A/N: I wish that I own Harry Potter…but I don't.

A/N: Please R I love—and badly need—feedback.

I Will Remember You

It was a cloudy evening, with low, thick, swirls of black and grey above. On this day, a young man came to an empty grave yard to visit someone that was taken away from him. Harry James Potter was standing alone, in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow. He was just…standing and staring at the grave marker that was at his feet. He did not know how long he had been standing there…nor did he care. Part of his mind denied the fact that his friend was dead; another painfully accepted it.

His knees began to shake and wobble, and his eyes filled with tears that he never thought he could have again; he often cries himself to sleep these dark nights.

Harry's knees gave way, and he landed on his hands and knees. His trousers and palms touched the wet ground, and water began to soak into his pants; he didn't notice, for the name was right in front of his nose. He had often dreamed about this name and the face that always went with it, but when he woke, the memory faded, and tears came. Tears landed on his glasses, preventing him from seeing the lonely world that suffocated and haunted him, day and night, then would slide down to the edge of the frames, fall, and splash on the stone.

"Why…" Harry cried. "Why did you leave me? Why did you save me? Didn't you know that you would kill me if you saved me? Now I'm alone…" There came no reply in the empty graveyard, except for the howling of the cold December wind that blew through his hair.

Hermione Granger, the girl that Harry had grown to love just before her life was cut short, was murdered. But the reason that her life was taken away made Harry's heart break. Hermione died protecting Harry from Voldemort's Killing Curse; she died instead of letting her friend perish. But what made Harry feel sick with guilt and depressed with his life was that love, once again, saved him from dieing; who ever said that only a mothers' love for her child was enough to save a life? When Harry was about to die, Voldemort's Avada Kedevera curse backfired, leaving him close to death; Harry completed the prophecy himself. But, without the friend that he cherished, he felt that life was worthless; there was no reason to continue if all he got was pain.

But, what made Harry feel weak and worthless was the fact that he was all alone in the world, because he let his other faithful friends die too. Neville Longbottom, the brave but clumsy friend, died protecting the one that he loved: Ginny Weasley. Unfortunately, the youngest Weasley perished when Bellatrix Lestrange killed her when she was trying to save her best friend: Luna Lovegood. Luna, whose brains saved her for a while, was tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, and then killed by Lucius Malfoy. And Ron Weasley…he was killed after he refused to be controlled with an Imperius Curse. The puppeteer commanded Ron to kill Harry, but Ron refused to murder his best mate. The brave redhead said that he would rather die than hurt Harry. So, in the end, loyalty killed the faithful friend.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, which made two more rolling tears shine in the dull light of the dark, cloudy day. Just a short time before Hermione died, Harry felt differently toward his friend; he thought that had a crush on her. Later, after she had perished, he knew that that was no crush, but much deeper; love. Harry would always try to make her laugh in the dark times, and when they would think about the up-coming war, they would always comfort each other with their presence and words. He thought that Hermione was the most beautiful, charming, smart, and over-all best person in the world; she could make Harry forget about the prophecy with just a little laugh. Hermione Granger was Harry's treasure in the dark world, but now, Harry was broke of all things beautiful.

Harry, staring at the name in front of him, still on his hands and knees, remembered what he had said to her just before the war began.

Flashback

"Don't be scared 'Mione;" he said, tilting her chin up to look into her anxious chocolate eyes, "Everything will turn out fine. When this war is over and Voldemort's dead, the six of us will celebrate at the Three Broomsticks, without worry; everyone will be safe."

"Harry, I have a feeling that…somehow, I don't think I'll…be there to join you for a Butterbeer, Harry," said Hermione in a hushed voice,

"Whatever you do," said Harry firmly, "don't think that you won't live to see tomorrow, 'cause you will. You'll live to be great Hermione Granger, I know it. You'll be respected, and you'll never be seen as just another witch; you'll make a difference. I promise, and I have never lied to you before." Harry wanted to tell her about his developing feelings, but thought against it; he didn't want her to feel any worse than she already did if she didn't like him back. Harry let go of her chin, but both still looked into the others' eyes. Harry searched her beautiful eyes, and saw tears appear, covering the chocolate color with sadness and worry; she still didn't feel that she would ever see another sunrise.

"Harry," she said in a trembling voice, "If I die…will you promise me something?"

"Of course," Harry said, watching a tear roll down her face.

"Will you remember me? Will you make sure that I won't be forgotten?"

"I will remember you," said Harry simply, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. He took her small hands in his, and held them. He felt tears wanting to come, but he pushed them back; he would not let Hermione see that he was scared.

Just then, a red firework erupted in the dark sky, signaling that the enemy was approaching. Harry and Hermione looked at the red flash, and saw the color cover the green of the grass that they were standing on. They were illuminated with the color that would be seen all over the ground when the battle was over.

Harry dropped Hermione's right hand, but gripped the other tighter. Together, they marched hand-in-hand down the grassy hill, with the sound of marching wizards behind them. Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville ran up to Harry and Hermione, wands at the ready, and the five friends, with Harry, unknowingly marched to their deaths.

End of Flashback

Harry didn't know that his dearest friends would be killed so menacingly, and horribly, but they did. Harry sobbed as he looked at one of the five grave markers that he wished was just another one of Fred and Georges' pranks. But, the Weasley twins had not made another product after their little brother and sister had died; they were too depressed to do the thing that Ginny and Ron both admired: pranks. Harry then closed his red eyes.

"Guy," whispered Harry to the darkness, "If you can hear me…I'm sorry. I love you all, but I'd never said it to you. Now, it's too late." Harry felt a cold, harsh wind blow over him, causing him to shiver. Harry rocked backward into a sitting position, and took off his glasses. He then covered his cold, wet face with shaking hands.

"Sometimes I wish that I had never met you, Hermione," said Harry through his fingers. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't be feeling this pain. But without your face and smile…I could not live with the joy that I had. I would rather have had you and then lose you, then to have never met you in the first place, even though it hurts so much. You were my rock to reality…and now I don't know what is real and what my mind is making up. I see yours and the others' faces in the crowd and I hear your voices at night when everything is quiet!" Harry then removed his hands and stared at the grave marker with teary eyes, "My mind is playing tricks on me Hermione!" he pleaded to the howling wind, "But when I look again or blink…you're gone…again. 'Mione, I have seen you and lost you so many times that I don't know if you're gone or just hiding!" His voice was carried by the cold wind to the people living nearby.

"I need you Hermione. I need my two redheaded friends. I need someone to play chess with. I need someone to tell me what's new it The Quibbler. I need someone to help me through the dark days and the black nights. I need you guys. Why was I left behind?" Harry whispered.

Harry then felt the wind suddenly stop. Harry looked around; everything was too quiet without the wind. The only company that Harry now had was the grave markers.

Then, Harry heard a little crackling noise above his head. He saw something pale gently falling down towards him. Harry grabbed it, and was surprised to find that it was an envelope. He grabbed his glasses from the grass, and put them on. On the front, his name was written in familiar, neat handwriting with black ink: Harry. Harry looked left, right, behind him, and in front; no one was there; the grave yard was still empty. Harry's heart started to beat faster; the handwriting looked like Hermione's. Harry cautiously opened the flap that was sealed with a piece of tape. Inside was a piece of parchment with writing in five different styles.

Harry,

I knew that you deserved another chance to have a good life, so I did what I did. You told me once that I would be great, now I'll tell you: You'll be great Harry Potter; you'll make a difference. You never told me, but I heard you speak your feelings; I feel the same. I'll see you up here later. Make us proud Harry.

With love, always,

Hermione

Harry,

Don't feel sorry; it's not your fault. We knew what we were doing when we decided to join you in the war. Keep your chin up Harry; you always told me to, so you should listen to your own advice, lol.

Neville

Mate,

We'll be there when you need us; we never left you.

Ron

Harry,

You don't need me to tell you what's new in The Quibbler, go look for yourself, silly. You don't need us to have a good life; you can make it good on your own.

Luna

Harry,

Don't waste your life thinking about us; you need to live your own to the limit. Unfortunately, our limit has been reached, but that doesn't mean that you need to give up yours. We'll be waiting for you, but don't get here too quickly!

Ginny

Harry looked at the letter with wide eyes; this is their handwriting, thought Harry, but their…dead? Harry looked at what Ron had written: we never left you. Harry didn't know how this was possible, but Harry felt as if his friends really did write to him from Heaven.

He looked at what Hermione had written, and the corners of his open mouth twitched upward: does she really know?

Harry then shook his head; he actually thought that they had written to him! That was impossible! But…he thought that many things were impossible, and was proven wrong. Harry then felt a little breeze gently blow his hair, and he could smell a little hint of cinnamon. Harry noticed that the scent was wafting from the letter itself. Harry's eyes filled with fresh tears; Hermione always smelled of cinnamon, but only I seemed to notice. Could she really have sent this?

"Guys…where are you?" Harry nervously whispered, looking around; he could taste the salty tears on his lips as he spoke. Harry then looked straight, and saw a pure white feather falling gently onto Hermione's grave marker. Harry picked it up, and was surprised to feel liquid: there was fresh black ink on the tip. Harry looked at it…then slowly looked up to the cloudy sky. He saw a little gap in the clouds, so he could see through one layer and could see the other darker clouds behind. Harry didn't know if the gap was all a coincidence, but Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Angels, he thought with slight humor, but was an unusually serious thought. Harry didn't know if this was all some kind of prank (Ginny and Ron, thought Harry) but it made Harry feel better. The letter with their handwriting and the things that were written did sound like his friends. Harry could almost feel his heart slowly mend itself together from their words; he knew that that was what his good friends would want. Harry knew, not just by a letter, that they wouldn't want him to waste his life, mourning over what could've been.

Harry slowly hauled himself up onto his stiff knees, and looked down at Hermione's name. He could see many dried drops of his tears on the stone. He wondered if Hermione really did like him, but there was one true way to find out: ask her herself. But with what Ginny wrote (don't get here too quickly) Harry decided that that question could wait for a while.

With his letter and envelope clutched to his chest, he hesitantly turned away from Hermione's marker, and slowly walked away. When he past Ron's, Harry looked down and said, "Thanks," and continued walking. Harry spared the grave yard one last glance, and walked through the grave yard gate. He vowed to himself that he would make a difference in the world; he would not waste his life. As he walked down the sidewalk, he thought of his friends that shaped him into the person that he was, and was eternally grateful for them.

"I will remember you," Harry whispered to his 'angels'. At the moment, angles giving him advice didn't seem so impossible.

If Harry were to look up, he would have seen five pale faces looking through the gap in the Heavens. If he had looked, he would have seen his friends smiling and giving high-fives all around. The friends then turned their gazes back to Harry, as he walked down a dark alleyway and Apparated to his the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione reached behind her back, and brought forth a white feather, and stuck it behind her ear. Luna and Neville, lying on their stomachs, were looking down at the graveyard. Ginny put the bottle of black ink into her white robe, while Ron was sticking scotch tape onto his long nose.

"Well," said Ron, the tape fluttering, "I think our job here is done. To tell you the truth, it was about time he had gotten through his thick skull that it wasn't his fault that we died." His friends nodded, and with that, the friends pushed the clouds together, covering up their hole.

A mighty wind picked up, blowing the dark clouds away. After a few seconds, a few rays of warm sunlight streamed from the clouds. Five rays each landed on five separate markers, with the names of true heroes engraved upon them. And on one marker, fallen tears glittered on one remembered name.

Hermione Jane Granger

Ronald Bilius Weasley

Ginerva Molly Weasley

Neville Joseph Longbottom

Luna Cathleen Lovegood

The wind carried two, little white flower pedals, which traveled the opposite way the wind was blowing. Those two pedals then gently flew lower and lower to two different grave markers.

Hermione opened another little hole in the clouds and smiled as the two white pedals softly landed on the stone markers of two other heroes.

James William Potter

Lillian Elizabeth Evans

The End