The Chair.

"Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver."
Sophocles

Fall came early the year of "The Battle of Hogwarts". Nature herself having seen too much, pulled the covers over her head and retired early, exhausted. A long, cold, depressing winter followed. Now, in early April, she took her first tentative peek above the blankets. The cold rain had finally stopped and the days were warming. Nesting birds and budding flowers proclaimed the season. Despite everything, spring had arrived.

It had become a regular thing, Sunday dinner at the Weasley's, and Harry caught himself gazing at The Chair again. He thought he was over that, and glanced guiltily around the table to see if anyone had noticed.

Arthur and George were discussing George's new prototype hat. It had only one ear flap, into which was set a cup-like device that worked like an Extendable Ear. George was still working on a name but he was thinking about the "'Ear We Go Again Hat". Harry thought George was just pulling Arthur's leg, but it made them all laugh- even Ron, who had been moping around all evening.

It seemed he had gotten away with staring until Molly caught his eye from across the room. She gave him a worried look as the dishes stacked themselves into the cupboard. Harry didn't want to talk about it again and was relieved when she didn't say anything. As she moved around the table, wiping her hands on her apron, she paused behind him and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Ron, have you heard from Hermione?" she asked. "Is she enjoying her trip?"

"Got another owl this morning; she says Paris is wonderful," Ron answered, sarcastically exaggerating 'wonderful'. "You know how she goes on about museums and stuff."

Hermione had started an internship with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures a few months before. They told her she had so impressed her superiors that she was offered a chance to travel to Paris for an international conference on Interspecies Cooperation. It seemed likely to Harry that nobody else wanted to represent the house elves, but he didn't share that with her. Her title was "Special Envoy for Elfish Promotion". It was hard for Ron and Harry to keep a straight face the day she proudly unveiled her "S.E.E.P." identification badge.

"Now, don't get all huffy Ron," George said, with a wink at Harry. "Just because you don't appreciate the finer things doesn't mean she can't."

George had obviously hoped Ron might rise to that bait, but he had already tuned out and was randomly pushing the remains of dessert around on his plate. It worried Harry that there were remains of dessert to be pushed around at all. Obviously, something was seriously bothering him. George shrugged and went back to talking to his dad about the hat.

"Well, isn't that lovely for her," Molly continued, attempting to draw Ron out of his funk. "Harry, I know Ginny can't wait for this school year to be over. She says it's incredibly boring without the rest of you around."

Or a war to fight, Harry thought. But what he said was, "Yeah, she says Quidditch is the only thing keeping her sane. Frankly, I like boring. Boring's fine by me."

The amount of emotion he let slip silenced everyone. He quickly averted his eyes and made a show of looking into his empty cup. Molly, taking the hint, asked if anyone wanted more tea. She dropped the pretext of cheerfulness and levitated the dessert dishes into the sink. Everyone accepted tea and turned back to their respective diversions: Arthur and George talking, Ron sulking, and Harry thinking about The Chair.

The Chair was Fred's place at the table, not used since that day. Molly still set a place there for each meal; a silent, very Weasley-like, family memorial.

Harry drifted back to those first days after the Battle. He'd spent the first week at Hogwarts, staying in the dormitory, helping with the clean up as best he could. It occurred to him, finally, that they didn't need him and he was probably just in the way, but no one would ask him to go. So, he moved into number twelve Grimmauld Place and let Kreacher take care of his daily needs. It was convenient to St. Mungo's so he could visit the wounded there, and he really had nowhere else to go. His primary contact with the outside world was Kingsley Shackelbolt.

The Ministry was a shambles, and as the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley rolled up his sleeves and started cleaning it up. Investigations were launched, people were sacked, and some were even put on trial. All the unjustly imprisoned were released, official apologies given, and reparations offered. The demand for Harry's attention was insatiable; the ministry, the press, the families of the fallen, all of them wanted his time. He felt he owed the families that much, even though it was draining. They were so 'grateful' for what he'd done, and 'honored' that, if their child had to die, they died in "The Great Battle of this Age" alongside "The Great Harry Potter". During these times, all he could think about was how he had failed to protect them. If he had been smarter or quicker, he would have arranged the final confrontation with Riddle in a deserted graveyard or forest where no one else would have gotten hurt.

Then, there were the funerals. They were the hardest part and he attended every one. They ran together in his mind, except Remus and Tonks', who were laid to rest together, and Fred's; he would never forget Fred's. The Weasley clan closed ranks during that time, clutching to each other like spars after a ship wreck. Harry didn't want to intrude. He understood they needed time together, just the family, and he really couldn't look them in the eye anyway; the guilt was too strong.

One day, about a month after Fred's funeral, Hermione suggested he meet her, Ginny, and Ron in Hogsmead to check out the new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shop there. It was odd hearing the employees address Ron as 'Mr. Weasley' but he was George's partner now. Afterwards, they talked Harry into going back to the Burrow for a quiet cup of tea. To his surprise, the entire family was there: Molly and Arthur, George, Percy, even Bill and Fleur. It was apparently an intervention of sorts. Molly walked up to him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Harry," she started, "listen to me. None of what happened to our family was your fault."

"I know… but," he protested, but she plowed right over him.

"And, we owe you an apology."

"What…?"

"We didn't see... didn't think... that you might need us, after all that happened. We let you go back to that horrid house at Grimmauld Place alone."

"It's really not that bad now," he tried again, but she wouldn't be diverted.

"Lucky for us, Hermione noticed," she continued. "In our defense, we were grieving, distracted... Yes, of course, loosing Fred was a horrible, tragic, blow to us. We will never fill that hole in our hearts Harry." She paused, made him meet her eyes, and continued solemnly, "I've lost one son, I won't lose another."

She turned back to Arthur who opened his arms to her. Harry glanced around the room; Ginny looked stricken, Ron uncomfortable, but Hermione met his eyes defiantly, prepared to argue if necessary.

"Our home is your home," Arthur said over his wife's shoulder, "for a day, a week, as long as you want. We won't hear another word." He paused and looked around the room. "It's settled then," he finished with an emphatic nod.

George had misted up at the mention of Fred and, as always, sought refuge in humor."Yeah, Potter," he said, doing his best Draco Malfoy impression. "Don't make us come after you. We won't be so friendly next time."

The tension melted away and they fell into hugs and laughter. Harry was stunned, and immensely grateful. He had been so busy with funerals, meetings, and crowds of strangers that it suddenly hit him how lonely he had been.

Ginny didn't leave his side the rest of the evening and, like waking from a bad dream, they realized they could be together again. They were openly a couple from that night on and if any of the family objected, or were even surprised, Harry couldn't tell.

To this day however, months later, Harry still found himself staring at The Chair.

"Harry," Ron hissed, disturbing his reverie. "I need to talk to you." He glanced furtively at the others. "Privately."