The Funeral

Gaya Hriive

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 05/07/2005
Last Updated: 05/07/2005
Status: completed

Hermione shares her grief with her son after Harry's death.

Chapters

1. The Funeral

1. The Funeral

Today everything is silent. The house is so quiet that it seems like I am the only one here. The children are downstairs, sitting on the sofa, but none of them have spoken in a while.

I hate wearing black. I don't think that it suits me. I much prefer the tweed or khaki skirts and sweaters that I normally dress in. I haven't worn black since the last funeral I attended, but that was many years ago.

I don't like funerals. Everyone always cries and then there is the thought that the one that died will miss so much. It seems impossible to imagine life without a loved one. I never really thought that it would happen this way, though.

We were supposed to die together, you know. We agreed on it many years ago that when it was time to leave this world we would go together. It was a rather selfish thing to agree on now that I think about it. I could only think that because I am the one left alone.

My mind is busy and blank at the same time. Our life together has flashed before my eyes every day since he died; our wedding, the birth of our three children, the births of their children. It all seems like yesterday but in actuality was really a lifetime ago.

Our marriage was far from perfect; we had our fights and our falling outs, but in the end we always made up. Nothing could ever separate us permanently. We raised our children to be fine adults and outstanding members of the magical community. All three of them, burdened by the weight of the name they were born into, that magical name spoken throughout our world for many years, even before they were born, rose to the occasion and made themselves more than just a name.

My face is stiff from crying. I can hardly keep my eyes open but I am afraid to close them. It took me a while to even be able to enter our room. He is everywhere. His scent still lingers on the bed, his clothes in the closet. I am afraid to touch anything, afraid to disturb the state in which he left our home.

I hear Lana, our oldest daughter shuffling downstairs. She must be making tea for Tate and Ella. They all love their father very much. He was everything to them. He was-is-everything to me, the only man I ever loved. We were so very much in love, right until the end. He was as close to a perfect husband as he knew how to be, and I was the best wife to him that I knew how to be. We worked together to build a life away from all of the expectations set aside for us. We married young and began our family almost immediately. We both had good jobs and our children never wanted for anything. We were a perfectly happy family, but not outside of our little family spats.

I am not sure that I will be able to live without him. I can't see how I can be expected to survive. The children are all married with families of their own, and I shall be left here all alone. He was my companion of more than forty-nine years. How do you live without someone that you have loved almost your entire life? I can't sleep in our bed anymore. I can't bear to wake up knowing that he won't be next to me. I miss him so much that my chest hurts. I feel the tears coming back again. I am utterly exhausted from my grief. I would give anything to have him back, if only for one day.

We never kept anything from each other. There were never thoughts unspoken or feelings unshared. We always made sure that the other of us knew how much we loved the other and we never wasted a single moment of our lives together. I look at all the pictures and the tears begin their beaten path down my exhausted face. The pain and grief is too much; I can't bear to go on without him, but I know that I must. My children and grandchildren need me and I can not be selfish and abandon them now. I must be strong but it is a wasted effort. He was my life, my soul mate. I have no strength in me knowing that for the rest of my life I shall be without him. No more little gestures of love, no more singing in the shower, no more love making.

I can't help the sobs from conquering me. My shoulders are shaking and I am hunched over, my head in my hands. The door opens and my son Tate rushes over to me. He takes me around the shoulders and soon I feel the warmth of his tears on my neck. He tries to console me but I feel that it is a wasted effort.

“Mum, everything is going to be fine, I swear. I can't ask you not to cry because it would be ridiculous to ask that. Try to find comfort in knowing how much Dad loved you. You were his world, his everything. He would have jumped over the moon for you. I don't know how we are going to get through this, him not being here. He loved us and none of us ever doubted it for a second of our lives. I love you Mum. You still have us; he lives through me Ella and Lana. His memory will never die. Dad was a great man, a legend among our people. He was kind and loving and helped more people than any of us ever will. People will always remember him. He was after all, the Boy Who Lived.”

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