This is written for The Golden Snitch!
I'm in Hogwarts, Slytherin!
Ollivanders Wand Shop: Yew-[Ginny Weasley] Write about death.
TRIGGER WARNING! ALLUSIONS TO SUICIDE!
He was walking across the graveyard, stopping every few seconds to glance at those who had fallen. When he finally reached hers, he knelt down, only to plant his knee in the remains of a dead bird. Withholding a shriek of surprise, he quickly scooted back on the cold, hard ground and spelled his pants clean.
He reached a twitchy hand out to the luminous, white gravestone, and dusted his fingers over her name, 'Hermione Granger.' She had died, protecting others, others who shouldn't have been there. She had saved countless children that day, but what kind of monsters went after the youth?
Those monsters ruled now, first taking over Britain, then the surrounding countries, until they had a hold of the world. The world's population was small now, nothing but pureblood wizards, and even then, most of them were related. His entire hope, had been in her, even her friends. But, they failed everyone.
Even then, he still gathered what little help he could, and laid them down to rest, on a forgotten piece of land. He didn't care that it was costly, they had all of the money in the world, now.
He let a single tear slip down his cheek, letting the memories of her wash over him. He couldn't take it anymore. She was a beacon of hope to the world, and she was gone. Her and every other member of her side. Slaughtered like pigs. Resigning himself once again to his fate of the destroyed world, he got off of the ground, and finally looked around him fully.
Dead birds. Everywhere. How did he not notice it before? They laid atop the solid ground, and its protruding stones. Feathers still coated spots in the air, not wanting to part from the sky just yet. He was all alone in a world of death, and that thought terrified him.
Why had I not died, was I not worthy enough for peace? For comfort?
He had cursed whatever Gods there were that laid in the Heavens. To at least give him something. But still, nothing happened, and he felt like a leaf in the wind. Parted from its source of life, thrown to the ground, and eventually would crumble to nothing but dust.
He continued on his journey once more, but he knew it would always lead back to the same spot. To her. He could never venture far enough, could never forget. His home was her.
He longed for her to know these things, for her to know that he loved her, even if she was nothing more than a memory.
He knew what he must do, how to join with her again. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner, but it was a coward's way.
He wrote his final goodbyes, setting them free in the wind. They would reach their destinations after it was too late.
He settled himself atop of her burial ground, leaning against the cold stone, and he cried. He lifted his wand to his temple, and said his last words.
"Avada Kedavra!"