She watched the sky, because like life, it was ever changing and unpredictable. She looked lost and found. The lawns spread out from her ankles, giving itself to her, because if he were there their bodies would be wrapped in an everlasting embrace, but he was not.
She watched the sky like a child would, her eyes never leaving it, innocence and forgiveness fighting with anger and pain. Sometimes her brow furrowed, and sometimes silver droplets fell from her eyes; hope from another time lost. The palms of her hands were face down on the grass as though she was pinned to her place, vulnerable beneath the trillions of specks blanketed in the indigo, yet holding the grace and the love in her poised wrists. That glowing, darkening blue of the sky. It consumed everything.
Where was he?
Tonight she was alone.
A yellow twinkle from above, its elongated peaks jarring her eyes upwards, suddenly absorbed the sorrow in the sky, and as she stared at it, watched it grow, her heart expanded with it. With a rumble, like a boulder across the floor, the clouds moved in and covered everything, and droplets were released from the sky, feathers from the wings of angels that watched over her. He was gone, he no longer existed, but there was a part of him that touched every facet of her soul. The deep rumbling of the skies comforted her because everything was in his power, and he had already given so much to her.
When she closed her eyes, she could see him lying face down on the damp grass with his wand clutched tightly in his hand, his robes torn and the tears of another boy wetting his shoulder. So young. His face was not puckered by age. His smile was untainted. She could remember every time he had held her hand and she had held his back. And then, everything blurred, from haze unto haze, and she waded through the watery crowds to get to him, her feet like light, but he had been picked up, taken away, hidden, the moans of his father like a broken animal filling her mind.
That rumble, that filling, rolling, deep, wide rumble. It opened the heavens. It unburdened the cove. It pushed that forsaken, hated memory aside, of his body cracked and lifeless and bleeding. Without her, without love, without understanding. But she could climb into the shadows and touch his face, and he stood standing, smiling, palms together and so much love in his eyes.
"Darling, it's raining,"
She could feel the cold but she could not draw her eyes from that one hazy pinprick that meekly tried to outshine the thick grey clouds that encompassed the sky. The rays, dispersed by the droplets, tenderly stroked at her flesh, pulling it apart and reaching into the tiny spark of life inside her chest. She had never believed in fate, but his love was written in the stars. One figure in the dark clouds, a picture of goodness, shrouded in light, the universe nestled in the folds of the skin of his hands.
"Please, come back inside. You'll catch a cold,"
She tried to stand but she fell to her knees, tears blinding her, reflecting that glorious light from above. The hand on her shoulder was not felt, the gasps slipping from her lips not heard. She understood, and she understood everything.
He was always meant to die, always meant to sacrifice himself because from the cold dampness fire sprang, and it burnt a path that must be tread, spoke words that must be uttered and made way for the end of all things. He was more than a pawn, because in his death he taught, and he helped everyone to grow. He was taken to another time, taken back into the sky from where they all came. Like she would too one day.
"He's not. He never will go."
Her first love, nestled within a crevice of hope and pain, because she had been stripped of him. He was there, when her eyes were opened or closed, when her heart had given up and her mouth spoke sin. He was there, the giver and taker of all things.