"You just have to hang on, mate," Harry had told Ron, as the two had caught Percy's body from meeting the ground. Because, despite all Percy's faults and mistakes, he had still been Ron's brother and now he was dead.
Ron's eyes had been watering when he'd looked up at Harry and nodded.
"You just have to hang on, Ginny," Harry told the young girl in his arms, face buried in his chest and covered in tears. She hid her face there to hide the view of Ron's body from her taintless eyes. She shouldn't have to see Ron's body like that, none of them should have to see that monstrosity, the damage Ron had inflicted upon himself. They were all only kids.
Ron hadn't hung on.
Ginny looked up at him with eyes screaming echoes of pain. Her large family was dwindling, and soon there would be only her.
"Hang on," he urged her again, but she wasn't listening.
"You just have to hang on, Neville."
Neville hadn't been ready. Harry had told him to wait. He would have to wait to seek out his revenge for his parents. His mother had been getting worse and his father had died.
Neville hadn't hung in there. He'd charged in there to avenge his parents and gotten himself killed.
A day later, Bellatrix, in memory of Neville, had killed his grandmother, the last real remainder of the Longbottom family.
Ginny didn't hang on to anything.
Her eyes lost all sparkle and she didn't utter a word to anybody. The last Weasley, and an empty shell. Harry stayed with her often, telling her to hang on, that everything would be alright, that one day, one day, he'd defeat the Dark Lord and everything would be okay again.
"They killed my parents," Hermione said. Her voice was numb, her eyes trained on the fire. She could have been talking about the weather.
"Hermione?"
"He killed my parents," Hermione said in a stronger voice. Her eyes flickered up to Harry's before returning to the flames. "When is it going to be over? When are you going to defeat him, Harry?"
"We just have to hang on, Hermione, we just have to…"
Harry stood in front of Dumbledore. He was put a shell of a boy now. He had lost everything, everyone he had once loved were gone now, and those losesshone in his eyes. The boy had suffered through a whole spectrum of emotions until they'd tore him to pieces. He stood in front of Dumbledore, and begged for it all to end.
"You just have to hang on, Harry…"
But Harry knew the emptiness of those words now.
Hey, I've written fifty stories now...I know this isn't particularly happy...I dunno. Oh well, we writers have to keep on writing, don't we?
Please tell me what you think...