Glassy green eyes, wet with tears, stared on as he waved his wand, choked sobs tearing their way out of his throat as he lowered the ornate casket into the ground. A swish and a flick, and the earth covered the casket, sealing it into the ground forevermore. He fell to his knees, heedless of the dirt staining his trousers as he gazed at the upturned earth, and the gravestone that marked it, eyes blank. How had it come to this? Barely a year ago, they’d laughed as they talked of having children, of starting a family. Now? Now he knelt there, on the cold ground, as the funeral’s attendees, Veela and Human alike, muttered their condolences and left, one by one. He barely noticed as the final few stragglers, Appoline and Gabrielle and Sebastian, finally left the cemetery, muted cracks announcing their departure. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, gentle and comforting. “Harry? Mate?”, Ron spoke softly, “We have to go. Come on.” Mindlessly, he let Ron pull him to his feet, an arm wrapping itself around his shoulders as Hermione hugged him gently. Slowly, silently, the pair led a listless Harry Potter away from the grave, away from the gold writing on the alabaster stone. The writing that read,
Fleur Potter nee Delacour Loving wife and beloved daughter. Our birth does not define us, that is done by our will. 18th June, 1977 - 8th February, 2005