Dedication: This is a birthday gift for my cousin EH, the biggest Harry Potter fan I know. Sorry it took so long!
"Aftermath"
Ginny did not realize she was falling asleep until her mother pushed her gently off her shoulder. "Ginny, you should find a place to rest. I think Gryffindor Tower is still intact, so your bed might still be there."
"What about you lot?"
Mrs. Weasley looked around the Great Hall; when she spoke her voice was halting. "I expect people will need to start—making arrangements—of one kind or another."
Ginny could only imagine it: relatives looking for each other, students seeking schooling, wakes and funerals for the dead. She remembered the wizard who had spoken at Dumbledore's funeral and officiated Bill and Fleur's wedding ceremony, and imagined him swamped with requests for his presence at ceremonies. She wondered if Fred and George would have laughed at the idea—she wasn't sure if there was any real humor in it.
She glanced again at George, who was sitting with Percy, Lee Jordan and a few other Hogwarts graduates. Over the last few hours, she had noticed that he kept looking to one side or the other; she wondered if he was irrationally waiting for Fred to come back; then she realized it must have been sheer habit, expecting Fred to do half of the talking for him. George would have to get used to speaking on his own now, and everyone would have to get used to seeing him as an individual instead of part of a set. Ginny wondered if it would even be possible to get used to that.
It was impossible to leave the Great Hall without being stopped by at least half a dozen people on the way out. Everyone was still congratulating and rejoicing and condoling. As Ginny wove her way through the crowd, she stopped to give hugs to her parents and brothers, Neville clapped her on the back triumphantly, Professor McGonagall gave her a tired but proud smile, and Madam Hooch pressed her hand sympathetically (the Quidditch coach had probably known Fred better than any of his academic teachers).
Ginny avoided looking at the bodies of the fallen; enough people were among them, looking for friends or relatives and trying to identify next-of-kin, to shield her from the view. As she walked through the castle, it was impossible to ignore the changes—sections of walls, ceilings, and staircases blasted apart; scorch marks and blood stains; clouds of dust that had not fully dissipated. Ginny wondered if Filch and the house-elves would be able to clean it all themselves. The strangest thing was the silence: although people had started to venture out and about again, they moved quietly, a striking contrast with the scenes that had caused the destruction that still remained.
The silence was broken by a clattering of shoes and a voice that called, "Excuse me!" Ginny turned and saw a woman who she had seen from a distance and in pictures but had not properly met. Rita Skeeter was better dressed than anyone else in the castle, and had to pick her way around the rubble and debris from the battle in her high-heeled shoes. "You're a Weasley, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Your family's close to Harry Potter. Do you know where he is now?"
"I haven't seen him in a while." Ginny felt a little uneasy as she realized this; the last time he disappeared, he had gone to the Forbidden Forest to die. There had been no ultimatum, but if there were still Death Eaters or other Voldemort sympathizers at large, anything could happen …
"Well, while I have you, would you answer a few questions? How have things really been at Hogwarts this past year? What was your experience last night?"
"Ma'am, I haven't slept in two days, so if you want to bother someone, talk to one of the professors, or the Longbottoms, or someone's who's in a talking mood." With that Ginny brushed the reporter aside, one hand on her wand in case a hex was necessary.
The Fat Lady's portrait was still intact, though she had left her frame to celebrate the victory with other painted people. When Ginny entered, she found the common room was not quite deserted: pairs and trios of sixth- and seventh-year students had also sought solitude rather than the communion of the Great Hall. To each their own, Ginny thought. Then she tried to think which one Harry would have chosen.
She wavered for a moment before choosing the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. She stopped outside the room shared by the seventh years—only Neville and Seamus had occupied it for the past year.
Ginny knocked and called out, "Is anyone in here?"
There was a murmur of voices on the other side. Ginny pressed her ear against the door to listen.
"Are we still supposed to check identities?"
"Come off it, the war's over—"
"You never know, really, there are still sympathizers, probably always will be—"
Ginny raised her voice. "My real name's Ginevra, but only Auntie Murial calls me that. I dated Harry James Potter for about two months. Ron, you have arachnophobia because your teddy bear turned into a spider when we were little."
It was Hermione who answered the door. She smiled, looking tired but overjoyed, and hugged Ginny; apparently the mood of thanksgiving had not worn off for her. "Come on in! We're just resting."
Ginny entered and saw Harry and Ron in fresh pajamas, lounging on one of the four-poster beds, a plate of sandwiches between them. Harry straightened up when he saw Ginny enter the room. "Hey."
"There you are."
The boys looked at her with slight unease. "Were you looking for us?" Harry asked.
"I just wanted to make sure you didn't run off again." The look Ginny gave him was not quite happy, yet neither was it sad, relieved, or angry; if anything, it conveyed a conglomeration of all those emotions. "You've got some nerve, making us think—you—"
Harry looked sheepish. "I know. I'm sorry."
They had hugged, briefly but fiercely, in the first minutes after Voldemort's death, full of incredulous joy; now they were calmer, with room for the exhaustion they had been putting off, not to mention the many months they had spent apart. Now, Harry got off the bed as Ginny came over and hugged him, long and hard. Somehow they managed to sit on the edge of the bed without letting go of each other.
"We're going to have a long talk about all of this," she muttered against his collar.
"Uh-oh," Ron remarked. "You sound like Mum."
When they parted, Harry asked Ginny, "How is your mum?"
She ran a hand through her hair, which was quite messy since she hadn't cleaned up since the battle. "I don't really know—holding it together, I guess. I don't know how long it'll last." The Weasley children had never seen their mother grieve, though it would not be her first time: she had lost two brothers in the first war against Voldemort. She hardly mentioned them since then.
Harry looked over at Ron. "Er—you could give them a bit of good news," he suggested, with a shrug and half a smile.
Ron looked at him blankly. "What good news?"
"Besides the obvious, that is?" Hermione said with a strange smile of her own.
Harry tossed his head toward her while still looking at Ron. "You know—you and Hermione."
"Oh. Blimey!" Ron looked amazed, either at the news itself or at his own forgetfulness. Hermione blushed, hugging herself and looking bashful yet pleased.
Ginny raised her eyebrows, only mildly surprised. "What? Have you two finally made up your minds?"
"By the way they were kissing, it looked like it," Harry said, and when Ginny met his eyes, they both found themselves grinning involuntarily.
"Maybe you should tell Mum," Ginny mused. "It'll give her something to be happy about."
Ron looked rather put on the spot. "Er—Hermione and I haven't even talked—you think she'll be alright with it?"
"She's gotten along with Hermione longer and better than with Fleur; she'll be ecstatic."
"And you two?" Ron looked pointedly between Ginny and Harry, who suddenly found it difficult to make eye contact.
Hermione tactfully took his arm and said, "Why don't we let them talk it out, while we check on your parents?"
Ron looked as though he had just remembered something. "What about yours? You said you'd track them down—"
"Of course—"
As they left the room Ginny and Harry thought they heard Ron say, "Well, you're not going by yourself, are you?" Hermione hugged him as the door shut behind them.
A minute of silence elapsed before they both tried to speak, though neither was certain of what to say.
"So—"
"So—"
"Do you want to catch up now, or get right to the point? Or rest—you probably need it even more than I do."
"Yeah—I think there's too much to get into."
"I would like to know what to tell people, though," Ginny said, "if they ask about us. You never said whether you'd want to pick up where we left off, if you ever got done saving the wizarding world."
Harry's defense sounded a little agitated. "I couldn't—I had no way of knowing whether I'd live or die—or how long it would take, if I did defeat Voldemort—you could've met and married somebody else by then." He muttered the last words, as if they brought him pain or disgust.
"Well, I haven't," she said simply, and then smiled. "Dating at Hogwarts isn't what it used to be—some people were like you, ending relationships to spare pain and all that; others decided to go all the way—a few couples got married over holidays, or went into hiding to be together."
"Wow."
"What about you? Meet any veela?"
He chuckled a little. "No, not even close. You were right about your silver lining."
Someone had to say it, so Ginny did: "So, you want to try again?"
He squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Do you?"
"Absolutely."
"Think your family'll be okay with it?"
"You really have to ask? After what you did today, on top of all the other times you saved us? They'll be thrilled."
Harry smiled, but she could still see exhaustion in his eyes. She stood and started clearing off the remaining food. "You should get some sleep. Will you—are you going to stay here? Obviously the school won't be running for a while, but no one's going to kick you out, of all people—or you could stay with us at the Burrow …" She looked at him with a kind of detached expectancy, too hesitant to hope.
"For now, definitely," Harry said. "I mean, I helped cause this mess, it's only right I help clean it up. But next year … I don't know." He leaned back on his pillows, looking up at the bedcurtain frame. "I didn't think I had a future, at least not one without Voldemort. Now, it's like … every door is open. Hermione wants to come back and take her N.E.W.T.s … I'd like that, but I don't think school can ever be normal for me after this."
"I give the Auror office one week before they try to recruit you."
"Maybe … but first I think I could use a break from fighting dark magic. A long one."
"You deserve it." Ginny leaned over and kissed him before leaving, secure in the knowledge that she could count on seeing him again.