Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

He's Free

The rain fell slowly, down from the black clouds that were covering the sky as far as you could see. It shattered against the windows and the streets. A light breeze steered the rain a bit to the east and Ron Weasley could feel it hit his face fast and hard. With the raindrops making their way down his face he strictly kept his gaze on the object in front of him. His ocean blue eyes, that usually could make you feel as though you very easily could drown in them, didn't have that playing spark in them. The charming smile, that so often could be seen lighting up his face, was no where to be found. Sadness filled his face, and his now red, swollen eyes still had their gaze kept on the black, shining coffin in front of him.

When the war had started, deep inside somewhere, he knew that there was a big possibility this day might come. That something like this would happen was certain. The Second War had taken many lives. Many witches, wizards and muggles had died, some of them fighting death eaters, others for no other reason than being useless in the eyes of the Dark Lord. He had made it though, he had survived. The person, lying in the coffin in front of him, clearly hadn't.

In the eyes of Ron he had always been a hero, he had been that in the eyes' of most people. He had died fighting; he had died to save everyone but himself. Ron had watched him smile slightly at his victory. He had seen him get hit by a curse in his chest. He had run towards him as he fell backwards. He had been the one by his side when he left life behind him, not to ever come back.

It wasn't fair that he had to give up his life to safe those who did not think of him as more than someone in the crowd. It wasn't fair that he had to give up his life for those who envied him and for those who hadn't stood by his side the whole time. It wasn't fair that he had to give up his life for those who had stood by him, for those who had believed in him every single second. He had just been a boy, on the verge of being a man.

Ron heard the sound of a silent, but loud enough, sob. He didn't have to look to tell who it was. With the years that had past by he more than well recognized the sob that was coming from his right. Without looking he put an arm around his sister that was standing on his right side, crying. As he did so the rain that had slowed down minutes earlier started to gather speed. Before he knew it was pouring down again.

At the moment Ron couldn't care less. Some might have insisted that in this weather the funeral should be held inside. But Ron knew, in his heart he knew, that this is how he would have wanted it. He had always been a bit of an outdoor man. Never cared much for being inside, always loved to spend time out in the open. It didn't matter if it was playing quidditch or just sitting by the lake. An inside funeral wouldn't be the right way to remember him, the way he had been. A funeral should be held in a certain way, different ways dependent on who you burry. It should be held in a way that symbolises and shows you how the person in question was when he or she was alive. He loved to be free, if his funeral was held out in the open he would stay free forever, even if he was stuck in a coffin several feet under the ground, Ron knew that.

As the minister began to speak Ron lifted his gaze for the first time. His eyes wondered, he looked at everyone who had arrived to pay their respects to him. Ginny was standing next to him, he knew that already. You couldn't tell how many of the drops in her face were rain and how many were tears. Next to her was Percy comforting her, he had showed up. He looked really sad, although no tears so far. His glasses had streaks from the raindrops that had made their way down the glass on both sides. His hair was soaked and his fringe was hanging down in his eyes. Then there were Fred and George of course. The rain that was falling down, just as fast a before, hit the glass of the sun-glasses they were both wearing. With them was only Angelina. The two other thirds of the amazing quidditch trio had died in the battle, as so many others.

Angelina and Ginny were both wearing black dresses under the yet black cloaks that everyone wore. Ginny's were a bit longer than Angelina's but other than that they looked very much the same. Percy wore a black shirt, nothing special about it as far as Ron could tell. Fred and George had buttoned the cloaks all the way up so you couldn't really tell what they were wearing, but probably something fancy. Ron himself wore a black sweater over the striped shirt that he had gotten for his birthday, only a few months earlier. That day he had no idea that he would be wearing it today, for this occasion.

Mr and Mrs Weasley stood next to Bill, who had his right arm around Fleur. Ron didn't have to look to know that his mother was crying. Fleur's face was very much tearstained. Bill on the other hand showed no signs of tears. Around them were a dosing people, all there to pay their respects. Ron looked down at his feet and then lifted his gaze up towards the coffin again.

He remembered him so well, lying on the ground, lifeless. The burn marks on his arms and in his face, the cut above his left eye and the blood zippering down his forehead from a deeper cut in his head. His hair looked the same as it always did, his fringe hanging down in his eyes.

The minister's speech was coming to an end. Ron felt a lump in his throat and he tried to swallow it. The coffin was being lowered into the ground, down in the hole that had been dug just for this occasion. Ron stared down at the coffin, the others had slowly started to make their way towards the road a bit further down. Rain was falling just as heavy as before and he still had that clear image of him in his head, but he knew that as time went it would fade. The sweet water from the rain slowly mixed with the salt one from his tears and Ron let out a shaky breath. A small hand grasped hold of his left one, and he closed his fingers around hers, slowly.

'It will be okay Ron,' she said quietly, 'maybe not now, but eventually.' Ron looked away from the coffin and up at her. Her eyes were red and her face was tearstained, she had cried a lot, Ron knew that. He pulled her towards him and hugged her tightly, letting the tears stream down his face.

'Maybe his last name was Potter, but in my eyes he was a Weasley. He was my brother, he still is,' said Ron, so quietly that it was hard to catch the words. He let go of Hermione slowly and looked down at her. His eyes filled with tears. Hermione nodded slowly, as to show him that she understood what he meant. Tears had started to well up in her eyes as well, a small breeze ruffled the couples' hair and both of them turned to look at their best friend's coffin.

'You're all the family I've got left.' Hermione had uttered the words she had so long tried to escape from, Ron knew that. As another breeze hit them he turned to look at her once more.

'I'm not going to leave you,' he whispered and closed his hand around her small one. Bending down he watched as the white rose he had been holding in his right hand slowly made its way down, and finally placed itself in the yet black coffin the couple so long had been looking at.

'He's free,' he said, if it was to himself, to Hermione or just in general, he didn't know. But whoever he said it to it was true. Harry Potter was free from all the pain he had gone through, during the seventeen years that his life had lasted. He was free in a way he had never been before. He was free.

Athour's Note: Hannah, I know that you probably hated this, but I had to. The idea just came to me and I had to write it, despite what you thought. I'm so sorry.