Wedding Day

Hermione tried to catch her breath as she ascended the hill.  She lifted her silk wedding robes off the ground with a shaking hand.  She checked her hair again.  The veil was pinned neatly with flowers.  (I should have Auntie Muriel’s tiara.  Where’s the tiara?  Gave it to someone, passed it on…)

She did her best to move faster.  (I mustn’t be late-they’re waiting for me.  HE’s waiting for me.)  This was the day she had dreamed of for so many years, the day that she would be with Ron forever.

She wondered if it would hurt, this giving away of her body that would come.  She decided that it didn’t really matter.  She would be with Ron, and that was all she needed to know. 

She reached the top of the hill and sat down to rest.  (Sun’s so bright, sun’s in my eyes.)  She would rest and wait for him.  There, there he was; his soft ginger hair hanging over laughing blue eyes, mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.  “Come on home, love,” he whispered as he held out his hand.  She smiled, took his hand, and stepped into the light. 

“Mum!  Mum, where are you?” Rose called to the empty house.  “Blast it, that dotty old woman’s been climbing that hill again!”  She shook her head with an exasperated sigh.  She held her wand, concentrated, and stepped out onto a grassy knoll.

“Mum!” she cried on seeing her mother’s figure, still dressed in her wedding robes.  “Mum, what are you…”  Rose rushed to the stone bearing the name Ronald Bilius Weasley, beloved husband and father.  Hermione was sitting against the stone, clutching a bouquet of flowers in her hand, a peaceful smile on her face.   Rose cradled her mother’s cold body in her arms.  She checked for pulse but knew she would find none.  Hermione had already gone home.