Hermione shivered as a gust of wind blew against her, chilling her to the very core. She stared down at the picture she held in her hand ... it was ... is so entrancingly beautiful.
There was Ginny, her scarlet tresses flying in the summer breeze as she stood laughing, the sunlight dancing upon her face ... and there was Harry, utterly blissful as he stood with his arm around her waist, his emerald eyes brimming with mirth ...
She had never truly thought of why they were so very happy in this picture, but as she held it against herself now, smiling reminiscently, she knew.
They did not necessarily have a reason to be, because they made each other happy. They shared something priceless, something worth living for ... fighting for ... dying for.
She had wondered, sometimes, how they spoke quite so often without words. Ginny had always understood Harry effortlessly - far better than either Hermione or Ron, and so it seemed for Harry.
Hermione and Ron may laugh and cry with Harry, but Ginny laughed and cried for him.
Even then, Hermione had known. To Harry, even when he stood alone in the end, Ron and Hermione were everything, but Ginny was the only thing.
Hermione had always known that Ginny was beautiful. Especially so now, never happier than when she was with Harry.
There was some inner storm which kept her so vivacious, so spirited, so lively, like a fire amidst darkness ... it was a strange mix of feral and beautiful.
But that was how she had always been, wild and free and alive by a fire so ardent, so passionate that no magic could ever create or destroy.
Her scarlet hair flew in the wind, turning golden momentarily as the sun shone upon it, and her sienna eyes seemed to blaze with some distant, eternal fire, keeping them so full of life.
It would render the most indifferent human breathless.
Hermione had always thought that Harry had the most breathtaking eyes she had seen, but remembered that they once belonged to Lily Evans.
They were not entirely green, but a kaleidoscope of hues, emerald and jade and viridian and forest all mingling together as one.
They were expressive, and she saw it when they darkened with sorrow, blazed with anger or sparkled with happiness.
They were unfathomable, with depths which seemed to continue forever ...
It would warm the coldest heart and light the darkest mind.
Hermione still remembered Ginny's laugh, and how it would echo through the air, bringing with it an inexplicable, effortless joy which roused laughter in others as well.
She remembered her anger, and how the bravest soul would fear her wrath.
She remembered her pain, and how well she kept it hidden, not only because she was strong enough to conquer it, but because she was compassionate enough to not let it hurt others.
She remembered her quick wit, and how it could silence the worst words, words which could not be taken back.
She remembered her occasional wisdom, and how she inspired even her to go on through her own courage.
But then she had fallen, and taken with her all the laughter and wisdom she gave others.
It was a silent moment when she finally fell, her red hair encircling her face in a halo of flame, and her eyes shone for the last time.
It was surreal ... dreamlike, almost, if it were not for the bitter truth.
They had seen her, lying lifeless and unseeing ... but not defeated.
Even before dying she had defeated Dolohov, and her vengeance towards the man who destroyed her family was fulfilled.
It had seemed strange to see someone so full of life empty so suddenly.
She did not know in the beginning, what she should have done, and whether she could have done it.
She had simply stood there, her and Ron being the only ones who witnessed it.
For that second, or the eternity it felt to be ... time and place were lost to her, and she looked upon the face of her friend as one defeated.
Somewhere emanated a roar of anguish, and only then she awakened to see that it was Harry.
It took her an entire moment - or an eternity, to realise that tears had found their way down her own cheeks, and that Ron shook, overwhelmed by the force of the truth that he now faced.
Harry had never moved from his place, holding her in his arms and rocking to and fro, whispering brokenly as though he hoped to bring her back somehow ...
She knew now, how everything he held dear had always been snatched so cruelly from him, for a fate he did not choose, and a fate he could not ignore.
Ron and Hermione were still there, everything he had left to lose, but the only thing he had left to lose was gone.
They brought her among many others who sacrificed their lives to the grounds, and for a moment, as the sun danced across her face, all of it was gone, and she was alive again.
Hermione knew that none could take her place.
And Hermione remembered.
Harry had returned to the battle, and fought on, because she knew that Ginny would not have wanted him to give up.
But she knew that it was because he fought for her.
It was perhaps because of this that he fought relentlessly, until his own farewell.
That night, she had lost another of her friends.
She felt a strange ache in her heart as he was laid down beside Dumbledore, never again to see them.
She had thought it injustice.
Did not someone who loved so deeply and had forsaken so much for a better tomorrow have the right to live?
For the first time, Ron had cried.
They had both lost their brother.
She had not cared if the world would see, and her own screams seemed to return to her, mocking her for her carelessness.
She did think of what would have or could have happened, because it was not worthwhile.
She did not think of that, not because she did not want to, but because now, when Harry and Ginny lay peacefully, she did not wish to bring them back to this war - torn world where they would be disunited.
And Hermione remembered.
They may not have had much time in this world, but she had faith that they would in their eternity, in that world where they truly belonged.
And she still held this evidence of the fact that Harry and Ginny had existed, and their love had existed, because she felt a need for it in this weary world.
The moon rose silently, stars twinkling in the dark infinity of the heavens above. The wind still blew, colder and more piercing than before, but it did not trouble ehr.
For she still had a fragment, however insignificant, of Harry and Ginny with her.
She may have said that their memories weakened her, but they instead gave her the warmth no fire could ever create.
And above all, they gave the world a reason more to love than to hate.