AN: Some background information on this story-Voldemort is still alive. The Battle of Hogwarts happened but neither side won, and Fred didn't die.
I own nothing. I'm grateful for reviews.=)
The camp is silent, the mood tense. No one looks at each other. They fiddle with their wands, polishing them, checking that they still work. They check their robes, looking for holes or burns or anything that gives them a reason to change. They do anything to avoid speaking.
This is how it is after every battle. The battles bring out the worst, or perhaps the best, in them. Afterward, no one is ready to accept what they have done, that they have killed or injured purposely.
Harry tells them it's necessary. It's them or the Death Eaters. They are fighting for their lives.
This is much different than what they expected. It isn't anything like Dumbledore's Army, practicing spells in the safe space of a room no one knows about. Here they must think on their feet. Harry can't tell them what spells to use and when every second of the battle; they must think for themselves.
They are soldiers, and they are young.
A loud boom! sounds from behind them and they are all on their feet, wands drawn. The ground shakes, jets of light zoom towards them, all deflected by the wards Hermione and Cho have put up.
The Death Eaters have found them. They have another battle to fight today.
Harry shouts orders. "Everyone up!" Everyone is already up. "Wands out!" Necessary but redundant; none of them ever put their wands away anymore. "Form a line along the edge of the ward. We'll get them before they can see us." They follow directions, lining along the invisible shield, staring as the Death Eaters' curses bounce off in front of them. They stand close together, afraid and afraid to admit it.
Harry is still yelling. They move soundlessly, preparing themselves. They silently run over every spell they can think of, which will do the most damage, which will defend them.
Hermione raises her wand. She is going to take down the wards. They will only have a few seconds to surprise their attackers. They will charge hard, casting every curse and jinx they can think of in time.
Hermione looks at her friends, her fellow troop members. She sees the hard looks in their faces and it nearly breaks her heart. They are too young to be so broken.
She glances at Harry. He has that look too, but his eyes tell a different story. He knows this is going to be a difficult battle-the enemy knows where they are, they are ruthless, and they are greater in number. And he knows that if he wants to keep his soldiers fighting they can't lose any more.
He would run but it wouldn't matter. The Death Eaters will see them before they can get away because the wards have to be torn down. They will keep looking and never stop until Dumbledore's Army has been defeated.
Harry tears his gaze from Hermione-he can't lose his will and he knows she will understand. He nods, and yells "NOW!" Hermione releases the ward.
Everyone charges. The air is full of shouts-names of spells, people. It all melds together until it becomes a rhythm, a back and forth between two or more soldiers.
Harry tries to watch as he fights his own Death Eater. If anyone of his own falls, he plans to jump in and help, but he knows he may need just as much help. They are after him, above all. They need to capture him alive.
But Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, everyone else is meaningless to them.
He sees a flash of green shoot past Hannah Abbott. He whips around, searching for the Death Eater that used the Unforgivable and sees Hannah keeping her own against the enemy. He doesn't have time to think about helping as the ground explodes in front of him and he is thrown on his back.
Now Ron is near him, fighting with Neville against two more Death Eaters. He is surprised to find several bodies littering the ground, none of which belong to him.
Neville fires a spell that sends both his Death Eaters soaring into the nearest tree. Ron has time for a quick high five before they move on to their next battle.
Harry is back on his feet, fighting off spells and sending out his own. He sees something he never noticed before. Everyone is fighting in pairs.
Ron and Neville. Luna and Ginny. Fred and George. Hannah and Justin. Cho and Zacharias. Seamus and Dean. Parvati and Padma. Lavender and Ernie. Michael and Terry. He can't distinguish the other groups, they're too far away, but he sees something that makes his heart jump.
Hermione is by herself, battling three Death Eaters. And she is winning.
He isn't surprised-she is the brightest witch of their age-but he rushes to her side anyway, sending one Death Eater flying into another.
Hermione hits the third with a purple jet of light. His legs begin to shake and he falls, unable to support himself.
Harry looks at Hermione, a smile on his face. "Jelly-Legs?"
She shrugs. "They never see it coming."
They return to the battle.
Not soon enough, it is over. The Death Eaters have fled and they are packing up their camp. They need to move and quickly.
Harry counts their number, relieved to find that they have exactly the same as before. He wanders through the camp, assisting those who need it, complimenting everyone on how well they did.
He can see the difference before Hermione even mentions it.
"They're tired." She folds her arms across her chest and stares at him.
"I know," he said. "I know, Hermione. But what can I do? They wanted to come, and now we have to keep ourselves safe. There is nothing else we can do."
"Send them home, Harry, even if only for a day." Hermione's eyes plead with him.
He faces her. "I can't. They don't have homes anymore, Hermione, you know that. Everyone's families are in hiding now that Vol-" He stops. Taboo. "Now that You-Know-Who has gained full power. They have nowhere to go."
"Maybe we can help them find their families, mate." Ron has joined them.
Hermione jumps on this idea eagerly. "We can stay on the move, dropping them off as we find them. They wouldn't be in danger anymore, and we can think of a way to stay in contact, so they can come back with us if they want!"
Harry looks at his hands. He would give them this if he could, but he isn't sure it's possible.
He meets Hermione's eyes. "Can you make it work?"
She beams at him. "Of course. I'll find Cho and Terry and the others and start working on it." She takes off, already forming a plan.
Harry glances at Ron, who is smiling. "It'll work out, mate. It always does." Ron claps him on the shoulder, and follows after Hermione.
He makes his way to what used to be the center of the camp. He needs to tell them, to raise morale. This is, after all, a war, and morale is necessary.
"Everyone, I have an announcement!" They all pause, midway through their packing, but none move. "If you could gather around please!"
They move slowly, in a post-battle daze. Their faces are tired, but none have the tell-tale tear marks they had when they started out on this journey. They have grown hard.
"I know that many of you-all of you miss your families. And I know that many of them are in hiding." Hermione is still grinning broadly, and others are beginning to stare at her. They shift uncomfortably, anxious for Harry to continue.
"I-we would like to help you find your families." An excited murmur breaks out, people clutch each other as they try and understand what this means. "You can visit them, or stay with them, whichever you choose. We will devise a way to stay in contact, so you can find us again if you would like."
He barely has the words out when a cheer erupts in the crowd. He is bombarded by people, hugging and clapping him on the back. Various arrays of "Thank you, Harry!" are shouted at him and he can hear people already planning their reunions.
Eventually they return to their packing, all smiling and making plans, a great difference from the mood earlier. Harry smiles to himself. He knows he has done the right thing.
He thinks they will all come back eventually-they have fought too long and too hard to just give up, it's just a momentary break.
They were soldiers, but they were young.