I love him. It's as simple as that and yet so complex that just murmuring the words to myself makes my entire body sway to the beat of the syllables. Time has passed and it has been two years since Harry killed Voldemort, yet all good things in our world must come with a price and that price is now buried beneath an oak tree on the Weasley's back lot. Numerous graves dot their land with gentle-hearted Arthur being the first to leave us after a Death-Eater attack on the Ministry, Fred followed, or rather he's been missing for three years. Ginny was killed on her graduation day at Hogwarts along with numerous other students and Ron was the next and hopefully last Weasley name to be added to the list. I received word that Harry hadn't come out of his room for days after the funeral, believing he to be the cause of our best friends' death and so decided that time spent in the unforgiving dark with his thoughts to haunt him was needed.

That day still paralyzes me when the sounds and smells come rushing back to me during an ordinary chore on an ordinary day. He had died in my arms that day, or actually I had caught his body before he could hit the ground as I screamed aloud for help in desperation. All my knowledge and experience fled me the moment I felt his weight push us to the ground, the smell of hair was wafting up to me and confusing my senses into believing he was still alive. Harry had come tearing out from the side of the field with fury radiating in his eyes and it was that fury, rage, and hate that allowed him so much of an advantage over Tom Riddle. I hadn't even been able to fear for Harry as I tried every healing spell known to Wizards on Ron, begging his unhearing ears to open his eyes as he lay motionless against my chest. His wedding band glittered at me mockingly in the sunlight as his hair moved over his pale face in the wind…eyes unflinching against the movement.

"Please…please…" I whimpered against his neck as my tears peppered his robes and my fingers gripping his sleeves in desperation.

He hadn't moved underneath my pleas, his arms didn't come up to wrap around my shaking body comfortingly, his lips didn't move against my temple to soothe, and his heart didn't beat reassuringly against my chest. It wasn't the fact that I hadn't said goodbye, received my last kiss, or held him in my arms that tore me from the inside out…it was that I'd never hear his heart beating strongly beneath his chest once more. When the battle was over and I was still crying over my husband's body, it was Harry who had to pick me up and carry me away from the scene, all while I clawed and kicked at him as I saw men moving towards my husbands' body.

The funeral had been silent, Molly hadn't spoken since Ginny was killed and her eyes lost their last bit of life when she heard the news of Ron, not even my sobbing hugs moved her to speak or hug me back in grief. George was standing behind Molly, stoically staring as another brother was taken from him so cruelly as Percy held his head and sobbed at the unfairness of it all. Bill and Charlie were also present, standing as bookends to their dwindled family in an effort to support them all…all while Bill was still grieving over the loss of his wife Fleur and son.

Harry had gripped my hand tightly in his as I had stared down at the grave, not hearing anything that was being spoken and not flinching when Harry's own wedding band dug into the skin of my palm. He and Ginny had been engaged to marry weeks after her graduation and with the news of her death, he had turned himself inwards determined not to let any others get close. We were all broken, saddened, and unable to celebrate with the rest of the wizarding world as the price of such freedom seemed too much for our shoulders to bear for the rest. We had all continued moving forward in a tragic attempt of normalcy afterwards, no one seemed ready to talk with one another and so we all went our own ways to attempt to purge ourselves from the pain emanating from this place. I had lost even more three weeks later with the miscarriage of what would have been mine and Ron's first son as the healers said stress and severe depression brought it along. I still had yet to cry over such a heart-breaking loss.

This was the first time in two years that I found myself staring up at The Burrow and if I closed my eyes I could picture myself and Ron waving with our group of family and friends at the camera for the feast after our wedding Molly held at the Burrow for us. Even further back, I could remember the times Harry, Ron, and I spent here during our Hogwarts years when the darkness and pain of then pales in comparison to the present. Breathing in deeply, I weave around to the backyard and continue forward towards the graves that hadn't been cared for it seems in years and try not to cry when I notice Molly's grave added beside Arthur's. I come down on my knees in front of Ron's and place my fingertips softly on the stone, my wedding band glinting in the sunlight amidst the deadened grass that surrounds me.

"I love you." I whisper to the grave, bowing my head and letting my tears begin to water the dead grass below me. It was time to find Harry.