I walk through the crowded sidewalk in a daze, my head bowed to hide my tears. I bump into someone and mutter a quick apology.
"Hermione, is that you?" the person says, touching my shoulder.
"Ron?" I ask, looking up into the face of my old friend. I haven't seen him in almost nine years. Though he is only about 27, he seems older than he should be, his hair streaked with gray.
"Yeah, it's me," he whispers softly, wrapping his arms around me. I bury my face in his shoulder, trying to hold back my tears.
"It's been such a long time," I say, pulling back and wiping my eyes. "I haven't seen you since graduation."
"Yeah, it's amazing," he says, "especially when you consider what day it is. You do remember, don't you?"
"How could I forget? A day hasn't gone by when I haven't thought about it." I have to wipe my eyes again as a fresh wave of tears threaten to overtake me.
"It's hard to imagine," Ron mused. "Ten years ago today. It seems like it's been an eternity."
"I know," I say, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "Oh Ron, I miss him!"
Ron wraps his arms around me again, stroking my hair as though I am a small child. "I know. I do too."
"You don't understand," I whisper, my tears flowing down my cheeks and soaking Ron's shirt. "I think about him all the time. Some days I don't even get up. After all, what's the point? He was always there for me when I needed him, and now..." my voice cracks and I sob into Ron's shoulder.
"It's okay," he whispers soothingly. "Think of what he would want. He wouldn't have you give up. He cared about you. That's why he went alone, when he could have taken us along."
"That's the worst part," I say. "I don't know what happened, or what could have happened. What if I could have protected him? What if I could have saved him?"
"He wouldn't have let you," Ron says, holding me by the shoulders at arm's length. "He knew we would both have willingly died for him."
"But I can't live without him," I cry, sinking to the ground and covering my face with my hands. Several people have stopped to stare at us, but I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.
"I know it's been hard," Ron says, sitting next to me, "for both of us. But that's because we were alone. Maybe we can help each other get through this."
I manage to quiet my crying enough to get out a few words. "We should visit him."
"Would that make you feel better?" Ron asks, looking deep into my eyes.
"Yes," I say firmly, standing up, "it would."
"Okay," he says, standing up and brushing himself off. "Let's go. Should we apparate?"
"Umm..." I hesitate. "I've kind of forgotten how."
"That's ok," Ron takes my hand and leads me down the sidewalk. "We can take my truck."
He leads me to an old, red pickup truck parked outside an apartment building. We get inside and, after a few tries, he starts the truck. He drove the truck out of the space and rolled down the street.
We are silent as Ron drives. I don't know about him but I am battling with myself. I don't know what good going there is going to do me. It'll just be an addition to my painful memories. But I have to go. I can't hide for the rest of my life.
"Can we stop here?" I ask, pointing to a small flower shop ahead.
"Sure," Ron says, pulling off the road. I get out and walk into the store.
"Hello, young lady," the shopkeeper says, "what can I do for you today?"
"Do you have any lilies?" I ask. The word feels strange said in this way, it's true meaning hidden.
"May I ask what for?" he asks, taking out a pad of paper and writing down the order.
"I'm going to visit an old friend." I say, not wanting to say anything more than that.
"How about some lilacs?" he asks, leaning on his desk. "Or maybe roses?"
"No," I say firmly, "lilies."
"How many?" he asks.
"Sixteen," I say promptly. One for each year he lived, I add silently.
"One galleon and three sickles," the shopkeeper says. As I rummage through my purse, he goes into the back of his shop to get the flowers. He comes back a few minutes later with them.
"Thank you," I say, handing him the money and leaving the shop. I go back to the truck and say to Ron, "Let's go."
The rest of the drive goes by quickly. Soon we arrive at the spot. A sign announces the place as the "Hogsmeade Village Cemetery."
We walk past many graves, stopping briefly at a few. Too many are of old friends, long gone. But we don't stop for long, as these losses don't leave as deep a scar as the one we have come to visit.
Finally, we reach the grave we came to see. An angel stands on a pedestal, it's wings spread out to full width, watching over and protecting our old friend. A large tombstone, with an intricately carved ivy design as a border. It reads:
Harry James Potter
He will always be there to watch over us.
I fall to my knees in front of the stone, placing the flowers on the pedestal, beneath the angel. I stare at the ground, hardly believing that this had actually happened. That he was down there, in his coffin, never to see the light of day again.
"I'll let you have some time alone," Ron says, but I barely hear him.
"Why?" I whisper to the angel as she stares down at me coldly. "Why did you take him away from me? You know I can't live without him. This isn't the way it was supposed to be. It should have been me. Why couldn't have been me?"
A soft breeze blows through, lifting my hair off my shoulders. I choke back tears and continue.
"Why did you leave me?" I whisper. "You don't know what I've gone through these past years, never able to think of anyone else. I need you!" I raise my voice, pounding my fists against the ground. "Damn it, I love you! There, I said it. I waited years for the right time to tell you, but I waited too long. And now you'll never know."
My eyes are dry now, the tears all but spent. I brush my hair out of my eyes and stand up. I can't stay here forever, much as I wish to.
Then, I spot a glint of white in the angel's gray hand. I walk forward and pick up a small piece of paper. When I open it, a lock of black hair falls into my hand. A short message is written in the handwriting I have long ago memorized. It reads:
I was dead before I met you, I was born the day you loved me, and that love will keep me alive forever.
I put the lock of hair back in the note, folded it carefully, and put it in my pocket. I walk over to where Ron stands, beside the grave of his brother, George Weasley.
"We lost too many in the war," he whispered.
"Yes," I agree, "a war that never should have happened."
"Are you okay?" Ron asks, looking at me with concern.
I think for a moment. I still miss Harry. But then I remember his note. I look back towards his grave. The lilies have disappeared. For the first time in ten years, I smile.
"He isn't really gone," I say, wrapping an arm around Ron, "not as long as we keep him alive in our hearts."
Ron smiles back and we leave the graveyard together. We exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch. Then, we each go our own way, back to our homes.
Later on, I open up my old school trunk and dig through it until I find what I want. An old locket that Harry gave me for my birthday, just a few days before he died. I open it up and take out my old school picture. Then, I reach into my pocket, pull out the note, and take out the lock of hair. I look at it for a moment before putting it in the locket and putting it around my neck.
I still wear the locket all the time. I never take it off for fear of losing it. Yet, I know that it would be no big deal if I did. It is just a reminder of what I have always known. As long as I keep him in my heart, he will be with me.
Until we meet again.
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Author's note: Anyone who watches the t.v. show Charmed regularly will recognise the line "I was dead before you met me, I was born the day you loved me, and that love will keep me alive forever" as a quote from a letter that Cole wrote to Pheobe that she read after he died. I would also like to assure you all that this is NOT part of the Sister Alternate Universe and, therefore, does not reveal an untimely death for our young hero in the stories of the Sister Universe. Please review by e-mailing me!
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