Author's Note: I'm a more recent fan of Harry Potter, and though I did enjoy the first five books, six and seven weren't as wonderful for me, especially book seven's epilogue. But, I'm not the author, so this is basically a little oneshot set post DH/pre-epilogue that fits pretty well into canon. As it says in the description, it's Harry/Ginny, so if you don't like—and I don't either—you may want to skip this story. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, an englishwoman. As I am a kid and not British, it's not mine.

Remembrance

He stood alone, marveling and yet not all the same at the scenery around and below him. There was not a single thought in his head, while at the same time he was distracted by any and everything that was in hearing distance.

Harry let out a sigh and was tempted to shiver; it was not at all cold, but he felt as if there was some chill going down his spine and encompassing his entire body. What, he did not know, nor did he care.

His eyes were sunken and the tears that he had thought by now would have been long gone continued to come until he could cry no longer; he held back a whimper and sob, nothing in him feeling any better. Was this how he would continue to feel? When would he—if he ever did—finally find peace?

He probably would never, part of him said, making him nod as if there had been a voice speaking aloud before him.

Out a habit, he scratched the back of his head, feeling the part of his dark hair that had always stuck up, never flattening—just like his father's had.

If Harry had not already shed as many tears as his body could currently produce, he knew that he would have began to sob that very second, and it made him feel pathetic. He was a hero. He had defeated the very person who had killed his parents when he was baby—over seventeen years before—yet even now he felt as if he were little and would break down just at that thought?

Some hero he was, Harry thought. He could barely save his own life.

That made him remember all of the people that had lost their lives only a year before at the battle of Hogwarts, sending him back into his own depression. He should have been more careful. He was the "Chosen One," wasn't he? Surely he of all people could have at least kept watch over the battles and saved one person, maybe two?

But he hadn't. Instead, he'd went off with this friends and had searched for Voldemort's—no, Tom Riddle's—final Horcrux, something that he should have done months before.

And now all of them, Remus and Tonks, Crabbe, Colin Creevey, Severus Snape, and many others had died.

"And it's all my fault," Harry said aloud, looking down at the ground, deliberately avoiding what was right in front of him. "I should have saved them."

"You don't ever change, do you?" a voice said behind him.

Harry turned and for a moment, he almost thought that he had imagined what he had heard, and then before him was Ginny, her red hair flowing around her, standing out in the dim light around them.

"Ginny," said Harry, "what are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "Looking for you, that's what. Where have you been lately, Harry Potter? No one has seen you all day. Mum's gone spare waiting for you to come back, and she sent me to find you."

"She did?" Harry looked at her with wide eyes.

Ginny rolled her brown eyes, as if she was tired of having to say this, and part of Harry expected that she most certainly had. How in the world had he managed to find people like her, and Ron and Hermione, who were willing to be there for him when he needed it most, even if he requested otherwise?

"Of course she did!" Ginny told him. "You're the part of the family, remember? Mum's taken you in since first year. Why else do you think she's made you Christmas jumpers? It's part of the Weasley family tradition."

Harry sighed. "I still can't believe it, you know."

"Believe what?"

"That I'm still even welcome at the Burrow anymore," he continued, "and that you still all accept me."

Still she looked confused.

"I mean, after what happened with Fred, and—"

But before he could even continue, Ginny hurried over to him and looked him straight into his eyes, bright green facing brown, and he almost could smell what'd he smelled back in his sixth year at Hogwarts, what he was attracted to—the mere smell of her hair, or whatever it was.

"Don't even think to apologize for that, Harry Potter!" she insisted, glaring at him in a way similar to how she'd looked at Ron many times when she was angry with him. "That, under no circumstances, was your fault. Do you hear me? He went out and fought for you, and George doesn't blame you. In fact, he says if it hadn't been for you, Ron might not have made it out alive, and can you imagine what Mum and Dad would do if they'd lost him too?"

He blinked at her in confusion. "But I still should have been able to save him. I mean, if I could get rid of Voldemort's, I should have been able to save Fred."

Ginny's volume increased with that assessment.

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Then that also means that you should have been able to save me from almost getting killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, right?"

"But I was pretending to be dead then," Harry reminded her.

She smiled satisfactorily. "Exactly. And just like how when you think you should have been saving Fred, instead you were doing something else that helped end the war. It was , as Professor Dumbledore said, 'For the greater good,' wasn't it?"

Though Harry didn't like her word choice, her logic could not be ignored, and reluctantly nodded.

"So," he asked after a moment, "what's been going on at the Burrow lately? You know I've been a bit busy with training and helping Kingsley."

She nodded. "It's been fine, actually. The only reason that Mum really wanted to know where you were was because Fleur's having the baby today."

"She is?" said Harry.

"Yes, Bill and her took the floo to Saint Mungo's just a few hours ago."

"Have they picked a name yet?"

Ginny smiled. "Victoire," she said. "It's French for 'victory.' They thought it'd be appropriate with today being what it is."

Harry thought that the name was pretty enough and couldn't help but find the humor in what Bill must have thought about naming his first born child something that was French, as ever since he'd found out they were having a girl, he wanted to name her Molly. It seemed that it was obvious who, metaphorically, wore the trousers in their relationship.

"But why'd you come?" asked Harry. "I'd have thought you'd want to be the first to go?"

Ginny shrugged again. "Ron and Hermione wanted to but I thought that it was best if I came alone; thought you wouldn't want to many people around."

"You always seem to know," Harry said.

Ginny winked at him. "Well, being the girlfriend of the great 'Boy-Who-Lived,' I'd like to think I know when to be there for him."

It truly was amazing how she was that even when calling him the boy-who-lived, a nickname that he had detested from the very first time he'd heard it, and it made it not only come off amusing but appropriate.

Harry sighed. "I just wish that we could have Remus and Tonks still here. They were friends with Bill and Fleur, weren't they? They'd had loved to see the baby."

Ginny frowned. "Yes, they would, and I think Teddy will want to."

Harry allowed himself to grin a little. "I just saw him the other day," he said. "He's grown up so much and looks just like them."

Ginny nodded. "They would have been so proud of him—if they were sill here." She took a deep breath. "But, that's not what you're here for, is it? You came to pay your respect to somebody different."

"I just wish I hadn't been so naïve and stupid," Harry said. "If I'd just been paying attention, this never would have happened."

"But it did happen, Harry," Ginny told him bluntly. "I know you don't like to hear that, but everyone would have wanted us to move on and get on with our lives. They're fine. Death's just the next great adventure, isn't it?"

Harry chuckled a little at her again quoting Dumbledore. Part of him knew that his former professor, too, would have found the humor in the situation.

He looked down at the tombstone and read not the name, date, or year. Instead, he read the inscription: "The bravest known." Somewhere out there, he knew that the person would have approved.

"You're right," he said suddenly, making Ginny look up at him in surprise. "I should move on. I've spent my entire life wondering about what it'd be like if my parents and Sirius and everyone else came back, but they're not and it's time I accept that."

"So you're moving on now?" Ginny asked him, to which he nodded.

"But, no matter what happens, I'll make sure that everyone will be remembered. We can't change the past, but we can make a better future. If everyone knows what went on before, maybe the next generations at Hogwarts will know better."

Deep down, Harry knew that this was true. He didn't know what would happen, but he did know that everyone that had lost their lives, whether deserved or not, they would be remembered.

Suddenly, he felt warm for the first time and almost caught sight of the sun setting over the horizon, as if the sky, the air, trees—maybe even the people themselves—were giving him their approval.