Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

This is a one-shot, just explaining what I think is to come in future years. It doesn't really have a set time or place, it's like a few minutes in time stolen out of the trio's lives. I hope you enjoy...

It was a solemn morning. It wasn't sunny, it wasn't raining, there wasn't even wind. The world had taken a moment to stop and notice the tragedy.

Across the Earth, people watched as a line of friends and family filed past him. Each one held different memories of the man lying before them, and each one held tears in their eyes. A nation of freed people wept for their loss.

Hermione Granger sat in a folding chair three rows back from him. Facing her friend would be too much of a challenge. She relied on the backs of heads to blur her vision, her memory of that night.

She sat rigid in her seat, tears streaming down her face. He had done what was right; he was the only one who could've done it. The prophecy had to be fulfilled. He did his duty.

He saved the world.

Someone was speaking up at the podium. Hermione paid no attention, her mind wandering to his face. He had grown to be so strong and so handsome in her time with him. He had been blessed with natural charm and agility – and a curse that lurked behind those bright green eyes. It wasn't fair he had been taken from her, from both of them, from everyone, at such an early age.

It had been just two nights ago, the final battle. It had been simple. Good conquered over evil. Balance was set straight after only an hour of fighting.

But something backfired, throwing his body into a ditch. She had never seen so much blood seep from one body.

Hermione shuddered, wanting so badly to erase that memory. It wasn't fair. It was never fair!

She felt someone slip in the seat beside her. Without a word, a rough hand found hers, holding it tightly.

"That's the hardest thing I've ever done," a voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione sighed, trying to wipe the tears out of her eyes. She squeezed his hand for comfort, for protection. "I miss him so much."

He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. She felt his hand shaking in her own. He was just as scared as she was.

But that was Ron, always hardheaded.

"He'll be okay," he bent down to whisper in her ear again. "I promise."

Hermione turned and sobbed into his upper arm. She didn't even think of the people behind her, watching her, pitying her. The fabric of his hand-me-down robes felt rough and scratchy against her red, swollen face. She gripped at his hand. If she didn't hold on to something, she felt as though she would simply cease to exist, fall into a million pieces, scatter.

Ron stroked the top of her head, watching the pastor make his way back up to the podium. If Hermione had looked up, she would've seen the same, painful tears rolling down the sides of his pale cheeks.

"May angels lead in God's beloved son and keep him safe in Heaven," a strong, soft voice preached. "Until that day we are blessed enough to join him in God's eternal kingdom. Take in mind that as you go on about your daily lives, Harry James Potter will be watching over us all, smiling on each and every one of us, guiding us in our journey.

"Peace be with you."

I was listening to "Hear You Me," by Jimmy Eat World while I wrote this, and I just got very depressed.

And, yes, I do realize this story has no plot whatsoever.

And anyone who has not heard the aforementioned song should go and listen to it straightaway, because in my opinion, it is one of the best.

Love, Katie