A handsome man in his twenties walked toward the resting place holding a
dozen blood red roses. The white snow was falling making everything it
touched glow so radiantly. Or maybe it was because it fell where she was
buried. Harry looked at the angel above her and smiled.
It was ten years after the tragedy occurred. People had forgotten, forget the tragedy that had sent two teenagers to there deaths. Harry had not. After ten years Harry still blamed himself, blamed himself for the death of his best friend Hermione Granger. Harry had finished school and moved to Italy to become an Auror and get away from it. There he met another witch named Olivia, she was smart and beautiful and he instantly fell in love. They soon married and had there first child.
Her name was Hermione.
She was gorgeous. She had honey brown eyes, auburn curls and rosy cheeks that were irresistible. She had the determination and the mischievous glint in her eyes just like the late Hermione.
He had come back every year to apologize to Hermione and give her a dozen red roses. He still felt the cry in his heart and his tears still fell. But what was he to do? The pain didn't stop. It hurt so much and he wished it would just go away. But it didn't.
Here lies Hermione Granger, our angel.
When time were bad and could not get any worst she would be our savour, she would be our god.
We shall miss you.
Harry dropped the roses in front of her grave, breathed in the frosty air then walked slowly down the gravel path as the innocent snow fell.
It was ten years after the tragedy occurred. People had forgotten, forget the tragedy that had sent two teenagers to there deaths. Harry had not. After ten years Harry still blamed himself, blamed himself for the death of his best friend Hermione Granger. Harry had finished school and moved to Italy to become an Auror and get away from it. There he met another witch named Olivia, she was smart and beautiful and he instantly fell in love. They soon married and had there first child.
Her name was Hermione.
She was gorgeous. She had honey brown eyes, auburn curls and rosy cheeks that were irresistible. She had the determination and the mischievous glint in her eyes just like the late Hermione.
He had come back every year to apologize to Hermione and give her a dozen red roses. He still felt the cry in his heart and his tears still fell. But what was he to do? The pain didn't stop. It hurt so much and he wished it would just go away. But it didn't.
Here lies Hermione Granger, our angel.
When time were bad and could not get any worst she would be our savour, she would be our god.
We shall miss you.
Harry dropped the roses in front of her grave, breathed in the frosty air then walked slowly down the gravel path as the innocent snow fell.