Harry Potter swung the Invisibility Cloak back over himself as he, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger descended the moving staircase from the Headmaster's office and made their way to Gryffindor Tower in silence. They turned down the Fat Lady's corridor and stopped at her empty portrait.
"Now what?" Ron said.
"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," the Fat Lady said breathlessly, sliding into her frame. "Armando Dippet saw you leaving Professor Dumbledore's office—" Harry noticed she didn't say "Snape's office"— "and spread the word amongst all the portraits to tell me to get back here." She paused, panting. "It's true, then? You-Know-Who is dead?"
"As a doornail," Ron said. "Can we come in? We don't know the password."
The Fat Lady beamed at them. "Of course you can, of course, of course." She peered round Ron and Hermione. "I assume Mr. Potter is with you?"
Ron and Hermione said nothing.
The Fat Lady pouted. "Very well then," she said, and swung forward.
Harry held his breath as Ron and Hermione preceded him through the portrait hole, uncertain as to how much damage had been done this high in the castle.
But the common room was untouched. A few schoolbooks lay scattered on tables, sweet wrappers and bits of rubbish cluttered the floor and sofas, and last night's ashes remained in the fireplace grate. Since it was also deserted, Harry removed the Cloak.
"It looks smaller than I remember," he said.
"Me too," Ron said.
"I don't—" Hermione sniffed. "I'd forgotten how much I love this place."
Ron gave her a quick sideways hug. "We'll reminisce tomorrow. I'm knackered."
"I'm starving," Harry said.
"Why did we come up here then?" Ron said. "All the food's in the Great Hall."
"I was thinking … maybe Kreacher…."
An awkward silence fell, and Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same thing, wondering if Kreacher had made it through the Battle alive.
"Only one way to find out, mate," Ron said.
Harry took a deep breath. "Kreacher!"
The silence stretched. Ten seconds … fifteen … thirty…. Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Harry turned away. And then there was a loud crack.
"Yes, Master Harry?" Kreacher bowed and stood before them, his once-white loincloth gray with soot and his snout-like nose bandaged.
"Kreacher, what happened to you?" Hermione cried.
"Kreacher is running into a bad wizard. Winky is patching Kreacher up and is still tending the other elves in the storerooms."
"Winky is okay too?" Hermione said.
"Winky is fine, miss."
"Kreacher, we're starving. Do you think you could bring us some sandwiches and stuff from the kitchens?"
"At once, Master Harry," Kreacher said, and disappeared with another loud crack.
The food disappeared almost as fast, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione eating their fill of sandwiches, fruit, and ice-cold pumpkin juice.
"Merlin, I've missed this place," Ron said, sitting back at last. Hermione leaned on his shoulder, eyes drooping.
"Let's go upstairs," Harry said. "I don't fancy being awakened when everyone does leave the Great Hall."
Ron roused Hermione, and they climbed the stairs to the last dormitory. Harry and Ron automatically headed for the beds that had been theirs, but they floated above the floor.
"What the—"
Hermione had her wand directed at the two beds, which were moving towards each other.
"I don't want to sleep alone," she said defensively. "Lavender is at St. Mungo's, and Parvati went with her. Please?"
Ron looked expectantly at Harry, who looked from Ron to Hermione and raised his brows. "You're not going to jump him again, are you?"
Hermione turned a bright shade of pink and began stammering. Harry grinned at both of them and pointed at Hermione. "You're in the middle."
She gave her wand one final flourish to join the mattresses into one and dove over the footboard onto the center of the bed. Grabbing Ron's pillow, she settled down and closed her eyes, still pink in the face. Harry crawled into bed from his side and felt the mattress dip as Ron did the same. Eyes closed, sleep descending like a curtain, he heard Ron whisper to Hermione, "Here, have some of my blanket," and knew no more.
()()()()
Bill Weasley sat with his family at the Gryffindor table. The survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts chatted and ate, celebrating their victory and the end of the war, but this section of the table was silent.
Fred was dead. He's dead, Bill repeated in his mind. Fred is dead. The words had an awful rhyme, a parody of their grave meaning. He had been repeating them ever since they had taken Fred into a side chamber with the other— the others, but it still seemed surreal. One of his brothers was dead. Bill looked up as Dad and George rejoined the table.
"They've taken— they've taken him away," Dad said huskily. "They will contact us in the next few days to schedule the— the service."
The funeral, he meant. Fleur squeezed Bill's hand. Ginny moved from Mum's shoulder, pulling George down beside her. He looked dreadful, pale, blank, eyes red with tears. Bill wanted to cry just looking at him. George, without Fred….
"There you are!"
Bill looked up again. A pretty brunette stood in jeans and a Quodpot t-shirt, her long hair falling out of a hasty ponytail. Dirt streaked across her face but she appeared uninjured, and she wore a wide smile that was fading fast. She doesn't know. Bill dreaded speaking the words out loud and hoped, childishly, that Mum or Dad would do it instead.
"Amy!" Charlie jumped up from the table and hugged her.
Bill hesitated before standing to greet her; he had not seen his ex-girlfriend since before Greyback's attack. But Amy didn't flinch at the sight of his scars, and Bill relaxed into her hug. "What are you doing here?"
"I got Charlie's message, and I came to help. We got separated during the fighting, and I've been looking for y'all ever since it ended."
"I'm Fleur Weasley." It wasn't until Bill heard the crisp tones and turned to find his wife standing with her hand outstretched that he realized he was still holding onto Amy. He dropped her arm and stepped back, allowing the two witches to make their own introductions.
"Amy Green," she said, shaking Fleur's hand with an air of faint amusement. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Bill and I worked together in Egypt."
Fleur pursed her lips, but before she could say anything, Amy exclaimed, "No!"
Bill turned to see what had startled her and realized his little sister had come round the table to say hello.
"You can't be Ginny!" Amy said, even as she pulled the younger witch to her in an enthusiastic embrace before stepping back and holding her at arm's length. "See, I told you you'd grow into a beautiful woman."
Ginny, who had last seen Amy on her twelfth birthday, blushed. "Thanks. It's good to see you."
"You should see Ron," Percy said. "He's taller than Bill now."
"He is not," Bill said automatically, and Percy gave him a faint smile, which he returned. It was unbelievable that he could gain one brother and lose another in a matter of hours.
"Where is Ron?" Amy asked, looking round. "And Fred?"
All the Weasleys dropped their eyes, shifting uncomfortably.
"Oh, no," she whispered, placing her hand over her mouth. "Oh, no, they're not—" She looked first to Charlie, then Bill. "Please tell me they're not—"
"Ron is fine," Dad said quickly. "But Fred—" He swallowed. "Fred was killed."
Amy froze for one long moment. Then she stepped onto the bench, the table, and down the other side, taking Ginny's empty seat beside George and putting an arm round his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she said. George managed a nod. "Gods, I— I'm so, so sorry." She turned to Mum. "Have you eaten?"
"What?"
"Food," Amy repeated. "Have you had any?" Without waiting for an answer, she pulled over a bowl of porridge, placed some on the plate in front of Mum, and added a slice of toast. "Eat a little something, and we'll find you a place to lie down."
Amy's actions seemed to break the spell of lethargy that had settled over all of them, and everyone began to load their plates as Amy summoned juice and tea from up the table.
"You were more than friends," Fleur said, stopping Bill before he could sit down.
He met her gaze squarely. "Yes, we were." They had run into this a few times before. Being six years older than his wife and marrying her when she was only twenty, he'd had more partners than she had.
"And Charlie?" Fleur asked, watching as Amy poured drinks and settled between Charlie and Ginny.
"They're just good friends, I think. Charlie recruited her into the Order the same summer I came home, and they've kept in touch since."
Fleur seated herself with a graceful twist, and Bill knew the subject was closed.
"I would like to lie down myself," she admitted. "Shall we go home after this?"
Bill hesitated. He didn't want to leave his parents or his siblings; truth be told, he didn't want to leave Hogwarts.
"Dad? Have there been any arrangements made for overnight guests?" It was nearly noon, but no one had slept in two days.
"The Aurors are taking the regular guest quarters. The staff is converting the extra rooms on the ground floor to guest rooms, and with the younger pupils gone, there is some room in the dormitories. Minerva has given us free use of Gryffindor Tower."
"Bill, I never slept in the dormitories when I was a pupil here," Fleur whispered. "I will have no place to go."
"Nonsense. We'll get you into Gryffindor Tower. You're a Weasley now."
She smiled up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her. She was one good thing that had come out of this miserable war, Fleur was.
()()()()
Ginny Weasley gave the Fat Lady the password and admitted her family to the Gryffindor Common Room. Unnoticed in the bustle as eight people, including Fleur and Amy, clamored through the portrait hole behind her, Ginny slipped up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. She hadn't seen Ron or Harry since right after Voldemort fell, and she wanted to make sure they were all right. She needed to make sure they were all right, needed to know she had lost only one brother, not two; that Harry had really survived. She would check on the boys first and then Hermione before going to bed herself.
She should have known. They were all three together, asleep on their sides, facing the door with their wands in their hands. What had happened to these three over the last nine months that they not only slept with their wands, but kept them in hand? Predictably, Harry was closest to the door, the first line of defense to protect the other two. Ron and Hermione nestled together apart from him, and as she looked closer, Ginny smirked. Ron's arm was thrown over Hermione and curved against her chest, his hand cupped round one breast. This was too good of a photo op to pass up. She turned for the door, intent on finding Colin to take the picture for her, when the memory returned.
Colin Creevey, dead on the Great Hall floor, only a few bodies away from her brother Fred. Ginny stifled her sobs with her fist and ran headlong down the stairs.
