Do you remember?
Of course you do. How could you forget?
The way her eyes sparkled in moonlight, filled with a magic unlike any they taught you in school. How her whole face would come alive when she smiled, and dispel even the darkest shadow. She could pore over a tome older than the castle itself, and still she would crave more, every shred of knowledge filling her heart with joy.
Remember?
You used to call her a slave-driver, affection still showing through the irritation in your voice. Long into the night you would study, the fire slowly burning out, and she would tell you the Wizengamont lifted Vampire Sanctions in 1445, not 1454, and that the Goblins did not originate from Africa, where on earth did you get such a notion?
It took a lot to tear her from her work, but once you did, it was worth it. She may've been a horrible chess-player, but she could throw a mean snowball… and she could sing. She didn't let on much, but she could. You heard her once at the Yule Ball, passing through the courtyard when she didn't know you were there… and once more, at the wedding.
What a lucky man, that red-haired groom. He stuck with you to the end, and you were more than happy to be his best man. He was one of the few who you thought truly deserved her.
Remember…
You loved her… not romantically, perhaps… but with the fierce love of true friendship. You would do anything for her.
But you couldn't do the one thing that mattered.
You couldn't save her life.
A tear slips from your old and tired bespectacled eyes, and you run your fingers across the stone, fancying you can almost hear her heartbeat from within, that you can feel it in that cursed bolt of lightning…
Your snow-white hair, untidy as it was when you were a teenager, snaps in the harsh winter wind.
Pulling your wand from inside your heavy black cloak, you touch it to the surface of the marker, and mutter a quick incantation.
A phoenix appears on the stone, the etching glowing red hot for a moment, before going out in the darkness. But when the sun rises in the morn, it will be there…
Even though you couldn't be.
"Goodbye, Hermione," you say softly.
Then, pulling your cloak tight around you, you begin the long journey home, musing that this pain in your heart…
At least lets you know you're alive.