The pain was unbearable.

Sitting there, alone in the room he'd once shared with Ron was nearly impossible. He saw them both at every turn of his head- the flash of Hermione's smile, the soft blue of Ron's eyes... He heard them everywhere he went- the quiet calm of Hermione's voice, the sharp wit of Ron's humor. Harry had never experienced a loss such as this... One with so much depth, so much true pain behind it. Losing his parents had affected him in ways unlike this, because he'd never truly known them. Losing Sirius had hurt worse than anything ever had, because he never had the chance to know him like he'd deserved to. But Ron and Hermione? They'd been inseparable for nine years, from that very first day on the train to Hogwarts to the very moment they had lost their lives. He had known no better friends than those two. The two people who had stuck by him through thick and thin, who had put their own lives on the line for his sake, as well as the entire wizarding world's.

Harry wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been locked away inside Ron's room, but it had felt like days. He hadn't eaten, hadn't slept, hadn't spoken a word since he'd come up there the night of their deaths. Truthfully, he didn't feel like he deserved to mingle among those downstairs, with those who resided in this home. It was because of him that those he called family had lost their son, it was because of him that Hermione's parents would never know the loss of their daughter. She had always hoped that once the war was over she could mend the damage done to her parent's after her memory spell, that they could be a family again, but now she would never get that chance. And the parents that had once loved Hermione would never know their daughter was gone. Maybe that was for the best, Harry supposed, living in a world without that pain would be so much better. If only he could do it as well.

Knock, knock.

This wasn't the first knock that had sounded upon the door, but it was the first one that forced him to look up when the voice spoke from behind it. "Harry?" Mrs. Weasley called softly, her voice sounding tired, strained. "Harry, I've brought you something to eat... Won't you please open the door?" Harry did not move, did not speak for a long moment, but something told him not to ignore the woman who had taken care of him all these years. The woman who had opened her home to him every summer without complaint, the woman that had fed him, clothed him, and cared for him as much as she'd cared for any one of her own natural born sons. No, though it would be painful for him to do, Harry knew that he could not ignore her any longer.

And so, he rose up from his bed and crossed the room to open the door, revealing Molly Weasley to him. She looked as tired as Harry felt- dark circles rimmed her swollen, but dry eyes and her usually neat hair was pulled back into an unkempt bun at the back of her head. "I made you corned beef," Molly said softly, holding out the tray with the sandwich, so neatly cut down the center. Harry accepted the tray from her hands and gestured for her to cross the threshold into the bedroom, which she did, coming to stand at the center of the room between the two beds on either wall. "I always forgot Ron didn't like corned beef." She admitted softly, her voice not much more than a whisper as she stared at the poster hanging over Ron's bed, the ghoul overhead banging on the rafters as usual. "He thought I didn't pay enough attention to him, being the youngest son with Ginny coming after him, but I..." She trailed off, tears choking her, and Harry stood across from her with the tray in his hands, unsure of what to do. But it all made sense to him then and without a second thought, he set the tray down and pulled the woman into his embrace.

He held tightly to her as she cried over the loss of her son and the girl she'd considered a daughter. He held her tightly as she raged over their losses and he held on tightly as that rage faded to hopelessness, to gut wrenching sobs that wracked her entire body. Harry did not speak as Molly cried, for there were no words he could say to the woman who had just lost her child when he felt like he didn't even deserve to be in her presence, let alone embracing her. Tears gathered in his own emerald eyes but he fought against them because right now, it wasn't about his thoughts or his feelings... it was about this woman who had more or less raised him these last eight years.

When Molly's tears finally began to fade into hiccups, she pulled back, looking incredibly ashamed of herself and at once began to stammer an apology. "Don't, Mrs. Weasley... Please, don't apologize." Harry spoke before she could, shaking his head, reaching up a hand to the back of his head, a nervous tick Molly had seen in him hundreds of times before. "You don't ever have to apologize to me."

Molly smiled a sad, watery smile, but it was a smile all the same, the first one she'd given anyone since the night they had died. She reached out a hand, gently cupping his cheek into her palm, offering up a silent thanks to the universe that at least he was unhurt, that at least he and Ginny had made it back without much harm. "You should come down for dinner tonight," she said and Harry felt a rush of warmth flood his cheeks at her touch. "I'll make anything you want." Harry gave a single, silent nod and watched as Molly left the room, closing the door behind her, but not before she cast one last look at him over her shoulder. Her brown eyes were brighter brown than he had ever noticed and suddenly, he knew where Ginny had gotten her eyes from.

Ginny...

He'd not thought of her in hours, how stupid of him! Of all the people hurting from the loss of Ron and Hermione, she would be the worst. Hermione had been her dearest friend and Ron... Well, Ron and her had been closer than either of them might have ever let on. And while they'd bickered often, it was always out of love for the other. Ron had been the protective big brother and while Ginny rarely needed protecting, she had once admitted to him that she'd kind of enjoyed knowing there was someone who would always look out for her. How could he have forgotten about the pain she must have been enduring in these first few hours since the battle had ended? So wrapped up was he in his own pain, his own guilt, he'd forgotten how deeply Ginny must have been hurting.

And so he didn't return to his bed, but rather he left the confines of the bedroom to head down the few flights of stairs to stand outside her bedroom door. To be honest, now that he was there, he wasn't certain he could face her. What would she say? What would she do? Would she even want to see him? Perhaps she blamed him as much as he blamed himself for what had happened to Ron and Hermione. Perhaps she would not be as forgiving as her mother seemed to be. But, something told him that no matter what she said or what she did, he still needed to see her. And so, he raised his fist and knocked three times upon the solid wood door, holding his breath as he listened to the footsteps approaching the door.

Truthfully, she'd not thought much about anything beyond the pain in her heart these last few hours. She had been keeping steady count of the hours that had passed- thirteen- since Ron and Hermione had died. She had locked herself into her room without any regard for the others in the house and while she knew that was probably selfish, she couldn't bring herself to face her parents or any of her other brothers. How could she, when Ron was dead because of her? She had tried to make a difference that night by fighting back but it had done nothing but get Ron murdered in her place. He had died to protect her and Hermione had died because she'd acted so rashly. Both of them had died because of her, it was that simple. And the feeling of guilt was so overwhelming, she could hardly even breathe at times.

When the knock sounded on her door, her first instinct was to ignore whoever it was outside. She'd ignored everyone else until this point so why bother now? But then the knock came again, a little louder than the first one, and she sighed as she got up off her bed. Crossing the room, she pulled the door open, fully prepared to meet her mother or father's gazes, but it was neither of them standing there in her doorway. "Harry..." She spoke softly, the familiar syllables of his name bringing her a comfort she couldn't quite describe. But how... How could he stand to look upon her? Because of what she'd done, he'd lost his two closest friends, the two people that had stood by him for all these years. Without another word, she stepped back to allow him entrance to her room and then she returned to sit upon the edge of her bed, eyes peering at him as he came to stand in the center of her bedroom.

The first thing Harry noticed was how cold and empty the room felt, despite Ginny's presence. He stood in the center of the room, facing her, but turned for only a moment to stare at the bed Hermione should have been occupying. It was neatly made from the last time they'd been there, with a book settled on the pillow. Harry reached out, lifting it into his hands, and found it to be the old Hogwarts, A History, a book so old and worn that the once glossy cover was now matte. He felt sorrow welling up within him and so he set the book back down where it had been and turned back to face Ginny, who's brown eyes were dark and somber in her pale face. "Are you..." He trailed off, already lost in his words, already uncertain on what to say to her. "How are you?" He finally asked, though he knew such a question was stupid to ask. To his surprise, she cracked a smile though it was unlike the smile he adored so much. Suddenly, he wanted to know everything that had happened in the hours since he'd last looked at her face- had she eaten? Had she slept? How much had she cried?

"I'm fine," she said without preamble, shrugging as if they were discussing the weather, not her feelings over the death of loved ones. "It's you I worry about." She went on, deciding the best plan of action here was to not talk about herself. She didn't deserve to, not in front of Harry. Not when everything was her fault. "Did mum barge into your room yet?" Harry smiled at that and so did Ginny, a much more real smile than her one before. He nodded and she felt a little rush of relief, knowing that her mother was trying to keep things normal, that she'd not given way to her sorrow. "Corned beef?" Again Harry nodded and Ginny gestured at her bedside table, where her own sandwich still yet sat untouched. "Ron hated corned beef." Ginny turned to stare at the sandwich, as if it being there was enough to summon her brother back to her and for a moment she could hear him complaining that yet again, their mother had forgotten his dislike for it.

Harry wondered if she realized she'd begun to cry.

Her features crumpled as the tears trailed down her cheeks, faster and faster until she was sobbing, uncontrolled sobs that left her breathless. Harry stood silent for only a moment before again he was on the move, dropping down onto the bed to pull her into his embrace. For the second time that day, he was offering comfort to someone he didn't think ever would have wanted it from him. But Ginny clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring her to this world, her face buried into his shoulder as she cried for those she had lost. He held onto her, needing this just as much as she did, and for the first time since their deaths, Harry allowed himself to freely cry. He pressed his face into the top of her head, crying for his own losses, silently swearing to himself that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to trade the moments back. If only he'd given in earlier, if only he'd fought a bit harder... if only he'd done so many things differently, like going alone on his journey for horcruxes. Like forcing his friends to remain behind in a place where they'd had been safe. But he had been selfish, he'd wanted them with him... he hadn't wanted to be alone. Their presence had been so comforting to him through the years, he hadn't wanted to lose out on it now when times were so tough. But if only he had, then they'd still be alive and they would be together there in the Burrow. "I'm so sorry, Ginny... I'm so sorry." He whispered, again and again, the words falling from his lips between the sobs that escaped him. It was only then that Ginny pulled away from him, her brown eyes swollen but wide with surprise, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly as she stared at him.

"What... What are you sorry for?" Her words were soft, barely audible, and Harry had to strain to hear them. It was his turn to allow his eyes to widen in surprise, his brows arching with the pure shock he felt. "For what happened to them? Harry, how can you blame yourself?" She sniffled, giving her redhead a shake, a half laugh tumbling free from her lips. "It was my fault."

Harry felt the world stop spinning around him for a moment as her words sunk in and it was then that Harry realized just what she meant by them. Her fault? It was her fault? Was she insane? "Ginny, nothing was your fault. It happened because they're with me, because they've always been with me." Harry shook his head as he lay his hands upon her slim shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Ron and Hermione died because of me, not because of anything you did." Harry could not believe that she could blame herself for what had happened, he didn't understand it at all in truth. What reason could she possibly have for blaming herself?

Ginny pushed away from him then, leaping onto her feet to stand before him instead, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks. "It was because I tried to fight back against Greyback! I caused the fight to start back up and when I did... Malfoy he... He..." She was crying uncontrollably again, so much so that she could not even finish her words. That was when Harry began to remember, the moment Ginny had managed to get her wand back and had blasted Greyback off his feet... That had been when Malfoy had given the order to Bellatrix. But that... That wasn't her fault. She had only been doing what she had thought was best, what she thought would save them all. She could never have known what would happen when she'd attacked Greyback. "And then Ron... He... He protected me... He died instead of me! It should have been me!" Her voice was shrill, her hands clenched into fists so tightly at her sides that her nails dug into her palms enough to draw blood. "It should have been me..." She murmured, shaking her head as she turned away, unable to face him any longer. "How can you stand to look at me? I took them away from you..."

He couldn't stand it, watching her breakdown right before his very eyes, not when the blame wasn't hers. Standing up, Harry snatched her back into his arms and held on tight, feeling her body slip as her knees buckled beneath her. There were no words that he could say, not right then, not when she was falling apart... And so he was quiet as he held onto her, stroking her long, disheveled hair, thankful that he at least still had her to hold onto. The thought of losing her too? No, he couldn't stand such a thought. Losing Ron and Hermione had been bad enough, but to lose Ginny as well? No, there was no thinking about that. "I couldn't live if it had been you," he finally whispered to her as she cried, feeling her arms come around him, her body quaking with the force of her tears. "No one blames you... I don't."

She could not believe it, she could not believe that he didn't blame her for what had happened. How could he not... He'd been there! He had seen it all happen! But Ginny just didn't have the strength to argue over it, in fact she hardly had the strength to stand there much more. Harry must have felt her wobbling for he was drawing her back to the bed then, murmuring softly to her as he pulled her along. She allowed him to draw her back down onto her bed, laying himself down beside her. Without a word, she lay down and felt his arms wrap around her, a comfort she could not describe. Laying there beside him felt so... So normal... But so unfair at the same time. Never again would she share a bed with Hermione, staying up late into the night talking about everything imaginable. Never again would Hermione and Ron share a bed together, their love story cut so much shorter than she'd ever thought possible. Ginny had always thought that someday Hermione and her would watch their kids grow up together, cousins they would have been after all. But now that dream was long gone.

Keeping her close to his chest, Harry kept his arms around her as they lay in bed beside one another, sliding one hand up to her chest, feeling the flutter of her heartbeat against his palm. It wasn't that long until he heard her breathing slow and even out, finally she had fallen into the sleep she'd been avoiding for hours now. Harry didn't blame her- he too was afraid of the dreams that would come when he finally fell asleep. At least they had each other to draw comfort from. He knew the days, weeks, months to come would be harder than any of those they'd faced in the past, and the only way to make it through was by relying on each other.

He finally closed his eyes, settled into place there beside her, knowing that at least when he woke up, he'd have her there beside him.

[ x x x ]

When neither Ginny nor Harry came down for dinner, Molly could not help herself from going up to find them.

She missed Ron and Hermione as much as they did- perhaps even more so, for who could love one more than a mother- but she did not blame them for wanting to hide away. There wasn't much else Molly wanted to do but to hide herself from the world, to wallow in the pain of her losses, but she had so much more to do. She had a family to take care of, Order members to feed, and funerals to plan. Molly knew that neither Harry or Ginny had eaten, had slept, had even spoken since they'd returned from the battle that night... but she wanted that to change. She wanted both of them to be a part of what was to come. And so that was why she made her way up the first flight of stairs to Ginny's bedroom door, which she softly knocked upon, only to have silence as her response. Giving her daughter a minute more, Molly opened the door and entered without another word, fully prepared to pull her from the room no matter what it cost her. "Ginny, dear you have to..." Molly's words fell short as she caught sight of the two there on the bed, entwined as if they'd been made for each other, their bodies fit so perfectly against each others. She stood there, still and silent, overlooking her daughter there in bed with another man, finally looking peaceful. Gone was the guilt, the sorrow, the anger... All of it gone, replaced with the peaceful look of a young woman asleep beside someone she loved. And Harry... He slept with his hand to her heart, as if that had been the one thing to lull him to sleep.

And Molly knew she couldn't disturb that.

Instead, she stood beside the bed for only a moment, forcing away the urge to reach out and stroke her daughter's cheek. The pain of losing her youngest son was immeasurable, but to imagine it had been her? The youngest of her children, her only daughter, the first girl born in seven generations... No, Molly could not think of it. Not when her loss was already so very great. She instead settled for trailing her fingers across the pillow that once used to be Hermione's- that pain was strong too, for that girl too had been like her own. How many summers had she spent beneath her roof? And how many years would it have been until she was truly her daughter? Molly had always known those two would be together, even if they'd not known it themselves. She pulled her fingers back as if struck by electricity and a tear traced the curve of her cheek as thoughts of them all as kids tumbled through her thoughts.

Pausing in the doorway, she turned back only for a moment to gaze upon the two sleeping in bed, their limbs tangled together beneath the blankets. At least... At least she'd not lost them. Through them, she would always be able to hang onto what she'd lost in Ron and Hermione. Through them, she'd start to heal her wounded heart.