Disclaimer – I own nothing you recognize – JKR is the brilliant mastermind; I just let her characters out to play once in a while. Also, the section titles come from a song called In Our Bedroom After the War by Stars.
A/N – This was written for makebeliever's In Our Bedroom After the War challenge. Thanks to the awesome author summerrain for allowing me to use this formatting style, which I found in two of her stories. Many thanks to my friend Zenny for talking over ideas with me, to Allison and Ginny Brown for helping me with spur of the moment questions on characterization and description, to Allison again for helping me write the very last scene that gave me so much trouble and, finally, to nanabananaxx3, my fantabulous beta! Now to the story, and please – make my day….review!
It takes years to build a life – countless hours spent forming relationships, making memories, working toward hopes and dreams and goals. However, it takes mere hours, minutes even, to watch your carefully constructed, well-tended life crash down around you in a heap of burning rubble. These are the spoils of war.
No one's there – 1981
Owls winged hurriedly through the air; sparks in a rainbow of colors peppered the night sky. Groups of people in an array of dress crowded sidewalks everywhere because they could; even more people gathered at pubs and taverns and in homes – raising their glasses to victory and peace and hope. In the midst of this blissful chaos, a young man stood in the trees at the rear of the dwelling where it had happened – where his world was forever lost and everyone else's was restored.
Remus Lupin stared at the now dilapidated house and thought of Lily and James, dead now, and of baby Harry, gone to live with people who would never understand him. He had asked Dumbledore for the boy but had been denied, as he knew he would be, but he had to try. He thought of Sirius Black, hauled away to Azkaban a few hours previous for murdering Peter, along with twelve Muggles and Lily and James…
The weary man walked slowly up to the house and entered into the kitchen through the back door. He shut it tight behind him out of habit and looked around – dishes from the last dinner the Potter's would ever eat together cluttered in the sink, a pot of soup still sat on the stove, a pile of letters lay by the dish drainer, and there, on the kitchen table, lay Lily's wand. The last free Marauder picked up it, looked at it for a moment, and then pocketed it.
He sat down in one of the chairs and let himself remember a happier time, a fonder memory, a day before the hiding and running and fear. Before they lived in the house they died in, before they put their trust in the wrong man.
"So, Lily, how does it feel to be free of Hogwarts?" Remus asked, sitting at the tiny table of Lily's first flat. He watched as a smile spread, slow and sweet, across her features.
"It feels good. It is a bit lonely at times after living around so many people for so long, though. I'd always expected to move back in with Mum and Dad for at least a while, but…well, they are gone now so that option flew out the window."
"Do you see a future with James?" her friend asked quietly, staring intently at her.
She nodded solemnly. "I do. He's still a right immature git at times…but he's my immature git. I really love him, Remus, more than I ever thought I could love anyone."
He smiled at her, "That's good. He really loves you too."
"Things are going to change again soon, when we join the Order. None of us will be safe again."
"No, but we really aren't safe now."
"That's true, but let's not worry about that now. How's the new job?"
"It's all right; they aren't really thrilled to have a werewolf on staff, but they have me in back stocking. They can forget about me there."
"Oh, Remus, I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"You know I don't dare."
"Maybe you should!"
The memory faded, and he stood and moved through the doorway into the living room. He surveyed the well-kept room; the only things out of place were a few colored blocks that belonged to the baby. Remus spotted James' wand peeking from the couch cushions and pocketed it as well. His feet carried him to the spot just in front of the front door where he knew James had been killed. The man crouched down and placed his hand upon the carpet where his best friend had fallen, closing his eyes.
The wind whipped through the trees, and Remus ran as hard and fast as his legs would go. He could hear shouts in the distance and a woman screaming – suddenly, the scream faded, and the shout turned into an anguished howl. Remus pushed himself until he thought his lungs would burst and his legs fall off, and finally, finally, he broke through the line of trees and into a clearing. The first thing he saw was that James had abandoned his wand in favor of hand to hand combat; he had a man in a headlock and was punching him as hard as he could in the face with his free hand. Two other men lay unconscious on the ground, and a few feet away lay a woman with dark red hair. Remus sent a stunning spell at the Death Eater that James was pounding; he crumpled, and James went with him, still punching, but with both hands now. Remus grabbed the outraged man by the back of the robes and hauled him away.
James stared at Remus a moment, breathing hard, hands still balled into fists, before looking over at Lily, an expression of pure anguish coming over him when he saw her motionless form in the grass. The two men ran and knelt down on either side of the unconscious woman, Remus checking her pulse. Blood was pouring from a wound in her shoulder, and it flopped outward in a strange way when James applied pressure.
Remus moved James' hands away and ripped the sleeve of her robe back. His stomach lurched as he saw her shoulder was a bloody, dislocated mess. James breath hissed out, and he picked her up carefully saying, "St. Mungo's." Her arm flopped, and Remus saw it was only hanging on by a few pieces of meat and muscle fibers. He placed it close to her side and bound it tight.
"You go. I'll clean up here. She'll be all right, Prongs, Lily's a fighter." He nodded tersely, and with a turn and a crack was gone.
Remus stood and moved back through the living room and up the stairs. He entered the baby's room – destroyed now, and thought back to the night after Harry was born…
Lily Potter lay in the bed, looking pale and sick and very much as if death had knocked at her door – which it had. Her naturally creamyskin was nearly translucent; there were circles under her eyes as dark as soot, and the hand she reached out to him shook dangerously.
Remus reached out and took her offered hand, squeezing the fingers gently. "Hey, Lil," he whispered, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.
"Hey," she breathed softly. "Make them go sleep…please." He nodded as he rose up and glanced over at James and Sirius, who sat in chairs on the other side of the bed. They both looked as if they hadn't slept in days; they stared unblinkingly at her, eyes slightly out of focus. The weary man moved over and, grabbing both of his friends by the arms, pulled them out of the room.
"What…Lily…go back…" James muttered, struggling slightly.
"You need sleep. I'll watch over her," Remus said, dumping James on the couch and leading Sirius into his bedroom. He got Sirius tucked in and threw a blanket over the now snoring James before returning to Lily's room and taking up residence in her husband's vacated chair. It was then that he noticed the basinet tucked at the head of the bed. He bent and studied the face of the tiny newborn.
"Harry," she whispered. "His name's Harry James."
"That's a great name. Now go to sleep for a bit, love. You need your rest after everything, especially since they had to move you so soon."
She nodded and reached her hand out once more. He grasped it gently and watched as she drifted slowly off to sleep.
Remus walked over to the overturned crib, to the spot cleared of rubble where he knew Lily had lain; he shook his head softly and turned to leave, absently brushing the tears from his cheek with callused fingers. He crept out the back door and back to the woods, pausing to let one more memory wash over him.
He held her arms in a grip so tight he was sure that when he let go dark purple bruises would mar her pale skin. She was screaming over and over and over, a shrill cacophony of pain that pierced his eardrums and began an ache behind his eyes. The terrified woman pulled and twisted beneath his hands, and still, he wouldn't let go. Finally, he spun her around and crushed her to his chest; her fingers gripped his worn robes tightly, and she sagged against him, screams turning to sobs. He stroked her short dark hair and whispered meaningless words that were meant to comfort.
"You can't go back, Dorcas, they're still there. The others…they are already dead. They'll kill you too if you go back."
She nodded, sobs quieting, and looked up at him. He whispered, "I love you, Dorcas, always and forever."
"I love you too, Remus, till death."
He breathed in sharply as the memory faded and ticked off the names of the people he loved who had died fighting for a better world which was finally to come – but they would never know it. "James, Lily, Peter and Dorcas…" He turned and with a crack was gone.
Darkness filled with dread – 1981
A stone building loomed large in the middle of the north sea - waves tossed angrily against it, but it would not move; winds lashed the sides, but it would not bend; a dense fog hung, obscuring the landscape, but it would not be hidden. Every so often a faint pop would be heard, and someone, or a group of people in certain instances, would materialize at the entrance, take a deep breath, and disappear through the iron door. Inside, screams reverberated off the walls, silenced only when one of the grim guards floated by.
At the very heart of the maze that made up the interior of Azkaban Prison there stood a row of cells with guards posted day and night. In the cell in the exact middle of the row there was a toilet in the corner and a stone shelf jutting out of the wall. On the shelf was a thin, stained mattress, and on this mattress lay a man. They had just tossed him in a few hours previous – his skin was clean, his black hair trimmed neatly, his build slightly muscular, and his gray eyes still contained a spark of life and hope. In time his skin would become caked in dirt and grime, his hair would grow long and matted, his muscles would wither and atrophy, and his eyes would become sunken and haunted.
Sirius Black stood up and walked to the edge of the cell, wrapping his hands tightly around the cold bars. "I want a trial!" the prisoner screamed, listening to the echo of it bounce down the hall over and over and over until the Dementor floated towards him, and he grew quiet. He tried to focus on happy memories, but they slipped easily from his mind. Shaking, he crawled back to the bed and pulled himself onto it as despair overtook him, and he began to drown in the horrors of his past.
The house was still standing except for the top floor on the right side – the side where the nursery was; it had been blasted apart by a curse. Everything was awash in the sickly green glow from the Dark Mark, and Sirius prayed to whoever would listen that things weren't as they seemed. He climbed off his motorbike and ran toward the back of the house – toward the baby he could hear screaming. A figure appeared in the doorway and Hagrid was there, holding the child in one massive hand. Sirius took the baby from him and watched as Hagrid waded back into the wreckage, searching for the others. The wizard clutched the baby to his chest, but he screamed on relentlessly, refusing to be comforted; there was a gash on Harry's forehead, and blood was running in his eyes…
Hagrid sobbed loudly, and Sirius stumbled to his knees as the body of Lily Potter was laid on the grass a few feet away. Still holding the baby tightly, he crawled to the woman who had meant so much to him and smoothed her hair back from her face, which was frozen in an expression of fear and determination. Hagrid returned, this time depositing the body of James on the ground. The world spun around Sirius, filled with death, destruction, and a baby's screams.
He came back to the present, sobbing and shaking, only to be pulled back again by the tide of his memories.
He slipped into the cramped flat, bolting the door behind him, to find James holding a tiny bundle in one arm and waving his wand around with the other hand. He was pale and haggard, and tears were sliding slowly down his cheeks. Sirius leaped out of the way as Lily's good china flew through the air to land neatly in a padded box. He dodged, ducked, and side stepped other boxes, trunks, and flying items as he crossed the room to the man who had been a brother to him for years. Sirius looked about and noticed that the window had been clumsily repaired, and the wood floor was covered in blood and scorch marks.
"I came as quickly as I could, James," he whispered. "How is she?"
"The Healer is still with her. It doesn't…it doesn't look good. She told them to worry about the baby first. We could have other babies! I can't have another Lily…" James' voice broke, and he raised a trembling hand and ran it through his already disheveled hair. "I was only gone for ten minutes. She wanted crisps so badly and we'd run out." He summoned a basinet and placed the tiny bundle in it. Sirius gripped him in a hug. After a moment, James pulled away and resumed packing. "As soon…as soon as she's able to be moved we have to go. They know we're here now. They'll come back. I've put charms up, but they won't hold for long."
Sirius began waving his wand, causing books and papers to fly into the nearest trunk. "Do you have a place to go to?" When James shook his head he continued, "Well you can come stay with me for now."
James nodded and looked around; suddenly, he began to go through the trunks and boxes in a fevered rush, throwing most of the items out on the floor. "James?" Sirius asked hesitantly.
"Can't bring all this…don't need it. No room for knickknacks." The baby began to fuss, and Sirius picked him up, looking at his godson for the first time and marveling at how tiny he was. He sat on the sofa, rocking him gently while James continued his frenzied downsizing. By the time he finished, there were only two trunks and one box, and the floor was horribly cluttered.
James sat down beside them, head in his hands; neither man was sure how long they sat there before the healer came out. The tired woman looked at them and said, "She's going to make it, Mr. Potter."
The memory swirled away and changed again.
Sirius sat on the bed in a tiny flat. The door hung crooked on warped hinges, and soot from burned objects littered the ground. In his lap he cradled the body of Marlene McKinnon – her face covered in blood and hex marks. Soft footsteps were heard, and he looked up to find Lily in the doorway. Her eyes were closed, and one hand was on her just rounding stomach. He gently moved Marlene and stood up.
"You shouldn't be here!" he choked out.
"They found Edgar dead, most of his family too…even the little girl…" the redhead whispered, swaying dangerously. He pulled her close, steadying her, taking comfort and offering it; they remained that way until James came in, looking for them.
Sirius let out a strangled yell as the memory faded and then morphed back into the image of Lily and James lying dead upon the ground. Breathing heavily, he rolled off the stone shelf and transformed into the giant black dog. He curled up under the shelf, repeating over and over two words in his head that would soon become his constant mantra – "I'm innocent!"
You lost it all – 1981
The night was still and calm, except for the occasional bout of Filibuster's Fireworks or shooting stars from Kent. A rat scurried quickly through the long grass of a meadow, wincing slightly as various debris scraped against the open wound where one of his front toes used to be. He darted and dodged away from any noise or light, frantic to find some place to hide.
"They're all gone. You blew it. You can never go back now," was the mantra that repeated over and over in his head. He squeaked pitifully and scurried across the road.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this…I knew once it came out I'd betrayed James and Lily that I would lose my spy position, lose Sirius and Remus and the others…but I thought I would have my real friends, those who were all working for the betterment of wizard society. Now they will blame me for the downfall of the Dark Lord. They will blame me, and I will die. I switched sides to keep death away; I can't give in to it now," he thought.
"Where can I go? The Dark Lord will be back one day, I'm sure of it. I could stay a rat…oh I didn't think of this. I should have thought things out. Careful planning was always Remus' job, never mine. Of course, my job never was much of anything," he sneered to himself.
"Always the weakest, the slowest, and fattest. The one left out or made the butt of the joke and laughed at. Well, who's laughing now? Now that you're dead or in chains. Or Remus, away on the full moon or in prison with dear Sirius…well, Remus is the one left out of things now."
He scurried a while longer and then thought it might be safe to transform, to Apparate away. Rat became man, and Peter Pettigrew Apparated to a spot just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.
"A wizarding village, this is. Perhaps I can find someone to take in a poor homeless rat…a child maybe. I could make a good pet. Eat sweets and sleep all day…then, when I hear of the Dark Lord's return, I can leave and be at his side once more. I can convince him I did not know that the plan would backfire…that he would be so injured. Once I convince him of that I will be welcomed back with open arms…" he said quietly to himself.
He transformed again and scurried around to various houses. Finally, he came to one set far apart from the others. It was quite tall with rooms thrown about pell-mell on the sides, and nothing but magic could have been supporting it. "Yes, this will do nicely…if I can get them to take me in." So, Wormtail settled in the back garden for the night, his old mantra surfacing once more, "You blew it. You ruined everything…"
Look out the window – 1981
In the kitchen of the Burrow, Molly Weasley cautiously stared out the window – she refused to believe the rumors until her husband came home and confirmed them himself. Yes, the owls and shooting stars and occasional head in the fireplace were sign enough – but still she waited. A shout, thud, and scream from the hall above tore her eyes away, and, clutching one baby to her chest and holding the other on her hip, she managed to grab her wand from the sill and charge up the stairs.
She guessed by their position that her three year old twins had latched onto their five year old brother and knocked him down the stairs for the third time in as many days; now all three were punching each other while her oldest two watched with glee. She carefully waved her wand and watched as all of her boys sailed up and into their rooms – doors slamming shut. She heard the fireplace whoosh, and her husband called out, announcing his presence so as to not frighten her.
"Arthur?" she asked, voice trembling, as she entered the kitchen.
"Hey, Mollywobbles," he whispered, smiling softly at her for a moment before his expression turned to slight frustration. "You can't hold them forever."
"I can hold them for now!" she hissed, eyes flashing dangerously.
"Look at Ron squirming; he wants down. You forget he can walk now, Molly. And Ginny will be so spoiled soon."
"I can't bear the thought of losing them…it's been so hard since Fabian and Gideon," she said softly, turning away.
He stepped close behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist. "I know, sweetheart. It's been hard on all of us. We need to talk; will you let Bill take them?"
She nodded, and he took them from her arms and disappeared through the doorway. The woman sighed and leaned back around the counter, arms feeling so empty without her children nestled there. Arthur returned and wrapped his arms around her. "The rumors?" she asked.
A grin broke across his face. "True! The Minister confirmed today. You-Know-Who has gone at last!"
"And the rest…"
His face fell. "He killed that family, the Potters. Remember? We met them at Gideon's about a year and a half ago."
She thought a moment. "The black haired man that worked in the Quidditch shop for a while? And the pretty, young, pregnant woman? Just after Ron was born?" He nodded. "And they're…they're dead?"
"Yes, but the son…when You-Know-Who aimed the killing curse at him it backfired, and he's gone. The house was partly destroyed, but the baby escaped with just a cut on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt."
"Oh! That poor child; just a few months younger than Ron. What will happen to him?"
"I've heard he'll go to his mother's relations. They're muggles though, so I'm not sure."
"Muggles? They'll never understand him. Do you think…could we take him in? We'll have room when we get the new bedroom finished."
"Molly…" Arthur sighed, "He has family. They may not be ideal but I'm sure they will be more than happy to take him in."
She nodded, and he grinned, picking her up and swinging her in a circle until she laughed.
"He's gone! Destroyed! The children are safe! We're safe!" he crowed.
Tears came to her eyes as she smiled. "Safe…" she whispered wonderingly and then began to laugh louder. "Safe! Go tell the children while I start supper."
The Burrow was filled with music and laughter for the first time in quite a while. Late that night, Arthur woke to an empty bed and went to the babies' room where he knew he would find his wife. She sat in a rocking chair, Ginny tucked in one arm and Ron curled up against her shoulder, head nuzzled against her neck.
"Molly," he whispered, "we're safe now. You can put them down. No one's going to come steal them away in the night. No one's going to break in during the day or pull them from the yard."
"Promise?"
He sighed, but whispered, "Promise."
Molly Weasley stood and placed the children in their cribs, marveling at the lightness she felt – she hadn't set them down for more than an hour at a time since her brothers had died just over a year ago. She gazed over her shoulder out the window and watched as a shooting star fell across the horizon. "Safe…"
Lift your head; we are beginning – 1981
In the cozy nursery room on the second floor of the house in Godric's Hollow, Harry Potter was being rocked to sleep by his mother, who was softly singing him a lullaby. He smiled up at her and wrapped a piece of her hair around his chubby finger. A loud noise sounded from downstairs, and the sleepy child whimpered, snuggling closer to Lily. She tensed and stood warily, reaching in her pocket for her wand and cursing softly when she realized it was still lying on the kitchen table where she had been cleaning up after dinner.
Shouting from downstairs caused the baby to be dropped into his crib, and he watched in fascination as the young woman dragged the heavy oak rocking chair in front of the door and began to pile boxes that had yet to be unpacked in and around it.
He reached his arms up and chirped, "Mummy!"
Harry's mummy smiled at him and scooped him up, holding him tightly to her. She whispered, "Mummy loves you, Harry, so much. I'll protect you; somehow…you'll grow up strong and have a better life. No matter what happens, never forget how much I love you."
The door was forced open, and the child was once more dropped into his crib. He watched as the pretty green light came forth and his mother dropped from sight. He watched as the tall man advanced toward him. The boy began to cry as he realized the man was not his daddy, and suddenly, there was light and pain and sound, and Harry was scared, but there was no one there.
The force of the explosion that blasted apart the top of the house rolled the crib over, and the child literally bounced across the floor, tumbling head over heels to land beside his mother, who had been thrown several feet. He tugged at her arm, wailing and calling out for her, but she wouldn't wake up and care for him – would never again wake up and care for him.
Later, baby Harry was dug from the wreckage and passed from person to person until he was left on the doorstep of his aunt and uncle. He was woken by her screams, and he rose up, looking for his mum, but his world was beginning anew and, she was no longer a part of it.
No one's there – 1998
Teddy Lupin lay, fast asleep, in his crib at his grandmother's house, completely oblivious to the world around him and the fact that at six weeks old, he was an orphan. He would never know his parents, would have no memories of them, would never have the ability to talk with them, and would never again be comforted by the touch of his father or the voice of his mother. Andromeda would raise him to the best of her ability, but he would always wonder what they were like, would always wish that things had turned out differently.
However, now, he was too small to mourn them, so Andromeda would complete this task in his stead. She sat beside a crib, several framed photos in her hands. There were dozens of pictures, all taken in the last year, all of them showing Dora and Remus. They were dancing, sitting by the fire, laughing and waving and smiling. A few of them faded into pinched expressions that lasted only a second and served as a reminder that their courtship and marriage had occurred during the middle of a war.
The older woman sighed and placed the best picture of them all on the baby's dresser – it showed Dora sitting on the couch holding a tiny bundle with bright blue hair, and leaning over the couch was Remus, gazing at them as if they were the most precious things on earth. That picture, the last one taken, would remain on Teddy's dresser for years, and, when he left for Hogwarts, would take up residence on his bedside table. He would not remember his parents for dying in the war like so many others would, but instead, he would remember them as they were days before – as the two people who loved him best and gave up everything for him.
Darkness filled with dread – 1998
Grimmauld Place stood silent and stoic – a dark, dingy sentinel in the midst of London. Inside, the rooms lay empty once more. The walls held the memories of the family that once lived there – two boys played and wrestled in the drawing room; two teenagers argued bitterly in the upstairs hallway, parents screaming and cursing them in the dining room – the oldest boy screaming at his parents, grabbing his trunk, and storming out of the foyer. Years later…of that boy turned man returning to hide, only to leave again after a time and never coming home again.
Yes, people come and go quickly, the house was a testament to that. Those who remembered Sirius Black in a positive light were few and far between – many of them gone to the same place as he. But the house – the house he grew up in, the house he hated, the house he returned to for a time – it remembered him, not in a good light or bad, but just as he was.
You lost it all – 1998
In the basement of the large, majestic manor house that belonged to the Malfoys there was a large, heavy door. Behind it, there was a cell that had held countless prisoners of war. The blood and bile and filth that come with prisoners had been scrubbed clean, but the one stain remained, oblivious to all magical cleaners and spells. The hand that killed him had faded away with its owner, but the floor would always bare a mark, because that is the way of Dark Magic. It glowed strangely silver in the light – this was all that was left of the once Marauder, the Death Eater, traitor, and murderer, Peter Pettigrew.
Look out the window – 1998
Molly Weasley stared out of the window of the kitchen at the Burrow – memories played out in front of her, as vivid as the day they first occurred. She saw two identical red headed boys playing in the yard - chasing gnomes, flying on toy broomsticks…then on real ones. She could see them chasing their brothers, stealing dolls from their sister, and dragging trunks down the lane on their way to school. Years passed before her eyes, and she saw them zooming in on their brooms; then Apparating in to see her, or for a meal. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then, she saw one boy, dripping blood and missing an ear, the other following along shortly. She saw them appearing again with trunks, coming home to stay. The images ceased, and she saw things as they were – one young man sitting alone in the yard, missing an ear and his other half. She sighed, and memories of sounds rushed out at her. She heard the two boys laughing, shouting, and singing – explosions coming from their room and the many cracks of Apparition. Those, too, faded, and she was left with nothing but a cold, clear silence.
She turned back to the window and watched as the precious little girl and boy she had held so close nearly seventeen years ago moved and sat on either side of their brother. A moment later, her three oldest sons joined them, and she smiled through the tears, watching her children comfort each other.
A sound made her turn, and she saw the messy black haired young man that, seventeen years ago, she wanted to adopt as her own enter the kitchen. She hadn't taken him then, but he came to her later all the same. He stood just inside the doorway, shuffling his feet and staring resolutely at the ground.
"Mrs. Weasley, I…I'm sorry…" he whispered, voice filled with anguish.
She rushed over and folded him into her arms. "You've nothing to apologize for, Harry. You've saved us all."
He wrapped his arms awkwardly around her and whispered, "But I couldn't save him."
She pulled back and patted him on the cheek. "You can't save them all, dearie. You saved the rest of us, and for that I am eternally grateful. Why don't you go have a lie down? How long has it been since you've slept?"
"I…I'm not sure. Since the night we were at Bill's…I suppose that would be the night before last."
"Well, it's all over now, you saw to that. Go up and have a lie down. I'll call you down for lunch in a few hours."
He nodded, and she watched as he disappeared through the doorway. She turned back to the window to see her brood still sitting in the yard, arms around each other. She heard someone come in behind her and felt her husbands arms wrap around her waist. She turned and looked up at him.
"I'm sad and happy both, Arthur."
"As am I. We suffered our losses, but now at least we don't have to worry about losing anyone else."
She nodded and looked out at her many children that were now too big to hold and keep from danger. "I miss Fred so much…but I'm very happy to know that, once again, we are safe." Arthur nodded and held her tight, relishing in the fact that they were still together after so many years.
Lift your head; we are beginning – 1998
Harry Potter lay on his bed in Ron Weasley's attic room and wondered why sleep eluded him. He had been awake for over twenty-four hours, and now, when he finally had some peace and quiet, his brain seemed to be thrown into overdrive. Every time his eyes drifted shut he saw the battle replay, saw those who were injured or gave their lives lying so still, saw the killing curse miss Ginny by an inch, saw Voldemort fall, lifeless, to the ground. He rolled to his side, glasses still on, wand clutched in his hand – he was still jumpy. Some part of him expected retaliation from someone, from some stray follower.
Darkness began to slowly creep up on him, fatigue overruling the images of his brain. His eyes closed, and he began to drift off into a peaceful nothing. A creaking floorboard jolted him out of his dozy reverie, and with speed he didn't even know he had, he was on his feet, wand pointed at the intruder. A redheaded young woman stood just inside the door, her hands raised in surrender, eyes wide, clutching a broomstick that he instantly recognized as Ron's.
Harry sighed and lowered his wand, running a hand shakily through his messy black hair. "I'm sorry, Ginny, you startled me."
"It's all right," she said softly. "I was just bringing Ron's broom back. I, erm…borrowed it while he was away. I would appreciate if you didn't mention that I took it."
"I won't."
"All right then."
She moved over and slipped the broom under the bed before turning to go; however, as she went to edge past Harry, he moved to block her path.
She looked up at him expectantly, and he said, "I missed you."
"I've really missed you too, Harry."
He moved closer to her. "I thought about you so much; nearly every day."
"I'd hoped you hadn't forgotten me. I tried to keep up your fight. I managed it, too, until Easter."
"I know. You shouldn't have been fighting!"
"I couldn't just sit around and let everyone fight for me."
"Ginny…if anything had happened to you I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself. Why did you come to Hogwarts yesterday?"
"Did you really think you could keep me away? If you did, then you don't know me at all."
"You aren't of age!"
"Since when did age matter to you, Mr. Harry I-must-save-the-day Potter?" she said, voice rising in anger."
"I never had a choice!"
"Oh yes, you were forced to come after the Sorcerer's Stone, forced to come after me, forced to do all sorts of other dangerous things. Well, maybe I didn't have a choice either!" she yelled.
"Yes, I could have just let Quirrel get the Stone, let you get eaten by the Basilisk or finished off by Riddle, and let Voldemort finish me off in the graveyard like Wormtail finished off Cedric. It would all be a lot easier if I had died, wouldn't it?"
"No, it wouldn't have been easier at all, but we always have choices," she yelled, pushing past him.
He grabbed her hand and said, "Ginny, wait! I didn't mean to hurt you. God, that was the last thing I wanted. I just…."
"Just what?" she asked, turning toward him and tugging slightly to reclaim her hand.
"I don't know. I'm sorry for what I said, though."
She nodded and ceased struggling for her hand. "It's all right, I suppose.
"You're not mad at me?" he asked, using his grip on her hand to pull her toward him.
"A little…but I'm glad to have you back, and that outweighs the anger right now."
His face brightened, and he smiled at her, "Really? Then can I pay back my debt?"
"What debt would this be, Mr. Potter?"
"This one," he whispered, gently lifting her chin up and pressing his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his long hair, and he sighed, pulling her close. Voldemort was gone, and the future was finally his; the world that so many had fought and died for was now within reach, and he would do all he could to claim it.