A/N: Here's my new story to celebrate the New Year! A big thanks to my beta Cecelia Everhart! All mistakes you might find are my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This applies to all following chapters.

1. Ginny

In the night of the first May Ginny would always have a nightmare (no matter how many years had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts). It was as if all her inner walls were broken down and her subconscious lay raw and open, so that dark thoughts and memories could invade her and drag her down into the past. In her dreams, she would see many things, but what would make her scream, was a boy with unruly black hair and a scar on his forehead. This in itself wasn't a bad thing. Only that the boy was dead.

Harry Potter - dead and gone.

And when the realisation of that hit her with full force, she would wake up, a scream on her lips, frantically searching for something that should be there. Only after she touched a warm, breathing body beside her, could she calm down.

Even ten years later, exactly the same happened. She stifled her scream and felt for her husband beside her, but she only found a cold and empty bed. Panic-stricken she looked around. "H-harry?"

Why isn't he there? He should be there! Has something happened?

Illogical thoughts raced through her mind, driven by the fear and the terror of her nightmare. "Lumos!" The dim light of her wand illuminated the bedroom, which seemed too dark and too forlorn without him in it. She wouldn't survive waking up here without him every day. Quickly she grabbed her dressing gown and left the room. The wooden floorboards were cold under her bare feet, when she crossed the hallway to her children's room. Silently she opened the door and peeked in.

There Harry was, standing over the newborn Lily Luna's crib. Her frantic heartbeat slowed at once and she wondered how a single person could have such an effect on her.

With his auror hearing he heard her entering and turned. "I thought I heard something," he whispered. "And …"

He didn't need to explain. Of course he would be worried on a night like this. "Shhh." Carefully, she wrapped her arms around him. "They're safe and fast asleep. Look at Jamie."

He nodded, but didn't move. "Did I scare you?"

She swallowed hard – he knew all too well about her nightmares. "I'm fine, darling."

"Sorry," he breathed nevertheless. He would always be sorry and beat himself up about things he had no control over; there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. So she only squeezed his hand and looked down at her baby daughter.

Minutes or maybe hours later – Ginny didn't really register the pass of time – Harry suddenly flinched, startling her out of her circling thoughts. "Oh, Gin, you're ice cold." At once, his gown was draped around her shoulders. "Go back to bed."

She glanced out of the window. "No. I won't be able to sleep anyway. The sun'll be up soon. I'm going to get dressed and prepare something for Al and Jamie."

When Harry didn't answer, she went back to the bedroom. Within seconds, she changed out of the pyjamas and went down to the kitchen where Kreacher welcomed her. Together they prepared breakfast for the kids. Kreacher would take care of them while she and Harry were gone.

The first sunrays illuminated the sky, when Harry descended as well, with Lily in his arms. "She's still sleeping."

Ginny nodded and scrutinised his face. As expected, he hadn't slept at all and looked pale and drawn. "Let's go," she said, following their yearly routine. As soon as the sun was up, they would gather at the burrow as neither of them was able to sleep. It was their day to grieve, as they couldn't grieve all the other days, because life had moved on. But that didn't mean they didn't still miss their friends and family members, just because they couldn't think about them or mourn them every day. So they had silently agreed that this would be the day where nobody had to be ashamed of being sad and moody. It was a day where they could lock themselves in their rooms if they wanted to be alone, or cry because the pain was just too much. A day they could remember the dead without feeling guilty, because they had moved on and lived a full life without them (and because the dead wouldn't want them to be sad on their behalf).

Quickly she grabbed Harry's hand – she never missed an opportunity to touch him on this day, to make sure he was real – and they apparated to the Burrow.