Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter them privileges belong to J.K Rowling.
'HARRY LOOK OUT,' shouted Ron across the battle field.
A battle had started among Aurors and some nasty pieces of work. If Voldemort had been around, these are sure to have been death Easters. It was Ron who discovered this group. He spent weeks under cover not seeing Hermione for days at a time. When he found out there were going to attack the ministry Ron sent word to Harry straight away who sent all aurous, Hit Wizards and Magical Law Enforcement Squad out immediately leaving a few behind to protect the Ministry with other heads of department. Harry should have been one to stay; he should have been at the Ministry to prevent an attack if any had gotten through. But Harry refused to send his men into a battle he would not fight; he would not leave his best friend to fight alone. He has always been by his side. Therefore he went along.
Harry stunned the wizard he was duelling in time to see a wizard fire a spell at him. He didn't hear the incarnation, but he knew what it was straight away. It was a horrid green/purple colour and coming towards him. Everything was in slow motion; there wasn't time to protect him self, to send a spell back. He just looked at it with horror etched onto every inch of his face. Once upon a time he welcomed death, but now he had everything to live for, wife, kids, brothers and sisters. Even a dog. He wasn't prepared to die. The next thing he remembered was been shoved from the left hand side and falling onto the ground. He looked around for his savour. His eyes widened with Horror and pain.
'Ron? Ron? Ron no please,' he said scrambling to his friends side. 'Ron, Ron,' he cried picking up his friend and shaking him while he sent a killing curse at the wizard who did this. Ron's eyes opened slightly. 'Ron please don't die.' Harry bagged tears streaming down his face.
'Harry?' said Ron weakly in barely a whisper. 'Ron I'm here your going to be fine, I'm going to apperate you to St. Mungo's now.' Ron was weakly shaking his head, 'It's too late. Tell Hermione I love her.' 'You can tell her yourself later,' Harry told him barely holding himself together. 'You know I can't. Look after her, Rose and Hugo. Tell everyone I'm sorry and I love them all,' he said ever weaker then before and he started to close his eyes again. 'Ron no, no,' he cried slapping his face to bring him around. He eyes opened to slits now 'Harry you're my best friend, I love you,' and then they close for the last time.
'Ron, RON,' cried Harry vigorously shaking his best friend. 'RON NO YOU'RE NOT GOING ANY WHERE WAKE UP, wake up. Please w-w-wake u-u-up' He cried. He knelt there hugging his best friend's body. Willing him to wake up. He hadn't realised the battle had ended. He hadn't realised everyone one was surrounding him. 'Wake up,' he whispered in to his best friend's ear.
'WAKE UP,' Harry shouted into the night. A sheen of cold sweat covered his face and body. 'Harry,' he heard a horse, broken yet gentle voice call him. He then felt a pair of arms around him and he started sobbing into the shoulder of his wife. Once again reliving the nightmare that happened over a week ago. 'Shh Harry,' the broken voice said gently while rubbing his back. Ginny didn't have to ask what it was about. She knew only to well.
He some how managed to apperate straight to The Burrow after the battle knowing everyone would be there awaiting the news. He refused to let go of Ron. He just sat on the floor hugging him, begging him to wake up. Once a healer arrived Ginny eventually managed to get him to let go where he was forced a sleeping draft and moved to St. Mungo's where he slept for a solid twenty-four hours.
He woke up, hoping it had all been a dream; he took in his surroundings confused for a moment where he was then reality hit him as he saw the sad looks upon the faces of his family. 'He loved you 'Mione. He told me to tell you he loved you. All of you. He loved you all,' he cried to the room and family and friends. He was hysterical, begging Molly and Arthur and Hermione to forgive him. 'It should have been me, it should have been me. I'm sorry. It's my fault. I should have died not him. He saved my life. It should have been me. Please forgive me. Please. Please.' Again he had to be knocked out.
He was calmer when he finally came around. But he wouldn't talk to anyone. Some of the other aurous saw what had happened and described Ron as a hero. He was finally admitted home but that didn't stop the nightmares. Ginny had to put silencing charms around there bedroom to avoid the children hearing him. The entire Weasley family had been sent home from school. All them to heart broken to go on. Albus spent every night since with his cousin Rose. She needed her best friend right now.
3 * 3
Hermione was very quite. She wouldn't talk to anyone or see any form of reason. The only person she wanted to talk to was Harry but he wouldn't speak, not even to his own children.
'Harry go get showered and dressed. I've left your suite out,' Ginny told him gently when he calmed down. It was the day of the funeral. He strode out of bed and into the on suite bathroom. Looking at his shallow face and black, blood shot eyes he punched the mirror before stepping into the shower. Ginny came running though and saw shattered glass on the floor. She used Reparo on it before stepping into the shower with Harry to look at his hand. He was cut and bleeding but he refused to let her heal it saying it was less then what he deserved.
3 * 3
Hermione climbed out of bed the following morning. She hadn't slept a wink again. A couple of days ago her worried mother contacted Molly saying she hadn't slept since Ron had died. Not even half an hour had gone by when a healer arrived. She examined Hermione to her disapproval and like Harry gave her a sleeping draft, and like Harry it was forced. She finally went to sleep for a few hours. But she hadn't slept since. She spent hours going though her books and writings. Trying to find something to express her love for Ron. She wanted to talk to Harry so badly. Wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. But he wouldn't speak or listen to anyone. The only person that blamed Harry was himself.
She showered that morning and got dressed, it was all in a daze but she realised she had to be strong, strong for her children. She went to Rose and Hugo to make sure there were ok. They were. Albus had seen to them both. Made sure Hugo's suite was ready and Lilly was alright. He stayed since they came home from Hogwarts, stayed in Roses room and hugged her while she cried herself to sleep. She doubted he had even grieved himself properly.
3 * 3
Molly was shocked to see Harry apperated back to the burrow cradling her son. It tore at her heart strings, loosing another son. She didn't know how she did it, but she remained somewhat calm. Tried along with everyone else to get Harry to let go of Ron. That's what scared her most. Harry. She had never seen him like this. She remembered him coming back with Cedric Diggory. She remembered him refusing to let go of his body as he cried but it wasn't anything like this. He was muttering in deep sobs. It sounded like begging. She sent Fleur to call for healers. No one could reason with Harry. Once they arrived Ginny talked him into letting go, the second he did he threw is arms around her holding her tight, a little to tight as he continued sobbing. She begged a healer to do something. They knocked him out and transported him to St. Mungo's. She had been worried about him and Hermione since. Especially when Alice, Hermione mother, got Teddy - who visited Hermione and Harry house twice daily if not more trying to be useful - to floo her saying Hermione wouldn't sleep. She tried visiting Harry but he just locked himself in his room.
3 * 3
The morning of the funeral Harry managed to compose himself enough to carry Ron's coffin with Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and Teddy. The minister spoke some wonderful words about Ron. Reciting childhood memories from school told from Hermione's point of view. Told how brave he was, about his love for Hermione and his family. Told of the day his children were born and how proud he was. His children said a few words about there father, Bill spoke on behalf of the rest of his family. Hermione also wanted to say something.
'Words can't express how I feel right now,' she said a sob sticking in her throat. 'But I remembered reading something sometime back which can describe only a fraction of what I'm feeling.
'It's by a muggle poet called W.H. Auden and its called Funeral Blues,
'Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead,
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.'
She managed to get it read out before she broke down. Collapsing on the floor. Harry let go of his wife's hand, stood up and joined his other best friend, his sister, on the floor, pulling her to him and both sobbing as Ron was lowered into the ground. Everyone else look upon them helpless, all with tears in there eyes.
Ron was the savour of everyone. In their eyes he was the one that helped bring the family though the dark times twenty-four years earlier. He was there for everyone when they felt they couldn't go on. He helped his brother, his sister, his best friend. His rock was Hermione, and he was hers.
Arthur who had been quite since that day looked upon his family. The two children he chose to love and bring into his family thirty years ago helpless. He just hoped his grandchildren could help Hermione and Harry though this. Help the entire family though this tragic ordeal. He felt a pain shooting up his left arm, his right clutching his as the pain of his heart breaking in his chest, and he stopped breathing.
Notes: Thank you for reading. I got the inspiration for this story from reading 'Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden' I think its such a beautiful, heart rendering poem. It says what is needed. I got told it was mean to kill Arthur off at the end, and I agree however I did find it some what poetic. I didn't plan on writing that, I was typing away before I really realised what I was writing.