Disclaimer: Not mine, no money for me. Courtesy of Alex
You'll always be a part of me
In the garden of number 12, Grimmauld Place there was a girl. It was a simple girl in a simple tweed coat,
which was not at all betraying the fact that she belonged to the magical world. No, at that very moment
she was just kneeling on the ground, in front of her a little pile of rocks that pushed down on the earth, a
pile of rocks to mask what was beneath it. She didn't care about what was going on now, that the war was
more than present; that people were being murdered and liberties were taken; that she was being hunted
because of her status of 'impureness'. She didn't care about the losses she had faced, and the cruelties she
had gone through. All she cared about was the pain she was feeling, a pain that seemed to start in her eyes
and would go down through her throat directly into her stomach. It hurt a lot to watch that pile of rocks,
knowing that a piece of her had died. She still had her best friends, but this loss was simply too much to bear.
She threw her head back and began to sob uncontrollably, her tears now mingling with the tiny raindrops
which were pouring from the sky. The pain was unbearable, she felt as if she would never be whole again.
Again and again she uttered,
"Why, baby? Why you? Where are you, come back!"
But he wouldn't. Never again. And she knew that the pain would go away eventually, but it would take time…
"Hermione, come in. You'll catch a cold."
She looked up, only to see the violent red hair and big blue eyes of one of her best friends. He came out, and
without any effort, he pulled her to her feet and into an embrace. His arms were wrapped soothingly around
her as he whispered words of compassion into her hair. He knew it hurt. If anyone knew, than it was him.
He gently inclined his head towards the house, his eyes never leaving hers. She just nodded, but her gaze
slipped one last time towards the grave, and the rocks on it. They had been together for six years, and now
his end had come in form of a poisoned something. She grasped Ron's hand, and while going back to the
house she softly muttered to herself,
"Goodbye, Crooks, you'll always be a part of me."
A/N: This is a little drabble about loss of someone who maybe isn't aknowledged so much, but who is always
there to provide comfort. I don't expect everyone to understand, it is merely one of my many trys to express
what I'm feeling at certain moments. In my case it was my dog, though, and we had been mates for a lot more
time... Review if you wish, just not things like "Nutter, nobody would cry over a pet, etc etc". I would.