If the war was hard, what happened after may have been harder.
When Harry awoke hours later, he knew he had slept too long. The window was filled with a blazing light, but he could tell by the stiffness of his limbs that it must be the next day. Slowly, the realization creeped over him that this would be the first full day without Voldemort, the first full day of peace and freedom. Somehow, without the search for the Horcruxes in front of him, Harry felt strangely empty.
He rose from bed and dressed slowly, feeling the hours of sleep weigh his limbs down. He seemed impossibly more tired now than he had been before, but it would do no good to put off doing what needed to be done.
He made his way down the staircase. Professor McGonagall had suggested that he sleep in the vacated apartment that usually housed the Head Boy and Head Girl, which were somewhat grander versions of the regular House common rooms. Hermione was curled on a chaise lounge in front of a blazing fire, dozing with her head resting on a book.
She had insisted on staying in the castle with Harry when everyone else Apparated back to the Burrow. He felt as though it would be an intrusion to go back with them, despite Mrs. Weasley's tearful objections. Professor McGonagall had gently yet firmly hinted at "private family time," and Mrs. Weasley had at last accepted that they would remain in the castle, on the condition that they join the family at the Burrow for dinner the following evening.
She stirred when she heard him moving about in the small kitchen, and silently appeared at his elbow to siphon some spilled tea off of the counter. For a moment, she rested her head on his shoulder, letting the silence say what words still could not, then carried the tea tray to the chairs. Harry followed, a plate stacked high with toast in his hands.
They did not speak for several long minutes. Hermione took to flipping through the pages of her book again, a piece of toast between her teeth.
"Hermione," Harry broke the silence. "What on earth could you possibly be reading right now."
She looked almost ashamed and flicked the cover closed, setting the book face down on the table.
"Well, I just thought... and I spoke with Professor McGonagall last night after you went to sleep... well... we sort of... skipped our seventh year, Harry. All of our N.E.W.T.s and everything, but Professor McGonagall said I could come back to finish, and so I borrowed—"
She cut off, suddenly aware that Harry was laughing at her.
"Honestly, after all we've just done, you're worried about school?" Harry could not help himself, he began audibly laughing. Hermione's chuckles soon joined his.
"I guess it does seem a bit ridiculous..." Harry noticed then, how her eyes trailed over the Gryffindor hangings on the walls, how her fingers found the cover of the book again. Suddenly, he was reminded of the sacrifices Hermione had made for him and felt bad for laughing.
"Hermione, if you want to come back to school, you should do it. Honestly. It... education is valuable and..." he trailed off, but she had already turned to him, beaming.
"You don't really think it's a stupid idea?" He felt a rush of affection for Hermione, and shook his head emphatically.
"No, I don't. I may not join you, but I think you should, if you want to. I'll even keep Ron off your back about it." At the mention of Ron's name, Hermione turned very pink and looked away. Harry decided not to broach the subject any further.
They speculated, while finishing their tea and toast, about how Hogwarts would be repaired, who would fill the open teaching positions, and what state the school would be in to open the following year. When they were finished, Hermione waved her wand, vanishing the tray, and silence fell.
"Well, I suppose they'll be expecting us soon." Harry stood, reaching for the pot of Floo Powder beside the fireplace. Hermione remained sitting, then looked up at him, her eyes suddenly wet.
"Harry, I don't think I can go back right away," she was wringing her hands together nervously. "I've just,... thought a lot about it and... Harry I've got to go find my parents."
Another wave of shame overtook him. Of course, Hermione had wiped the memories of her mother and father over the summer. They had moved to Australia nearly a year ago, unaware of their daughter or much of their previous lives. Naturally, now that it was safe for Muggle-borns and Muggles alike, she would want to bring her parents back and restore their memories.
"I just don't want to wait any longer. Either way, I have to know if they can be restored now so that it won't keep eating at me. You think they'll understand, don't you, Harry?"
"Of course they will," Harry sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Oh, no," she stood immediately, shaking her head. "I know where they are, they won't be in any danger. Besides, I think it may come as less of a shock if it's just me."
Harry nodded, then offered her a pinch of Floo Powder. She kissed him on the cheek, took it, and disappeared into the flames. Heavily contemplating what was ahead of him, Harry took a pinch as well.
Staring into the flames, he hesitated. Something felt wrong, missing. There was something he was forgetting to do. Hermione had sent the small beaded bag back to the Burrow with Ron, after removing fresh clothing for herself and Harry, but it was not a possession, it was something different...
With a gasp, Harry remembered and stalked immediately into the flames, speaking the name of the homeowner desperately as he went, unsure of what to call the house.
He emerged onto a rug in a home he had been in only once before. She was sitting in a rocking chair by the fire, blankly staring at a framed photograph on the wall. Harry stood quietly, and her eyes flicked to him.
"You came sooner than I expected." He gaped at her for a few moments, unsure of what to say.
"Mrs. Tonks, I am—" He began, pausing when she held a hand up to him. Her face was strangely calm, her eyes focused and clear.
"I know, Harry. You needn't say it." She pushed herself to her feet, seeming suddenly wearing. "You are his godfather, after all, I did expect you sooner or later."
Crooking a finger, she led him into what Harry vaguely remembered to be a bedroom. It had become a nursery since his last visit. The walls were splayed with a colorful moving mural of animals, most moving calmly on the grass, a few dozing beneath the shade of trees or lapping at water from a pond. Harry could have spent hours looking at them, had it not been for the small blue bundle in the crib.
Teddy was asleep, his mouth agape, his hair a brilliant shade of bubble-gum pink. His hands were at his sides, clenching and then unclenching. Harry was astounded at how tiny he seemed, how small his curled up fists appeared. As they stared down at him, he murmured and closed his mouth, turning his head to the other side.
"I knew as soon as his hair turned that shade," Andromeda Tonks said, staring down at her grandson. "He was fascinated when Dora did it, but this is the first time he's ever done it himself. Kingsley dropped by a few hours ago."
For one singular moment, Harry was grateful that he did not have to be the one to break the news to her. Still staring into the face of his godson, he came to one startling realization, one that he should have come to in Shell Cottage a few months ago. His voice laden with shame, he turned to Teddy's grandmother.
"Mrs. Tonks, I don't know the first thing about raising a child." Andromeda laughed, then, a sad and brief chuckle.
"To tell you the truth, Harry, I think you'd find me to be a worthier opponent than Voldemort if you tried to take Teddy from here." He looked at her, shocked, and was once again startled by the physical similarities she shared with her now fallen sister. "He is, after all, the only family I have left."
With a rush, Harry remembered the face of Ted Tonks, her husband, a Muggle-born who had died on the run. He remembered Tonks herself, nose resembling that of a pig, sitting across from him at dinner at the Burrow. He remembered Remus Lupin, tall and graying and serious, but a man Harry yearned to have known better. He wished very fervently that they were alive now, wished that Lupin himself could have introduced Harry to his godson, wished that this little family had not been blasted apart by war.
"Of course, I didn't mean..." he said nervously, but Mrs. Tonks merely put an arm around his shoulder as they looked down at Teddy together.
After several long moments of watching the baby sleep, Mrs. Tonks steered Harry back to the sitting room. He sat, relieved and nervous and sad all at once, while Mrs. Tonks sat opposite him, inspecting him.
"Harry, I want you to know something." She began, and Harry looked up. "I am sure, that what you're feeling is a lot of sadness, a lot of anger, and some happiness."
He opened his mouth to interject but Andromeda raised her palm, plowing over his words.
"I do not doubt that the sliver of happiness you feel is made mostly of relief, that this war is won and over. I do know that this small bit of joy, of pride, is overshadowed by grief, and I know that you even feeling happiness at all is merely adding to that grief." Her eyes we kind, but she did not smile at him. Her face was stoic and serious.
"No one blames you for any of what has happened. By all accounts, you have pushed away those who wanted most desperately to offer you help, for fear of their safety. You denied Remus an opportunity to help you this past year, and I think I can speak for myself and my daughter when I say we are forever grateful for it."
"Harry, you should be proud. You accomplished a feat which no other wizard has been able to do. You have performed complex magic that many wizards never master. You have endured years of turmoil, you have shouldered a burden that the Wizarding World placed solely on your shoulders, and you have never complained of the pressure. But Harry, you are seventeen. It is time to unload that responsibility."
"I will keep Teddy here. If there ever comes a time where you wish him to move with you, we will discuss that matter then. In the meantime, you are welcome here, always." She said this firmly, but smiled at him slightly, for the first time since she began speaking. "Do not be too hard on yourself. The war is won. It is time to rest, to relax, and to enjoy the peace that so many sacrificed for."
Harry felt a great swell in his heart for Andromeda Tonks. He stood, crossed the room in two steps, and sank into the couch next to her, pulling her towards him in a tight embrace. Shocked but pleased, Andromeda wrapped her arms around him as well. It was several long moments before they parted, and neither had dry eyes by the end of it.
They spoke at length about Teddy, reminisced about Ted and Tonks and Remus, and arranged for Harry to come spend a few days with his godson in the coming weeks. At the end of the conversation Harry felt much lighter, though he still felt sharp pangs when thinking about why Teddy was his responsibility.
Looking up at the quickly darkening sky, Harry once again wrapped his arms around Andromeda, as she now asked him to call her, and invited her to the Burrow for dinner. She declined, mentioning that Teddy would be waking soon and was still too young for all that excitement. As she ushered him to the door so he could Disapparate in the garden, she pressed a photograph into his hand.
With a wave and a smile, Harry turned on the spot and vanished, reappearing miles later in the front lawn of the Burrow. He paused to look down at the photograph, a smiling Tonks with her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead, holding a small blue bundle who's hair color changed as his face crumpled into a sneeze, and Lupin, his radiant smile a cross between nervous and elated. Harry watched the tiny family in the photograph evidently taken moments after Teddy's birth, and smiled.