Note: I'm really sorry about some of the spelling errors you might find. I wrote this in kind of a hurry, plus I'm worn out!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Two:

A Little Bit of Faith…Or Perhaps Not

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. Her logical side had finally showed its face and stubbornly contradicted the testimony of both Ron and Ginny. "It's just not possible." The three of them had stepped outside to get a little more privacy and to get away from prying ears and eyes. People had started to give them skeptical looks so they decided that it would be best to take their conversation elsewhere.

"What do you mean, its not possible?" said Ron hotly. "I looked into that casket, Hermione, and I'm telling you that it wasn't Harry lying in there."

"But, Ron, you yourself said that no one could make a mistake of that magnitude. This is completely arbitrary."

"Leave it to you to use big words in a situation like this," Ron muttered.

"Which word did you consider big, Ronald? 'Completely'? Or perhaps it was 'mistake'." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a scathing look.

"No, as a matter of fact, it wasn't…"

It was about this time that Ginny tuned out their bickering and focused on more important matters. Like Harry being alive. Oh Gods, Harry was alive! Just the thought made Ginny's stomach flip over again and again out of excitement.

If Harry was alive, though, how come he wasn't here with them right now, mourning over her dead father and brother? Ginny couldn't stop her mind from straying to all the 'why's and 'how come's.

'Maybe he hadn't known about the funeral,' a voice in Ginny's head stated.

Oh, but that was rubbish! Of course he knew. He wasn't dead so…

'But you saw them haul his body away. You were there. Come now, Ginny. Be the sensible girl I know you are."

Sensible? Who said anything about sensible? She was desperate for a reason to believe that was truly alive and out there, still. True, she had seen them haul his body away, but that didn't explain why Draco Malfoy was there instead of Harry. Unless…

Ginny's heart sank. Unless they really had accidentally switched the bodies, and Harry was somewhere else, being lowered into the ground.

"…go on then, Hermione. Ask Ginny. She saw him too!" Ron's voice brought Ginny back to reality, and she looked over at him.

"Ron," Ginny started, her voice oddly high pitched. She cleared her throat and began again. "Ron, I think that maybe Hermione is right."

Ron looked at her, for the umpteenth time that day, like she was mental. "What? No! Ginny, you saw him. That wasn't Harry and you know it!"

"Don't you raise your tone with me, Ron Weasley, and don't tell me what I did and did not see," Said Ginny, fiercely. "I know it wasn't Harry. I'm not daft. But I think that perhaps there was a mix-up. That Harry and Draco were both put into the wrong casket. It's far-fetched, but not completely impossible to do."

"Now that makes sense," Ron said sarcastically. "Ginny, what happened to you believing that he was alive, huh? You know good and well that no one, no one in their right mind, could ever mistake Harry Potter for Draco Malfoy. You want to know why? Because Harry's got that ruddy scar on his forehead and Malfoy doesn't. Everyone n the wizarding world knows who Harry Potter is. They couldn't possibly mistake him."

"Honestly, Ron," said Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "We're Harry's best friends. If he were alive, don't you think he'd tell us? Or at least contact us to let us know that he's unscathed?" Ron stayed silent, because he knew that she'd had him there. They were Harry's best friends, or they were supposed to be. They should have known by now if he was alive. But it still didn't make any sense why Draco, or someone who seemed to look a great deal like Draco, was in there and not Harry.

"What about mum? What do you reckon she'd say?" Ron spoke quietly, staring at the ground.

"Well, there's nothing to say. And plus, your mum has been through quite enough without you marching in there, telling her that Harry really isn't dead. It seems almost ludicrous. And in all honesty, Ron, I don't think she'd choose to believe you." She gave him a sympathetic look.

"But I have proof! I saw it with my own eyes! I could show mum…"

"No, you won't," Hermione said sternly. "I will not let you lift that casket lid in front of your mother. She can't handle it right now, Ron. She lost the equivalent of two sons and the love of her life. Would you want people going around, showing you what you already know? That someone's dead?" The tips of Ron's ears turned pink and he kicked lightly at the ground.

"I guess not," he said faintly. Hermione watched Ron, and her eyes softened. She took a sep towards him and took hold of his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Ron looked up to meet her gaze.

Ginny watched this exchange and sighed inwardly.

"Good Gods, just make it official already," Ginny snapped irritable, her mood quickly becoming invidious. She turned away from the two, who were watching her retreat, matching masks of astonishment jacketing their faces, and she headed back inside, pushing past Fred – or perhaps George? – who had gone looking for the three of them. Fred – or George – watches as his sister passed, and then sent Ron and Hermione a questioning look to which they both shrugged to. He shook his head and said, "Mum's looking for you two, especially you, Ron. People are about to start heading out, so you need to come say g'bye." After his quick words, he popped his head back inside, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.

"Shall we head inside then?" Ron said after a moment of silence. Hermione nodded and they both walked back inside, still clutching each others hands.

When everyone but the Weasley's had left the layout and all was quiet, is when everything started to sink in for Ron. He stood in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of his trousers, staring at the three caskets before him. Gone were his father and Charlie, two of the greatest people he knew. He was proud to say that he was kin to them both. Sure, his father was a bit eccentric, but he was a loving father and a loyal husband to his dying day. And, yeah, Charlie could go on for hours and hours talking about bloody dragons all day (no wonder he never settled down), and he would eventually manage to bore the pants off of you, but he was also cool and hip, and very smart and talented. It was a shame that two people, so pure and kind-hearted, had died when evil clearly still lived and roamed the wizarding world.

Ron didn't know when he would come to terms with the fact that he no longer had a mentor. He hoped soon, because he didn't know how much longer he could deal with this dull, aching, empty feeling coursing though him. Now that the reality of it all had sunk in, the aching had become progressively worse, and he wanted to go completely numb, if only for a little while.

Then there was Harry. But…there wasn't. His mind was still going over all of the possibilities. He knew that it wasn't Harry in Casket Number Three. He was pretty sure it was Draco Malfoy. In fact, he'd be willing to bet his life on it.

If that was the case, though, and it really was Draco, then where the bloody hell was Harry? If he wasn't alive, then why wasn't he in the coffin with his name engraved on the front? And if he was alive…well, why didn't he let on? Ron had too many things to think about all at once, and it was giving him a fierce headache. He lifted a hand and rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger, now gazing down at the floor.

Ginny seemed to be able to read his emotion - she always had been empathetic that way – because she sidled up to him and pulled out her wand, then placed the tip of it up to his temple. She muttered a spell and Ron felt instant relief. He looked over at Ginny after heaving a deep sigh, and said, "Thanks, Gin."

"Don't mention it," She said softly. She rubbed his back in a comforting way, and then headed back to their mother who was waiting at the door. Ron looked back to the caskets and pursed his lips.

"What the hell am I s'posed to do without you? All of you?" he questioned quietly to no one in particular.

"Ron, dear," he heard, moments later. His mother was still waiting at the door, along with Fred, George, Bill, Ginny and Hermione. "Dear," she repeated, her voice sounding nasally, and weary. "It's time to go." Ron looked back at her, nodded, glanced back at the caskets once more, and then turned to leave with the rest of his family.

The Weasley family plus Hermione started their morning in the most unusual way: in an orderly fashion. Everyone was too tired, too sullen, to move at a fast pace, and the speed at which they got dressed was their slowest yet. Mrs. Weasley didn't have the heart to rush them, for she, too, felt fatigued.

When they arrived at the burial, the Weasley's stood in the very front. When Hermione tried to take a place near the back, claiming that it wasn't fair of her to be in front with the rest of them, Ron gave her an incredulous look and shook his head, taking hold of her hand and keeping her in her place beside him. She bit her lip and was about to open her mouth to protest, but Ron just sent her a sideways glance that shut her up instantly. She knew when to keep quiet.

While Mrs. Weasley was giving the encomium, Ron leaned sideways, whispering in Hermione's ear.

"You know your part of the family just as everyone else. And, well…you're my support." He gave her hand a squeeze, the way she had done to him a day earlier at the layout. The tips of his ears turned red when she looked up at him and gave him a small smile, then leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

"…my husband, Arthur Weasley, will not be forgotten. Not in my heart, anyway. He was a good man, a kind man. There was never a dull moment with him." Mrs. Weasley gave a watery smile as she recalled many fond memories unknown to the audience. "And I only hope that, where ever he may be, I will always live on in his heart as well, and that he will not forget me, or the beautiful family that we created together." Mrs. Weasley's throat constricted around her words, making them hard to speak, and at her last word she choked and broke down into tears. Her eldest son, Bill, stood and led his mother from the front of the crowd back to her seat. It was then that a sad tune began to play as the three caskets were lowered into the ground. For Ron, this was the hardest part. It was too final. There was no closure, no chance to say goodbye ever again. He blinked rapidly to keep his tears at bay, but once one escaped, he couldn't help himself. They started flowing and he gripped Hermione's hand just a little bit tighter, thankful that she was there with him.

Even when they were no longer able to see the sleek, shiny caskets, they stayed. Ron preferred it that way. It gave them all one last chance to be together, alone, with those they had loved.