A/N: I'm going to try to stick with canon for this with one major exception: Hannah Abbot won't own the Three Broomsticks. Also, Madame Rosmerta will be living on Dumbledore years (meaning she will get very, very old).
Oh, and all dates are counted from the final battle.
One Month Later
2 June, 1998
It had been a long day, and from the sounds drifting in from the street outside, Rosmerta guessed it was only going to get longer.
The door of the Three Broomsticks stood open, tempting a nonexistent breeze into the sweltering pub. It had been a busy night, but now most of her customers had cleared out and gone home. At first, in the days following the battle, her pub had been packed every night until well after she had announced last call. Everyone was celebrating together, or else mourning, and there was no place better than a bar to do either of those things. She had more business in the Three Broomsticks in that first week than she'd had in fifteen years.
But now, as the days passed, and the elation slowly faded into grief and remembrance for those lost, Rosmerta found the pub emptying out quite a bit earlier than it had been. She sighed as she ran a rag over the already clean surface of the bar, struggling to make out the conversation outside, growing louder every minute. A part of her hoped they would pass the pub by. She could tell from the sedated tones of their voices that whoever they were, they were of the mourning variety.
She was surprised at the group that came in. Their voices told her they had come from a funeral, but their clothes said otherwise. They were wearing Muggle clothing covered in dust, and their faces and hands were filthy. They must have come from the Hogwarts rebuilding taking place up the hill.
She recognized their faces and knew at once why the weariness particular to loss still lingered in their voices though a month had passed since the final battle. She still remembered them from their not so long ago visits to her pub on Hogwarts weekends, ordering Butterbeer and struggling through their adolescent drama. Had that really only been two years ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed, and judging by the unnatural age in their faces, it felt like far more time to them as well.
It was hard now to think of them as heroes, but there was no doubt that they defined the word. The whole wizarding world was consumed with gossip concerning these three teenagers, some of it completely beyond the realm of belief, but Rosmerta had managed, through her long established connections with important people, and through her well honed ear, to sort out much of the rumor from the truth. She found the truth almost as hard to believe as the rumors.
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger began moving tables together while Harry Potter approached Rosmerta to order drinks.
"Can we have a bottle of Firewhiskey and seven glasses please?" he asked. "We have more people coming."
He spoke in the same quiet, polite tone he had always used, but Rosmerta couldn't help but notice the weariness beneath his words. She felt a stab of pity, and then a stab of pride, for this boy who had been asked to carry the entire weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders, and had done so without complaint.
For a moment, as she busied herself with the glasses, she considered giving the group their drinks for free. She would have done so for anyone else who had done what they had, but Rosmerta knew that sort of treatment wasn't what Harry wanted.
Rosmerta's longstanding position as barmaid of the busiest pub in the only all wizarding village in Britain had its perks, one of which included knowing more about most of the people in her community than anyone else. Her well trained ear was adept at picking up conversations, even across a crowded room, and she had a remarkable memory for such things. As a result, she thought she knew what sort of person Harry was, and he wasn't the type of boy to enjoy special treatment. She knew he'd prefer to just be treated as a normal person, and that fact endeared him to her more than the fact that he had defeated Voldemort and saved them all.
"So all the funerals are over," Rosmerta heard Ron say as Harry brought them their drinks and sat down. Rosmerta cringed at the harshness in Ron's voice. Everyone looked down at their drinks, but no one spoke. These children were just children! They shouldn't have such old looks in their eyes and sad lines on their faces. It broke Rosmerta's heart to look at them, but she supposed she should have been used to it by now. This was not the first war she had seen.
"I still can't believe we had to wait so long for—" Ron began, but Hermione stifled him with a look and, judging by Ron's grunt of pain, a kick under the table. Harry continued to look down at his glass, dragging his finger lightly around the rim.
Rosmerta knew what Ron had been about to say. He had been talking about Remus Lupin, whose funeral had only taken place the day before. Apparently, Remus' mother-in-law, Andromeda Tonks, hadn't been dealing well with the death of her daughter. She had blamed Remus, and wouldn't allow him to be buried with her daughter. Harry and his friends had fought, knowing that Remus and Nymphadora would have wanted to be buried together, but Andromeda had stayed firm. Finally, after burying Nymphadora without telling anyone, Andromeda agreed that Remus could be buried next to her, as long as the ceremonies were separate. The arguments surrounding Remus' burial had gone on for almost an entire month, and his had been the last funeral of anyone to have died during the last battle.
Even after all this time, Rosmerta had a hard time believing that those who had died truly were gone. She had owned The Three Broomsticks for a long time, and she took pride in the fact that, in that time, she had gotten to know nearly everyone in the wizarding world and everything there was to know about them. Most faces she could recall from their Hogwarts days, and some she knew from even longer back. She thought now of little "don't-call-me-Nymphadora" Tonks and her ever changing hair. She had been a wild one, and Rosmerta had more than her share of trouble coming from that spunky girl in her Hogwarts days. She still remembered clearly the first time she had met her. The third year Hufflepuff student had strode in boldly and tried to order Firewhiskey, but Rosmerta had refused. Tonks just smiled and walked out the door. A few moments later, an old, grey woman walked in and ordered the same thing. Rosmerta would have fallen for it if it weren't for the Hogwarts crest on the cloak the girl wore. Really, someone should have warned her there was a Metamorphagus running around Hogwarts. What if the girl had thought enough to change her robes? Rosmerta definitely would have served her.
And then there was Remus. What a sweet, quiet boy he had been. She had known him as an even younger child through his father, and had been thrilled when the boy came to Hogwarts and made such good friends. She had been one of the few who knew back then that Remus was a werewolf, and she had a suspicion that James, Sirius, and Peter had soon learned the truth, but stuck by him. There weren't many, especially from wizarding families, who would have done that.
And then the poor boy had to keep going when James and Peter were killed, and when Sirius was arrested. In such a short time, the sweet young man had lost all of his friends. She knew from just his few trips into the Three Broomsticks how much his friends meant to him. He loved those boys like brothers, and now they were gone: two dead at the hands of the other.
Rosmerta didn't know the details of what had happened with Sirius and Peter years later, but she did know that Sirius had been innocent, but it didn't matter because he had been killed shortly after the discovery. It must have been impossible for Remus to deal with the irony of losing his best friend again so soon after getting him back, but he managed. She knew that he had finally married, of all people, Nymphadora Tonks, and that the couple had a child together.
But now, now they were dead. It was so irreversible and so final. She had seen so much death in her life, but it never got easier to accept.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat with their heads together now, as she had seen them do so many times before, discussing something about Australia. They were interrupted by the arrival of more of their party.
Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood came in, followed by Bill and Ginny Weasley. Rosmerta was surprised to see Ginny take a seat as far from Harry as possible. Hadn't they been dating? She could tell that Harry was trying not to look at her. What was going on there?
"Long day," Neville said warily as he poured himself a generous measure of Firewhiskey, and the group murmured in agreement.
"I can't believe all the work that needs to be done," Bill added. "There's no way the school will be ready in time to open in September."
"Well, Professor McGonagall says it will be," Hermione answered. "Those suits of armor really are pulling their weight."
The group fell silent again as if they had nothing to say.
"Have you lot decided whether you're going back yet?" Bill asked after a while, addressing the entire group.
"Well I am," Ginny said, somewhat bitterly. "Mum would have a fit if I didn't. It's not worth the fight."
"I plan to," Hermione said. "As long as I can find my parents first, and work things out with them. I just…It's going to be so strange there."
"Yes, it is," Luna chimed in. "Especially without Ron or Harry there."
"What?" Ginny said whipping her head up and focusing her gaze on Harry, and then very purposely shifting it to Ron. "You're not going back? Why didn't you tell us?"
"Well I didn't know Harry wasn't going back," Ron said, looking strangely at his friend. "I just decided yesterday. I figured George could use help getting the shop up and running again. He's talking about making me partner."
"That's really good, Ron," Bill said, looking earnestly at his brother.
"But what about you?" Ginny said rather harshly, looking at Harry. "Just going to live off your inheritance, are you?"
Harry looked hurt by what was obviously meant as an insult, but didn't answer right away.
Bill gave Ginny a reproachful look before answering for Harry.
"Well it won't last forever," he said defensively to Ginny, "seeing as he gave more than half of it away."
"Bill!" Harry scolded. "I told you not to tell anyone."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked. "Harry, what did you do?"
"Look, most of it shouldn't have been mine anyway," he said, sighing. "I wasn't a Black. I gave everything Sirius left me to Andromeda and Teddy—"
"After everything she did?"
"Yes, Ron," Harry said defensively. "She's hurting. That's the only reason she's acting the way she is. And she and Narcissa are the last Blacks left. I'm not about to give it to the Malfoys, but Mr. Tonks didn't exactly leave Andromeda well off. They deserve it more than I do, and they need it more than I do. And I just want Teddy to be happy and safe."
Ron looked disbelieving, but everyone else looked impressed.
"But still, your parents left you pretty well off, didn't they?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, but he gave a lot of that away too."
"Bill!" Harry said. "What about confidentiality and all that?"
Bill didn't answer.
"I kept enough of it to get by for a while," Harry said. "And there's enough left so that, as long as I work, I'll never have to struggle to make ends meet, but I gave some of it to the war orphans fund that Kingsley set up. They're going to build a wizarding orphanage, you know."
"Oh, Harry, that's…" Hermione faltered, "that's wonderful."
"So then you do have to go back and get your N.E.W.T.s," Ginny said hopefully. "Right?"
Harry sighed and pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket.
"Not…not exactly," he sighed. He hesitated for a moment before handing the parchment to Hermione, who began to read aloud.
Dear Mr. Potter,
In response to your query of Tuesday the last, we are delighted to inform you that Kingsley Shacklebolt, acting Minister for Magic, has agreed to wave the customary N.E.W.T. requirement for your acceptance into the Auror training program.
As you may know, the Auror Department is currently suffering from severe understaffing, as well as an intense increase in work. Our department feels that you have acquired all the skills necessary to become a successful Auror during your recent experiences fighting the Dark Arts. As such, we would also like to invite you to forgo formal training and begin work immediately, under the supervision of trained and experienced Aurors.
We eagerly await your response, and hope you will join us in the effort to repair our world.
Sincerely,
Marshall Havens
Acting Head of the Department of Aurors
Ministry of Magic
"Oh, Harry, this is wonderful," Hermione beamed when she had finished reading.
"Yeah, really wonderful," Ginny said, standing up quickly and knocking her chair over in the process. She was fuming. "I can't believe you, Potter. All these years, all you've ever said is that you've wanted a normal life. Now you have a chance to go to Hogwarts for a normal seventh year, without some evil wizard trying to kill you, and you're not going to do it. You just love being the hero, don't you!"
Harry stood up now, looking angry and hurt.
"Maybe I do!" he shouted. "Maybe I can't see going back to the place where half the people I love were killed because of me and acting like nothing has happened! Maybe I can't see sitting around playing Quidditch and fretting over house points while there are still Death Eaters on the loose, killing and hurting people—"
The rest of what Harry was going to say was cut off when Ginny fired a magnificent Bat Bogey Hex in his direction and stormed out of the pub, Disapparating as soon as she was through the door.
It was a moment before Harry was able to reverse the Hex, and stormed out as well.
The rest of the group sat in stunned silence for a while before Luna spoke, as though she hadn't witnessed what had just happened.
"It must be nice to be in love," she sighed happily.
Everyone ignored her.
"What happened with them, anyway?" Neville asked. "I figured they'd get back together after the war."
"Yeah, I think we all did," Hermione said sadly.
"But Harry mucked it up, thinking Ginny would want space after…well after the war," Ron explained. "He didn't talk to her right away, and Ginny thought it meant he didn't want to be with her. Now he thinks she doesn't want to be with him, and she's too stubborn to say otherwise."
"Well that's stupid," Neville said. "I've never seen Harry so happy as when he was with her."
"None of us have," Hermione agreed.
"What?" Bill asked, stunned. "Ginny and Harry were dating?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Yes, Bill," she said, not bothering to elaborate.
Neville suddenly slammed his fist down on the table.
"Dammit," he said angrily, "It's not fair! Everyone has lost so much. Things should be better now for everyone, but especially for Harry!"
"I know, Neville," Hermione said soothingly, placing a hand on his. "But things can't just go back to normal right away. It takes time."
"And what's time going to do?" he asked. "Time can't bring them back. Time can't fix this."
"Time won't ever make George accept losing Fred," Ron added quietly, and then even more quietly, "or any of us."
"Time won't make us forget," Neville agreed.
"I should hope not," Hermione said, a little nervously. Bill and Ron looked at her incredulously, but she continued. "I don't think we should ever forget. We shouldn't forget why they fought. And we shouldn't forget why they died."
"Of course we're not going to forget!" Ron said harshly. "We're never going to forget. That's not the problem here. The problem is that they shouldn't have died at all. George shouldn't be missing Fred. My mum shouldn't be crying into the parsnips every night, or sobbing even in her sleep. Teddy shouldn't be crying because he doesn't know why his mum won't come. Harry shouldn't be too bloody damaged to just tell my sister he loves her, and you shouldn't be worried that your parents are never going to speak to you again when they find out what you've done to them. None of this should have happened, but none of us are ever going to forget! We're not going to forget what they died for, but we're not going to forget how much it bloody hurts that they did either!"
Ron was almost incoherent now and Rosmerta had to turn her back to keep them from seeing the tears coursing down her face. She heard Ron stand and stumble from the pub, while the rest of the group sat in silence. Finally, Hermione rose to follow, but Bill stopped her.
"Don't, Hermione," he said. "He needs to be alone right now."
"None of us need to be alone right now," she spat, wrenching herself from Bill's grip and running from the pub.
The three remaining rose to leave as well.
"I guess it just wasn't meant for us," Neville mumbled as they left.
"What wasn't meant for us?" Luna asked.
"Peace."
A/N: The updates on this will probably be slow, since real life is very busy and I should really focus on my other story when I have time to write, but I promise this story eventually gets really good! It will hopefully be worth the wait.