This is my second, slightly more mature attempt at writing a Harry Potter fanfic. This story takes place straight after Deathly Hallows minus the epilogue. Hopefully this will fill in the bits in between. Harry and co have the seemingly impossible task of trying to rebuild the whole of wizarding Britain and dealing with the loss of their friends and family. With the added strain of new relationships and the media following their every move it's not long before they're asking - wasn't this suppose to get easier?
I'll stop now before you get too bored and decide not to read the actual story. Please do. It'll be good. I promise.
Also the chapter titles are all songs which I think sum up the mood of the chapter, so they can be a bit misleading. For instance chapter 1 doesn't actually have a dance in it, it's referring to the song by Garth Brooks. You'll see what I mean...
Chapter 1 : The Dance
One month. Exactly one month to the day. And Harry felt like that it had been the fastest month he had ever experienced in his life. Maybe it was because after all those months of hunting the horcruxes, of waiting and doing nothing, everything had seemed to happen at once. Yes after all those months of just Ron, Hermione and himself, at the "Battle of Hogwarts" as everyone kept referring to it, Harry had found himself surrounded by a cast of hundreds, and things had pretty much remained that way ever since. Or maybe it was because this didn't yet feel like his life. Sure the usual feelings of guilt and grief that had become so familiar over the past few years were still there but they would subside soon, as they usually did, and then what? Voldemort was gone. For good. And Harry was free.
He sat down on the old sofa that was now pushed close to the fire in the drawing room, closed his eyes and tried to stop the world from spinning. He thought hard about everything that had happened since the night Voldemort had died. Everything was such a blur that he felt almost panicked that if he didn't try to sort it all in his head right at that very moment, then he would forget it all.
First had come the funerals. Harry tried to go to as many as was possible, or as many as Hermione would allow.
"Don't push yourself Harry," she had warned him. "People will understand. I mean a lot of people died that night. Your not expected to go to every single funeral."
"Too many people died, Hermione," he said apparating to the next venue. "Too many," he murmured as he watched Colin Creevy's small coffin being laid to rest in a traditional muggle funeral.
Fred's funeral was by far the largest Harry attended. It seemed that everyone that had ever bought anything from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had felt the need to pay their respects. The residents of Ottery St Catchpole weren't sure what to make of it when well over a hundred wizards dressed in black robes processed through their village making their way to a house that none of the villagers seemed to have heard of before.
'The Burrow' was far too small to accommodate the huge crowd that had assembled, so only close friends and family were permitted inside the house, the rest had to listen to the service magically projected outside.
"This is so awful," Hermione finally yelped, rubbing the tears roughly off her face. She and Harry had been standing in perfect silence in the kitchen, watching small groups of Weasley family members, whom Harry recognised from Bill and Fleur's wedding, pass in and out of the living room paying their last respects to Fred.
"State the obvious 'Mione," Harry teased her, but put his arm round her all the same. "But pull yourself together yeah? We need to be there for Ron."
"You're right," she said, rubbing her face more vigorously. "But how? What do I say? What do I do?"
"Uh…" Before Harry could think of a good response to this question they were joined by a slightly drained looking Charlie Weasley. He gave them a small nod of greeting and then looked warily at his Aunt Muriel who had just entered the kitchen.
"So have you been in yet?" he asked indicating the living room where they knew Fred's body was lying.
"No we're waiting for Ron," Harry replied. Hermione said nothing; she had succumbed to tears again. "Do you know where he is?"
"Upstairs with Ginny. He'll be down in a minute, I think. He'll have to be, I think we'll be starting soon. We're waiting for the wizard that did Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember? Mum says he's already had to do two funerals today so he's running a little late."
"How is she?" Harry asked just to stop Charlie from his ramble.
"A bit hysterical," Bill Weasley answered. Harry and he shook hands whilst Fleur took Hermione out from under Harry's arm and gave her a big hug.
"I am so glad to see you again," she breathed. "And you 'Arry," she added bringing him into her arms as well.
Bill gave Hermione a brief hug before looking towards his brother.
"We need to talk," he said rather sternly.
"Yea I suppose we do," Charlie replied and the two of them walked out into the yard.
"What's that about? Have they fallen out or something?" Harry said turning quickly to Fleur.
"Non, zey are fine," Fleur replied unconvincingly.
Harry was prevented from questioning her any further by Ginny's arrival. The room became hushed again as she descended the staircase into the kitchen. Wearing black dress robes that Harry had never seen before, she quickly glanced round the room before staring down at her feet, her hair falling and obscuring her face as she did so. She looked small, and Harry was forcibly reminded of the image of her, aged ten at Kings Cross Station, laughing and crying as she waved her brothers off.
Harry couldn't help himself, he smiled. She glanced around the room again and for brief moment their eyes met. She looked as though she was about to come and join him, before Lee Jordan stepped in front of her. Placing his hand on her shoulder and saying something that Harry couldn't make out, he then gently led her into the next room to see Fred.
Harry came out of his reverie to see Hermione looking at him with a knowing smile.
"What?"
"Nothing," she replied, her cheeks still streaked with tears.
She began crying again as soon as Ron appeared, descending the stairs just as Ginny had. For the most part he looked rather composed. No one, Harry reckoned, had grown up in the past year as much as Ron. Sweeping across to them, he immediately put his arms around Hermione and whispered something to her before kissing her on the temple.
"Shall we?" he said bracingly. Harry and Hermione both knew to what he was referring. They were about to go through the door, and see Fred for the very last time. Without answering him, they made their way through the small crowd in the kitchen and through to the sitting room next door.
Even though Harry had been in the room many times before, today it was like walking through the barrier at platform 9 ¾ for the first time, into another world. Fred lay in his coffin in the middle of the room, with George sitting on a chair set beside his head. Ginny was leaning over him, rearranging items placed in the coffin, including a beater's bat and some products from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Lee was leaning against the fire place and looked rather relaxed, laughing and joking with George.
"Sorry," he said immediately, noticing Hermione's stricken face.
"Oh," George said, rearranging his face into a most solemn look. "The prefect has arrived to stop the party."
"So she should," Ginny said semi-sternly. "Honestly, you can't make fun of him when he can't answer for himself."
"Never stopped Fred making fun of Ron, and he could never answer for himself," Harry replied. Ginny looked round and smiled, but Harry could see her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm going to wait outside," Lee said, casting a furtive glance at Harry. "Fred, it's been good mate. I'll see you around." And he quickly left before he succumbed to tears.
"You know," George said, as soon as the door had closed. "For someone who talks for a living, he's not very good with words."
"Talks for a living?" Harry inquired.
"Yea 'cause of Potterwatch, he's got his own show on the WWN," Ron replied.
"Cool."
There was a brief pause and then:
"Wonder why he never came back as a ghost?" George said.
"Maybe he still can," said Ginny.
"No," Ron said gently, joining her beside the coffin whilst Harry and Hermione hung back. "It happens almost immediately. Moaning Myrtle," he gestured toward Harry, "told us in second year, remember Harry?"
"Yea I remember."
"Pity," George continued with a small smile, although the rest of his face remained devoid of emotion. "We could have used a ghost around the shop. Would have been really entertaining."
"You could have changed the name of it to Weasley and Weasley (deceased)," Hermione chimed in. "You could have fought crime."
"Are you making a joke?" George snapped so quickly Hermione jumped. "Because the last time someone out of the ordinary made a joke, Fred died Hermione."
The room erupted into laughter. Good solid laughter that Harry hadn't felt in a long, long time. After a while Harry couldn't even remember what it was that George had said. He was laughing at all the memories he had of Fred, and he knew the others were doing exactly the same thing.
"Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."
"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?"
"For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."
"Has Ron saved a goal yet?"
"Well, he can do it if he thinks no one is watching him. So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up on his end Saturday."
"Harry! Simply splendid to see you, old boy-- Mum! How really corking to see you--"
"It's time," Bill said putting his head round the door.
"Coming now," Ginny replied. She bent her head close to Fred's and whispered something that Harry couldn't hear and he knew he would never ask about. Straightening up, she turned and walked quickly from the room just as Lee had.
Hermione joined Ron by the coffin.
"Fred you teased me and you made fun of me and you really, really made me laugh. And I really enjoyed spending all those summers with you and going to the Quidditch World Cup, and watching you play Quidditch with Harry and telling you off in the common room," she spoke. "And I… I was really looking forward to you finding out I'd kissed Ron," she finished rather flushed.
"Yea I was rather looking forward to that too," Harry agreed, coming forward and looking at Fred for the first time properly. He looked very different from how Harry remembered him. Some of the bodies Harry had seen at the other funerals had looked like they were simply sleeping, but some, like Fred, looked completely drained of life, like waxworks.
Because he is. He's dead. He's gone on.
This wasn't Fred at all, this was a shell. Fred was… well Harry didn't know where Fred was. He was wherever Harry's parents where, with Sirius and Lupin, and Tonks and Mad-eye, and Dumbledore. A tremendous feeling washed over Harry, so strong he was sure the others must have felt it too. They didn't of course. None of them would ever have the understanding that Harry had about death and what it really meant. Harry parents had never left him, they had been with him every step of the way, though out of reach and unseen. Behind the veil. It would be the same with Fred, with them always, watching them, but unable to comment, until they met again when he would tease them relentlessly about the choices they had made in their lives, Harry was sure of it. And Fred would be happy, and Harry felt guilty no longer.
"We should leave," Harry suggested to Hermione. "Thanks Fred, for everything." He didn't say goodbye. He took Hermione's hand and led her from the room, pausing at the door for one final glance.
Give her hell from us, Peeves.
We did Fred, we gave them hell. Wish you could have been there to see it.
They left Ron and George alone, who emerged from the room a few moments later, George being physically supported by his little brother. For all his jokes and appearances of composure, when it came to the final separation, it had been almost too much for him to bear.
The service was short and exactly the same as all the others Harry had attended, with the tufty, little wizard making the same speech Harry had heard countless times now. At least he assumed it was, he wasn't listening, being far more preoccupied with the small red head, standing directly in front of him beside her mother.
--
The only other funeral that Harry attended after that was Lupin and Tonks'. It was a much smaller gathering, with a buffet laid on at Tonks' parents' house afterwards. It was there that Harry met his Godson for the very first time.
"Do you think he knows what's going on?" Hermione asked, looking at Teddy's hair, which was today a shade of the brightest pink, just like his mother's.
"Maybe," Harry replied, looking down at the baby he was cradling. "I'd like to think it was more than just coincidence."
"Harry, you've got to support the head more," Mrs Weasley instructed him, walking over to where Harry was sitting on the sofa between Hermione and Ginny. "Would you like me to take him?"
"Leave him alone Mum," Ginny scolded her. "He's fine."
"I'm just going to hand him back to Mrs Tonks anyway. I think she was going to feed him," he said, carefully getting up – Mrs Weasley still gave a little gasp and made gestures like she was trying to catch the baby – and walking into the kitchen. Andromeda had just finished making him a bottle.
"Would you like to do it?" she said, handing it to him.
"Uh…"
"Like this," Andromeda said, showing Harry what to do with the bottle. "See," she yawned. She looked very, very tired and worn.
"Mrs Tonks, if you want I could take him for a while. Give you a rest," Harry suggested.
Andromeda smiled at him.
"Harry you're seventeen, you don't want to be lumbered with a baby."
"I want to help. I'm his Godfather."
"I know," Andromeda sighed. "Just as long as you don't get framed for your best friends' murder and thrown into Azkaban I'll be happy, ok?"
"I'll try."
"You're right though, you are his Godfather, and you should be as involved as you want to be." She was talking more to herself than to Harry.
"If you need anything…"
"My daughter back."
"I'm sorry," Harry said lamely.
"For what?" Andromeda said sharply. "You didn't kill her. Bellatrix did."
"What?!"
"My sister killed my daughter out of her hatred for me. That's something I need to deal with myself, Harry. You can't help."
Harry was stunned. He completely missed the fact that Teddy had now finished his bottle, until he started to cry.
"He needs winded," Andromeda said, acting as if nothing untoward had occurred. "I'll take him and put him to bed."
Harry was left alone in the kitchen. He went to the sink and got himself a glass of water to steady his head. Bellatrix killed Tonks? That woman is twisted.
Was. She's gone now too.
Good. But still, I'm entitled to be shocked.
"You're Harry, yes?"
Harry turned round to see a small woman, with short curly blonde hair, staring up at him. She looked away quickly when their eyes locked.
"Yes," Harry replied shortly. He was not in the mood to talk to admirers. Nor did this woman seem to be in the mood to talk to him.
"I…" she started, looking down at her hands which she was vigorously wringing. "I'm…"
"Hey Harry, is everything ok?" It was Ginny. "Sorry I didn't realise… I thought you were alone."
"He is," the stranger replied politely, in an accent Harry found very hard to place. "I was just leaving. It was really good to meet you Harry," she said, forcing herself to look at him, and left.
"Who was that?"
"I have no idea. A well-wisher probably. Although…"
"What is it?"
"Nothing, I just thought - It doesn't matter." For a moment something had stirred in Harry's memory, but it was buried deep and he dismissed it. He threw his glass into the sink in frustration. Thankfully it didn't break. "I'm tired, I think I'm going to go home."
"Oh ok," Ginny replied quietly.
"Yea, bye…"
--
Idiot. Stupid idiot. First time he'd been alone with Ginny since his seventeenth birthday and he decides he's tired and goes home. It wasn't entirely his fault though. He had just had a nasty shock about Tonks, and that woman, who was she and what was she even doing at the funeral? But he shouldn't have taken it out on Ginny, he should have told her what had happened and what he had been thinking. Ginny would have listened, she always did.
But what had he been thinking? That Riddle dying would end everything? That everything would just be tied up in a neat package? Every question answered, every mystery solved? Been there, done that, next part of my life now please.
I think I'm going to go home.
That was another sticking point. Where was home? Too old for Hogwarts, and too much of a wizard for Privet Drive. The Burrow had always been the type of home Harry had wanted but he couldn't stay there, with Percy back and Fred dead, the family needed some time on their own to heal themselves. For a while he had pondered whether he should ask Hermione if he could stay with her, before she had come to him to ask exactly the same thing.
"See my parents sold the house when they emigrated, so I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while?" she had asked tentatively. "At number 12?"
--
It was amazing how quickly they had torn through the house in those first few days after the funerals. They managed to get much more done than they ever had the first summer they had spent there. Kreacher had even agreed to take Mrs Black's portrait down, as long as Harry promised not to destroy it. It was placed instead into Regulus' old room, which Harry had also promised not to change, but use to store all the trinkets that Kreacher had decided were too precious to throw out and that Harry would prefer to seal away for all eternity
"I can't believe he could have done that the whole time. Just clicked his fingers and it was off," Ron said, gazing at the wall where the portrait had once been 'permanently' stuck.
"Well House-elfs have always had a different type of magic to wizards," Hermione yawned a reply. It was late and they had been working all day. "I've been trying to tell you."
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said rolling his eyes.
"I'm going to go…" Harry started but they were already off, bickering away as they always did, but now it was usually interspersed with rather sickening looks of trust and understanding.
Harry made his way upstairs, walked into the drawing room and sat down on the old sofa in front of the fire. And that is how Harry Potter ended up sitting alone, in his new house, in his new life, exactly one month to the day.
--