Standard disclaimers apply!
I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.
This was real. Fred was really gone. Cold in the ground. Never coming back. Worse than the worst nightmare. This was real.
Somewhere in the back of Ron's mind he noticed how many people had come to pay their last respects – how many people loved his brother.
George looked lost, standing between Mum and Dad; he'd still not uttered a word.
Mum and Dad were finally coming back to life – Ron supposed that was what it was to be a parent. No matter what life threw at you, how much it hurt you, tried to crush you beneath its weight, you had to go on ... if nothing else, then for the rest of the family.
Bill and Fleur were just off to the right, Fleur dry-eyed, jaw clenched hard, stroking Bill's hair as he sobbed into her shoulder. On the left; Charlie and Percy, both stoic, looks of horror seemingly permanently etched on their faces.
Ron felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Harry with Ginny tucked into his side, hiding her face from the world. Harry looked at him, clearly unable to find any words, but Ron knew what he was trying to convey in the firm grip. Ron nodded, appreciating the gesture.
Tucked under his own arm was Hermione, finally giving in to her own tears ... he took a small measure of comfort, having her there with him helped.
A sudden vision of Fred swam before his eyes. Laughing at them and calling them a bunch of sad-sacks.
When he was younger, he'd heard people say that death was always the hardest on those left behind. He hadn't truly understood. Now he did. The dead were somewhere better. Somewhere without pain. Harry had told him what it had been like, dying, when Voldemort had killed him ... it didn't seem so bad.
Bad was back here, in reality.