Hope
There was no hope left. She could see in George's eyes. When he paused in a sentence, waiting for another voice to finish it, a voice that she would never hear again. She could see it in her mother's tears. When she thought no one was looking, and you pretended you weren't there. She could see it in Ron's laugh. When he tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and then he would laugh, but it would sound too mechanical.
She could look in everyone and anyone's eyes and see it. The hurt, the anger, the fear. But she never saw hope, or trust, or happiness. Of course she saw love. Her family loved each other, but it wasn't the same. It was hallow, incomplete kind of love. Like when you know you have more than you could have ever asked for, but it's just not quite enough.
But, of course that wasn't the end. A world with no hope would be no world at all. Time passes, the world goes on. It's hard to feel hope when your life revolves around tragedy. But hope lives. And love lives. And you cry, and laugh, and scream, and kiss, and think. And even when it seems impossible, you keep on loving.
Because when you look into those icy gray eyes, and when he tells you he loves you, you know there must be hope. You know there must be something more to live for, because he makes you want to live with him forever. So you always hope, and you always love, and you keep on living, because then you find what you've been hoping for.