As Lavender Brown's body lay amongst the ruins of what was once her home, she watched a family grieve the loss of one of their own, wondering why fate had so cruelly dealt them such cards. From a young age, all she wanted was to love and be loved in...
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"NO"shrieked Hermione and with a deafening blast from her wand, Fenrir Greyback was thrown backward from the feebly stirring body of Lavender Brown.
Though no longer savaged by the beast, Lavender's body shook gently as the wounds progressed deeper into her skin. Even without the aggressive manner in which the werewolf had attempted his claim on her life, the fall had broken far too many bones to repair. As she lay, wand helplessly a few centimeters out of reach, fingers too weak to attempt any movement let alone miraculously grab hold onto bitter hope, she reveled in the knowledge that she would die fighting for the right cause. Voldemort would not survive this battle, a part of her simply believed this, partially due to the pain it would cause her to consider anything else.
A few meters away, Fred Weasley lay lifelessly as his brother shook his shoulders in attempt to wake him. Alas, his spirit had already moved on, the last few moments of his life, a mere few seconds of joy, now etched on his face like an everlasting scar. Lavender blinked as a tear gently fell from her eye, her heart filled with gratitude that she was able to witness such selfless love in her final moments. Of course, a part of her could not help but wonder what she had done to not deserve a similar ending.
Whilst Fred was surrounded by his brothers, one too filled with grief to let go of his cold hand, another torturing himself with blame since it was his name that was spoken last, others not allowed to process it for they had more important matters to tend to, Lavender was abandoned.
She silently questioned how long it would take them to find her body, which led her to wonder who would attend her funeral, whether anyone would even miss her or did too many lose their lives today to be remembered for more than just a number. It was selfish, but she always knew that being selfless was never part of her biological dictionary. At least, not until this moment, where the sudden sounds of broken screams ripped through her every fibre. Cries echoed in her ears, seemingly getting louder and louder as inhumane wails shattered the remaining will she had to hold on.
Staring out at the lifeless body which would be missed far more than she could ever hope to be, the remaining little life struggled to remain alight and slowly ebbed into darkness. Her final resting gaze on the man who she shared her death with, and the many more who did not realise she was there to bear witness to it all. She prayed for a better chance at finding someone who cared that much for her in the next life. Or at least a fraction of it. That would be enough for her. Tears froze on her cheek, capturing the pain she witnessed on her spirit's departure.
George Weasley had finally recognised that he had lost his soulmate.
