I sat there, waiting for him to open his eyes, hoping against hope that my Freddie would still be alive. George held onto me, supporting himself, as he cried for the one person who knew him better than anyone to open his eyes. Of all the people who the war had taken, Fred was the one person I never expected. I looked at the faces surrounding us, the family that had taken me in after my own had been killed. I looked over at my god-brother as he looked upon us in despair, blaming himself for Fred.
"Please, Fred." I whispered as I collapsed, no longer able to support myself or George. I thought back to when I had first met the twins, back during our second year, when I had been a transfer student. These two jokers took me under their wings (and very wide wings they happened to be) to teach me about the wondrous school I was soon entering and I educated them on America.
I flashed forward to our third year, the year that The-Boy-Who-Lived joined our merry little group, along with their younger brother and a Muggle-Born witch. We looked upon these three with pity during their first year, but helped them where we could. Of course, Quidditch that year was eventful, what with The-Boy-Who-Lived becoming the youngest seeker in Gryffindor History, or so they said. I cheered him on, because unbeknownst to everyone, he was my God-brother.
Our fourth year came and went, with Fred beginning to show interest in me, but I was too shy to believe it to be true. Then, in our fifth year, he asked me to be his girlfriend and I found myself hopelessly lost in what we were. It was also the year that my father re-entered into my life and my heritage was discovered.
Our sixth year could have been better, but we spent it together, the three of us. We were always inseparable. Forge, Gred, and little ole Cassie. Everywhere we went, the sounds of laughter and merriment followed. It was at the Yule Ball that people began to realize the differences between me and the boys, and yes, I do mean our physical differences.
Then our seventh year came. The year of Dolores Umbridge who tried to force the three of us under her thumb. We all rebelled, but we also took care of those who found themselves being punished by her. It was the year the boys dropped out of Hogwarts, saying good riddance to their own private torture. It was also a year marked by loss for me, where I found comfort in Fred. The Weasleys welcomed me into their home with open arms, making me feel welcomed and safe. There wasn't a night that I didn't wake up, screaming in terror, but there also wasn't a night that Fred didn't come running to my rescue.
Our first year out of Hogwarts was marked with the twins opening up their shop, with me named as partner. Despite the growing dangers, and the fact that most of Diagon Alley closed down, we stayed open. Everyone needed a laugh, and we were happy to provide. It was also the year that Fred proposed to me.
Then came the battle we were all dreading. The battle that had consumed our thoughts for months. That left me sitting here, crying, as I looked down at my soul mate, laying in the dust. Waiting for a response.