AN: I do not own any of the original Harry Potter characters, I'm just using them to stimulate my imagination and hopefully make something good... enjoy. This is a one-shot.

As I kneel battered and bloody next to ones that I had cared for, respected and loved, I can't help but wonder why? Why them? Why not me? Ron bends down to hold me and I can't seem to reciprocate the motion. I want to, but I feel guilty. For no other reason than the fact that I survived and those spread in front of me did not.

Tonks… So young and yet so mature and brave at heart. Why? Remus… The last of the Marauders, and so brave. Again, Why? A family had just become and now a son orphaned, the only piece that remains of his parents. To never know them, never feel their love. Tears slide down and mingle with blood, tracing crimson lines down my face, and I don't care.

A scream is heard and as I look up I see it's Mrs. Weasley, I follow her stare and see Percy with the help of some others carry in Fred, and this is just too much. I turn away, unable to face anymore death, unable to see the empty face of another. I grip Ron's robes and burying my face into his shoulder, I cry and by the shaking of his body I can tell he is too. Then suddenly anger swells inside me. I can't understand why… Perhaps I needed someone to blame for all this, but all in the moment I can think is that this is all Harry's fault. I wanted to find him, needed too, so I could yell, scream, kick and hit him into submission.

The anger gives me courage and I look into his face. Fred… The anger flees as quick as it came and I'm crying again, but I can't look away from his face; one that sometimes, before, a lifetime ago, I might have wished not to see, if it meant no more ear puns. I laugh awkwardly as I think about those silly puns that incessantly came from his mouth. The smile fades as I hear his voice in my head and I realize I will never again hear it. Through watery eyes I look across at George, who's has dark circles around his eyes, and he laughs too, obviously lost in memories of a brother who was more like the other half of his soul. Oh Merlin, WHY! I look to the ceiling and it is just breaking dawn and I see the clouds are red, as red as the blood on my face and on all of those in the Great Hall.

I stop crying. I stand up and look around for Harry… Where is he? He would want to know about Remus, Tonks and Fred. I see Professor Mcgonagall and I make my way through the seemingly endless lines of dead and mourners. When I reach her I see her hat is gone and her hair is askew, as she commands those around her. I ask her if she's seen Harry and she tells me she hasn't but she is confident that he is fine. I thank her and make my way back through the horror and take my place back at Ron's side. I think of Harry and hope he's okay though my mind keeps running these scenarios through my brain just as horrible as the mess that lies around me now.

Then a high, cold voice sounds throughout the castle and it seems to come from everywhere, as screams penetrate the eerie silence.

"Harry Potter is dead." Gasps and cries of horror erupt from the petrified crowd. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone." I shake my head in disbelief and Ron and I jump up and run toward the door, but Professor Mcgonagall gets there first and we follow her out into the entryway. We are stopped in our tracks by what we see.

Voldemort leads a procession of death eaters who fan out and surround Hagrid who is carrying him…I, I can't say it… Why? Why can't I say the name of my own best friend? Maybe I'm afraid that by saying it, it will make it real. Maybe it's that I cannot accept his death. We are a group, a family, maybe even a single entity. Without one we are none, nothing, no one. Everything happens in an instant, Professor Mcgonagall yells out in grief and pain and so do the others as they reach the entrance; Neville lunges out and is brutally struck down, and everything we worked for and everything they died for was falling apart. What was it all for? Why must we lose the best of us if it is for nothing? WHY!?

Everyone knows what happened next; the battle, Harry's return, and Voldemort's demise. The thing that I think as all this is happening is the fact that there is no reason, no set in stone expiration date on a person's life, there's only the luck that you survive to fight another day… and yet, in my gut I feel a pang of grief and can't help but ask, why?

As I sit here in the hope of starting a new life with Ron, I look to the past and wish, with a passion only those who were there could possibly understand, that there had just been some other way.

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