Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this. All of it is currently owned by J.K. Rowling.
Harry stared at the wan faces looking up from the cots all around him. How could he let this happen? How could he allow so many to die? The Weasleys were huddled together in a corner. He couldn't look at them. He couldn't bear to see the tear streaked face of Mr. Weasley, the regretful cries of Percy, the agonizing sobs of George, the silent tears of Ginny...Ginny...
He risked a glance in their direction. Bill was doing his best to comfort Ginny. Quickly, he looked away as he felt tears of his own threaten to overwhelm him.
"'Arry, there's somethin' yeh need teh see." Hagrid's hand fell heavy on Harry's shoulder.
"What is it?" He looked up at the half-giant; he looked worse than he did when he brought Grawp to the Forbidden Forest.
"It's Remus, 'Arry. He wants teh see yeh."
Harry nodded. He knew Remus had been injured, something about a werewolf, but he wasn't sure how bad it was. The only thing he could do what pray the healers knew what they were doing. Hagrid led the young hero through the crowds of injured and dieing. Anyone who was awake watched him intently. He was the one they had rallied around. He was the one who destroyed You-Know-Who, the one who had slain Voldemort. Harry felt as if a massive weight had been placed on his shoulders. Now, there was no question he was destined for great things. There were no more proponents of Voldemort that would dare rally while he was alive, while the great Harry Potter still lived. They saw him as the protector of good witches and wizards everywhere. The thought made him sick.
Remus was tucked away in a corner of the great hall. Harry was stopped by his appearance. His face was white, his hair looked darker than it had any right to. His lips were blue. The bandages binding his chest seethed with blood. His chest rose and fell shakily, as if uncertain how to breathe.
He was dieing.
"Harry!" Remus said weezily. He reached out his hand and grabbed Harry's wrist. Harry fell to his knees in order to be level with him, make it easier on the dieing man.
"Remus, please, be quiet. Don't make this harder than it has to be," Harry whispered. He bit back bitter tears and anger. This was not the time for such things.
"Harry, you need to promise me something." Remus coughed, blood sputtering onto his hand.
"Remus..."
"Harry! Hear me out, please. If there's one time to listen, now is it. Take care of Teddy."
Harry stared at the pale face of Remus Lupin, silent. It felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Why was he asking Harry?
"What about Tonks? Can't she..."
"She's dead."
It felt as if a knife had been dug deep into Harry's stomach. The Lupins...killed by Voldemort...the only survivor Teddy.
"I...I'm sorry," Harry muttered. His eyes searched for some condolence in Remus, but Remus, caught in the throes of death, could offer none.
"Goodbye, Harry. Say so long to Teddy for me, will you?"
"Of course."
Remus smiled and closed his eyes.
"Come on, 'Arry. It's time teh go." Hagrid wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him away from his friend, one of the last living remembrances of his father Harry had.
Around him, men died. Many of them were Hogwarts students. The Creevies were sobbing over their son, the Patils rejoicing in their safety. How could he let this happen? Silent, he went out to the grounds and walked to the Quidditch pitch.
The grass was poorly kept. He couldn't imagine Snape condoned the sport while working under Voldemort. It didn't matter. The high stands and hoops made him feel comfortable, at home, and safe. Using his wand, he forced his way into the storage shed and pulled out a broom. It was a classic old Hogwarts broom, unlikely to easily bend to his will. Regardless, he mounted and began to soar through the sky.
If there was one thing he missed about Hogwarts, other than the food and classes and professors and his comrades, it was Quidditch. The thrill of it all was matched only by life threatening situations, and those weren't nearly as fun. His broom was sluggish, but it got the wind rushing through his hair. He inhaled the sweet air and grinned. The sun beat warmly on his back, the first comforting embrace he had felt all week...all year.
Harry struggled to imagine what it was going to be like without Fred...without Remus...without Tonks...without Voldemort. What was he going to do now? As far as anyone else was concerned, his purpose was fulfilled. There had to be something else.
He pushed the thought from his mind and let his broom carry him in circles.
His broom kept losing elevation. It frustrated Harry, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it back up. Complying with its demands, Harry landed and sprawled out on the grass. He stared at the clouds above him, silent.
"Harry, what are you doing here?"
Harry sat up, alarmed, and he took out his wand. It was only Hermione, her left arm in a sling. She came over to him and sat down next to him.
"Quite the night, wasn't it?" she said, leaning back to look at the sky.
Harry grunted in agreement. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want company. He didn't want to be reminded of what he had done.
"You know, they're all looking for you. I got you this, by the way." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a muffin. Harry took it and examined it in his hands.
"Who's looking for me?"
"Mainly the Weasleys. They want to take us back to the Burrow."
Harry looked at Hermione. She looked beat up, worn, pale. But, at the same time, peacful. How could she be at ease with so many people dead?
"I don't want to go back to the Burrow."
"Harry, you need to go somewhere."
"I'll go to Godric's Hollow, or stay here with Hagrid."
"You know Mrs. Weasley isn't going to let you. Besides, Ginny -"
"Ginny? Ginny!" Harry stood up, furious. "I don't want to hear about Ginny!" He whipped the broom off the ground and mounted. It wouldn't take off. He looked over his shoulder and saw Hermione with her wand out, restraining the broom as if it was only a toothpick.
"You need to come with us to the Burrow."
"Why?"
"The minister has ordered it."
"The minister?"
"Yes, the minister."
"You mean Shacklebolt."
"The minister has ordered you to the Burrow."
Harry stared at Hermione -- angry, frustrated, and irate.
"Fine. You know what? I don't care! I don't care, Hermione!" He flung the broom across the field. Hermione got to her feet and looked him in the eye.
"Yes you do," she said. "Now come on, the Weasleys want to get out of here."
Harry wanted to knock her down, but restrained himself and followed after her.
Harry sat between Ron and the window on the train ride back to Platform 9 3/4. Ron and Hermione held hands the entire way back. Harry kept his eyes on the passing countryside. Ginny sat across from him. She slept with her head in Bill's lap, Fleur's head on his shoulder. George was in another compartment, as were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
"'Ow long is zis ride, Bill?" Fleur asked.
"We're almost halfway there," Bill said.
Someone knocked on the door and Ron got up to open the door. It was the trolley.
"Anything you want for free, dears. All of you have been through such an ordeal, I can't bear to charge you," the trolley lady said.
"Do you guys want anything?" Ron said.
"I just want pumpkin juice," Hermione said.
"Me too," Fleur said.
"I'm fine, but you should probably get Ginny a pumpkin pasty and some juice for when she wakes up," Bill said.
"Harry?"
"I don't want anything." Harry didn't take his eyes off the rolling countryside. There was something captivating about the green hills that allowed him to forget about everything around him. He didn't think of Ginny, or of Fred. He forgot temporarily about the Lupins and Creevies. He didn't remember the screams of the wounded, the moans of the dieing, the cries of the survivors. To take his eyes away from the window, too look around him, was to return to reality and admit the grim situation of the present. The snacks were passed around, and Harry remained silent.
Ginny stirred and looked around with wide eyes, as if she didn't remember where she was. Her breathing was ragged. Harry glanced at her and his heart broke. She looked scared, her mouth parted and cheeks flushed. She was having the same nightmare as he was. Stolidly, he returned his gaze to the countryside. The present could wait another hour.
"It's going to be weird without Fred," Ron finally whispered.
Silence.
Ginny turned her head to face the window. Harry could see the tears begin to trickle down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe them away. This was his fault. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be crying right now. She'd be perfectly happy, on her way home from another year at Hogwarts. If it hadn't been for him, the Lupins would be alive, the Weasleys would be happy...
"Harry," Ginny said, "are you alright?" He turned to face him, her cheeks glistening with tears.
"Yeah. I'm fine," he replied, not looking away from the window. The entire compartment looked at him. Harry resolved not to say anything, at least not with Ginny around. Ginny didn't pester him further.
The Burrow was like Harry remembered it. Dishes were stacked in the sink, gnomes ran around the garden, and the mirror told him to tuck in his shirt.
"Harry, you'll be staying with Ron until we can work out the new rooms upstairs. Hermione, with Ginny, and Percy, you're going to have to sleep with Fred. Bill and Fleur can have the last room," Mrs. Weasley said, flicking her wand at the pile of dirty dishes. The familiar running water and the clangor of pots began to fill the house.
"C'mon, Harry. Ginny got rid of that ghoul, so we don't have to worry about it any more," Ron said, leading the way up the stairs. Hermione followed closely behind him, and then Harry. Ginny stayed downstairs to help her mother.
Ron's room was exactly as he remembered it. His Hogwarts trunk was stuffed in one corner and overflowing with junk. A few robes were crumpled on the floor. Splashes of orange and black brightened up his room. Harry sat on the disheveled bed.
"Ron...why is your sheet bloody?" Harry asked, pulling back the covers a bit.
"Oh..um...well..."
"I thought you said you washed the sheets!" Hermione, her face bright red, screamed as she pulled out her wand. Harry quickly moved out of the way.
"I did...they...it just didn't come out."
"Did you use bleach?"
"What?"
"Bleach -- did you use bleach?"
"I don't even know what it is, how can I use it?"
"Whatever...they're fine now. That's the last time I ask you to do something important," Hermione muttered.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked tentatively.
"All what?" the pair asked in unison. Ron sat next to Harry and Hermione settled into the desk chair.
"So talk to us," Hermione said. "We know something is bothering you. What is it?"
"It's nothing."
"Look, Harry, you've just done something amazing. You know, no one really thought you could. There was a running pool among the Slytherins that said you'd chicken out," Ron said. Hermione kicked him into silence.
"What he is trying to say is that it must have been emotional for you to kill the man who killed your parents. Are you alright?"
"With what? Voldemort got what was coming to him. I mean, I had to. I was the one who started this whole thing." Harry tightened his jaw and stared at the floor. He started it. It was his fault this whole thing happened in the first place.
"You know, Harry, I believe Voldemort started this whole thing, not you," Ron said, leaning back on his bed.
"No...if it wasn't for me...if it wasn't for me none of this would have happened."
"Yeah, Voldemort would still be killing people. I can't believe how terrible you are!" Ron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Shut up! You don't get it, alright? You don't understand! You're wrong! I stood there and watched while Remus died and Fred and Tonks! I saw all this pain, and why? Because Voldemort wanted me. He wanted me, Ron. If I had just fought him sooner, this could have all been avoided. He wouldn't have invaded Hogwarts, and none of this would have happened!" Harry stood up and began pacing back and forth, his hands fists at his side. "If he had just killed me with my parents..."
"Harry, stop," Hermione said. "I saw all of it, too. It was because Voldemort was too weak to take you on alone."
"It's still because of me, Hermione! Because of me he brought in more witches and wizards!"
"It's his fault, Harry, not yours. Get that thought out of your head. He was the one who killed them all. Voldemort, not Harry Potter. Do you understand?" Hermione pressed. "It wasn't you. It was Voldemort."
Harry looked away from her, out Ron's small window. He saw a garden gnome run across the lawns. He shook his head, tears overwhelming him. He buried his face in his hands.
"Why don't you take a rest," Ron said. He got up and pulled the cot from his closet and set it up. "There, sleep a while, and then we'll go play Quidditch." Ron led Hermione out of the room and left Harry alone.
They still didn't understand. Did he expect them to? No. He didn't. They were good friends to him, but they would never, he hoped, understand how it felt to be hunted down.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up from his hands. Ginny stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. Ron had failed to close the door.
"What is it?" He quickly wiped the tears from his face.
"I...I think I understand."
"What are you talking about?"
"I think I understand how you feel. I've felt the same way. Last night...I helped out the healers and every man that died under my care...I felt like it was somehow my fault, that I failed to do something, or forgot to bandage something. And...and I don't know. It's like I failed, even though I know I didn't."
Harry stared at her, silent. Her eyes were red, her cheeks ruddy.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. Ginny stepped inside the room and leaned against the wall. She had gotten taller -- her pants were almost too short for her -- during the time he was gone.
"It's nothing you can change. I was worried about you, you know," she said. "I couldn't stop thinking...about how it would be if you died. I knew if you died before Voldemort, that we would be some of the first families he killed. I was glad about that. I couldn't imagine living constantly thinking about a dead man."
Harry wanted to cry. He wanted to curl in a ball and die. He wanted to disappear. He hardened himself against these emotions and looked at her. She wanted him to talk, now. He wasn't about to abandon this opportunity.
"I was worried about you, too," he said softly. "I was afraid something would happen to you, and it would be my fault."
Ginny walked into the room and sat next to him.
"I don't know if you feel the same way, Harry, but...but I'm not sure what I'd do without you."
Harry looked at her and wrapped his arm around her.
"I do feel the same way," Harry said.
Ginny leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder.
Harry looked across the table at Ginny and grinned. She returned the smirk before returning to her eggs and bacon. Ron and Hermione came down the stairs together, hand in hand. Percy, George, and Harry stared at them. They sat next to each other and stared resolutely at their plates.
"You're down late," Ginny said, struggling to hold back her smile. "Usually you're here before me, Hermione."
Hermione and Ron ignored her and ate their breakfast silently.
"They're going to break some big news soon," Percy whispered to Harry.
"I wonder what it could be," Ginny mused.
"They're probably going to admit to having sex," Percy jested.
Ron and Hermione's faces went bright red.
"Maybe Ron accidentally broke mum's china," Ginny said.
"Or Hermione's pregnant," Percy said.
"Or Ron's pregnant!"
"Or they've got some nasty disease."
"Or the garden gnomes are blackmailing them because they saw them have sex."
"Or the ghoul."
"I got rid of the ghoul."
"Really? I could have sworn I heard someone moaning this morning in Ron's room. Oh, I'm sorry, was that you, Hermione?"
"Stop it!" Ron stood up and knocked his plate to the floor. "We're getting married, alright?"
Everyone was silent. George dropped his fork. Ginny's eggs fell off the end of hers. Percy stared at them. Harry bit back his laughter. Mrs. Weasley's dishes crashed together in the sink.
"Out!" Mrs. Weasley demanded. "Out, with all of you but the two idiots I seem to be stuck with."
"Come on, Harry," George whispered, "I know a good spot we can go to hear the whole thing."
Harry, Ginny, and Percy all followed George out to the garden and sat under the window to witness the fireworks.
"I can't believe you'd do something so irresponsible!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.
"Oh! She's got them cornered there. It'll definitely hit Hermione hard, right Fred?" George said with a silly grin on his face. His grin melted with his countenance and he quickly crawled out from their hiding place, as he remembered where Fred was. Harry watched him, aghast and hurt. Were they so attached that they just said each others' names in the middle of sentences? Yes, they were. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the guilt.
"We're adults!" Ron shouted. "We can make this decision for ourselves!"
"Evidently not! A year out of Hogwarts and already you're going haywire!"
"Mum! We aren't idiots!"
"I beg to differ!"
"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione interrupted softly. "I know you don't approve. But...last night...I couldn't...I couldn't think of anything but Ron, and...and how distraught I would be if he died. I just...I just don't see the sense in waiting to do something that is inevitable, anyway."
There was silence for a moment.
"I suppose you haven't told your parents?" Mrs. Weasley said.
"No."
"Well, you have to tell them."
"I…they…" Hermione's voice dropped off.
"Hermione...fine..." Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley sigh and pick up her wand, and the clangor of pots continue. "But when your father gets a hold of you, Ron, I'd expect quite a beating."
"Would your father really beat him?" Harry asked Ginny.
"Oh, yes, unless he can come up with half as good a reason as Hermione. They won't be able to pull that twice," Ginny replied.
"Well, one thing is for sure...if we ever decide to get married, I'm asking your father first."
Percy stood up and straightened his glasses.
"Are you up for a game of Quidditch?" he asked.
"Always," Harry answered, getting up himself. "So long as I can play keeper."
"What? No way, you're the worst keeper I have ever seen," Ginny refused, Harry helping her up. Shaking his head, Harry led the way to the apple orchard.
Harry stared, silent, at Lupin's gravestone. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. All he could do was stare mindlessly at Lupin's name etched in stone. He felt cold. Ginny stood behind him, as silent and still as he.
"You know, I think he was perhaps the best defense against the dark arts teacher we've had," Ginny said softly. Harry could only nod in agreement. He didn't trust himself to speak. He could hear Hermione sniffling somewhere behind him. Harry was glad Ginny wasn't like that; he wouldn't be any good at consoling her.
"Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs, united once again," George said wistfully. "Some of the greatest minds Hogwarts has ever seen. May you be marauders in peace forevermore." Mrs. Weasley smacked him on the side of his head.
Harry couldn't help from grinning; that sounded about right. Tears rose in his eyes and began to trickle down his cheek. Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs, united once again. Tears overwhelmed him and he began wipe them away. All three had died to rid the world of darkness. The least Harry could do was to do the same….again.
"Ginny," Harry said, sniffling almost as much as Hermione, "Do you want to get some Butterbeer or something?"