A/N: I was feeling in a writer-ish mood, and my heart was sort of sad and broken when I wrote this. I will destroy your feels, but maybe I'm just weird. It's Christmas, and I love Christmas. But it's the first Christmas without my youngest big brother.

This is dedicated to my best friend, Batmarcus. I hope it breaks your heart, madman, because I cried whilst writing it. Merry Christmas.

Not Okay

Harry sighed. It wasn't a sound he'd made in years, at least on this day; he last made it the Christmas just before he went to Hogwarts, where he found friends and happiness on the joyous day.

Before that he'd sigh and roll over in his bed, because it meant another Christmas of absolutely crappy gifts, like Aunt Marge and her leash or Uncle Vernon gifting him a handkerchief, whilst Dudley got the best and newest toys on the market.

It would be the first Christmas without a lot of people.

It wouldn't be the first without Sirius, but that didn't stop Harry from missing his godfather and his bark-like laugh. His brother and father, all rolled into one. A person he could talk to who had his best interests at heart. A person to joke with about Ron's clumsiness or Hermione's know-it-all attitude (they would never have discussed it in front of said individuals, though).

It didn't have a Dobby sneaking him snacks or knitting him mismatched socks. He also wouldn't be able to give Dobby a pair of socks his uncle would send him, but then again, he didn't think his aunt and uncle would really think of him anymore.

It didn't have a Lupin who would at least try to make him smile, even if it was by giving him advice or a book. Who would mostly reprimand Harry's attitude when angry or uncontrolled.

It didn't have a hyper Tonks, making everyone laugh with her gift. No duck face or female Dudley.

No twin pranks. George had been trying to carry on, but he just couldn't. Ron tried to help, but George would sometimes end his sentence midway, expecting Fred to finish it, then his eyes would lose their glow and he'd simply walk off. No tricking Ron's trousers or stealing mince pies early on.

Also no Dumbledore. Dumbledore always made quirky toasts at Christmas; sometimes at the expense of one of the teachers, whether it was McGonagall or Snape, and the teacher's rarely took it as an attack. Harry finally understood why Snape actually managed to stand it.

He looked at the Burrow. Rebuilt and somewhat shaggy, but he could smell the food. Not just any food, Mrs Weasley's food. That woman gave the house elves of Hogwarts a run for their money. Turkey, he hoped, with mashed potatoes or baked potatoes; their skins crispy and crackling when you bit into them. Green beans, with pepper and salt and mashed too, which he would mix with his rice. Pumpkin pasties, so flakey and soft that they tasted like heaven but felt like air. Maybe she'd have fixed a gammon or an ox tongue too. Ox tongue really didn't sound appetising, but the meat was so tender and soft and truly delicious, that Mrs. Weasley would need to hide it from him.

All going down with a generous amount of butterbeer. His stomach rumbled. He was getting hungry thinking of the food.

Christmas eve; in the morning there would be presents. But none from those he missed most. He'd be spending the night, sharing Ron's old bedroom with him in a camping cot. Like old times. Some things never changed… some things did.

He pushed the gate open, hearing the rusty hinges creak with wear and tear. It was in need of oil and perhaps a new layer of paint. He heard the laughter from inside – it was true laughter. Not the forced laughter he'd had to live with for the last few months.

"Harry!" A voice shrieked his name. He felt arms encircle his shoulders, coming out of the darkness, a kiss pasted on his cheek. He laughed, embracing her and pulling her close. He could smell her hair. She smelled like cherries and mince pies. She smelled familiar, she felt familiar, she was familiar and she was still there and alive! He loved how her arms felt around him.

"Harry!" Another familiar voice shrieked once they entered the house, his face being attacked by a mass of bushy hair. He laughed again. Hermione – the know-it-all, who had gone through so much and came out a strong woman despite all that. He folded his arms around her. She'd been one of the few things keeping him strong and alive and willing in the time after the war. She always found a way to make him smile.

When she let him go, a lanky form enveloped him. It wasn't a lot that he and Ron embraced, because they were both guys and that wasn't how it worked between them. Ron was another part of what kept him going on, because he couldn't always find it within himself. He and Ron hugged briefly, before Mrs Weasley attacked him.

As much as he loved Ginny, he loved Mrs Weasley's warm and motherly hugs the most. She was plump and soft and once he and Ginny got married, he wouldn't even worry about calling her 'mum', it would come automatically.

He looked around – the living room was filled with familiar faces. Andromeda Tonks greeted Harry with a friendly nod as small Teddy Lupin scrambled off her lap and straight to hug Harry's legs. He was sporting bright yellow hair, but Harry thought it was adorable.

Luna was the next in line to welcome him, a feathery light hug by the Ravenclaw girl. Old Xeno shook the man's hand warmly before giving in and giving him half a hug. Mr Weasley was next, shaking Harry's hand excitedly. Bill and Fleur, Percy and his new girlfriend Audrey, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, Oliver Wood for some reason – all hugs and warm handshakes; news was exchanged and jokes exchanged. Charlie dropped in a bit later than expected – he'd had to tame a beast or two before being allowed to go.

Harry noticed that George was missing, but Ginny assured him her brother would arrive in due time. He decided to forget about it for the time being and just relaxed. He needed to relax. After the war, he'd been sent into training as an auror under the newly appointed Minister of Magic, Kingsley, and he rose quickly, his skills were just that good and it even rivalled that of the late Moody. Kingsley soon appointed him as a trainer rather than a trainee, and he fared his best.

Just when Harry thought they would go sit down for dinner, George and Hagrid arrived.

"I'm sorry I'm late, everyone," George said, his eyes sparkling, "but I had to do this. Dad gave me the idea, actually, but it took some development." He was carrying a large package, and Harry could think of so many dirty jokes about George's "large package", but decided to snigger in silence instead.

George set it down and Hagrid tapped it with his pink umbrella.

"Look at the ceiling." George whispered as he turned down the lights. All eyes went to the roof, where moving pictures and sounds and words were being played.

The pictures were all sort of silvery, reminding Harry of the pensieve. First he saw Sirius, his eyes alive and laughing, hugging Harry and teasing Mrs Weasley or helping Fred and George with a prank. When Sirius snuck out to meet Harry during the Triwizard Tournament to give advice. The moment he died.

Second, Dumbledore appeared. The twinkle in his eye noticeable even in this colour. The odd toasts, the moment he helped Gryffindor win the house cup in Harry's first year; his disappearance from Hogwarts with Fawkes; his duel with Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic; his final fall and his funeral.

Third, Moody. His impersonator, his lessons, his help and his guidance later. They never found his body.

Then it was Colin Creevy, always with a camera, almost hero worshipping Harry. Harry found himself laughing and crying at the same time. He did miss the little kid. Only about sixteen when he died – it wasn't fair! He wished he'd signed that photograph in his second year.

Lupin and Tonks. Lupin, always tired but always wanting to help; how he taught Harry to use the patronus charm; the night he transformed and Sirius fought him; the chocolate permanently in his pockets. Tonks, always clumsy and messing up, she was loud and happy and she loved a werewolf. Harry couldn't help the tears streaking down his cheeks or his teeth from showing. The last image of the couple laying closely with their hands almost touching.

Fred: playing pranks, making hell, experimenting. Always laughing, always with his twin brother, making sure they were up to no good. The Marauder's Map and when they gave it to Harry; bewitching snowballs to hit Quirrel's turban; the sweets that made you sick; the niffler in Umbridge's office; the teamwork the two brothers showed in Quidditch. The last laugh, forever etched onto his face after he and Percy made peace.

The images overplayed, everyone had their moment, now it was a mash up of all of their loved ones. Ted Tonks, Dobby, Lavender, Harry's parents, Molly's brothers… all of them there and smiling and laughing and living in times past. Snape's bravery was paid a tribute to.

"I'm sorry if I made you cry. But they don't want us to cry. They fought for us; they died so that we could live. And I know it's hard to move on. Believe me, I know it's hard. I lost my other half. I didn't feel like a person for along while. And I know you have lost a lot. But Sirius once said to me that the ones who love us, never really leave us. And while I feel hollow… I have Fred in my heart. His memory still lives on. And so with Sirius and Lupin and Tonks and Dobby and Dumbledore…"

The lights flickered on, and everyone rubbed their red eyes and wiped away the tears. When they saw there was not a dry eye in the house, they found themselves laughing.

"And, even if you hate me for it, I stole a lot of your memories. Because we need to be reminded of the great people we've lost, but look around: look at all of the great people we have left." George finished.

Harry smiled. He sometimes thought he'd lost the most in the war: his parents, his godfather, Lupin, his mentor, his friends, his sanity and his freedom. But, looking around, he knew he wasn't the only one.

He was not okay. None of them were. And they wouldn't be okay for a long while. But that was okay.

. . .

A/N: Well… I have no idea, maybe a review?