Discalimer: I don't own Harry Potter. And I don't own Les Miserables. Lyrics have been slightly altered to fit the story.

Everyone was settling down to sleep, or at least, try to. The Pack had decided on having one last den-night on the eve of the final battle. Everyone was diving up into their respective pairs and trying to find a place to be comfortable. Harry was restless. He couldn't hold still. Ginny gently pushed him to the floor.

"Harry, rest."

A quiet voice began singing in the dark.

Drink with me to days gone by

Sing with me the songs we knew

The younger men of the Pack sang together.

Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads.

Then the adults sang. Their wives whacked them all on the shoulder.

Here's to witty girls who went to out beds.

Everyone joined in heartily.

Here's to them and here's to you!

But everyone grew somber as the gravity of the situation slowly began to sink in.

Drink with me to days gone by

Can it be you fear to die?

Will the world remember you

When you fall?

Could it be your death

Means nothing at all?

Is your life just one more lie?

Everyone thought back to happier times.

Drink with me to days gone by

To the life that used to be

The Pride all looked at each other.

At the shrine of friendship, never say die

The adults smiled fondly.

Let the wine of friendship never run dry

Padfoot raised his glass of Firewhisky and everyone drank.

Here's to you and here's to me

Harry looked up at Ginny whose eyes were moist.

Do I care if I should die

Now she goes across the sea?

Life without Ginny

Means nothing at all.

Would you weep, Ginny,

Should your Harry fall?

Will you weep, Ginny,

For me?

And with that, Harry fell asleep.

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