Before All Is Well

Preliminary note: I haven't read too many fanfictions in which everything Jo Rowling has confirmed following book seven has been included and kept accurate. And I've read virtually nothing that also attempts to continue the series in the same tense, point of view and genre. I am intensely interested in what happens next, but as there will be no book eight, I decided to make it up in a style as close as I can get it to JKR's. Obviously this is unachievable, but I thought I'd try. I may never finish.

In order to attain close to perfect accuracy, I have created a timeline that goes from 1998, the year of the final battle, all the way up to the epilogue that probably occurs in 2017. I dated it with help from the Harry Potter Lexicon. If anyone is interested in seeing the timeline, let me know in a review or pm me and I'll send it to you. It should have every single fact she has mentioned since book seven about the futures of all the characters. I think it's pretty cool.

This is a version of the first chapter that is unbeta'd and hardly edited (hence ahem some grammatical errors). I am posting the story in its slightly earthy form in attempt to get some early feedback, which is where I would appreciate your help. Later, I would like to post the completed story on my livejournal account (faithindraco). It will hopefully have a different title – I really hate this one – and will have more of a story arc.

I have no idea if I will finish this, but it sounds like I'll have fun writing it and maybe someone else will have fun reading it. ;D

Compelled to begin again

When Harry woke, it was dark again. He stared at the red curtain above him, and just breathed deeply.

It wasn't one of those moments where so much had happened that he didn't remember at first. He was surprised to have it all still clear, still sharp in his mind, as if he hadn't slept at all; every event, every detail. Every death. Especially the one he had deliberately caused.

He sat up immediately at that thought and straightened his glasses (he had gone to bed with them still on). He pulled back the curtain of his four-poster and glanced at the half-finished sandwich on his bedside table. The sight made his heart ache, despite Kreacher's wellbeing. The bread would be dry by now, too dry to eat.

Then he thought about what had happened for several minutes. He knew it wasn't much longer he could put off the grief, the despair he would surely sink in to soon enough. Harry had had too much experience with losing people.

And yet this was a different kind of loss. This was a loss for a gain. A very, very monumental gain for which the lives he grieved for were given.

Shouldn't he be celebrating? Shouldn't he be leaping for joy?

After all, he had done it. They had won, and Voldemort was dead.

That was a truly frightening thought. Everything he had ever done in his life had lead up to that moment of victory, and now that his task was complete, his purpose accomplished, he had no clue what would come next. He had always, deep down, assumed the task would take his life. He had given no thought to life beyond, life after war and after death. Did that make him noble? No – just ignorant.

But there was still so much to do, he realized. And that was a comforting thought even though it probably shouldn't have been. There was still so much to clean up, so much to close… to resolve…

Surviving Death Eaters had to be tried and imprisoned. The Ministry was in ruin and needed serious restructure. And not least of all, the school was a complete wreck. Harry shuddered to think of giant spiders still lurking around undead. He laughed a little, though, to think of Ron's reaction to that idea.

Ron. Ron and Hermione. Harry was ashamed that he hadn't thought of them earlier. He pulled back the curtain more until there was a gap large enough to see Ron's bed. Ron's face, head turned and drooling, was just visible, as his curtain wasn't fully closed.

Harry decided it would be cruel to wake him just yet, so he got up to check on Hermione.

She was asleep as well, curled up in Neville's covers (he had offered his bed to her), but she stirred when he sighed too loudly.

"Harry? Is that you?" she said with one eye open, instantly alert. She was such a light sleeper.

"Yeah, sorry for waking you up," he whispered, making to leave the room.

"No, it's alright. I ought to get up anyway. Ron asleep?"

"Yes. I don't want to wake him yet though."

In the look that passed between them, Harry recognized that she was thinking the same thing he was.

Perhaps to brush aside the moment, Hermione said rather huffily, "Good God, how long were we asleep?"

"I dunno what time it is. It's dark again, though, so probably a long time."

"You're filthy," she observed, now out of bed and standing before him in her pajamas.

"You're not exactly pristine yourself," he said, noting her outrageously wild hair.

She reached to pat it down to no avail.

"We should clean up before we wake him," she said, returning to seriousness.

"Okay."

Hermione trotted off to the girl's dormitories, leaving Harry to a bath and his thoughts. It was painful to be alone now, without distraction.

The seventh year boy's dormitory had been left empty, save for the three of them. It seemed the others had stayed away for the night, as a mark of respect. Harry wasn't sure what to think of that. It was an almost foreboding feeling, something that hadn't occurred to him yet: how he would be treated now, following all that had happened.

After he had bathed and met up with a much more presentable Hermione, they tentatively woke up Ron.

"Wh- what?" he grunted, at Hermione's touch.

"Ron, it's really late. Want to get something to eat?" said Hermione gently.

He stared at her for a minute, expression foggy through slit-ed eyes, and then he turned to look at Harry. A lot seemed to pass through his mind.

"Just let me take bath," he said.

The moment the three of them entered the common room, all dressed in fresh robes (Harry had decided never to wear those ones again), the people milling around froze and silenced. He recognized none of them, all younger students and some parents.

It was almost a procession as Harry, Ron and Hermione crossed to the portrait hole. He had been stared at before, but this was different. People were looking at them in wonder. Like they were each some kind of God. Harry was glad he wasn't experiencing it alone this time.

"It was like this when I went to my dormitory earlier," Hermione said in a low voice to them.

"They're staring at me, too!" Ron whispered back, awed.

Just as they were about to leave, a voice called out to them.

"Guys, wait!"

It was Neville, walking directly toward them normally, no big deal. Harry felt extremely relieved.

"Going down to breakfast, too?" he said, like it was any other day. This was the person they needed now, Harry realized. Someone they could relax around.

"Breakfast?" asked Hermione.

"Or dinner. Whatever it is. It's nearly nine, we can go down together."

"Alright," said Harry.

Once again an impenetrable silence stole through the room as they entered the Great Hall. Harry wished that Fred were there to crack some joke and break the ice. His chest went cold when he saw George sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, staring at his empty plate.

They walked to him quickly, every eye following.

"Harry, this is really horrible, how did you deal with it?" joked Hermione weakly. But she hastily stopped chuckling at the sight of Colin Creevey's body, still lying there between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. It seemed a team of heavily built men were bringing all of the bodies across the border and apparating them to their respective homes. Colin's hadn't been moved yet.

It occurred to Harry as they all sat down across from George that perhaps the silence had been there before their arrival – nobody seemed to have anything to say. It wasn't necessarily that everyone was too sad to speak. So much had happened, and no one had yet digested it all. Harry could tell that people were torn like he was. They were happy, they were sad, but they were mostly relieved.

Slowly, as more people entered (and not all were students), conversations began to spring up at a few of the tables. However, silence remained at theirs, even after food had appeared on their plates. They just focused on eating. Harry was suddenly ravenous.

"Where're Mum and Dad?" Ron asked George hesitantly.

"And Ginny?" put in Harry with turkey still in his mouth, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.

George paused to finish his potato. "Not sure. But I think they're all together somewhere." They didn't ask why he wasn't with them.

"Not Charlie though. Charlie's helping move the bodies," George added, an even more sullen note in his voice. Harry didn't know what to think.

Ron choked a bit on his turkey, but Harry guessed it wasn't because it had gotten stuck in his throat. Hermione found his hand and squeezed it. Harry returned the pressure, understanding that they were in the same boat: A part of the Weasley family, but not in their grief. Not in the same kind of grief, anyway.

Neville was looking awkward and sad as well, but then Luna arrived and Harry knew they were saved.

"Hello," she said vaguely, sitting next to George who before had been alone on his side. She gave no mention to the fact that she was the only Ravenclaw to sit at their table. "How is everyone?"

Surprisingly, Harry found this question acceptable, and it seemed so did everyone else.

"Alright, you know," said Ron, with a ghost of a smile.

More people began to join them, and many of them non-Gryffindors, perhaps inspired by Luna's boldness. The barrier of the Houses had broken, at least for now. Harry even spotted a Slytherin sitting a little ways down.

Then the breath got knocked out of him as a familiar figure approached. "Ginny," he said somewhat raggedly.

She looked exhausted, eyes puffy and red, hair strewn around. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat at the sight of her, and hastened to swallow it back down.

"Hi," she said to everyone.

"Where're Mum and Dad?" said Ron immediately, standing up.

"On the Quidditch pitch with the others."

She put a hand on George's shoulder for a moment as he rose with Ron. They left together, Ron muttering a hasty, "See you later."

Ginny walked around the table and grabbed Harry's arm.

"Will you come with me?" she said quietly.

He looked at Hermione, who nodded slightly, and left with Ginny.

As soon as they passed into the Entrance Hall, Harry asked, "Did you eat? Did you sleep any?" He regretted it immediately and couldn't help feeling extremely awkward. They had hardly seen each other since before the battle, and had barely had a conversation since before… since before everything.

"A little. I've been with Mum, mostly."

Harry nodded jerkily. He couldn't bring himself to ask how Mrs. Weasley was. Why did he feel so out of place? Why couldn't he just feel normal?

"Have you… had any contact with anyone? What are they all doing?"

"Kingsley's been running everything with a small group of people. They've been moving the bodies."

"And Snape's. What have they done with his?"

"He's been moved as well."

Harry nodded his appreciation at this, and they walked out onto the grounds in silence. The night air was pleasant and cool on his face.

After a minute, she said, "Why don't we sit here?" They were at the tree by the lake, where they had spent many happy hours in his sixth year. It was also where he had told her he had to go on alone.

They sat together at the edge of the lake, water grazing his trainers a little.

She turned to him, and he just barely brought himself to meet her eyes. She said, "I didn't have anything in particular to say, I just… I just wanted to see you. Ask you how you were."

"I'm fine," he said automatically.

"No you're not."

"I know I'm not. But I don't know what I'm feeling."

"You're confused and sad, like me."

"I think that's how I'd describe it."

They turned away again, Harry looking out to the Forbidden Forest, and its unnatural quiet. Harry was starkly reminded how he'd sat here after Sirius had died, and how it had calmed him and at the same time helped him let out his emotions. He decided right there that he would always tell Ginny everything he was feeling and thinking, from then on.

"I'm just lost. I don't know what's going to happen next. I can't deal with the constant clash of finally having it over with and having lost so much in the process," he stopped to clear his throat, but the tears came anyway. "I don't know how I'm going to face everyone, and I have no clue what they'll expect from me."

"No one's expecting anything, Harry."

"But they are. You know they are."

"I'm not. Ron and Hermione aren't. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks and wants from you, you hardly did before."

"I know that. I know. It's just… It's just hard, having so much to miss and nothing conceivable to look forward to. With Dumbledore and Sirius I had a plan of action already prepared to avenge them and I followed through with it. I dealt with their deaths with action. And now… I don't know how to deal with this when there's no path laid ahead of me."

Ginny was crying a little now, too. "I understand," she turned to him, "I understand perfectly."

He felt compelled to reach out to her, but she got there first. Her arms came around his chest and she leaned against him. He felt something like a protector, something like possessiveness, as he put his arm around her back and stroked her hair.

They didn't speak again for a while. It may have been close to half an hour, Harry wasn't sure.

"We should go back in," she said eventually.

"Yeah."

They got up, detaching themselves from one another, and began their walk back up to the castle.

Just before they pushed open the front door, Ginny said, "It's going to be okay. You know that, right?"

"I know it," he said, and was surprised to find he even believed it.