"Of all the people in the world who could've died that night.. one of them had to be you," a voice spoke softly, full of sorrow. "You were my best friend, my 'partner-in-crime', my brother. I can't get over your death, mate. I need you back," the voice whispered. "It could've been anyone, anyone but you. I see your laughing face every night when I close my eyes, mate. I-" he stopped talking for a moment. It was silent, save for a couple of choked sobs.
He was crying. "I miss you, mate," the man started talking again, "more than I thought I would ever miss anyone. I never imagined the rest of my life without you because I thought you'd be here with me forever. I never thought-" the voice stopped again, followed by more sobs.
Someone spoke behind him, "Coming inside now? All of the decorations are hung up on the tree. And dinner's ready..."
"Just give me a minute." Silence. His younger sister must've gone inside. "This is our first Christmas without you. Mum will only be handing one twin a present this year. A bit of clothing, I assume. I don't know how I'll run the shop without you. I've spent most of my time in the flat above our shop. Our shop's been closed since that day," he took a deep breath, "you died, mate."
"Come inside now," a female voice said. It was his mother. He could only nod.
"I'll never get over you," he said. With that, the redhead followed his mother inside, but not before glancing at the grave one more time.
R.I.P
Fred Weasley
(1 April 1978 – 2 May 1998)
"A beloved son, brother, and friend. A second generation Marauder."