There they all huddled, singed and exhausted. Each panted for breath. Finally, the war was over, the dark one vanquished. Causalities fell on both sides. The heroes all gathered around their fallen. No one cried; they merely stood in silence giving reverence to he that gave his absolute most to the battle. Ronald Weasley, with wand still firmly gripped was gone. The trio was no longer whole. Then, two left the ranks of the others and fell on his body weeping uncontrollably. Simultaneously, Ginny and Hermione sobbed into his battle tattered robes. Ginny chose to clutch his hand and cry into his shoulder. Hermione, his most treasured girlfriend, clutched his robes tightly with her fists and cried into his chest. No one spoke. There were no words that would give justice to this fallen hero.
Slowly returning from the fronts of the battle, Harry met the scene with disbelief bordering on utter denial. He was truly exhausted until he saw his fallen best friend. Then, nothing else mattered, not his wounds, not his personal anguish. He was struck with such emotional force at the abrupt realization that his victory was bittersweet now that his truest and best friend had been slain. Fits of rages then deep bouts of despair assaulted him, tore into him more than any spell Voldemort had flung at him. Finally, despair overcame everything else. Silently, he came to the front of the small group to stand beside his friend's body. Though he would later be considered the most powerful wizard in the world, at that moment, Harry Potter again became the helpless little boy locked in a cupboard under the stairs. He knew there was nothing he could do. Even more painful, he knew he did not have any proper words to say. So, holding his silence, he knelt next to Hermione, gently placing an assuring hand on her back as he knew this was something that would change everything he knew and loved, forever.
When the world started moving again, everyone was at a severe loss. For so long they had been dedicated to the fight, to saving their world that they had forgotten how to lead a daily life. They were merely in motion without meaning. Purpose had been forgotten in the haste to allow others the freedom and the safety of normality. Four days after the battle, the fallen heroes were honored and memorialized. However, the words from the ceremonies gave no comfort to those that suffered the personal losses of friends, lovers, and family. Everyone expected words from Harry and Hermione, but neither had uttered a single word since they sat beside Ron's body on the battlefield. They were scarred. Their loss was greater and more personal then any outsider could understand. The Weasley clan itself was little better with the loss. It was Ginny who actually mustered the strength to make all the arrangements and prepare words to say for her brother's honor. So, there they sat on the first row of the service. All dressed in black but were as morose statues as they dealt with the loss silent, individual ways.
As the end of the service came, those closest to the fallen were allowed to say their personal goodbyes. Letting the Weasleys have their final time with their son, Harry and Hermione held back. Then mother and father placed hands on the casket together bidding him farewell. Each sibling was allowed a moment to say goodbye to a beloved brother. Lastly, Ginny laid a gentle hand on the casket arrangement; a single tear trickled down her cheek. Quietly, she turned to take her seat. Hesitating, Harry wanted to give Hermione the chance to take her last moments with Ron privately. She solemnly took a few steps but stopped when she realized Harry was not in tow. Not looking back, she slowly cast her hand back towards him. Silently, he took her hand, and they walked up to the casket for their final goodbye to Ron Weasley, a most treasured friend. No words were spoken; they simply looked on their friend one last time attempting to hold on to the memories they shared, concreting them in hopes of never forgetting. Before she withdrew slightly to allow Harry last his moments with his best friend, barely audible, Hermione said, "I love you."
As it was just Harry viewing his best friend for the last time, not one word was uttered. Inside he was attempting to find some sort of closure, but ever since he had beheld his friend on the battlefield, Harry blamed himself. He was sure there was something he could have done to save Ron's life. His death was his fault. How could Harry ever forgive himself for allowing this loss which affected himself and everyone who held any sentiment in his life? His inner anger swelled to the breaking point and a nearby floral arrangement received the blunt of his rage, shattering to pieces. Immediately, Hermione came to his side again. "This isn't your fault. Harry, stop." She led him back to his seat.
Everything that happened next was a blur. Before they knew it, they were back at the Burrow, having silent dinner of clinking silverware on plates and stern chewing. After, everyone sat in silence. A ghost herself, Hermione stood up. "I think I'll be heading home. If any of you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me." She walked over to Mrs. Weasley and gave her a sincere hug. Then, Mr. Weasley embraced Hermione letting her know that she would always be welcome in their home. Slowly stepping back, she found her wand to Apparate away.
Meanwhile, Harry had kept to himself. His silence still hung thick in the air, and no one knew how to approach him with comfort. It had never been that Harry was stoic, only when he was emotional, he tended to be volatile. So, they let him sit in an armchair by the fire. Slowly, they retired, exhausted by their emotions and such a wearisome day. Finally, the room was left to Ginny and Harry. For her, the air was thick with his turmoil. She would never pretend she understood his emotions. However, she did know he was hurting, as they all were. And if anyone deserved comfort during this terrible occurrence, it was Harry, the one who had saved them all.
Ever so slowly, she approached him cautiously. Taking in his countenance, she realized the telltale signs that he had not slept since the final battle. Behind his glasses, his eyes were hooded with exhaustion and strain. His chin held a certain tension that let her know his jaw had been clinched since the battle as well. Harry, the hero of the wizarding world, sat slumped in defeat. His shoulders sagged as if he still held the weight of the well-being of the world upon them. She mused that that weight Harry had borne so long anyway. Perhaps for the first time, Ginny did not see Harry as 'The Boy Who Lived' or as any type of hero at all. She saw Harry Potter, broken and beaten, just trying to get by. Such realization struck her as ironic initially. Then she smiled at him. Her smile caught him off guard, and he struggled uncomfortable looking for some sort of noiseless reply to her gesture.
They had been sitting in silence for so long her voice seemed to be heard as a foreign language. "She's right, you know. You are in no way at fault for Ron's or anyone else's death."
He looked at her almost as if he could not comprehend a word she said and held his silence. Taking it all in stride, she continued, "You're the only one blaming yourself. I wish you could see, for once, that you're the hero of the story, Harry. You're not a supporting actor. You're not the enemy. You're the hero. I know it's hard, but sometimes, the hero can't save everyone. Magic never translates to immortality. Ron knew that. We all know that."
Harry knew she was attempting to comfort him, knew that he should be more receptive of her attempts. Still, her words seemed to fall on him in a way that only left him with more pain and regret. If he was the hero, why did he feel like such a failure? He felt as though no one could answer this question. Calmly, he stood to face her. He embraced her sadly and gave a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then with a pop, he was gone.