Written for the Quidditch League Forum. Round 4. Position: Beater 2 (Reserve) No prompts used. Write about the Shacklebolt family

When he opened his eyes, a moment of panic attacked him but it lessened slightly when he found that it was completely void of sound around him. He stared. The white ceiling stayed in front of him no matter how much he blinked and the light flickered in his vision a few times. He turned away from the view of the dull ceiling as quick as possible.

Kingsley was in the hospital.

He took a deep breath in... and out.

Shacklebolt didn't like waking up in hospitals. Since playing Beater in Quidditch at his Hogwarts in his younger days paid him quite a few visits to the hospital wings. Granted that neither place had similiar qualities to them but it was a general vibe that both places gave off. Perhaps it was waking up without the ability to move and a strange feeling that it wasn't his own room that he was in.

It took a few moments to calm his beating heart and once he found that he wouldn't be sick over the side of the bed, Kingsley slowly made his way to sitting position.

What had happened?

Ah...

Instantly the memory of the Ministry fight filled his mind.

Harry Potter, fight, Sirius, Death Eaters, mirror, Dumbledore, pain, pain...

So much for calming down. He fell back against the bed with a groan.

"Ah, Shacklebolt." Remus Lupin greeted as he entered the room.

Kingsley shifted on the many pillows supporting his back, "Hello, Lupin. I see you are still up and running after last night."

Lupin laughed. Only after the many years of careful observation in the Ministry did it allow Kingsley to notice that Lupin's smile was tighter than usual, the shoulders were hunched, and he never kept eye contact for more than a few minutes.

Remus Lupin was very good at hiding his thoughts.

It was only quite lucky on his side that he was equally good at discerning them. "What happened?" Kingsley asked, his voice turning grave.

If Lupin was surprised, he didn't show it. "Tonks got wounded pretty bad."

Tonks was a good fighter, one of the best in the Order. Kingsley could feel his chest tighten at the thought of her laying in a bed similiar to his, only in worse condition.

"Is she..."

"She'll be fine. She'll just need a few days to recover."

He nodded. That was good news.

"What else?"

Lupin made eye-contact with him for a few seconds before looking away uncomfortably, "Have you seen the Daily Prophet?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Not yet." None of the nurses had stayed in his room for long after he had asked about what had happened to him or where Dumbledore was. Nobody had spoken to him nor seem to want to.

Kingsley took the offered newspaper by Lupin a bit reluctantly. Who wanted to find out details that made someone like Tonks or yourself get sent to the hospital in critical condition.

Oh.

That was bloody great.

They both talked for a while after that, Lupin, more tired than usual and Kingsley sickened from the news of You-Know-Who's return and the death of Sirius Black. The start of a second war was coming, he pondered to himself. It was then, after Lupin had left, that Kingsley fell into uneasy sleep. Deep, deep, sleep.

He dreamt of his home.

His real home with family.

The fear from his discussion with Lupin seemed to have ingrained in him in his dream. Kingsley found himself running and desperately trying to find his family in this home he hadn't visited in several months. Afterall, he had no need to visit an empty house.

...

That's when he found her, leaning over a garden of flowers. Just like always. When watching her closer, he found her trimming them too the ground, leaving there barest hint of green above the ground. Why would she trim the flowers low and dead? This morbid realisation lasted until he looked at her and his thoughts fell away from him. Much like when he had first met her.

Her name escaped him, "Ashia..."

She looked up and her eyes brightened, "Kingsley!" Kingsley stayed still and watched her rise from the ground eagerly, dusting the dirt from her skirt. How many times had he seen this before?

His wife drew closer to him and sighed, "It's been months and you rarely ever return me. Even to visit."

Kingsley managed to reply, reluctantly, "The war...has gotten worse."

She wasn't pureblood and she knew little of magic. Simply a muggle who he had fallen for. It would be cruel to drag her any further into this mess.

Her dark eyes were dismayed as she watched him, "Will you be safe?"

"I..."

Ashia frowned and took his larger hand in her two smaller ones and held it to her chest, hovering over her heart. "No. You are my husband. You must promise to stay safe."

Kingsley stared at her for the longest time before relenting. "I promise." He leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead, reminescent of a promise they made a long time ago to be bonded together in marriage.

She smiled in reply, bright and warm. So bright that it brought tears to his eyes. Taking his hand, she placed it upon her belly, "You have another little one to make that promise to as well, my love."

Kingsley remembered the warmth in her eyes and in the life he had yet to meet as his hand felt her stomach. "Even if I promise such a thing, I can't-" He tried to put his scrambled thoughts into words, "You're not..."

Ashia lifted her hand to caress his cheek, "Though we aren't there to protect you, we still live on in your heart. As your wife and child."

It felt so real and true.

His voice was rough as he replied, "I promise."

Like many times he had seen her, her dark eyes sparkled at him and she leaned closer, pressing her own chaste kiss upon his cheek -

- then he woke up.

To a white ceiling staring dully down at him.

Oh.

Kingsley didn't bother turning away from it this time.

We all lost family in the first war. Some people more than others. That would be the reason why we were so terrified to find ourselves trapped in another one. We can't protect everyone dear to us forever. These wars, these deaths, and the memories of both will never go away. But I promise you, this horror will never happen again to the Wizarding world while I am the Minister of Magic.

- Kingsley Shacklebolt, 1998