Chapter 3: Recovery
Harry entered the burrow, a look of grief set upon his still healing face. He glanced around the Weasley home, still the same, and yet different. He saw Ginny across the room, and went to her. She stood to embrace him, and they held each other for what seemed an eternity. It had been a week since the war had ended. Arthur and Molly Weasley had laid two sons to rest, and lost yet another to what seemed to be a hopeless search. "Alright, Gin?" Harry asked tenderly.
"It comes in waves for all of us…I can't believe they're gone. I can't believe Ron's gone. Doesn't he know it's only going to be more painful when he doesn't find her? Damn him for leaving mum and dad. We need him here," Ginny cried as the tears rolled freely down her cheeks.
"I don't know that I blame him…I'd have found you too…dead or alive. The thought that these bastard Death Eaters would humiliate her…would violate her…b—body is more than I can take. She should have had a proper burial, one with her parents, or even the burrow. The Granger's don't know what to make of it…they could barely comprehend the idea of a magical war, let alone the idea that they had lost their daughter to it. They deserve some closure, and Ron's trying to give them that. C'mon then…let's go upstairs. You need a rest." Harry said, as he took Ginny around the waist, supporting her as they walked up stairs. He could see the Weasley family in the distance, gathered round the fresh burial plots of Fred and Percy.
The sun rose the next morning, as it had continued to do, though not for Percy, Fred, and many other close friends. Harry woke up next to Ginny, who was for the first time in days, at peace. He allowed her to sleep as he put on his robe and went downstairs to the kitchen.
"Morning Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, as Molly absent mindedly prepared breakfast.
"Good morning Harry, you sleep well? How are your ribs?"
"They're okay Mrs. Weasley. You haven't heard from Ron, have you?" Molly nodded in disappointment, as worry filled her eyes. It was about that moment that they heard a loud crack, and the youngest of the Weasley men appeared. His eyes flared red, like rubies, and his cheeks and nose were blushed and tear stained. He flung himself at his mother, who held him tightly. He sobbed into his mothers shoulder, not even realizing that Harry was in the house. He made inaudible and unclear statements into his mother's breast, as if still a young boy, praying mother could kiss him atop his head and make it all better. Harry knew that Ron must have made some discovery in the few days of his search. Molly slowly pulled herself away from Ron, forcing him to look at her.
"Son, you have to calm down…tell me what you've found." Ron could barely look her in the eye, and turned away, only to realize that Harry was there. He couldn't look at Harry either, so he turned to the window.
"She's gone…she's really gone. I couldn't find her. I tried and tried, mom, but I couldn't…I think she's dead. Mom, Hermione's dead…I know I'd have married her. She was the one, and I lost her. I distracted her. She was coming to save me…and took her eyes off the battle for a moment. It's all my fault. Why wasn't it me, why didn't I die?" Ron wailed.
"Ronald Weasley, I know you're hurting, but don't say things like that. You're alive for a reason. This family has lost enough. You weren't even here for Fred and Percy's funeral, and now you're wishing you'd have joined them. I'll not have you making such statements. Hermione would not want you beating yourself up like this, so don't." Harry felt terrible, bearing witness to Ron's breakdown. He had grieved for Hermione ever since he woke up at the hospital, and nobody saw it. He had grieved privately, but Ron was just getting round to it. Everyone was slowly beginning to accept the losses, realizing that life would go on, regardless of if they wanted it to or not. Each would handle it in their own way…their own recovery.
