FicWad

Old age had come faster than Harry had expected. 53 years had passed since Voldemort had been killed, for 49 of those years he’d been married to the smartest, most beautiful witch he’d ever met.

Now, as Harry stood leaning heavily on a walking stick in front of the freshly dug grave, a single red rose in his hands, he allowed the grief and sadness to wash over him. Here was her final resting place; a week after death had finally taken her. At least, following a long and torturous year of suffering, she was at peace, surrounded by friends in the cemetery set aside for the survivors and families of those who had fought, and in some cases died, in the long struggle against Voldemort.

His eyes wandered to the graves that surrounded his wife’s, the oldest graves in the cemetery were those of Remus Lupin, his wife Nymphadora Tonks, Severus Snape, Colin Creevy and Fred Weasley to name a few, buried there just days after the Ministry of Magic opened the cemetery for use. There was also a small memorial for Alastor (Mad Eye) Moody, whose body had never been recovered; the only thing they had of him to bury was the mechanical eye Harry had stolen from off the front of Dolores Umbridge’s Ministry office during the war. Among the more recent graves were Harry’s best friend Ron Weasley who died peacefully in his sleep following a spate of heart related illnesses and Neville Longbottom, following a 2 year battle with cancer, which the Healers should have been able to treat but hadn’t diagnosed in time and then it had been too late to save him. Both had left behind wives, children and grandchildren, and, in Ron’s case, great grandchildren. George, who had never married, instead preferring to stay single and wallow in self pity, had died too, a broken man, just a few years ago and had been laid to rest alongside Fred. Everyone who knew him thought he had committed suicide and were surprised he had lived as long as he did without Fred. Their parents Molly and Arthur lay on one side and their other brothers Percy and his wife Penelope and Bill on the other, Bill’s wife Fleur next to him; a little way away were the graves of the Hogwarts teachers who had been present at the Final Battle, McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick, Hagrid and Trelawny, all dead. Harry was one of only a handful left who had seen that fateful night, there were many who were too young to fight who remembered the start, but never saw the pain and death of so many people.
Now Harry looked another grave just beside his wife’s. This one was smaller, a child’s grave, the only one in the graveyard. ‘Sirius Potter’ read the name on the gravestone. His second-born and Albus’ twin, he had been born just minutes before Albus and had died just as Albus was being born. Albus had never known until he was 18, old enough to handle the truth.

Harry tore his eyes away from his son’s grave and looked back at the grave in front of him. He couldn’t believe she was gone, he’d always believed he would be the one to go first, but obviously fate had had other plans.
He took a deep breath and placed the single red rose (her favourite flower) he’d been holding onto the grave. As he rose he gently traced the words that were carved on the gravestone and managed a small smile.
‘Love you ‘Mione, hope you are still waiting for me.’ he murmured.
Then Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and last surviving member of the Golden Trio, turned and slowly, painfully, walked back towards the entrance of the cemetery where his surviving friends, children, godson Teddy Lupin and grandchildren were waiting for him.
Behind him, a soft wind swirled around the grave he had left, gently caressing the petals of the rose he had placed there.

The gravestone read:
Hermione Jane Potter
1980-2050
Beloved wife, mother and grandmother
Still waiting for Harry to catch up.

Fin