It is so very neat, really.
One boy and one girl from each house in their year. Except for Gryffindor, with only one girl, but they were never the neat type, really—recklessness and wild abandon and messiness must extend into death.
She wonders if the way it was done was for her, so neat and tidy just like how she always likes it to be.
(Only the effects aren't. Sadness and drunks and tears and melancholy and empty spaces, which isn't proper and clean at all. But the amount—it's neat, it's efficient, it's tidy and that's all she thinks because she doesn't want to remind herself. Her friends do it for her.)
One boy and one girl from every house. Nothing more, nothing less, except for Gryffindor.
(She is sure, she knows, that making death and loss out to be ordinary and orderly and commonplace isn't right at all, but she does it anyway. It fits. It makes it seem normal, if you ignore the dead part. Then it's just simplicity. One and one, except for Gryffindor.)
One boy and one girl from every house in their year except for Gryffindor. It's so well-organized and neatly made if you ignore the jagged holes they left in life, the unraveling of their friends—
(Hannah's unkempt hair—it's a lot messier than it used to be—finally falls out of the two neat pigtails, one and one pigtails. She doesn't notice.)
--
So, yeah, Hannah Abbott. Inspired by the way she was characterized in Sirikit's Still Life, which is an excellent fic that I highly encourage you to check out. Also inspired by a list I'd made of the kids in Harry's year, deciding who died, and then realizing later it was much too neat in that one girl and one boy each were killed in each house, except for Gryffindor. I didn't change it, though.