Harry Potter ( short stories)

How She Never Really Got Over Him

She never really got over Colin's death. Weeks after the war , she sat in the courtyard , away from the world.

She tried really hard to keep herself going. But it was too difficult to let go someone whom you love. Especially since he died for her.

She wondered what would have happened if she was the one hit. Would she want him to grieve for her forever?

Of course she would. She never understood the concept of ' They wouldn't want you to be unhappy'. How do they know that. How do they know that the dead would never want us to cry over them just because they are gone. How do they know that they wouldn't have given every possible chance to come back to realm of the living. How do they know that he wouldn't have wanted to go there , underneath the fresh soil , waiting there until he becomes merely dust and a faded memory.

She was bitter. Bellatrix died a way easy death.

She hated life.

Her heart was empty , her eyes dried. There just weren't any tears left.

Because she needed him. She wanted him to come and creep behind the the way he used to before all this mess started. The way he used to wait back and tap her shoulders. The way he flashed his camera lights in her face and made her blink like an idiot for three minutes straight.

The way he loved her..........

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Neville thought the world looked way grayer than ever before. He wished he could go back, back to when the most complicated thing was remembering where his Remembrall was.

He kept the sword of Gryffindor polished in all possible places : the hilt , between the rubies , the carving.

He looked out towards the courtyard and smiled. She was the only bright flower in the garden of sorrow .

He believed that the thing worse than fighting in that battle was disposing the dead . He remembered how shocked he was , how his brain tried to process that he'll never see the flash of Colin's camera again .

He remembered how light Colin was , light like air .

How , even in death , his fist tightly gripped the ring she had given him .

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One year later..............

Harry sighed and looked around the graveyard , his eyes sweeping the horizon . The sun setting behind him cast long shadows of the stones .

He had wondered months and months before what object would serve as a tribute worthy for those who lost their lives a year ago . He didn't want to give flowers. They made death look beautiful .

He bought a photo and gingerly placed it beside the flowers. Even though many years passed and Colin had grown into a brave and heroic warrior Harry still couldn't help but think of him as the excitable first year who had wanted his photograph. The photo that was left at Colin's grave had his signature scrawled at the corner.

It was the only autograph Harry ever gave.

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It was past midnight. The moonlight made the graveyard glow. The light breeze lifted her dirty blonde hair , drifting it all around her , the fragrance of the carnations on his grave passing through her hair.

She sat down , near his grave , on the damp earth. It smelled fresh and sweet. The only thing she was glad about was that they had laid him in such a beautiful place.