This is a one off story, I wrote it a while back but changed it slightly. (Y) There are no character pairings.


Why did he have to be this way? So beautiful, so angelic. His hair hanging limply across his face, as it did when he was standing, flicking it about when it got in his way. You smiled at the memories of running around the garden with him when you were younger; your smile grew when you remembered the water fights you would have with Hermione and him. Looking back down your smile faded and you bit your lip to stop the tears cascading down your cheeks again; that’s when Hermione came over, you smiled half heartedly at her, she returned it mirroring your facial expressions. You couldn’t smile at a time like this. Not now.

“How you holding up?” You looked at your shoes and then back up to her face, refusing to maintain eye contact.

“Pretty good.” By the way she rubbed her hand on your back, she knew you were lying. You hadn’t eaten in days, hardly touching anything she gave you and drinking at the most, one glass of water. Your figure had decreased dramatically, and your clothes were sagging. She patted your back again and walked away masking her real feelings. Your gaze fell back onto your best friend. His green eyes hidden, his cheek bones jutting out at odd angles and his scar, which of course, was still visible.

You reached down and touched his hand, freezing to the touch. A single tear fell down your cheek, falling onto his suit. You could have sworn that he smiled. A small flicker at the side of his mouth. A whimper escaped your lips and more tears fell. Your hand flexed around his. You stood there wishing your soul away, just so he would squeeze back. You knew it was hopeless. It was always hopeless, because God wasn’t real and he sure as hell wouldn’t help if he was.

You couldn’t stand there and look at him much longer without breaking. You let go of his hand, sinking to your knees, why did he have to be so peaceful and porcelain, he was already broken, yet he looked so perfect and whole. Tears were cascading again, Hermione rushed over to help you up, her arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you to your feet, she was small but she did the job. You stood slouching next to her against the far wall, overlooking the coffin. You heard as his friends on the other side of the room laughed. The tears you had managed to stop; started again. The only words you could manage to stutter out were too low for anyone to hear. Not even Harry.

“Don’t laugh, it’s not funny.”

Thats fairly confusing I must say, but very well written.

That story has a mysterious theme to it. There's many questions that rised while reading it, but it was really a beautiful piece of writing.