Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
It was that time of year again. After a harsh winter, tender shoots were beginning to push their way up through the hard ground and new flowers were opening their petals to the sun. None of them found it strange that they decided to visit this place each spring. They chose to confront their grief when the world was in a state of rebirth, not surrounded by the rotting leaves and steely sky that reeked of death.
It was the only time that they all came together. For the other 364 days of the year they remained alone or in pairs, nothing any bigger than that. Any gathering larger than that was a harsh reminder of the happy Christmases, birthdays and holidays that they would never know again.
Ron and Hermione, along with their sombrely clad children, were the first to arrive at the graves. Although they clutched armloads of flowers they made no move to place them on the headstones; it was an unwritten and unspoken rule that everyone must be present before the laying down of bouquets and trinkets could begin.
The next to arrive were Arthur Weasley and Remus, who, since the Final Battle, had become inseparable. Although everyone had lost someone, each of them felt that the other could understand their grief better than anyone else. They both lived in Grimmauld Place; Remus because he had nowhere else to go and Arthur because he couldn't face returning to the home he had shared with his wife without her. As Remus still couldn't find a job, Arthur worked and supported the both of them. He didn't mind, he was glad to have the company of someone who, so wrapped up in their own pain, wouldn't try and make him talk about his. Without speaking they took their place next to Ron and Hermione and waited.
After them came Fred and George, their faces baring shadows of their former ever present grins. Having decided that the world needed as many laughs as it could get, they'd kept the joke shop open and it continued to thrive. But these days they found that most of their own laughter, their own smiles, was forced. Giving everyone brief nods of greeting, they went and stood at Remus's side.
Within a couple of minutes the last two people they were waiting for arrived: Bill and Fleur. As they approached, Bill leant heavily on his wife, his face turned to the ground to conceal the extensive damage as best he could. Several streaks of grey ran through Fleur's magnificent blonde hair, the only visible sign of everything she had suffered for the past few years. They completed the loose semi circle around the graves.
As one, they all moved towards the first grave: Ginny's. She had been murdered while defending younger students against Death Eaters when they burst into the Gryffindor common room. In remembrance of her fiery nature, her fierce loyalty and passion everyone had brought her red roses. One by one they carefully laid their bouquets down before moving onto the next grave.
This one was Molly Weasley's, laid to rest next to her daughter. She had died preventing her worse nightmare. She'd flung herself in the path of a deadly curse aimed at Arthur, giving her life to save his. For her everyone had daffodils.
Next came Percy, and his was the most tragic death of them all. He'd been in no battles, suffered no wounds from Voldemort's followers. When the Final Battle happened he was locked away safely in the Ministry of Magic. Somehow the word of the deaths of half his family had reached his ears only minutes after it was all over. For the first time in his life he'd broken a rule by turning his wand on himself and muttering "Avada Kedavra". For Percy there was nothing so impractical as flowers, but a heavy pocket watch that Arthur placed gently on his headstone.
The next grave was an empty one. They had never found Charley's body even after extensive searching. After a year of uncertainty, they'd given up hope and erected a tombstone for him here. Now they decorated it with red tulips.
Next to Charley lay Tonks, who had been amongst the first casualties. Against all warnings, she had disguised herself under a new face and tried to infiltrate the Death Eaters. She was discovered immediately, but it had been months before Voldemortgranted her the mercy of death. For her they had an abundance of daisies.
Only Ron and Hermione approached the final grave, carrying between them a heavy piece of cloth. Harry had died as everyone expected: a hero, taking Voldemort out with him. His two best friends draped the Gryffindor banner over his headstone before fixing it down with a sticking charm. They then retreated to the semi circle that had reformed.
Behind the graves stood Dumbledore's white tomb, two plaques dedicated to the memories of Hagrid and Sirius fixed onto it. The Final Battle had taken place at Hogwarts, and those who had died defending the ancient school and its students had earned the right to be buried in its grounds. The survivors had been promised places next to their loved ones once their time came, too.
Everyone began to leave, heading off in separate directions. The whole ceremony had taken place in silence, not one word being exchanged between anyone. It was easier that way; whatever they could say to each other would only rip open old wounds. Although time had healed the physical injuries, each of them still bore an irreparable scar.