Authors Note: This just came to me one day as i walked towards my uncles grave hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.

Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH!

Cruel Fate

The wind blew gently across the young boys face as he walked towards the large angel tombstone, which he knew marked his best friends grave. He walked slowly towards the angel that looked down on them with mourning eyes, looking as if it was going to cry from the loss. He held his sixteen-year-old sisters hand trying to offer her the comfort he didn't have. He had to be strong for her. If he wasn't then her pure soul would surely break. He had to be strong, he just had to be. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream about the injustice of his friend's death, he wanted someone to hold him and tell him that it would be all right. All he wanted to do was mourn the loss of the boy he had trusted with his life, the boy he knew he could always count on but he couldn't, he had his sister to look after.

He stopped for a moment closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath but as he closed his eyes all he saw was the bright emerald green light speeding towards the black haired boy. He could remember the feeling of happiness he had had when his friend had finally killed Voldemort in a powerful spell that not even Dumbledore would have been able to perform. He could still see all the people left cheering that they were now free, they had won it didn't matter that hundreds upon thousands of people were killed, were slaughtered, were left without families, all that mattered was that they had won. But like everything victory came with a price. The price of a saviour. All the red haired boy could see was the eyes of the black-haired boy, the same colour as the spell, which was going to kill him wide with shock and surprise as the light sped towards him just before he clamped a hand over his chest wincing with pain. He remembered how his best friend had fallen to the ground with a steady thump, his body shaking with one last pain filled breath before finally being stilled. He shook his head as he remembered. He didn't want to remember how he had ran over to his friend and shook him roughly trying to wake him up, telling him this wasn't a funny.

He could still feel the coldness of the skin, which was usually so warm; he could still see vividly the lifeless eyes staring up in shock at the sky, which had darkened considerably during the war. Tears fell from his eyes as he remembered that fateful day but he shook his head and wiped roughly at his eyes he had to be strong, his other best friend hadn't handled Harry's death well, going insane with grief, shouting and screaming utter nonsense so now he was all his sister had other then their parents that didn't understand the grief they were going through. Their parents hadn't lost their best friend, or the one they loved, to them they had lost the boy who lived with them during the summer, they had lost the boy they thought of as family, they had lost their saviour, but it wasn't the same. He sighed sadly looking up at the sky, which had darkened. During the funeral it had been sunny and a nice day, which he would have usually played Quidditch in but today he didn't, he just couldn't. He wanted to laugh at the bitter irony of his day of grief to be the most beautiful day of the month. Now though the sky was clouding over, as if finally recognising that someone important, someone who was loved, a hero, had finally been lost from the world. He felt the smaller hand in his tighten briefly and he looked down onto the smaller red haired girl who had crystal tears falling from her eyes. She looked like a fallen angel, one that even though she was broken with grief was still too beautiful for any human to lay eyes on as she fell to her knees crying out in anger. The fresh earth dirtying her trousers.

The red haired boy had an imagine of Harry doing exactly the same thing at the grave of his godfather Sirius Black. He walked to the angel gravestone and traced the inscription,

Harry James Potter

1980-1997

A loving son, a close friend, A Hero.

The world will never be the same without the one, who would die for freedom,

He has found his freedom, after giving everyone else theirs. Rest In Peace

It wasn't very long but it was how everyone felt for the young boy. He was finally free, able to be with his parents. He had been famous since he was a year old and many people had wanted to come to his funeral. Had wanted him to have a large tombstone or even a crypt for himself but Harry never wanted that. The red haired boy smiled softly as he remembered a conversation he had had with Harry before the war.

"Harry, do you think we're going to win?" the red haired boy asked.

"I don't know Ron. I'm going to try my best, I will make sure he won't win whilst I'm still alive but I know I will probably die fighting," the black haired boy had stated looking into the dancing fire.

"Yeah and then your funeral will be hectic, all the papers, even famous in death you'll be like that muggle singer Bucky Holly?" Ron said trying to make light of a dark situation.

"It's Buddy Holly Ron and I don't want that. When I die I just want a peaceful ceremony with my friends and family there to send me off, I want to be buried with my parents so at least I can be close to them in death," Harry stated and Ron noticed that he said when he died not if.

"So you know you're going to die then?" Ron asked sadly. Harry turned, his eyes dull and flat, his shoulders were slumped as if from the weight of the world resting on top of them.

"Ron we have to be realistic. I'm only 17 and no matter how powerful people say I am Voldemort has a greater chance of winning. If I do beat him I will need to use up most of my power, I don't think my body will be able to handle it," Harry stated.

"Yeah," Ron replied dully.

"Look Ron, when I die I don't want you crying for me. I will finally be with my parents and Sirius and I will be free from being the saviour please just let me go in peace. Don't mourn my loss but celebrate my life," Harry said wisely before turning back the fire. Ron just stared at his best friend that was like a brother and nodded slowly. He would let Harry go, he deserved peace. "I promise," he whispered so Harry didn't hear him before turning and walking off to bed. What he didn't notice was that Harry had a smile on his face before he too turned and walked to the dorms.

Ron smiled sadly at the bitter irony. His friend who had always fought for what he believed in, his friend who had always been a champion hadn't died by the curse of an enemy, no he had died from a heart attack. His body had been under too much pressure due the spell he used to kill Voldemort. He would have died in a lot more pain had someone not cursed him; the curse, which was meant to kill, was actually saving Harry from pain. Ron could not believe that fate had been so cruel to go against Harry's last wishes. All he had wanted to do was to die fighting but instead he died because of a force of nature, because of his very own heart. It was truly ironic. Harry could never have anything he wanted, someone else always chose how his life should be led and it seemed even his death was beyond his control. He sighed sadly before noticing his sister kneeling in the dirt and crying her eyes out. He walked slowly over to her.

"Sh, it's ok, I'm here," Ron whispered kneeling down to look into her eyes. She turned and sniffled, her nose running and her tears smeared as she rubbed a small, fragile hand across her face.

"Why did he have to be the hero Ron? Why didn't he just stay with us and let the adults fight? Why did he have to leave me?" she sniffled angrily, her tears streaming down her face. Ron pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked through her hair.

"I don't know Ginny, I just don't know," he whispered into her ear. He wished with all his might that he were like those people who could contain their grief, could shut it away to help others. To be able to explain to his baby sister why the guy closest to them had been killed.

"Didn't he love us? Did he hate us so much that he wanted to go, he wanted to die?" Ginny cried out. "I want Harry Ron. I want him back. I want to hold him in my arms, I want to see him fly again, and I want to hear him laugh as you fight with Hermione. I want Hermione back as well. I want us all to be happy again. I want us to play and laugh. Why did fate have to be so cruel as to take Harry away from us?" she cried again burying her face into her brother's shoulder.

"Ginny, I want him back as well. I want things to go back to how they were but they can't, we have to be strong, Harry would want us to be strong. No matter what happened to him he always smiled, he always thought about the good times. He didn't let his grief rule him, let us show him the same respect that he would show us," he said rubbing soothing circles on her back. A rumble of thunder could be heard but still no rain fell.

"I want them both back," she continued to cry her tears falling freely. Ron pulled her away from him so he could look into her eyes.

"I do too but we have to be strong. I'm here Ginny I won't leave you, and neither will mum or dad, Fred and George, Bill and Charley and even Percy" he said to try and make her feel better. She nodded sadly pulling her hand across her running nose. He smiled and got a tissue from his pocket and cleaned her face just like their mum used to do when they were children.

"You won't leave me as well will you Ron? You won't let the death eaters that are still out there kill you? You're the only one who understands what I'm going through, you're the only one I feel close to apart from Harry and he's dead. Don't leave me please?" she asked. He shook his head. "I won't let them kill me, I will be here for you, I promise," he whispered. She nodded. He kissed her on the cheek standing up as she did too and took her hand once more. He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a photo of him holding Hermione, and Harry holding Ginny when they were still happy, and looked upon the angel. He smiled sadly before dropping the photo onto the grave as he turned with his little sister in hand and walked off never looking back. Once he was gone the rain started to fall and raindrops fell onto the angels face. It looked as if the angel too was crying and maybe she was. Maybe she was crying for the brother and sister who only had each other in a world of misery, pain, and war. Maybe she was crying for the loss of a true hero, one in a world of few.

When they had left the graveyard they never noticed the glowing, transparent figure of their dead friend step out from behind the angel a small, serene, yet sad smile playing at the ghostly lips as he bent down and looked at the photo. He touched it softly smiling sadly as his hand went straight through. He missed his friends but he had his family now. He stood up before turning and walked the other way and with every step he became even more transparent till he had finally vanished with only two words that was carried by the wind. "Good bye."