Weak. She felt sick from the desolate scene that lay before her. She wanted to throw up, and yet nothing would come.
Grief. There was a strange feeling that rose within her, like frost creeping through her veins. She was able to finally associate it with loss.
Ron. He lay before her in a crumpled heap, dead. The raw pain she felt wrenched sobs from her chest and she threw herself over him, willing him to come back.
How was it possible? What justice in the world ruled that Ron, loyal, annoying, insensitive, obnoxious, loving, good Ron had to die while slimy Death Eaters got to live?
She felt as is she were completely surrounded by dead bodies. Harry was thankfully alive, and had saved them all. From a quick glance around her, however, she realized many hadn't been so lucky. She saw at least a dozen faces she recognized.
Neville…Percy…Hermione…
Hermione?
"No," Ginny moaned, more tears slipping down her face as she crawled to her and took Hermione's cold hand in her own.
"They died one right after the other," came a deep voice from behind. Harry sank to the ground next to her. His face was tight and he looked barely on the edge of control. He was lost without them.
"You watched your two best friends die?" she asked incredulously. She didn't think it was something she could have handled.
"I think," he said sadly, clasping Ron and Hermione's limp hands in his. It would be the last time that they'd be together. "That it would have been worse to watch one live without the other."