We gathered them all, Ginny and I. everyone who ever meant a thing to Harry, huddled together like a cult in silent worship. As I walked among them, I hear the ripples of whispered conversations 'all his fault', 'good for nothing', 'traitor', 'Slytherin scum'. But worst of all: 'I bet it was him'.

Silence in the pews, an open invitation to speak for him. I can't go up there just yet, I just can't.

Hermione stands, and walks up to the coffin. She takes a deep breath, readies herself for the speech.

'Harry was a symbol, an idol, to so many. It's hard to lose that. But more than that, he was a friend, close to all. He was compassionate, a good listener, comforting. He was the brightest of stars, and a saviour. Some of you told me to add 'sexy'' there was a ripple of unsure laughter 'but better than that he had a beautiful soul, and that's rare. He told me once that he loved this poem. I think his exact words were 'it's so sad…I like it!' and I told him that I prayed it would never be used in reference to him. I guess those prayers fell short.'

She looked up at the people in front of her and steadied herself, bracing against the tears that were dangerously close to falling, and began to read.

'Do not stand by my grave and weep,

I am not there… I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow…

I am the diamond glints on snow…

I am the sunlight on ripened grain…

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you waken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

Of gentle birds in circling flight…

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry –

I am not there… I did not die…'

She wiped her eyes and sat down. I get up.

'It's hard to say anything Hermione hasn't already covered. Harry wasn't perfect, but he was as near to it as any of us could ever hope to get. He once told me that he needed to write a will. I told him I hoped to God I'd never see it. His reply was 'Hell yeah, I'm going to live forever man! But just in case…' And in a way, he was right. No one in this room will ever forget him, no matter how hard they try. The world will remember his legacy; his name will be spoken in History of Magic. Perhaps the students will even listen.

But whatever Harry was to each of you, he'll remain in your hearts, and in the hearts of wizard-kind, forever. And it's in this way that he'll be immortalised. As a saviour, an idol, a brother and a friend.'

I was crying but it didn't matter. So was everyone else in the room.

When they lit the pyre, I cried even harder.

I watched long after most had left, one of the few of his Inner Circle who were all standing round the fire, watching the embers glow and the last of the sparks burn out.

Ginny clung to me like a life-line, holding me close while entranced by the pyre. Like us, Hermione and Ron were holding each other up, like the gentlest of touches would send them crashing to the ground. The other Weasleys, sans Percy, stood together – Bill holding onto Fleur, Charlie to Tonks, the twins to each other.

Remus stood alone. I felt I should go to him, but I had no words for him. Nothing to ease his pain. So instead I just watched him watching the embers. He looked up and nodded, I nodded back. I know what he's going through, just as he does for me. He'd lost the love of his life, and I've just lost mine. Now he'd lost the only link to his friends, his family, to be consumed by the blaze. I'd lost all my friends too.

They say time's a healer, but they're wrong. Remus John Lupin is living proof of that. The ache from losing Sirius still burns in him, and each day he survives through is like rubbing salt in the wound. Time doesn't deaden the pain. Nothing can do that.

It's started to rain. Heavily. It doesn't take long before we're all soaked, but no one moves. The fire burns on. Ginny shivers in my arms, so I pull her closer. She needs the warmth more than I do.

My hair drips into my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink rapidly, and the fire is out. The man comes and collects the ashes. The body of my lover, tucked away into an urn. People start leaving, until only Ginny and I remain, staring at the spot. I kiss her forehead.

'We should probably leave' I murmur into her hair.

'Yeah' she whispers, so quiet I barely hear her.

We look at the spot for another few minutes, before I pick up the urn and we leave.

I walk her to her door, still soaked to the bone.

'Goodnight Ginny'

'Try and get some sleep, Draco' she replies.

'Yeah I will' we both know I'm lying 'you too.'

I turn and walk away, off down the street. The whole way I can feel her eyes burning into my back. I know now that Ginny is fast becoming my only friend, my best friend. Fast becoming one of very few people who understand me.