Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Rain pours down and mist clings to the air and the wind howls and thunder booms and it fits his mood perfectly.
He's soaked to the bone, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything anymore.
He traces his fingers along the charcoal colored gravestone and lets out a choked sob.
How could this have happened?
"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," he moans softly, as if saying her name enough times will bring her back to him. Her hazelnut colored eyes still haunt him.
"Why, Lucy, why?" The question trembles from his lips and gets carried away by the wind.
For a moment, he thinks he tastes her cinnamon flavored lip gloss on his lips.