*Musical inspiration for this intro: Uninvited – Alanis Morissette. I figured it sounded dramatic enough to listen to as I began this story.
It had become clear to everyone in the wizarding world that Dumbledore's death was only the first calamity leading towards impending doom. Many students withdrew from Hogwarts for fear of reduced protection after Dumbledore's death. Deep down I couldn't deny that I was relieved to learn that it hadn't been Draco who killed Dumbledore—Harry confirmed. Even so, I had spent my seventh year in Ireland, attending a magical boarding school my parents enrolled me in. I'd been keeping in touch with friends from Hogwarts, only to hear bad news each time I received a letter. The Carrows weren't proving to be benevolent forces and I only hoped that anyone who stayed was surviving. I recalled the Battle of Hogwarts, in which I'd lost so much more than I ever knew was possible. I remembered seeing Draco during the battle, when he and his parents ran from the castle, curses and bodies flying everywhere. I don't know that he ever saw me, but did it really matter? Fred's funeral was one of the saddest days of my life. I couldn't recall having cried so much as I gave my condolences to the Weasleys, Ginny's face so bereaved that I didn't recognize her when we hugged. I knelt in the grass by Fred's gravestone, George sitting beside me. I wondered if I'd ever stop crying. It felt like I never would as I gripped his hand. It was strange seeing him like that; I constantly imagined a laugh upon his face, the way he and Fred generally were, but that was so far gone that it was almost like I didn't know him. Weeks passed and I grieved. I grieved with my family and I grieved with my friends. I spent so much time with the Weasleys after Fred's funeral that I started to feel like one of them. For the first time in over a month, I walked into the store that George had neglected to open. He turned on the lights and turned in a complete circle, taking in all of the things he and Fred had created. And he fell to his knees and sobbed. I felt my eyes burn hot but they didn't cry anymore; I'd reached a point where I didn't really have any more tears to cry. Instead it was just painful to constantly think about friends I'd lost. I sat on the floor beside George and didn't say anything. There was no real comfort to offer, so I just pulled my arm round his shoulder and let George cry. He was leaning against my chest, and soon became so heavy there that I could barely support his weight and slipped over against the dusty floor. George looked down at me, his eyes reddened from crying so much. He breathed and just looked down at me. A heavy tear rolled out of my eye and he kissed my closed mouth. He looked at my face a minute, questioningly, before he kissed me again. There was no more pain in that moment. It was only feeling, and what I felt was George's weight on my body like a shield of some sort. I didn't want any more pain in my life—I couldn't have survived it, and I was sure of that. I felt protected for once. The pain eased somewhat. George placed his hand behind my head and held it, deepening his lips into mine. It was so unexpected and I didn't know what else to do, so I just let it happen. I hadn't been so close to anyone like this since…Draco.