"Harry dear? Are you sure you wouldn't rather just stay here tonight?"
Harry looked up to see Mrs. Weasley standing in front of him. She had spoken in a steady voice but when he looked into her face he noticed her shaking, tear tracks still left on her face from multiple crying bouts throughout the day. Harry put his empty bottle down on the table in front of him and slowly stood up, stumbling a bit in his efforts. He realized the fifth drink had been three too many, but if any day called for it, it would be today.
Harry had hoped he was done with funerals for good after the horrible chain he attended immediately following the war. He had promised himself he'd never set foot at one again. Unfortunately this was one he couldn't convince himself to miss.
"Thank you Mrs. Weasley, but I need to floo back and get some rest before my shift tomorrow night." Harry told her hollowly. He waited briefly, ready to respond to whatever argument she was sure to put forward, but instead she just nodded expressionlessly and headed back towards the hall to her and her husband's bedroom.
The service itself had been luckily quite brief. Unlike the last funeral on the property, there was no open casket or even burial to be had. Robards had informed the family that though they were welcome to see and claim Ron's body, he didn't recommend it as it had been burned beyond recognition. Having already been haunted by the memory of seeing the dead face of one family member, they all declined to view the body and opted for a cremation instead. Only Harry ignored Robards' warning and decided to see his lost friend. If it wasn't for the assurances of those in the room Harry would never have recognized the blackened and broken corpse he saw before him.
Despite the brevity of the service itself, it still managed to be quite memorable. Having been too distraught to give a speech at the funeral of his twin, George managed to push through and deliver an amusing yet somehow still heartwarming eulogy for his younger brother. After listing all of the family updates he hoped Ron was telling Fred about in the afterlife, several of which were wildly inappropriate for the given company (or any company really), George finished his speech with a smile that greatly contrasted with the steadily building moisture in his eyes. Ending with a potluck and fireworks show, old and new faces came to pay their respects both to the family, and the ludicrously orange urn that George and Ginny fought tooth and nail to get, claiming that even if it was in bad taste, it was still Ron's taste.
At some point during the service, Ron's second in command, Perkiss, came over to him, looking ashen. Harry wasn't sure if he really wanted to have whatever conversation the man had clearly geared himself up to have, but braced himself for it anyway.
"I'm so so sorry Harry. I should have checked that room. I don't know why we didn't check it for traps, we did every other room, but he just ran in! I didn't-"
"It's fine" Harry interrupted gruffly. Perkiss's face swiftly fell, and he added a little kinder, "It wasn't your fault. The standard detection spells we use wouldn't have even picked up on anything there anyway."
Perkiss shuffled his feet for a few moments, seeming to be thinking intently about something.
"You know it's weird," he finally said softly, "I was going to check that last room, but he practically ran past me. I keep thinking what would have happened if I'd gone in instead. I would've had no idea how to contain that thing. Everyone on that block would have died. I don't want to say it was lucky, because, well, obviously it wasn't… but I don't want to know what would have happened if he didn't push past me like that."
Perkiss stayed there lost in thought and didn't catch Harry's perplexed expression. Ron wasn't usually the type to run into anywhere without checking for curses and traps. More paranoid than even Harry, he was usually the one holding people back just to be sure in these situations. Outside of a rescue mission, the idea of Ron pushing past someone to run into an unchecked and potentially dangerous room seemed wrong somehow. For not the first time since learning of his friend's death, Harry felt like he was missing something.
It was these darkened and confusing thoughts that Harry had been focusing on when he was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley. Realizing he had stayed far longer than he intended, he decided to make his way towards the fireplace to head home. On his way he took note of all the Weasleys still present. Bill and Fleur had headed home immediately after the service, and Audrey headed home soon after. Percy chose to stay behind, not wanting to leave the family during this time, but had headed up to bed silently much earlier. George had disappeared for a few hours following his speech but joined in on the drinking and toasting once he returned, making no mention of his vanishing act. He was currently situated on the couch staring aggressively into his whiskey glass as if it had recently insulted him. Ginny was curled up seemingly asleep beside him. She hadn't uttered a word to anyone the whole day, though she had looked on the verge of wanting to say something at regular intervals. Arthur sat quietly in his chair, occasionally humming tunelessly to himself, holding the same glass of whiskey he had started the evening with that remained completely untouched. The last member of the group was Hermione, who was mindlessly stirring her cup of tea. She looked up as she noticed him passing her.
"Heading home then?" she asked softly.
"S'pose so. I really should get some sleep in and, well…" he looked around him.
She nodded, "I know, it's painful for me too. Too many memories. I should probably head back as well."
"You're welcome to come back to mine you know, if you don't want to be alone tonight" Harry offered. Hermione smiled back sadly at him.
"That's alright Harry. I think being alone is exactly what I need after today."
Harry nodded solemnly. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he sputtered out a question that he'd asked her many times before, only under very different circumstances. "Hermione, why did you and Ron break up?"
Hermione looked taken aback by the sudden outburst, before becoming contemplative. "I really can't tell you that Harry. I know it sounds strange, especially given… given the circumstances. But it isn't really something that's right for me to share, that was really only for Ron to ever do."
"So he did do something to make you leave then? Something he didn't want to share with anyone?"
"Ron didn't do anything wrong, Harry" Hermione said delicately. "We just both had to realize some things about each other and saw that it wasn't working. There wasn't anything either of us could do to change things at that point, and so we moved on. I had hoped that once things settled we could stay friends, but" she sniffled lightly before continuing on, "but that didn't get to happen. It wasn't Ron's fault anymore than mine that things ended, we just didn't have the right kind of love to keep it going."
Harry was taken aback by this revelation. Ron had told him that things had ended amicably between the two of them, but what with Hermione's persistent avoidance of everyone related to him it seemed hard to believe at the time. He supposed Hermione could be looking at things in a kinder light given the circumstances, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret for jumping to conclusions about what had happened between his two friends. He did wonder though what Hermione meant when she said they didn't have 'the right kind of love.' He decided to ponder this more later while alone, and stepped towards the fireplace.
"It was lovely seeing you, Harry. Please owl soon. I know we've both been very busy but I'd love to be able to see you more, especially now" Hermione said.
"Course I will. I'll see you soon then, ya?" Harry asked with a futile attempt at a smile.
Mirroring him, she nodded, "I look forward to it."
And with one final look back at the home he'd been invited into all those years ago by the first friend he had ever made, Harry headed home to spend a quiet and restless night in solitude.