Harry was cold. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel. That wasn't exactly a good thing, as he only felt pain. With every breath he took, the pain became worse. He wished the pain could go away, and to his surprise, the pain went from being unbearable, to being bothersome. He felt that his conscious would be short, and then he didn't know anything. He died on May 2nd, the day Voldemort died.
I was scared. I was at St. Mungo - I was the only one in the attack that was not harmed. The thought that Harry, my husband, would die was terrifying.
The last thing I heard was that he was conscious, but that the healers didn't know if he would live. One of the healers walked up to me, but I couldn't think, I was so tired. The clock was nearly midnight, and I hadn't slept. The healer said, "Mrs Potter?" After a short nod from my side, he continued, "Harry was conscious, but in pain. The healers gave him some pain potion to relieve him from his pain, but the heart stopped right after midnight." I didn't know what to do. Harry, my dear husband, who saved me from the basilisk in my first year and who saved the whole wizarding world in my sixth. I got completely numb and before my brain could catch up to what I was hearing, I passed out.
When I woke, I saw mum sitting in a chair at the side of the bed. She held my hand and stroked my hair as she held me still. I could feel her tears in my hair.
I am at the funeral. I couldn't do anything the last week. The priest is talking but I can't hear anything. He stops talking and he then looks at me. I know that now is the time to say my last goodbye. I stumble up to the coffin and smile sadly. He looks so peaceful, one could think that he is sleeping. But I know that he was not. "Goodbye," I say. "Finally you can meet your parents. I know that I will see you again, but not too soon." I feel peace come over me, a feeling that haven't been with me at all the past week - just like he is here with me. I understand that things will get better. Not good, but better.