What's left behind…
A/N: My own tribute to the death of one of my favorite characters.
She was empty inside. All hollow. And cold, like his side of the bed. The sheet was still tucked in sloppily from when he had shoved it under the mattress. She had swatted at him, and threatened to make him redo it, but he just grinned and chased her out of the room.
How do you go on? How do you pick up the shattered pieces of your heart and try to put them back together when you know nothing will ever be the same again?
She shivered, and stared blankly at the tombstone that had his name carved into it in bold, curly, letters.
"Come on Angie, don't be sad. Look, I've brought you flowers."
He had never brought her flowers before until after their first big fight. Then he had ordered bouquet after bouquet of red and pink roses. She had laughed at his ridiculousness, but forgave him anyway.
It wasn't fair, really, that he had to go away.
"Ah, but Angie girl, life isn't fair," he had said, holding her close after she had lost her job. "It will all work out in the end. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
She had been inconsolable, moping about the house until she got a better job.
It wasn't like that after he died. She couldn't even cry. She just went numb. The others tiptoed about her daily; afraid she would crumble if someone even mentioned his name.
George had finally sat her down. "He wouldn't want this for you Ang. You need to move on,"
But she just looked away, barely hearing him.
She overheard Mrs. Weasley talking about it with Alicia and George in the kitchen one day. "Just give her time. It's hardest on her, you know."
George protested slightly, but even he knew their bond had been stronger than anything else in the world.
Angelina traced his name, and slowly stood up, the wind brushing her cloak around her body.
"Goodbye Fred," she whispered.
A/N
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Llyr