A/N I don't own anything except for the plot. Also, thanks to my wonderful teacher Ms. Bell for inspiring me with this title.

Enjoy!

The Day After the Battle

Ginny couldn't sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes she could see Fred, dying over again. She would see Lavender's body, lifeless, on the ground. There were so much that happened yesterday. She didn't want to think about it.

She put on her cloak and walked into the common room. The warm, flickering fire and the plump red couch made her heart calm down. But she wasn't alone.

A thin, black-haired boy was sitting on one of the couches. His hands covered his face as his shoulder shook slightly. Round rimmed glasses were beside him.

Ginny carefully walked over and sat next to him. "Harry, are you OK?" she asked quietly.

Harry shook his head but didn't look up.

"You can tell me, you know. We've all been there."

He finally looked up. There were tears in his bright green eyes. "Ginny, all these people, they died because of me. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Lavender. Sirius. Dumbledore. My parents. And many, many others. Why did I do this?"

"Harry," said Ginny softly, "It's not because of you. It's never because of you. It is because of Voldemort. He did these things. You fought him, and these people assisted you. They will be proud to know that you've created a better world for all of us living."

Harry nodded. He turned his face away and sobbed. "I can't, Ginny, I can't."

Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. "There, there," she whispered gently.

23 Years After the Battle

Ginny couldn't sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes she could see Harry, facing Delphi Riddle, holding on for dear life. She could feel the cold fire blazing in her eyes. There were so much that happened yesterday. She didn't want to think about it.

She walked downstairs into their kitchen. The soft light and the sweet scent calmed her heart down. But she wasn't alone.

A fit, black haired man sat on one the kitchen chairs, with a cup of warm milk between his hands and a regretful look on his face.

Ginny carefully walked over and sat next to him. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked quietly.

Harry nodded but didn't meet her eyes.

"You can tell me, you know. I was there. I saw it happen."

Finally, green eyes meet the blue ones. "Ginny, what did I do? All the time I thought I was a good father to my children. But Albus, he turned out so different. He is distancing himself from me, and I can't blame him. I was biased, I was narrow. How can I get in his heart again?"

"Harry," said Ginny softly, "It's not your fault. You two are so alike in too many ways, both strong headed, independent, and caring. Sometimes, father and son can only connect after going through a conflict."

Harry nodded. He rubbed his temples. "I can't, Ginny, I can't."

Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. "There, there," she whispered gently.

85 Years After the Battle

Lily Luna can't sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes she can see her mom's cold body, two months earlier. She can see her dad sobbing, and then getting sicker ever since. So much had happened this month. She didn't want to think about it.

She put on a pale blue sweater and went to her father's hospital room. The white walls and the light medicine scent calmed her heart down. But she wasn't alone.

A frail, old man was lying on his bed, with a tube on one of his hands and a picture of her mother in his other.

Lily walked carefully over and sat on his bed. "Dad, are you OK?" she asked quietly.

Harry shook his head, but his eyes didn't open.

"You can tell me, you know. I love mum. I miss her too."

With great difficulty, the old man opened his faded green eyes and his hand gripped hers. "Lily, you are so much like your mother. I know I am not going to live any longer. I simply can't. But how should I face your mother knowing I left you three, your children, and your grandchildren here?"

"Dad," said Lily softly, "No one blames you. You lived a happy, old life with a family and many friends. Almost all your friends are gone now. Don't you want to see them again? We can all take care of ourselves. For once in your life, dad, think of yourself and how you want to be happy."

Harry nodded. He took a final breath. "I can't, Lily, I can't." His hand loosened around her hands and fell onto the bedsheet.

Her hands shaking, Lily put them on his shoulder for the last time. "There, there," she whispered gently, and tears blurred her sight.

*Finish*