AN: write for round three of the quidditch league competition, chaser 1. Prompts are OTP dealing with death, (word) bench, (word) inklings, (poem) 'when I have fears'.


He man was sitting on the bench outside his house, simply staring off to the distance in shock.

He knew it was coming.

They all knew.

Knew that one day it would happen, that they could not avoid it forever.

But to hear it.

For it to actually happen, came as a shock.

He was not supposed to go first.

He was supposed to live.

That is why he was good at after all, living. Dodging death whenever and wherever necessary.

Ron blinked back the tears that where threatening to escape his eyes.

Why would Harry die first?

Harry always survived.

Always.

They had joked about how they would die. After all Harry had accepted that he could die at any time. So why not try to make light of it? That is how Harry would explain it. Harry who was always the best fighter. Harry who could always think of a plan. Harry who would save whoever he could. Harry who beat the odds. Harry who survived. But he didn't did he? Not forever. No. Now he was gone. He wasn't coming back. A single tear ran down the old auror's face.

"Ron?"

He turned around and saw Hermione standing in the door way. He didn't answer though. He couldn't form words. After all what was one supposed to say when his best friend died?

Hermione sat down beside him on the bench, not saying anything.

Eventually Ron began to laugh.

"Who would've thought? That out of all of us Harry would leave first?" His voice became hysteric. "Who would have ever had any inkling of an idea that it would be Harry?"

He broke down sobbing.

He had sighed and put on a face for everyone today.

For his children, for their friends.

But now he didn't need too.

And so he didn't.

Hermione gently rubbed his back, just as he'd done for her when the news had first been given to them. He remembered it perfectly.

The moment the knock came he had frozen, a feeling of dread had filled him. He saw the faces of his fellow aurors on the other side.

He knew that face.

He was shaking his head before they had even begun to speak.

Because he knew.

As much as he didn't want to, he knew.

He had called Hermione to the door, she knew too. She has broken down, sobbing more than she had in years.

"Thank you gentlemen." Ron had said nodding to the two men.

They nodded back. "Sorry for your loss Sir, he was a good man."

Before giving him a paper and leaving. He knew why that paper was, it was the report about what happened.

He had stuck it in his pocket and forgot about it.

Those men had been in Harry's department. They were feeling the loss if their boss.

"Ron, we should go inside."

He took a breath to compose himself.

"Yeah."

He wished he had gone first but then Harry would have to deal with the pain, and the last thing Harry deserved was more pain.

He stood up and followed Hermione back inside.

They might have their niece and nephews tomorrow.

Ginny would need some time to herself.

Although she wouldn't want to leave them alone, she might have to drop them off.

The kids would have to graduate without their father.

They would have to get married without their father

the thought nearly made him start crying again.

They'd help the best they could.

Of course they would try.

But Ron knew that they would not ever be able to fill the empty whole in their family's hearts.

Ron and Hermione spent hours in front of the fire.

Sometimes talking about their school adventures, sometimes saying absolutely nothing at all.

They did not get any sleep at all that night.

At one point Rose and Hugo had come running down the stairs, crying and begging for their uncle.

They had been given hot chocolate and wrapped in blankets.

They had laid in front if the fire until they fell asleep.

Ron had carried their children back up and put them together in Rose's bed, come morning they would be none to pleased about the arrangement, but right now Ron figured it was necessary.

As the sun rose Ron and Hermione finally drifted off.

When Molly stopped by a few hours later, she noticed Hermione laying in Ron's on the couch. She made breakfast for the kids and set them up in the lounge. She left a note for her son and quietly slipped out.

Ron had not let Hermione out of his arms all night. They would pull through. But they would never be the same. They had lost a part of them that they would never be able to get back. Every time they thought of Hogwarts they'd think of him. Every time they dueled they would think of him. The way he fought. What he talked about. How he talked. What his laugh sounded like. But eventually they knew that the memories of his words would fade. He would be remembered by many as a hero. But few would remember him for being the person he wanted to be, just Harry. A boy who had never wanted his fame. But at the end he never would have wished it upon anyone else either. Because that was Harry. Just Harry