Title: The Ones We Love
Author's Note: I dedicate this to my grandma. I will remember you always.
Harry stood still as the rest of the world moved. His chest felt empty and his brain clouded. Every now and again a feeling of great sorrow gripped his heart and made his chest constrict and eyes burn. He would swallow, trying to push down the tears, and lick his lips to moisten them.
His mother hadn't wanted him to come to the funeral; she had told him that it was better to remember our loved ones in life rather than death. But here he stood, just off to the side, in a crowd of what seemed like thousands. His grandfather had been loved by many in his life. Even so, Harry felt anger towards all of those people crying and lamenting their sorrow over his grandpa's death. It wasn't their grandfather who died. Most of the people weren't even related to his grandfather, and many he was sure were strangers.
Throughout his life Grandfather had always been hounded by strange people wanting to meet him, to shake his hand or buy him a butterbeer. Harry had never resented those people before; Grandfather was a great man, Harry always knew this. He remembered the many times he would sit on Grandfather's lap and ask him to recount his life adventures. One of his favorite stories was how Grandfather was late to Harry's mother's birth. It was in his days as an Auror, and he had been out on a secret mission with Great Uncle Ron when the news came that his wife had gone into labor. He had become so nervous that when he disapperated out of Germany he splinched himself in half. His top half had ended up twelve blocks from St. Mungos and his bottom half appeared in the delivery room. It took Uncle Ron almost ten hours to get Grandfather back together again, and by the time he had finally showed up whole to the birth, mother was already out and screaming.
Harry always loved how he described mother when he first saw her- little, pink, hairless and slimy. He always laughed when Grandfather made his 'eww' facial expressions to go along with the story. Then he would tell Harry how he was early to his own birth, and that when he came out he was perfect looking. It never failed to make Harry's chest expand and put a smile on his face.
Somehow, even when Harry was very young, he always knew that he was special to Grandfather. Mother was his child, and Grandma was his wife, but Harry was his grandson. He was his namesake. He used to tell Harry how much he looked like him when he was younger. Harry had his messy hair and bright green eyes; though he always said Harry was much smarter than him- smarter and taller. Then he would ruffle Harry's hair and give him a lemon candy.
It made Harry sad that Grandfather would never see him enter Hogwarts. Just the thought had him gasping for air and choking back tears. Grandfather wouldn't be there to teach him silly spells and to help him get out of trouble. He wouldn't be there when he passed his OWLs or NEWTs. They used to talk about how Grandfather would help him study and teach him more than Hogwarts would ever offer. Now Harry would have to learn on his own.
Harry's mother and father came to stand beside him. Mother put her arm around him and pulled him close. The warmth of her body felt nice and her arm felt comforting. Harry knew she was crying. Father was crying too; He had never seen Father cry before. Slowly, as the day wore on, people began to leave. Eventually the only ones left were family and close friends. Great Uncle Ron and Great Aunt Hermione were there holding their own children and grandchildren. Billy, Remus and Molly- their grandchildren- were all like brothers and sisters to me. Harry had know them since he was born. Marissa Snape, old professor Snape's daughter, was there, though old Professor Snape was not. He knew he would be seeing a lot of her in the future. She taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts.
When mother handed Harry a soft handkerchief he was taken by surprise. He hadn't realized he was crying again. He took it, but just clutched it in his hand. The pressure felt good and he used his sleeve to wipe the tears instead.
Do you want to say goodbye? Mother asked him this, and he was confused. Wasn't he already doing that? But no, he wasn't really. Mother squeezed his shoulder when he nodded and started to walk forward. He kneeled to the side of the freshly covered earth and placed his hand on the tombstone. How does one say goodbye? Harry didn't know; nothing felt right.
He read the epitaph on the grave. Harry James Potter- A loving husband, father, grandfather and friend. He meant the world to us, and will be forever remembered. Harry sniffled as he read the words. He brought up his sleeve once more to wipe his nose. Reaching out his hand he grasped a handful of dirt from the grave. He let it dribble from the cracks in his fingers and made a vow. He wouldn't say goodbye, he would never say goodbye. He would say hello, just like he did every other time he saw his grandfather. Hello grandfather, tell me a story. He would remember his grandfather's stories and he would tell them to others. Then grandfather would never be gone.