This takes place during the fall of Year 6. I've tried to fit it into continuity as best I could...pardon any errors (minor, I hope!)
Also...the plot is taken from an episode of one of my favorite TV shows. Bonus points for guessing which one. (Answer is at the beginning of the last chapter.)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, blah blah blah. If any of us here did, we probably wouldn't be here in the first place.
A faint, cold light crept over the hills outside Hogwarts. The tendrils of illumination broke the blackness of night into the blue of early morning, and swept over the oily darkness of the lake and the small group of people standing by its edge.
The graveyard, normally deserted at this time of morning, was witnessing a small funeral. The late fall cold bit into each person, but none moved. In the center of the circle of mourners was a plain casket, lid removed.
At the head of the casket stood Albus Dumbledore. Despite the cold, he wore no coat or cloak. His eyes were red, and their usual sparkle was absent. He took a deep breath. The other mourners turned to him expectantly.
"Friends," he began, voice shaking. He hesitated a moment, then began again.
"Friends, it is never a simple or an easy thing to bid farewell for the last time. Perhaps it is that much harder, though, when saying goodbye to someone whose presence, however brief, made such a difference to the world. One who died well before his time, and one to whom we all owe so much…"
Hermione's tears fell freely, and her gaze traveled over the other faces at the graveside. Though they were all still, they were not unfeeling...even Professor Snape was having difficulties, if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth was any indication.
If only we could have given him a proper funeral instead of this hurried morning burial, she thought, but that's not possible now. Not with all that's going on…
She turned her eyes to the body in the coffin, which lay peacefully in robes of bottle-green. The same dress robes from the Yule Ball almost two years before. They were a little short for him, but under the circumstances it was the best they'd been able to do. Even in death, the black hair stuck out in all directions. He looked as if he would sit up any moment and laugh at them all for standing out in the cold.
No, she thought. That can't happen. He's gone forever, and things will never be the same.