“He was like a bubble. A bubble that muggle children like to blow and take endless delight in. He wasn't a tiny one that flew with other small bubbles. He was a large bubble, one which distinguished himself from everyone other bubble. But like all bubbles, Draco was still fragile, able to pop and disappear at any moment, without any warning.”

Harry paused and looked up and around him, at all the somber witches and wizards in dreary black robes. One such witch was tall and slim with silvery blonde hair. She held herself high, back straight, hands clasped together in front of her. Another witch was short and plump. She had her violent red hair in a messy bun at the nape of her neck and was sobbing uncontrollably.

These witches were opposites. One elegant, but cold and distant. One motherly and warm. Yet both were standing next to each other, silently drawing strength from the other. Knowing that the other witch was in the same situation brought them comfort. Knowing that she was not alone in this mess, gave them some solace.

“She was a balloon, a bright red, shiny balloon that bought happiness to all that knew her. She gave us happiness, yet was a balloon that was kept from flying. Ginny would've flown higher than any of us had we let her. We could not let her. We could not let this balloon of joy fly away from us.”

A heavily pregnant, bushy haired witch was grasping the hand of a tall lanky wizard. Both were pale and tired, with dark purple bags under their eyes. They had lost a sister, a friend, a comrade, a confidante. They were at the funeral of a couple that so easily could've been them. Hermione and Ron looked up at Harry, waiting for him to continue.

“He released her when we could not. He released her so that they could fly together. She protected him, she kept him from being the fragile bubble he was.”

One middle aged man, haggard and gaunt, held a thin witch with dark blue hair. With his arm around her waist, she buried her face in his shoulder. Remus murmured some comfort into Tonks’ ear.

A cluster of redheads stood together. One had rough hands, one had scars running down his face, and the other two were alike in almost every way. The brothers, Charlie, Bill, Fred and George stood and thought of their sister, the love they had for her, and the love she had for the one she was now with.

“They had all the people in the world surrounding them, but they were lonely. They ended their loneliness through each other. They sought each out, they were kindred spirits. They were not lonely when they were with each other, and we should be glad that they will be lonely no more.”

Harry looked up once more and said the last part of his eulogy with all the conviction he had.

“After all the things they did to be with each other, be glad, like I am, that Draco and Ginny died together. Not alone, not afraid. Be glad that the bubble and balloon were able to burst together.”