This is a story involving most of the main characters, on what happened after the war. I always thought there should have been an extra chapter in DH, so I'm making up my own version. I haven't written much HP fanfiction so I hope I have written the characters at least partly believable. Thank you.
Harry had a feeling of dread in his stomach. He would have given anything he owned for this day to never arrive. Today was Fred's funeral, and Harry felt responsible. So many people had tried to protect him and this was another unbearable loss. If Harry hadn't been hiding out at Hogwarts, searching for the last Horcrux, then Fred never would have died. He had asked Mrs Weasley if she would prefer it if he'd not attend his funeral, telling her that he completely understood if this was the case.
"Don't be silly dear," she said, a forced smile on her tired and drawn face. So Harry was resigned to seeing the people he loved most in the world desperately upset on possibly the worst day of their lives. At the moment Harry was lying on his bed in number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione, Ron and Ginny were all around somewhere in the house as The Burrow simply could not accommodate all the extra people arriving to pay their respects. As much as Molly didn't like it, she knew that there was limited space, and that Grimmauld Place was once again safe. Kingsley Shaklebolt had insisted on sending a couple of his aurors to secure the building before Harry had ever set foot back there, but it was indeed safe.
Harry was brought out of his musings by a gentle knock on the door. He sat up on his bed before it opened and Ginny appeared there. "You're awake," Harry said, rather pointlessly.
"I can't sleep very well these days," she said quietly, sitting on the bed next to Harry. He reached for her hand and held it tightly.
"I know." The silence grew between them but it was comforting rather than oppressive. Eventually Harry felt the need to speak. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" she asked confused, a frown furrowing her forehead.
"For Fred," Harry said bluntly. "I feel its at least partly my fault. If I hadn't…"
"You didn't kill him," Ginny said harshly. "You didn't make the Death Eaters storm the castle. It wasn't your fault that V… Voldemort wanted to kill as many people as possible. I'm already grieving and missing my brother, I can't cope if you start feeling guilty too."
"Okay," he said firmly, seeing that her eyes were filling with tears. Harry put his arms around her and drew her close.
"We should get ready," Ginny said brushing her tears away with frustration.
"Its still early," Harry replied. "We've got a few hours yet. You can stay here for a while longer." She smiled into his shirt and got slightly more comfortable as Harry slowly stroked her hair. She didn't really want to move anyway.
Hermione stood in the kitchen, biting her lip. She didn't know what to do, and for someone who always liked to be so sure of herself, this was an odd feeling. Ron was still asleep upstairs, but she knew he already hated this day with a passion. She'd promised to wake him, but not for another hour or so. He'd only walk around the house bewildered, not knowing what to do with himself which wouldn't help anyone, least of all Ron himself. Hermione jumped as a crack echoed around the kitchen and Kreacher appeared on the kitchen table.
"Good morning Miss Hermione," he said croakily, his big ears flapping, and the fake locket still around his neck. The locket which had made Kreacher a thoroughly more pleasant elf to be with. "Would you like some breakfast miss? I'll get the bacon on."
"No thank you," Hermione said. "Somehow I don't think anyone's going to be that hungry today."
"It's a sad day."
"It is Kreacher," Hermione agreed. Hermione moved to start making her coffee but Kreacher took over instantly. "You don't have to…" Hermione started.
"I'm a house elf Miss," Kreacher said, still croakily. "Its my job." Hermione reluctantly let go of the kettle as Kreacher filled it and magically lit the stove to warm it. Hermione watched as he very quickly gave her a mug of steaming coffee, with milk and one sugar, just as she liked it.
"Thank you."
"Miss, I wanted to ask you something," Kreacher said warily as he started twisting his ears. Hermione nodded for him to continue "How did… How did Dobby die?"
"I thought you didn't like Dobby," Hermione said, not unkindly.
"I didn't," he said grumpily. "But… its like someone you hate and you always fight with. You miss it when they're no longer there."
Hermione nodded in understanding. She explained what had happened as the scar on her arm spelling mudblood seemed to prickle.
"So Bellatrix Lestrange… killed Dobby?"
"Yes," Hermione said simply as the elf tried to wrap his head around this. The woman he would have loved to belong to not that long ago had killed another house elf.
"And Mrs Weasley killed Bellatrix?"
"Yes," Hermione agreed.
"Mistress Bellatrix was a bad woman wasn't she?"
"Yes Kreacher," Hermione agreed again. "She was." Kreacher spat on the floor angrily before disappearing with another hollow crack. Hermione stared at the spot where he'd vanished before drinking some (exceptionally good) coffee. When her mug was empty she decided to wake Ron up. From experience she knew that he took at least an hour to be functional in the world of the living. Going up two rickety staircases, she kept her eyes open for either Harry or Ginny, but no one seemed to be up yet. She opened Ron's bedroom door and found him snoring loudly. Charming, she thought to herself. Smiling slightly, she pointed her wand at the curtains which flew open and made Ron groan from the bed. Really, she was getting very good at non verbal spells, she thought proudly.
"Whatcha doing…" he moaned. "…s early."
"I know," Hermione said. "I thought today you might want to be up early."
"Want to be?" Ron questioned, one eye opened as he studied her.
"Sorry," she said, feeling a little stupid. "Maybe that was the wrong word."
"You think?"
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," she said bluntly, trying to change the subject as she sat on the end of his bed.
"Mm," Ron half grunted. "You smell like coffee."
"There's some in the kitchen," Hermione answered with an innocent smile.
Ron glowered at her and then reached for his wand. She tried to grab it first but he was too quick for her and he murmured "Accio coffee," before she could stop him. That was when he realised his mistake. The wand gave a shudder and then turned into a cracked old potion bottle. They both stared at it for a moment, realising this was one of Fred and George's fake wands. How it had ended up here was anyone's guess, but it brought them back to the horrible occasion they were waking up to today. "I miss him."
"I know," Hermione said, taking the potion bottle from him and making it quickly vanish into thin air. She passed him his own wand and he repeated his earlier spell. A mug of coffee appeared and Ron seemed slightly pleased with himself as he drank it. Hermione smiled at him but could think of nothing to say. However Ron spoke next.
"I can't even imagine what George is going through today."
"Neither can I," Hermione agreed. They were both silent as the sky steadily lightened outside. A perfectly sunny day. Of course.
Worth continuing? All feedback really appreciated, and thank you for reading.