Ok, so I know that this probably isn't one of my best works. But for some subconscious reason, after reading Deathly Hallows, I can't bring myself to read Harry Potter fanfiction until I post it. I also know that there are tons of stories like this (or at least I assume).
Obviously, post Deathly Hallows. Now that I've rambled enough, on with the story!
Disclaimer: Siriusly (heehee), if I owned Harry Potter, would I be here now?
A tall, dark-skinned young woman stood at the cemetery gate, and drew a deep breath. She placed a gloved hand onto the cold, iron handle. After reassuring herself that she could do this, Angelina Johnson turned the handle and entered the cemetery.
She walked among the tombstones as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. But she refused to let them fall as she continued her search for a certain tombstone. Snow began to fall as she found the headstone she was looking for.
Fred Weasley
1978 – 1998
It was Christmas Eve, and where did Angelina choose to spend it? Not in a warm house with her family, but in a cold graveyard with the only one she had ever loved.
Angelina did not to stop the tears as she fell to her knees. It had been more than three years, and still the hurt had not gone away.
As she heard the crunching of snow behind her, Angelina looked up and saw the face of someone she hadn't talked to in nearly three years.
"I didn't expect to see anyone here," George said quietly.
"I'll just go then," Angelina replied as she got herself off the ground and wiped the tears off her face. She turned to leave but stopped when she heard George speak softly.
"I didn't think anyone cared anymore."
"Why would you think that?"
"No one ever wanted to talk about it."
"It hurt too much for us to talk about it," Angelina replied sadly as fresh tears poured silently down her face.
"Well for some of us it hurt more not to do so!" George shouted with more anger than he intended. Angelina was shocked to see the tears forming in his eyes.
"They don't want to talk about it, they want to push it out of their minds," he continued bitterly. "But it doesn't matter and they know it did."
"Maybe they wanted to talk but couldn't," Angelina said placing a hand on George's arm.
George pulled away from her. "Is that why you didn't keep in touch?" Guilt flooded Angelina's body as she remembered the forgotten letters and ignored invitations to visit.
"I d-didn't, I m-mean," she stuttered guilty, looking anywhere but George's eyes.
The snow began to fall harder as George sighed and sat himself on the ground, placing his head in his hand. "I thought you, of all people, would want to talk about it."
"I told you I did," Angelina replied sitting down next to George. "I just, couldn't find the right person to confide in…to understand me."
"Well, you've found the right guy."
After two hours, the two friends sat in silence, staring in front the headstone that marked Fred's resting place.
"How do you think he would feel about the way we've been acting?" Angelina asked quietly, her eyes puffy from crying.
"Probably angry with us," George chuckled, his also a bit red. "Mad we didn't talk for three years. Mad that we cry too much. Occasionally, yes. Constantly, no."
"He just wouldn't want to be forgotten."
"Nope, not forgotten. Never forgotten."
The snow had stopped falling. George stood up and stretched as Angelina followed suit. "Hey, do you want to stay at my place for Christmas? Mind you, we'll have to visit the Burrow."
Angelina smiled. "Yeah, that'd be nice." She conjured a small Christmas wreath and placed it on the headstone.
George and Angelina took one last look at the headstone before turning to leave, happier and hearts lighter than they had been when they entered.
Okay, so there you have it. Like I said not my best but still. Let me know what ya think!