Chapter 1 – Listening.

Harry sat against the old apple tree, his legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes closed. He was listening.

The tree was near the furthest boundary of the Burrow's garden, and looked down onto a lazy, tricking stream. The sound of the water playing over the rocks was peaceful and calming, and mingled with the various Weasley voices that drifted over from the house, and the birds that his in the bushes nearby.

It was one of the most still and gentle moments that Harry had known in the last two years. He hardly dared open his eyes for fear that the scene would disappear if he did, so he sat, eyes closed – listening.

He had discovered this spot on his first day back at the Burrow, over a week ago, and had spent a great deal of time sitting there, listening to the sounds of life around him and letting his mind wander around the events of the last few months. He set no limits on his thoughts, and his mind flickered form one memory to the next, with no discernable pattern or rhythm, the images coming to him unbidden and uncontrolled. Every now and then, one lone thought would rise up within him and seize him bodily until he could barely breathe, and threatened to take him over entirely.

It was over.

Voldemort was dead.

He was free.

And when he could catch his breath again, it came ragged and uneven, with a racing heart and a tremble in his hand.

In those moments, he was glad he was alone under the tree, where no one could see him struggle to retain his composure, and calm the thumping in his chest.

Today, he was even more appreciative of his sanctuary than ever before. He took off the black tie that had been attempting to cut off his air supply all day, and undid the uppermost buttons of his shirt, and was finally able to breathe a little more easily.

The had buried Fred that morning.

Harry had watched the family he loved hurt. They hurt in a way that was achingly familiar to him, and his heart seemed to constrict a little more with every tear he saw. The weight of his guilt threatened to crush him, until he could watch no longer, and he left for the haven of his tree.

Which is where he sat now, leaning against the trunk, with closed eyes. Listening.

'Are you still hiding out here?"

Harry opened his eyes to find that Ginny had materialized and was sinking onto the grass beside him.

"I'm not hiding," he muttered.

"Well, you've been disappearing out here every day since you arrived at the Burrow, for hours at a time."

He looked at her questioningly. "How did you know that?"

She smiled, gazing out at the stream and the fields that stretched out behind it.

"This is my spot. It's where I sit when that lot in there are driving me loopy." She motioned back towards the house. "I came out here, the day we arrived home, and there you were. I didn't want to disturb you; you obviously wanted to be alone…"

"Sorry, Ginny – I should've guessed… I suppose I'd better let you have it back," said Harry, as he began to stand.

She put her hand on his arm, and he immediately froze.

"Don't be daft! I don't mind sharing."

They smiled at each other, and Harry settled back into a more comfortable position.

Neither spoke for a few moments, as they listened to the trickle of the stream.

"So…" Ginny began, "I'll ask again - why are you hiding out here?"

For a second, Harry struggled to formulate an answer – God, she could be blunt sometimes - and the thought made him want to smile and frown at the same time.

"I… I just thought… maybe you'd all want some time together, just family… what with everything."

Ginny leaned her head back against the bark and closed her eyes, sighing.

"Harry, you ARE family."

"You know what I mean…"

"Yeah, I do – and it's rubbish. Try again. Truth, this time."

He looked at her. Her eyes were still closed.

So why could she still see right through him?

When he answered, his voice was quite. "How can I sit in there and watch you all grieve, knowing it's all my fault?"

She sat up and looked at him, and for a very real moment, he thought she might hit him. Her eyes blazed and pink spots appeared on the apples of her cheeks.

"You idiot."

He looked down at the tie in his hands. He dared not look up at her. He didn't think he could face her anger, however justified it might be.

"Do you honestly think that there is a single person in that house that blames you for this? Harry! Look at me!"

Her blazing eyes swam before him.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through, and I'm not going to pretend that I can make you feel better – but I won't let you think that of yourself! I won't let you think it of us! You SAVED us, Harry. I f it wasn't for you, we'd have all died in that castle. Every one of us. And not one of us blames you for Fred's death. Or Remus, or Tonks, or any of them."

Harry nodded. "I just… I still feel so guilty."

"I know that. But YOU are the only person that that holds YOU responsible. You need to remember that. Alright?"

She placed her hand gently on his arm. He felt the warmth of it through the thin fabric of his shirt and swallowed as hard as he could to dislodge the lump that mysteriously appeared in his throat.

"So… are you coming in?"

He sighed, and nodded again.

They stood, together, and walked slowly towards the house. The closer they got, the slower their pace became, until they came to a stop in front of the door. \

"Thanks, Ginny."

"It's alright."

For a long moment, they looked at each other, until a loud raucous laugh made them turn towards the entrance.

They chuckled.

"Quite lively in there, aren't they?" He motioned inside.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Well, this is a Weasley funeral! I think you'll find it rather different to Remus and Tonks'. It's our Fred, after all!"

As she spoke, the door opened, and Charlie's face appeared around the corner. He was smiling and flushed – the dark circles under his eyes were the only sign of the pressures of the last weeks.

He grinned at them, and then called back over his shoulder, "I don't know, George, what do you think? Is it dark enough yet?"

George peered over Charlie, up at the sky. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he was smiling – albeit a little sadly.

"It's only just dusk, but it should be perfect by the time we get everything outside."

The two Weasley's pushed past Harry and Ginny carrying boxes, and were followed by Ron and Bill, lugging a table between them.

Mrs Weasley bustled behind them, calling, "Oh, there you are! Harry, be a dear and grab some chairs, would you Ginny, if you could bring out the drinks and glasses…"

Before they had a chance to answer, the rest of the family began trooping in and out of the house, levitating trays of drinks, carrying chairs and chatting amongst themselves.

After twenty minutes of fetching and carrying what Harry assumed was the entire contents of the Burrow's ground floor, everyone had settled themselves around the table in the garden. The sky, which had been slowly darkening, was now a rich, royal blue, and George seemed ready to begin.

He stood in front of them all, wand in hand, and began to speak.

"Okay, everyone. We're here tonight to say goodbye to our Fred. He was… a great business partner, a talented wizard, a truly wonderful brother…" His voice cracked but his gaze remained steady. "…and a rather handsome chap, even if I do say so myself!"

Harry looked around at the chuckling crowd of Wesley's and honorary Weasley's.

Hermione was leaning against Ron, and wiping her face on her sleeve, and Harry smiled when he noticed Ron's arm around her waist.

"He was the other half of me, my best mate – and I'm going to miss him more than I could ever tell you. And I can never tell you how proud I am of him."

Tears were openly falling now, but he continued speaking. "He died fighting for what we all believed in and he did it with a smile and a laugh. He would never forgive me if I didn't give him a proper send-off, so here we are…Ladies and gentlemen, I cordially invite you to … Fred's Lat Hoorah!"

With that, he pointed his wand at the pile of boxes, and a spark of scarlet red flew skywards, exploding into a dozen different colours.

All at once, the boxes came alive, shooting coloured stars into the evening sky, that danced and shimmered for a few moments, before exploding again.

The small crowd gasped and laughed, watching the colours zoom around the sky, before drawing into one brilliant point.

With a loud bang, the point of light exploded into a huge red and gold Gryffindor lion. It raised its enormous head to the heavens and roared with a ferocity that shook the table they sat at.

The lion swooped down to ground level, running at the group and leaping over them, before flying into the sky. There, all the colours glistened and sparkled before changing shape, and arranging themselves into the three interlocking "W"s that made up the logo of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

It hung there for a second before the colours rearranged themselves one last time, into a beautiful scarlet and gold phoenix. It called out to them in its beautiful ethereal voice, before soaring upwards, higher and higher, until they couldn't see it anymore.

The group burst into applause, laughing and sobbing in equal measure, as they watched the bird disappeared.

George was roughly wiping away his tears and clapping harder than anyone else.

"That was for you, mate. Hope you approved of it." He raised his glass of Firewhiskey, "To Fred!"

"To Fred!" they echoed.

"Right then!" he called. "Let's get drunk!"

Harry laughed and refilled his glass. He gazed around at the mourners, before catching Ginny's eye. They smiled at one another, and for the first time, Harry really felt that he may be alright after all.