Disclaimer: I do not own, in any way, anything recognizable from the works of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: A VERY short ficlet... Just something I wrote over the last couple of days. Hope you like it and leave a review.

Angels Fall Down

This is for two of my grandparents who both lost the terrible fight against cancer. I miss you, my angels. Hope you're better off wherever you are now.

The T-shirt was ripped and bloody, one of his arms was twisted in what would have been a painful position if he could have felt it at all. His wand was still clutched in the white hand and the lost hazel eyes stared into the distance he couldn't see. The broken glasses hang loosely on the tip of his nose. He couldn't hear to the sound of sobs coming from the person leaning over him. He couldn't see the tears falling down on the floor beside him. He was gone. She lay in front of the shattered cot, an openly fearful look still etched on her face. The tears had yet to dry from her emerald eyes. Just like her husband, she couldn't hear the cries coming from the toddler or see the tearful man trying desperately to calm him down. Just like her husband, she was gone. They were buried together. They looked peaceful that way, everyone said. But they would be anything but if they only knew.

He was gone. There was no body. Only the memory of his startled face as he fell and disappeared. But through their grieving, they all knew he was more peaceful where he was now.

He was found on the grounds, his wand had been blown out of his hand and his tattered robes lay loosely around his entangled frame. The wide, glazed eyes were hollow, staring into the eternity of nothingness. The tears he had shed had made a trail along the many scars visible on his face and neck, which were more noticeable than ever against the white skin. Deep red trailed its way slowly down from a gash on his forehead, colouring the green grass as it dripped rhythmically to the ground. His unmoving hand was stretched out, mere inches from touching a mass of light brown hair. The brown surrounded a face as dead as his. She still had her wand in hand, her eyes as wide as her husbands, glittering despite their lifeless look. They lay him beside her amongst the others who had lost their lives. They looked peaceful there.

And now I know. Angels do fall down. They just have to fly up again sometime.