Cleaning Wounds
AN: This actually happened to me. Please don't flames. P.O.V. is Neville's daughter. So, my P.O.V. really…
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am not even allowed to borrow it.
The gray tombstones jutted out of the brown soil, sprinkled with patches of grass and various flower arrangements. A lone figure appeared at the gate. She had long, wavy dirty-blonde hair. She was of an average height but a little bit chubby. There was still baby fat hanging from her cherubic features. Her lips were a bright pink, painted by the wind rather than the make up she never wore.
She was dressed in a way her mother approved of when she left the house. She had on purple and blue spotted tights with a thick red and gold striped skirt. Her sweater was a pale white which was charmed by her mother to change colors every few seconds. White, pale blue, pale green, pasty pink, lavender, and a variety of soft colors. She also wore a black coat with patches from the pictures of her grandfather's old newspaper: The Quibbler. Her ear rings were worthy of a Christmas tree. They were white bulbs with an image of a raven and a lion gazing at each other.
She walked to a specific tombstone. "Hi, dad." She whispered. She leaned down and sat next to the stone on the cold, damp ground. She brushed aside leaves from the oak tree nearby. She pulled from her pocket a small feather and lightly dusted the surface of the stone. Every spec of dust she found, she swept away. She continued her cleaning assault until the stone shone in the light in a way that no marker of death should have a right to.
She leaned over and straightened the flower arrangements. A small pot of poinsettias sat near the edge. It was from Harry and Ginny. She could still remember Ginny's tears that Christmas. There was a rare flower from her mother adorning the top of the stone. It was supposed to bless the death it surrounds. Her mother had picked off the petals of a hundred of these plants and thrown them around the cemetery.
It wasn't that difficult to imagine why her mom's nickname is "Loony Luna Lovegood- Longbottom."
After giving attention to her father's grave she swept her fingers once more against the cool marble.
Neville Longbottom
The Courage of a Gryffindor lives on through his spirit. War Hero, Father, Husband, Friend, Son. His spirit will always be missed.
Her father had died in a fight against a group of rogue Death Eaters. A decade after the war and Voldemort still has followers even after there is no hope of resurrection.
She then walked over to the surrounding tombstones and gave them the same treatment as she did her father's. She thought to herself, would these spirits who have passed on want a child to be touching their grave?
She had been doing this since her father died three years ago. Every week, she would go to the small cemetery that housed little over fifty souls. She would clean the graves and straighten arrangements. Even though she had just graduated Hogwarts, she didn't use magic for the cleaning. She did it herself.
She had always called it "cleaning the wounds." Even after the pain of her loss had subsided (it will never fully leave) she continued to do this. These graves needed attentions. She had learned the names of every one of these people. She had even come to befriend their surviving family. When they came to visit, she would approach them. She found that expressing grief together helped cleanse the soul along with the wounds. She hoped that one day; a little girl will clean her grave and learn her name. Not at the expense of loosing a father, but for the good of it.
As she turned to leave, she heard the whistling of the leaves in the trees and the flowers.
"Goodbye Elsie Mae. Come again. I need you. I love you."
"I love you, too, dad."
This is dedicated to Elsie Mae. When I visited my father's grave and went to clean, I saw the fresh tombstone of a little girl named Elsie Mae who died after only a few years of life. This is for her. So Neville and Luna had a child together who's name is Elsie Mae. Well, thanks for reading.