It was the middle of the night. High in an apple tree two owls, one a scruffy tiny barn owl and one a majestic Eagle Owl, surveyed the orchard around them. Surprisingly for that time of night there was quite a lot of activity, more than in any ordinary garden. But this was no ordinary garden. A group of gnomes were busy digging a new set of holes by the hedge in the garden. Every now and again an argument would break out and a huge scuffle would ensue. Once this had abated, peace would reign by the hedge again and the hard work would carry on. This garden surrounded a highly unusual house. The Burrow defied all scientific logic. A Muggle would have looked in bewilderment, wondering how such a building could remain standing when there was not one right angle to be found anywhere in its joints and beams. Each room looked as though it had been added as an afterthought, which in reality was probably what had happened. A great ginger cat with a huge fluffy tail could be seen prowling around the side of the house, hunting for any unsuspecting mice. Although no wizard or human would normally have been out at that time, on the swing underneath the apple tree sat a man in his dressing gown. It was a warm night for May with no breeze and he gently rocked backwards and forwards , gazing at the moon.
In the house, all was quiet. Up in the top bedroom lay Ron Weasley, who was deeply asleep and snoring so loudly it was a wonder he didn't wake the other occupant of the room. Harry Potter, on the other bed, was not sleeping so soundly. As the night wore on he had been tossing and turning in his sleep. Occasionally he had muttered something unintelligible, sometimes it would make more sense, but it was clear that his dreams were not a happy ones. At last, at about midnight, he shouted "NOT GINNY!" He flailed his arms around in his sleep, whacked the small table by the bed and overturned a glass of water which dowsed his whole head.
"Agh!" He sat bolt upright in bed, the remains of his glass of water running down his face. A closer inspection revealed that he was shaking and beads of sweat were mingled in with the water on his forehead.
Ron turned over. "Wassgoinon?" he mumbled, blearily trying to open an eye.
"Nothing. Bad dream. Go back to sleep" said Harry. Ron needed no further bidding. His eyes shut automatically and he was snoring deeply within a few seconds.
Harry breathed heavily. Honestly, it was just as well he wasn't in any imminent danger. Ron was no bloody use to anyone right now. Mind you, they were all pretty exhausted from the months of hiding out in a tent searching for the Horcruxes and from the drama of the final battle just three days ago. Ron hadn't really done much else other than sleep and Hermione was no better. Harry hadn't had a coherent conversation with anyone since they'd left Hogwarts yesterday.
It was no good. Sleep was miles away. He might have been physically and mentally drained, but he couldn't shake off the nightmares. He'd had one each night since the battle. The first night he'd woken after Voldemort had marched around the Great Hall systematically killing each one of his friends while he watched unable to do a thing. The second night he'd been riding a dragon with Ron and Bellatrix Lestrange, chased by a pack of angry goblins, when Voldemort suddenly appeared from nowhere and blasted them all to smithereens. The dream on this particular night was all about Ginny. She was cornered by Snape and the Carrows in the corridor outside the Gryffindor Common Room and they were all advancing upon her with wands out. Ginny had been screaming his name. Harry had shouted out in fear and woken himself up. He knew why he'd had that dream, as earlier that day he'd made Ginny tell him how she got the marks on her wrists and the scar on her upper arm whilst at Hogwarts.
He sighed heavily and hauled himself up from the bed. He needed to move and decided dully that a drink of pumpkin juice might help clear his head. He shrugged on a sweatshirt and treading carefully so as not to disturb the snorer in the corner, he crept from the room.
Out on the landing he paused for a moment. He had to take the stairs carefully. There were more squeaks and groans from this staircase than any at Hogwarts. He set off, taking his time to make sure he made as little noise as possible. He approached the first landing; Fred and George's room. The door was slightly ajar so Harry peered in. George, Charlie and Percy were crammed in here, all fast sleep. There would have been more room, only no one could bring themselves to sleep in Fred's bed, so Charlie and Percy were squeezed into the tiny amount of floor space left. Harry gulped quietly. If there was one thought guaranteed to make him lose his composure, it was Fred.
Hastily he carried on down the stairs. At the next landing he had a silent argument with himself outside Ginny's door, which was firmly shut. Even the keyhole wouldn't allow him a peep - probably Mrs Weasley had put a charm on the keyhole to prevent spying. He really needed a "Ginny-special" hug right now. She was the only person to successfully distract him from painful and brooding thoughts the last two days, but she needed her sleep more than anything and he didn't think Hermione would appreciate a midnight visitor at all. He'd probably get the Professor McGonagall treatment from her at this time of night. He reluctantly turned away and carried on down.
There was no one in Arthur and Molly Weasley's bedroom which Harry thought was quite strange. Surely there couldn't be more people up at this hour? Harry was constantly amazed by Ron's parents. They had both been incredible the last two days. Harry had no idea where they found their energy or how they could be so warm and welcoming when such a huge tragedy had hit their lives. They were so positive. Arthur had slapped him on the back about a hundred times and Molly couldn't leave him alone, alternately hugging him and cooking for him. He wasn't sure he had much room for any more pumpkin pie, even though it was delicious. The truth was that he just wasn't sure that he felt comfortable accepting all their gratitude when one of their own sons had lost his life fighting Harry's battle.
Harry entered the kitchen and helped himself to the jug of pumpkin juice in the pantry. He poured himself a glass and wandered over to the window as he took a long draft. But then he stopped in mid drink. In the midst of the silence he thought heard a faint sound. A kind of whimpering sound, not in the same room as him. He had never heard such a pitiful sound before. Who could it be?
He crept back through the house towards the living room and the sound grew steadily louder. Harry was sure that whoever it was was in there. The door was open just enough to see half of the room. In the corner, by the window was a spot the family called 'the nook'. It had very large old armchair with enormous cushions and was positioned to give the sitter a view of the orchard. It was currently being sat in by someone with the largest hanky Harry had ever seen. Harry realised with a shock that the occupant of the nook was Molly Weasley.
She was racked with sobs and was clutching a photograph in her hands. Harry could just about recognise the photo of the whole Weasley family on holiday in Egypt, visiting Bill all those years ago. Blimey, even Pettigrew was in that picture, he remembered with a jolt. All of sudden Harry felt a great big shudder overwhelm his body and he sank to the floor as memories of Pettigrew, Sirius and Lupin flooded into his mind. He leant against the door jam and found tears pricking his eyes as he watched Mrs Weasley, who was so caught up her own thoughts that she never noticed the young man sitting in the doorway behind her. The guilty feelings he had been harbouring ever since he arrived at the Burrow yesterday with Ron suddenly reared up in his mind. It was his fault that Fred had died. Why hadn't they come to Hogwarts sooner? Why hadn't he impressed upon Neville the need for secrecy before anything else? Why had he ended up leading all those people into battle when it should have just been him and Voldemort? How was he ever going to get to a place where he wasn't tormented by all the 'What ifs?..."
In the end, he didn't think he could bear to sit and watch Mrs Weasley cry any longer. No wanting to disturb her as he really didn't think he could endure her gratefulness, her love or her concern tonight, he stole out of the front door opposite and out into the garden.
The cool air hit him as he leant against the front wall of the house. Harry breathed a long stammering breath in attempt to get a grip on his emotions. But he had pent up everything for too long now and, try as he might, the pictures revolving in his mind and the sounds he could hear just wouldn't go away. He could hear Percy's anguished cry over Fred in the corridor and see Ron's horrified expression. Ginny sitting with her mother in the Great Hall, arms around one another. George not leaving his brother's side, despite everyone's attempts to prise him away. Bellatrix's taunts, Neville's screams of agony, Hagrid's tears, Hermione's shout of disbelief. Would he ever get a good nights sleep again?
All of a sudden he broke into a run, as though running might put some distance between him and his thoughts. He ran round the side of the house and headed for the orchard. As he reached the little gate he suddenly skidded to a halt. He was not alone.
Sitting in the swing in his dressing gown was Mr Weasley, who was looking older and tired. He looked up surprised, as Harry crashed into the peacefulness of the scene.
"Harry, what on earth...?" he began.
"Sorry, Mr Weasley" Harry made a supreme effort to get himself together. "Couldn't sleep"
"Me neither" agreed Mr Weasley and with a wave of his wand he conjured up another swing, hanging next to his on the branch. "I think this branch can bear the weight of us both. Swing with me Harry." He took a good look at Harry's face in the moonlight and saw that all was not well.
Harry awkwardly took his seat on the new swing next to Ron's dad.
"Nightmares? Or just unable to shake off the troubles?" Mr Weasley asked sympathetically.
"Nightmares. All muddled up and different every night, but enough to wake me."
"Do you know Harry, I can remember sitting in this swing sixteen years ago when Voldemort vanished after trying to kill you. It took me ages to come to terms with the fact that I was so happy but also so desperately sad. Happy, like everyone else, that the source of so much danger was apparently gone. But you know, Harry, we all lost someone at that time to Voldemort. You think Fred is the first time we've lost someone close? Nothing can prepare us for losing a child, but Molly and I have faced death before, but, Molly's cousins were both killed by Death Eaters first time around. The Prewetts, you know?" Arthur turned to look at Harry, who remembered with a jolt that the Prewetts were on that photo of the Order of the Phoenix that Mad-Eye had shown him. Arthur continued "And I lost my Uncle Herbert and some very close friends. They were dangerous times, Harry. I think what I experienced then, and what you are experiencing now, is what's known as survivors guilt. How come I'm still alive when all these good and worthy wizards lost their lives? Eh, Harry?"
Harry didn't know what to say. Mr Weasley had hit the nail on the head
Mr Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder. " Harry, I wish I could tell you that there's a quick remedy for feeling this way, but I refuse to try to help you with some sentimental claptrap. The best advice I can give you is to let yourself grieve and stick close to those who really love you. Lupin and Nymphadora were your friends, Fred was like a brother, Sirius was almost a father figure and Dumbledore, well, he was something else!" Arthur was temporarily lost for words. He looked up at the moon for inspiration. "It's okay to mourn them Harry. But don't lose sight of what we were all fighting for and what these great people died for. Voldemort is gone. Gone for good. No doubts about it this time. We all saw you finish him off, Harry. Remus, Sirius, Fred and Dumbledore would all have been so proud of you. That's what you should be clinging to now. I've not said this before Harry, but I'm proud of you too and you're so much part of our family."
Harry recognised the truth of Mr Weasley's words. He knew Dumbledore was proud, he'd said as much in the Headmaster's office. If he thought hard Harry could almost hear Fred's whoops of joy when Voldemort was finished and he knew that Remus and Sirius would have joined in if they could.
"Thanks, Mr Weasley." Harry said in a wobbly voice. He wasn't sure what else he could trust himself to say, so he sat in silence swinging gently. The two men said nothing for a long time.
Finally, Mr Weasley stood up, stretching out his back with a soft groan.
"Sat here too long. Molly will give me a good ticking off I expect." He looked a bit sheepishly at Harry, who smiled back. "Talking of Molly, I'd better check she's gone back to bed. Don't stay out here too long. I'm sure your nights will be a bit disturbed for a while yet, but you must still try to sleep. Listen to me - I'll turn into Molly herself if I carry on! Goodnight Harry."
"Goodnight, Mr Weasley" Harry answered as Mr Weasley headed back towards the house.
Harry looked out through the trees. He could make out the cornfields beyond, lit by the moon. In the far distance he could see a church spire and a knot of small houses. Some trees showed the line of the stream at the bottom of the field, where local boys built dams and tried to fish. It was such a beautiful and still night. The fog had lifted, the menace had gone and all around him were people who were at last able to get on with their lives; wizarding families and Muggles alike. For the first time in three days Harry felt the glimmer of a possibility that he might be able to get on with his life too.
"Hey" a soft voice called out to him from behind.
"Ginny, what are you doing out here?" Harry turned towards the voice in concern.
"Bringing you a cloak. You must be freezing." Ginny handed him the cloak and sat in the empty swing beside him. "You ok?"
"I think so. Your dad is pretty wise when he gets going. Survivor's guilt he reckons. So I'm not losing my mind, nor will I have these nightmare's for ever. Just part of the process."
"Another nightmare?" Ginny stretched out for his hand and rubbed it comfortingly.
"Yeah. It was about you this time. I must be getting close to having one about just about everyone soon...." he tried to sound light hearted but couldn't fool her.
"Harry. Don't joke." She looked troubled, so he got off his swing and pulled her to her feet facing him.
"Listen. I was just at a point where I was actually thinking how beautiful the night was and that there might be some sort of future out there for me, so don't spoil my great progress by getting all serious." He smiled down into her eyes.
"Hmm." She cocked her head thoughtfully and said "There'd better be room for me in this future of yours, Mr Potter."
"What do you think?" he replied teasingly and bent down to kiss her gently.
After a few moments they broke apart. Ginny pulled at his hand and turned to the house. "Come on, you need to sleep. I can and will kiss you again tomorrow. That's a promise!"
He laughed and pulling her close with his arm around her shoulders they walked together through the trees to the warmth of the Burrow, where Harry knew he had a family.