Memo: I enjoy a cast of minor characters. Benjy Fenwick was part of the First Order. He was found in pieces. Emmeline Vance makes another appearance. In my head, she was a Ravenclaw with Benjy and Kingsley.

Disclaimer: Still not a middle aged British woman. Damn.

They had found him in pieces.

For a while, Kingsley could cling to the hope that it had all been some horrible sort of accident. A splinch gone wrong, perhaps, or an almost too close get away. Somehow Benjy, his best friend, his Ben, had lived. The idiot would stroll through the door of their flat as if nothing had happened, drop down on the couch and request alcohol laced hot chocolate. Everything would return to normal. Benjy could not, simply wasn't allowed, to be dead.

Reality caught up with him, of course, as reality has a nasty habit of doing at the most inopportune moments. Kingsley had been halfway through shakily pruning on the houseplants when Emmeline Vance walked in.

"King," Her voice sounded so small and colored with something that he didn't quite recognize.

Renewed hope soared up his veins and pounded through his body. They had found him, they'd finally found him. Benjy had lived after all that bastard.

One look at Emmeline proved him wrong. Tremors ran up and down the poor girls small frame. She had dirt on her face and mud plastered in her hair. Something that looked suspiciously like blood had splattered on her arms and over her hands. An obnoxious feather fedora crumpled in her grasp.

No.

He knew that hat, knew it intimately. In fact, he'd shoved the damn thing on Benjy's head right before he'd left. No way in hell Benjy would let one of his precious hats get that filthy, that damaged.

Oh god. Oh god, no.

Eyes fixated on that goddamn-that filthy-that ragged-that stupid, stupid proof that they would never find more pieces of his Benjy Fenwick ever again Kingsley backed himself against a wall, pruning sheers clattering to the floor.

"King…" Emm choked back a sob. "They got him, King. Really actually got him. They killed Benjy."

Numb, Kingsley sunk to the floor. Incorrect. They had not killed Benjy; they had destroyed him utterly and completely. Now all the Auror had left of the best part of his life was a ruined hat and some mismatched pieces. Hadn't this war taken enough? Couldn't they stop now?

"He meant more to you, I could always tell. Benjy meant more than anyone else." His friend, the only friend Kingsley had left, crossed to where he had collapsed and wrapped her arms firmly around him.

Even as her body shook with sobs Emm took care of him. It felt wrong. All these years, he had been the protector. He had charged himself with keeping Emm and Benjy safe and by god he'd damn well done it. Apparently he had not done the job quite as well as he thought.

Dead. Benjy, dead!

He couldn't handle this, not now. Emm hadn't stopped talking. Kingsley didn't know if she could.

"I thought…he'd live forever." She hiccupped, head buried in shoulder.

Feeling had yet to return to any part of his body. His brain reeled, trying to make sense and order of the situation.

Benjy would not come home tonight, tomorrow night, or any night from now until the day Kingsley died. Perhaps a new flat would prove necessary. This one held too many now painful memories.

Benjy would never hug him again. Never laugh with him again.

"He should have lived forever." Kingsley's voice spoke, but he could not remember forming the words at all.

Benjy would never force the cats on him for cuddle piles again. Never come home and twirl him around the kitchen table again. Never shove hats onto his head again. Never hold him again.

"We don't even have anything to bury, those fucking bastards." Emm bit into his shoulder.

Before now, Kingsley had never heard his friend swear.

Benjy would never sleep curled up by his side again. Never burn breakfast again. Never dance around the kitchen in only pants again. Never sing loudly and slightly off key to Muggle rock music. Never take Sirius and Remus out drinking again.

Never kiss him again. Never love him again.

Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. Nevernevernevernevernever.

Dead.

The pair of them sat there for god only knows how long. Eventually Emm got up, muttering something about needing to see Dorcas. Kingsley must have nodded because she kissed his head and glanced at the door.

"Wish I didn't have to leave you like this. But I have to make sure she's okay."

"Go." Kingsley heard himself saying. "Keep her safe."

Like he couldn't keep Benjy safe.

"You should have this." Emm pressed something into his hand and left.

Looking down, Kingsley choked and closed his eyes. She'd given him the hat. Benjy wouldn't need it any more.

Holding that hat, smoothing the fabric between his fingers, made it final. Final in a way that words and thoughts and a stray finger brought to Order meetings could not. The best thing in his life had left him in the most permanent manner possible. Benjy had died.

Clutching the ruined hat to his chest, he finally let himself go.

It took him days to finally compose himself, but somehow he managed it. Somehow he had pieced enough himself back together to get the minimal amount of resolve to carry on.

Some day, Kingsley promised himself as he flattened out the crumpled hat with loving care. Some day he'd find the bastards who destroyed Benjy like this, who had ripped him so cruelly from Kingsley's hands. He'd find them himself, and destroy them too.

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