Harry James Potter lay on his old four-poster bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. It had been a hectic day, to say the least. Fatigue kept creeping at the edge of his awareness but the events of that evening had yet to sink in, and so his emerald green eyes scanned the ceiling as if waiting for a stimulant to move him from his reverie. Beside him, in his own bed, lay Ron Weasley, his best friend, snoring his troubles away. Harry felt a pang of regret when he thought that his friend had lost as much, if not more than him that night. He didn't have any family left to lose, really, but his friend had stuck by him all those years and what had that got him? A dead brother and countless nightmare-worthy experiences. A particularly loud snort from his red-headed mate jerked his eyes from the ceiling beams. Lifting his glasses off his face, Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up straight.

A dazzling sun was weaving its way through the silk curtains of the window. Upon further inspection of the empty bedroom, he noticed small piles of clothes scattered across the floor. He was surprised to see Dean's West Ham poster hanging lopsidedly from above one of the beds. Pieces of parchment lay on two of the nightstands, and on the last of these Harry could see the outline of a tall lanky redhead, snoring and drooling onto his pillow. The sight made him smile despite himself. Maybe he was overreacting?

He was not sure how long he sat there watching his friend sleep, pondering on bigger questions that, surprisingly, had just started creeping into his mind. How could the Weasleys ever forgive him? Would they resent him, just as much as he resented himself now? Would Ginny even want to look at him? The last one of these made his insides turn. He couldn't such a fate would be possible. He knew everyone had been quite adamant on congratulating him mere hours ago, but he figured that had been the adrenaline of the darkest wizard of all time finally succumbing to his greatest fear: death. As he sat, blinking away stray tears, both fresh and old, he heard a faint knock on the door,

"Come in," he muttered, without even glancing at who came in afterward. Soft steps broke the otherwise quiet atmosphere, if you didn't take Ron's overt display of fatigue into account.

He felt the pressure of someone sitting beside him on his bed and smelled that flowery scent that never failed to make his stomach do summersaults. At least she could approach him without launching herself at him.

"I figured you'd be moping here," the voice of Ginny came from somewhere to his left. He heard himself snort in response and closed his eyes for a second, blinking back further tears from being shed.

When he turned in her direction, he saw for the first time in a long time, the face of the most beautiful witch he'd ever seen. He was probably somewhat biased, but this didn't make it any less true. With a lurch, he noticed her freckled cheeks covered in a mixture of tear tracks, grime, and blood. Her chocolate eyes did not betray the smile that was etched on her lips. Harry sighed and said,

"Who said I was moping?" he thought he heard a faint chuckle, though he couldn't be certain.

"I do," said Ginny, her eyes scanning his features as though to make sure he was in his best health, with a stare worthy of the daughter of Molly Weasley.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he said lamely. His eyes, on the other hand, did betray his intentions and a faint glistening could be seen at the edge of them. Ginny's features contorted in a face that clearly said why do you think?

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" She sounded hurt, but given the circumstances in which they found themselves, he didn't blame her, "I'm checking up on our saviour, can't I do that?" Ginny said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as if she was testing the waters of a rather tumultuous sea.

"Well..." he said, suddenly finding an inordinate amount of interest in the billowing of the curtains, "I figured after this, you'd hate me. I'm the reason those people di-," he started but was cut off by a flurry of red hair coming to rest mere inches from his face.

'No! No, you're not going to do this, Harry. All the people who died tonight, they died fighting for what they believed in. I am not going to let you try and take the blame for something you had absolutely no control over," she stated calmly, the fire that were her eyes shooting a penetrating stare into his bright green ones, exuding as much annoyance as concern.

"How can you say that, though? I could have handed myself sooner. I was an idiot weighing my options while innocent people lay down their lives for my sake," he replied. His shoulders slumped, defeated, and he buried his face in his hands.

"Harry..." Ginny started quietly, wrapping him in her embrace, "none of this is your fault, and we all wanted to fight that evil... creature for our freedom. This was war, for Merlin's sake. Every single person that fought tonight knew the risks and will be remembered as heroes. Now please, look at me," Ginny said, cupping his face in her hands. Harry looked up into those chocolate brown eyes and smiled despite himself.

"There you go," Ginny smiled too, and leaning into him, pressed her lips softly to his. In spite of his initial surprise, they remained like that for several moments, the grief and sorrow of the world melting away, as if the only thing that mattered now was the two of them. They imprinted into that kiss all those months that they had been apart, and their longing for one another. This, of course, couldn't last. They were interrupted by someone clearing his throat rather loudly. Upon breaking apart and looking toward the source, they saw a flushed Ron sitting up on his bed. Ginny shot him a reproachful glare and Ron thrust up his hands in defence, her ears turning a bright shade of red.

"Sorry, I just didn't want you guys forgetting that you had company..." he trailed off, looking down at his lap and turning a deeper shade of red, threatening to match his bright orange hair.

"Er – Right, sorry," Harry stuttered and sat up straighter, but looking positively more lifted than before.

"Yeah, um, I actually came up here to tell you that breakfast is being served in the Great Hall if you guys want some," she rushed through the last and looked up at Harry expectantly, "you look like you haven't slept in two days."

Hearing this, Ron stood up and rushed out of the room; partly because he was hungry, but also because he didn't want to see his sister and best friend getting too friendly in front of him. Harry then stood up, albeit slowly, and stretched the soreness out of his muscles.

"Well, that's actually quite true. I haven't slept since the night before the Gringotts incident," he said, running his hands through his unruly hair and rubbing his eyes once more.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat. Hopefully, there aren't many reporters left," she said exasperatedly, "I had to tell half a dozen of them off when they started asking where you had gone"

Harry chuckled and looked down at Ginny. He wrapped his arm around her and felt her squeeze him back. "Does this mean that you will... er, take me back?" he inquired tentatively. He had been dreading this since he came up to his room without talking to anyone. She looked back at him and, with a great smile and a kiss on his cheek said,

"Of course, Harry. Bold of you to assume I'd ever say no," she added sheepishly. Harry sighed with relief, and the knot that had threatened to choke the air out of his lungs loosened. Together they made their way down to what would surely be a crowded Great Hall.

Five minutes later, after a silent and uneventful walk through smashed corridors, the young couple emerged to what Harry could have sworn was a stampede of wild Hippogriffs. Thunderous applause followed them as they made their way to where the whole Weasley clan was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table. Grateful that the applause died down quickly, Harry flopped himself onto one of the benches, with Ginny by his side, and began absentmindedly stacking a hefty breakfast onto his plate. As he ate, he looked around at the scene in front of him.

He could see families huddled close to one another, couples reacquainting after weeks, probably months of not seeing each other. He noticed that even though everyone displayed varying degrees of grief, the sense of happiness and relief seemed to outweigh all others. How, he thought, he didn't know, but he felt as though a small weight of all that he had been carrying around for months on end seemed to vanish from his shoulders. As he pondered this, he felt a nudge from his side and focused on the redheaded family around him, looking at him expectantly.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Harry questioned them and frowned when their response was a fit of laughter. Even George seemed inclined to take solace in Harry's innocence, if not for a second.

"No, it's not that, dear. We were just wondering what you were planning on doing next," Mrs. Weasley said, a smile on her face. Harry had a moment of profound respect for this woman, who was as much his adoptive mother and his family as anyone had ever been. Every single one of them had just lost either a brother or a son and here they were, asking him what he wanted to do now. Even so, he knew better than to voice his thoughts on the matter, so he settled for saying,

"Well, I'm not sure really," he said truthfully. "I didn't really intend on surviving this war..." he trailed off, looking at some point far away. The Weasleys all shared a look of disbelief at his words, but it was Mrs. Weasley who recovered the fastest.

"Harry, dear, how could you say that? Your plan worked wonderfully! That was some speech last night," Mrs. Weasley looked on the verge of tears but had a smile etched on her face nonetheless.

"Yeah, about that..." he started, blushing, "my original plan for defeating Voldemort" - he saw most of them shudder on instinct -, "was to let him kill me. That's how I ended up being carried by Hagrid from the forest..." Harry looked down at his food. How could he make them understand that he didn't actually intend on going on from this point forward? The shocked faces on the Weasley clan were not helping with his blushing. Charlie was the one to speak this time, a knot apparently constricting his throat as he spoke.

"So, you're saying what You-Kn- Voldemort said was true...?" he asked tentatively. Everyone seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Had he just said that he intended to die at the hands of his enemy?

"Not entirely. I wasn't escaping, but he did use the Killing Curse on me... again," he explained, trying to push back the memories of that fateful moment in the Forest. He tugged at his shirt and displayed for all of them to see a scar, resembling the one on his forehead, going from his upper abdomen to the base of his clavicle. He heard quite a few gasps and could feel Ginny's grip on his left arm tighten.

"I found out, just before it happened, that the only way for him to die, if he was even possible of dying at that point, was for him to kill me." Again, more gasps, and he could see a frown forming on Mr. Weasley's face. "So, long story short, if we wanted any chance of defeating him, I had to die," Harry concluded, casting looks at everyone around him. They all looked back at him dumbfounded by this new unexpected development.

"So ho- how are you alive?" Ginny said through teary eyes. Harry's heart tightened. Ginny didn't usually cry, let alone let it show in front of people. A couple of nods from the redheaded family showed they were wondering the same thing. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

"I'm not sure, really. When I was hit, I appeared in a sort of King's Cross, but this one was purely white and completely empty. Dumbledore was there," he explained, smiling despite himself. 'And he explained that my mother's love for me had once again saved me and that I now had a choice to come back to the world of the living. He wasn't quite clear in his explanation, but then again when was Dumbledore ever straightforward?" he chuckled at the memory of his late Headmaster. This seemed to lighten the mood, as several other laughs ripped through the tense atmosphere that had formed.

"So, now I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I don't have a place to live now. I'm not sure I'd want to use Grimmauld Place. Too many memories," he sighed again. Mrs. Weasley looked positively abashed.

"Young man, you most certainly do have a place to live," she exclaimed. "You will be coming home to the Burrow and will stay there for as long as you want." She pulled him towards her and presented him with a Molly Weasley bear hug.

"Are – are you sure, Mrs. Weasley? I wouldn't want to be a burden, you've done so much for me already," he answered lamely. He didn't really have much energy to argue.

"Harry, dear, how many times do we have to tell you? We are your family," she beamed at him. He got vigorous nods from the rest of the Weasleys. "You have saved Arthur's, Ginny's and Ron's life. Not to mention the Wizarding World, for Merlin's sake! We are not taking no for an answer." She gave him a look as if to challenge him to refuse the offer. He did no such thing. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Harry broke into a big smile and looked up at his mother, in every way but one, and said,

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. I would love to live at the Burrow... for now." He grinned sheepishly. "Thank you, for everything." With that, he returned the hug to a startled and tearful Mrs. Weasley.

"You're more than welcome, dear. Now, what say we head back home and relax? I daresay we, Harry especially, have earned that," she announced and ushered the redheaded family out of their seats and practically shoved them into the Floo Network line. As more people went their separate ways into the fireplaces, Harry scanned their surroundings, as if to check that all survivors were accounted for in his mind. Once it was his turn, Harry took a good look around at the Great Hall and, with a smile, threw the powder into the green flames and shouted,

"The Burrow!"