A/N: So, I have decided to open up this story for others to add to. Simply message me the story and I'll go over it and most likely add it to the collection. The only requirement is that they are from Harry Potter and deal with the death of a character. Let's see how big we can get this!

My world was crumbling. We had fought so hard to get here, and it couldn't be over now. Yet there he was, laying listlessly in the arms of the shaking giant. He was the boy who lived, not the boy who died. This couldn't be happening. The world slowed into a painful blur, where the tears blocked the view of the corpse of my love. I screamed his name hoarsely, but he didn't move. He would never move again. Please God, let this be a dream. But like so many things in my upside world full of magic, nothing happened. He was dead. He was with so many others. His parents. His family. His mentor. Even my own brother. He wasn't with me though. Was it selfish to wish him back into a world where he had been bred to die? He had been saved to save all. I needed him. Without the touch of his lingering hand on the small of my back or the feel of his dry lips against mine I would wilt into something as cold and stiff as he was now. They were holding me back, hands as sharp as knifes against my cold skin. Why couldn't they let me be? They didn't understand. No one would understand. All around I saw shocked faces, broken hearts and tear stained cheeks. But none of them felt my pain. Not Ron, not Hermione and certainly not anyone else. I had loved him before I knew him, had imagined running my fingertips over his lightning print scar until it was smooth. We had gone too far to suffer defeat like this. How could he have left us like this? It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. He had checked out to a better place, leaving me breathless on the plane terminal with a ticket in hand. The snake like man laughed. He knew what this meant, how broken we were without him. And it made the Dark Lord immensely happy. Every nerve within me screamed to kill him, to avenge the death of the boy with the mop of unruly black hair and circular glasses. But I couldn't. This war was over and Voldemort had won. All because of the death of Harry Potter love of one Ginny Weasley.