Fred stood gazing out at the field in front of him. The sun was slowly rising. He was collecting the dead but had paused to watch the sun rise. The sight before him looked so much worse when light spilled out across the land.
He shuddered, thinking of the few hours before. Voldemort was dead, but this was not a day of victory. It was a day of mourning, of loss.
He felt a hand in his and he squeezed it tightly. She was still here and together they would strongly take on this day and the emotions it brought.
