Title: Time Doesn't End

Author: strawberrypockywolf

Chapter: Only Chapter, One-shot

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, okay? I admit it; I am not the genius who created Harry Potter. The genius is named J.K Rowling and lives in England. The last time I checked that was not me, okay?

Summary: What happens twelve years after it all ended? What happens twelve years after the greatest battle racked the magical world ended? Just a one-shot about a special sorting twelve years after the end of the wart and a bit about what happened after and during the war.

The great hall has almost always looked the same when you first see it. With its high ceiling that is spelled to reflect the sky of the outside world, giving you the feeling of staring into the heavens all the time, and the intricately carved walls you feel like you've just stepped into a grand palace. From the outside Hogwarts looks like a palace but the inside is even grander, it is all so huge and it makes you feel...small, insignificant. Yet at the same time it makes you feel special that you, out of so many people in world, are special enough to lay eyes on the splendor of the greatest wizarding school in England. I remember the first time I stepped through the great doors and walked through that echoing hall with all those eyes watching me. I nearly fainted.

Even more terrifying is stepping up and sitting on that stool, having the legendary sorting hat placed on your head, the bewitched hat that places you into your home and your family for the next seven years. Sitting on that stool and waiting for that magical device to tell you your potential fate for the next seven years is one of the most frightening and maddening things ever. It still remains that way even through all I have been through all these years, and I have been through a number of dangerous deeds that still haunt me today. Even with all that one of my most terrifying moments, not physical danger exactly but still fear, was the moment that hat was placed upon my head.

After that moment though, my life became so much more complicated. It is odd but I am so very grateful to that hat, and even more so to the founders of Hogwarts and to Dumbledore for being our headmaster. It seems odd to me that I will probably never see those walls again, that I will never see the common room or my old dormitory or anything again unless I become a teacher or return to see my children. Even odder is the fact that I even have children. I never expected to live past my eighteenth birthday so many years ago, much less live to see twenty-nine and see my two beautiful red-haired twin daughters go off on the Hogwarts express. Seeing them brings back so many memories that bring painful tears to my eyes. My husband, Fred, slings an arm around my shoulders and we turn away, followed by our friends and our family back into the bustling muggle train station.

Lily stared out the window watching her parents leave along with her uncles, and two aunts. She felt the train move beneath her, slowly picking up speed as it left the station and she felt a thrill of excitement in her stomach. Pulling her face away from the window she looked over towards her twin sister Elizabeth, Liz for short, and both gave identical prankster grins. They were, after all, the children of Fred Weasley, one of the notorious Weasley twins. Besides their prankster personalities they had also inherited their red hair from their father, but with the frizzy-ness of their mother's hair. They had identical hazel eyes with a touch of green to them. The only distinguishable difference between them was the fact that Lily had a fewer freckles and they were darker than her sister's freckles.

Liz sat on the other side of the car next to their cousin Gabriel, an odd boy with an otherworldly silver gaze and view on things, which he had inherited from his mother. Yet in every other way he was the average boy and he had a wicked sense of humor, just like his father. Like most of his family, he was, after all, a Weasley, he had red hair, just like the twins. Their other cousin sat next to Lily, the only Weasley in a long line of the family who didn't carry on the name and who didn't have the red hair and freckles. Instead of red hair he had messy black hair that couldn't be tamed by any brush or hair product, and instead of freckles he had bright green eyes and glasses. In short, he looked like his father, his very famous father.

The rest of the cabin was empty, though people had come in from time to time to see them, word had gotten around that the children of the famous defeaters of Lord Voldemort were on the train. Though it was quite annoying to have people staring at them all the time, something that their parents knew quite well, they were used to it by now. So they sat alone in the cabin, surrounded by their family and just entertaining themselves on the boring train ride. The door slid open and a girl with pale blond hair and chocolate brown eyes stalked in and flopped down into the seat next to Liz.

"Rough time Becca?" Only a stingingly cold glare was her reply but all four of the cousins grinned back at her wickedly. Rebecca Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's daughter, was a close friend of theirs, even though in their parent's school days Draco and the rest of their parents had not been friends that had not carried on to their children. Rebecca was not the typical Malfoy, or at least she was not what everyone expected a Malfoy to be like. Of course she was ambitious and slightly snotty, those were family traits, but she was also brave, kind, and intelligent. Unlike most of her family she was not obsessed with blood and being a pureblood, probably because she wasn't. Though it was hard to imagine Draco losing his obsession with blood and accepting muggle-born wizards and witches he had. In fact, he had married a muggle-born and he was quite happy, he had even decided to patch things up with Hermione and the rest of them. During the war he had been a spy for Dumbledore, helping them immensely though the Trio, besides Harry, hadn't discovered it until after it was all over.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully, proceeding in the same manner as it had before with the number of people who came to look at them increasing by the minute. After Becca had snapped at a few of them and nearly hexed one in particular that seemed to get the picture and the visitors stopped coming. Then the train came to a stop. They were here, at the legendary Hogwarts.

Everyone thinks of me as the bad guy. That's how I am constantly portrayed, or that's how I was portrayed in school. What can I say? I was young, naïve, and at the whim of my father. No one could really blame me for being so arrogant, for being so evil, for being so stupid all those years. I'm just sorry that I didn't realize my mistake earlier, the mistake of listening to that bastard who called himself my father. He murdered her, my mother. It serves him right, what he got in return. Few people know the truth about how he died; most of them think that he was murdered by his master Voldemort, or perhaps by an auror. That isn't true, he wasn't killed by his master or his enemy, he was killed by me, his own flesh and blood; his own son.

Now that I'm free of his tyranny, losing both of my parents in the process, I was finally able to loose all those stereotypes that had been forced down my throat. I was able to meet a muggle-born and I married her. She taught me more than I ever thought I could possibly learn and I love her more than I thought was possible. The only person that I love equally or perhaps more is my daughter, Rebecca. We were careful about raising her, we taught her about the mistakes of the Malfoy house and we made sure she didn't become what I had been. It is odd to say but her best friends are three Weasleys and a Potter.

Today I watched her get onto the scarlet train that I remember so well, I remember all the hexes that I resisted on that train and all the terror and fights and fun times. I am partly thankful that it is all over and that she doesn't have to withstand all that yet and partially nostalgic about my old days when I competed with Potter for control of the school. Even though I was hated I was still powerful, I was still in the prime of my life. Often I wonder what would have happened if I had not been a Malfoy, if I had been someone else and been in another house with different friends. I was who I was though, and I am who I am today. I'm just glad Becca isn't like the younger me, it would be too painful to bear. I wonder which house she will be sorted into. In a way I hope it will be Gryffindor, either way I hope that it is anything besides Slytherin.

The war changed us. Hermione, myself, even Draco was changed during the war. I can not fathom what it was exactly that changed us but something did. Perhaps it was the heartache, perhaps it was the plain bloodshed and treachery that spread through the magical world. We changed though, we had to or we would have broken and fallen to the dark spells of the enemy. Our side was strong, but we would not have won without some great help, without the prophecy, without Harry.

Like so many others, like my siblings, like my friends, my classmates, my teachers, I did not expect to grow older, I did not expect to live at all past my seventh year. It was such a surprise that I was able to live and grow older and marry and have children. More than a surprise though, it was a blessing, the beautiful gift of life, for not only me but my family and my friends.

After the war we took a year off, we had a year to recuperate and heal ourselves. That was what we needed most of all, to heal ourselves and our world. Hermione and I probably wouldn't have survived that next year without our friends, and especially without Luna and Fred. They healed us and in the process we healed them, and we became closer than anyone could ever dream. It seems that pain brings you closer together, it forms a bond that can't be broken between family and friends. Before the war it might have seemed odd to me to call Hermione a sister, related by friendship but not blood, but now, even if she hadn't married Fred she would be my sister. Even our children are that way, they are related by blood but they are even closer than that.

I watched my son get on the scarlet train to his future today and I have never been so proud. He waved goodbye to Luna and I and then he walked on without another look back, surrounded by Lily, Liz, Harry, and Rebecca. That is the one thing I never expected to see, a Weasley, a Granger, a Potter, and a Malfoy all as friends and relatives. To see that people can change so much makes me both terribly happy and sad. I wonder if Gabriel will change over the months that he is gone. I hope that they take care of him, because if he gets hurt I will not curb my wrath.

Out of all the people in my class who had the remote possibility of becoming a professor I was probably the least likely. Yet some how I became the Herbology professor after the war, though I have no idea how. Herbology has always been my strong point, unlike potions, and I guess that I wasn't exactly suited to anything else. I would have gone out for being an auror but the war ended and there wasn't much of a use for them anymore. Besides, Professor Sprout was killed in the war, and they needed a replacement. So I got the job. At least I don't have to put up with Snape anymore, though in some ways I wish I did have to put up with him. The war took him too, along with Flitwick, Hagrid, and Lupin. So many members of the Order are gone.

The first years are filing in now, they are so small and most of them look so nervous. As I scan the crowd I spot my adopted nieces and nephews. They wave at me, looking perfectly calm and ready for anything. They really are like their parents, and seeing them brings back so many memories. Especially Harry, who looks exactly like his father did when he was in school, without the scar though. Professor McGonogall, an older version than what I had in school but no less strict or weary, just with a few gray hairs in her auburn hair, leads them up towards the three-legged stool where the Sorting Hat sat.

The wide brim of the hat opened and its song spilled out. Neville listened to it carefully, it often gave information about what was coming. He had always loved the songs anyway, and being a professor for the past years had given him plenty of time to hear them. Today though he tuned out the song and focused on his adopted nieces and nephews as they stood transfixed by the magical hat. As so as it had finished Professor McGonogall stepped up with a roll of parchment and her wand in her hands.

"Bicuiet, Samantha"

The hat sat on her head for a few moments before shouting out the house name. "Hufflepuff." A number of other students went by, sorted into a number of houses before a name caught Neville's attention. "Malfoy, Rebecca." Many people held their breath as she sat on the stool with a flourish, her silver/blond hair cast over her shoulder and reflecting against her black robes. The hat sat on her head for a long time and then the brim opened, Neville leaned forwards eagerly. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville let out a great breath that he had been holding and clapped along with the rest of them, he caught a glimpse of her beaming grin and he grinned himself. Who would have guessed that the daughter of the notorious bad boy Draco Malfoy would ever be sorted into Gryffindor? "Weasley, Gabriel."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Weasley, Lily."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Weasley, Elizabeth."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Potter, Harry."

An even greater hush fell over the entire room as the spitting image of the legendary Harry Potter sat upon that stool and had the famous sorting hat placed upon his head. Even Neville held his breath, though he knew that only one house name could come from that wide brim. Nearly twenty years had passed since his father had sat in that same place waiting for his fate to be decided. Twenty years, good lord it had been so long since their school days, since their first year.

"GRYFFINDOR!" A great cheer rose up among the entire hall, with the exception of the Slytherins who were, of course, being spoil sports. As Neville looked on he grinned to himself. "Your father would have been proud...Harry."

In my dreams I see the darkness of the cemetery that the battle occurred in, the same cemetery that Voldemort had returned to power in. The death eaters were all around, swarms of black that fired dark hexes that stunned and paralyzed, and others that caused pain and even more that caused death. The unforgivable curses were in abundance, screaming through the night air as we tried to defend ourselves. I remember being so confused, feeling pain everywhere and feeling as though my head were about to split open. I knew what was happening but I couldn't comprehend it, so I just worked methodically through the throng, firing spells at any death eater I could see. I worked my way through the throng to my family and my friends. We grouped over at the side, some of keep duty so that we could regroup and come back with a fresh attack. Nearly everyone was wounded, Luna's arm was broken and Hermione was performing a healing spell as she (Luna) sat in Ron's arms.

All around me I could see the couples finding each other and comforting each other. Luna was with Ron, Hermione had finished the healing spell and was in Fred's arms, Angela was with George, I could see them all but I couldn't find him, I couldn't find Harry anywhere. "Where is he?" I shouted over the noise and everyone pointed. The world froze before my eyes, the scene locked in my brain as I pushed through them and stare in horror. This was the final battle, not all the outside skirmishes, the final battle was really just beginning, between Harry and Voldemort, between good and evil essentially. I wanted to rush towards Harry, to tell him I loved him, to tell him everything, but Ron and Fred had my arms.

They both cast spells at the same time, the dreaded killing spell that no one besides Harry had ever survived. I knew that he couldn't survive it twice. I felt bile rise in my throat but hope rise in my mind. It could be dodged, he could live, it might not hit him. Yet as the world slowed down I saw how direct both spells were, I saw that both would hit dead on. A roar filled my ears as the dark lord fell to the ground and as my own dark haired hero crumpled with him. I screamed his name and his eyes met mine, his beautiful green eyes that were growing dark with death met mine and he mouthed to me. "I love you." I could see the words on his lips as his breath stopped.

The next morning I found out that I was pregnant. There was no doubt in my mind about who the father was and when he was born everything was assured. Harry would live on, not only in our minds but in the true world as well. His son would live on in his place. That night I despaired about never seeing that face and that hair and those beautiful green eyes again. Now I know that he is not lost, I know that his image will live on. Live on my son and my beloved, live on.

Just some notes for you in case you are confused about anything.

Couples:

Hermione/Fred

Ginny/Harry(Deceased)

Ron/Luna

Draco/Muggle-born(she isn't really important and I was too lazy to give her a name)

Order of POV:

Hermione

OOC

Draco

Ron

Neville

Ginny