Outside, an upwash of urban glow overlaid a yellow stain on the blackness of the lower sky. High above, the unsullied hung a polished-silver moon. In the deep pure black above the lunar curve, a few stars looked clean, so far from Earth. Previously scattered clouds, as woolly as sheep, have been herded together around the shepherd moon.
Harry sighed softly. Far away, he could almost imagine that he heard the sounds of the wolf howls. As a tiny hand slipped inside his, he looked down at the petite frame beside him, near the window.
It was his only daughter, Lily. Her thin nightgown trailed below her toes and her huge brown eyes shimmered in the dark. As the moon came out, her eyes shone brightly and clearly, and he was instantly reminded of his late wife.
Lily looked at her father, his emerald eyes bright and shiny as morning stars, and his hair messy and ruffled, and a dark stubble shrouding his strong jaw and chin.
It was a serene night, with the balmy breezes fanning the swaying rhythm of the trees, and one caught Lily's favourite nightgown and swayed it gently.
Quickly clasping her dark hair which was being blown about and tangled by the wind, Lily twisted it slowly and let it cascade down her back.
"Daddy?" she whispered, leaning towards her father for warmth in the cold night.
"Yes Lily," Harry felt himself respond as his arm curled around his daughter's thin shoulders protectively.
"Why are you so sad?" his innocent six-year-old's question echoed in his head. Why? He did not know. Perhaps it was because the final battle was during the full moon, perhaps it was because his Ginny was stolen away from him during the full moon, perhaps it was because he remembered Sirius and Remus, perhaps because he remembered his young godson Teddy going through the agony of werewolf dreams. There were too many reasons to count, and to burden a child with all the troubles seemed cruel.
"The moon looks sad, child." He replied. Where did that come from? He asked himself, but shrugged it off.
"Yeah Daddy, I saw that too," she replied. Another warm figure came to rest on Harry's other shoulder. It was his second son, James.
He did not say anything but just comforted himself in the warmth of his father and sister. And Harry let him be.
After a few minutes, a taller figure touched Harry's shoulder before he slipped his arm around James. Another shorter boy slipped his thin arm around his sister and rested his head on her shoulder. They were Harry's boys: Teddy and Albus.
Harry turned his head to look at his two older boys. Teddy had rested his head on James's shorter one, and his strong arms were around James's shoulder. Sweat matted his natural brown hair to stick on his head. His eyes were focused on the moon, just like everyone else's.
James was standing there motionless, leaning towards Harry. The older man noticed that tears were shining fluidly in James' emerald eyes, but he knew that he would not let them fall.
His messy black hair was sticking out in all directions, just like Harry's own, and his skin was illuminated by the moonlight. He looked just like Harry when he was fourteen.
His eleven-year old boy was crying quietly, streams of crystalline liquid pouring down the slopes of his face. His hands were enterwined with his younger sister's, who stood there quietly as tears glistened on her long eyelashes.
There was about Albus, a cherubic beauty. Porcelain skin similar to Ginny's, delicate little Cupid's bow mouth, identical to Ginny's, sparkly brown eyes of Ginny's, with lashes so long they fell in the "to die for" category. He was a beautiful boy but it broke Harry's heart to see him yearn for his mother.
In one fluid movement, Harry had knelt in front of the younger boy and girl and took them in his arms. With another hand, he gathered his older boys for a group hug.
Lily broke into a loud sob as she buried her head in the crook of Harry's neck and cried for the mother she never got to see. The mother who had sacrificed her life to let her live.
Teddy wrapped his arms around Harry's back and let the tears of built-up grief for his godmother slide silently down his cheeks. She had been a mother figure to him for 10 wonderful years.
James had wrapped himself around Harry's arm, as his already weakened fortitude finally crumbled and young Albus was crying freely onto Harry's shirt, clenching the cloth so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Gradually, their tears of grief spent, they fell asleep in each other's arms. As long as they had each other, Ginny could watch them over from the moon, and they would be a happy family, Ginny always being with them in their hearts.