Ever Flowing

I don't own Harry Potter. I mean seriously, if you thought I did, wow.

There are a lot of reasons why he should be sad right now. One, his brother is dead like actually dead, and there is nothing he can do about it. So many others have lost their lives to. Tonks and Lupin are dead destined to leave little Teddy the same as Harry was. Dead...dead...dead, it just keeps running around in his mind. Sadly, nothing has actually hit him yet. In his mind, the war isn't over and nobody is dead, injured, or probably scarred for life. Just somehow the word doesn't leave him.
That's what he thinks of as he sits by the black lake staring out into its opaqueness. A light breeze whispers the past as he watches the water ripple. That's what he decides to concentrate on. How wave after wave hits the shore but no damage is done: he wishes it could be like that in real life. You may get hit over and over again, but nothing can hurt you. In reality, almost everything can hurt you somehow. He hears that faint patter of footsteps, something he's been accustomed to but is mind shuts it out.
It's probably someone coming over to say, "I'm sorry for your loss." These footsteps, though, stop right beside him and say nothing. The presence of another person but also the silence is calming. Soon they move again, somewhat hesitantly, so the person standing on them can sit down. He instantly knows who this person is: his savior, his light, his barrier against the ever-flowing waves, Hermione.

Thanks for reading.