It seemed like a second ago he'd stood by another coffin, and yet none of those funerals had felt even half this bad. Not even Fleur's, as much as he loved her. It just couldn't compare to the pain of losing a child, couldn't compare to the hollow emptiness that was inside him.
For days he'd worked non stop. Ever since he'd managed to pick himself up enough to move of the sofa he'd made sure to spend as little time thinking as possible. He poured over books and calculations and spells, starting earlier than the others and leaving later. And yet there was nothing that helped. There were times when he just stood, frozen in place, the pain so bad that he could barely breathe. If he was testy lately he hoped the others would understand.
When James spoke he only listened with half an ear, his eyes never leaving the coffin, and when he was finished he stood still in his place. He should talk to his daughters, to Jamie, to Al and even to Ted. But right now he didn't have the energy to make an effort. Right now just keeping himself in one piece was hard enough.