Ordinary
Ordinary
Harry gazed at the casket, watching the rain bounce off of it even as it soaked him to the bone. He didn’t really notice. It seemed to be an ordinary kind of thing, to have rain at a funeral. He didn’t want it to feel ordinary. He didn’t want this to be an ordinary part of life. In so many ways, this was both ordinary and not ordinary; ordinary because death happens, unordinary because this was not natural.
His eyes flicked to the headstone, tears mixing with the rain on his face.
Ron Weasley.
He blinked when the rain stopped and he looked up at the umbrella. Another ordinary thing that he wished wasn’t so ordinary. His eyes dropped to the casket and headstone again, a part of him wishing he’d been left in the rain.
He didn’t resist when an arm wrapped around his chest from behind and pulled him back against a firm body. He just brought his hands up to clasp the black clad forearm, wanting this ordinary.
He held on tight, his fingers digging into the arm.
Severus held on tight, his arm squeezing him.
He bowed his head and sobbed, cursing the ordinariness of war.
Fin