Physical symptoms were almost a blessing. It was easier to simply feel the pain, to feel the way his head was a bit woozy, than to cope with the losses, the heavy losses. His parents, as always, had stayed at home. Hogsmeade was not their place, and Kingsley had charms on them anyway, for their safety. Harry had lived actually. And Emmeline was around. But...beyond that he didn't actually know who all was alive and dead. Kevin was dead. Kevin.
And Kingsley didn't push the feelings away - the sadness, the grief, the guilt. Yes, there was some guilt, like a bitter taste in his mouth that made him reflect on everything he had done, on what he did, how he had somehow...inspired people. And yes, that...some of that had surely been good. More people fighting had been necessary, had helped. More Death Eaters had fought on their side than Kingsley had predicted, but these young people...
Yes, of course, he was angry, but the fire didn't consume him or the other emotions. And Kingsley didn't funnel them into it. no, it was better, more human, to feel. And Kevin deserved that much. Kingsley did wish he had had more time to teach him more, to explain more about his scrapbooks, to...there was always so much to do. And Kingsley worked hard, consuming most of his time. It was necessary perhaps, but it wasn't good for others.
"No, I wasn't nearby," Kingsley replied. He hadn't even known Kevin was there. His hand brushed some of Kevin's hair off of his face, though it left a bit of a bloody smear on his forehead. And blood from Kingsley's arms were soaking into his clothes.
He looked down at Voldemort's body again. "We could move it," Kingsley spoke, "You're right that I should get treatment." But he felt a bit against leaving her company just then. Even quiet, it made everything a little better.