asks, approaching me, Ron's arm around her shoulder. Her eyes are red-rimmed, too, but not because she knew you- death just upsets her. Ron knew you better than she did, because he became more outgoing after making the Keeper position in fifth year, but he still only thought of you as 'Harry's girlfriend'. But you were so much more.

I smile a little at Hermione, shaking my head gently. I'm going to stay here with you a little longer.... "Be in soon," I promise the two of them, feeling jealousy that they are able to be together so easily, not worrying about the rest of the world. They're normal people, the exact opposite of what I was, which also took you from your 'normal' status.

You were more than that, though. You were everything that I could have dreamed of, and some things that I couldn't have ever imagined possible in a girl, especially one two years older than me. Everyone teased you, asked you if the only possible way for you to 'get some' was to date a fifth year. You smirked in their faces, always coming back with a quick, snappy insult. Even to Draco Malfoy, which surprised me- I can still remember the shocked look on his face whenever you told him that he was simply jealous because you were getting some from me, while he couldn't have me.

Even Ron admitted later that your comment was almost as memorable as Draco as a ferret the year before. You were always witty, always funny....

Hermione and Ron stare at me for a while longer, I suppose wondering if they should leave me out here in the chill sunlight or trust me to come back in on my own. Hermione eventually pulls him away, knowing that it's better for me to be here by myself, at your unmarked grave.

But you see, Alicia, I'm not here by myself. You're here with me, always and forever.