A/N: Here's the second chapter, written from Harry's point of view. Thanks again to my beta Cecelia Everhart!
Please review! ;)
2. Harry
The lawn in front of the burrow was still wet from the never-ending rain of the last days. Harry carefully tried to avoid the deep, muddy puddles and sighed with relief when he reached solid ground. The kitchen was aglow with light and it chased the shadows of the night away. Ginny entered without hesitating, but he needed to take a deep breath to prepare himself for the faces and the atmosphere. He knew that this was a day of victory and that they should celebrate, but he just couldn't bring himself to it. He had to deliver a speech at the Hogwarts Memorial later and everyone expected it to be a cheerful one (since the war had been won), but how could he be cheerful and still remember the sacrifices of the war?
Finally he stepped into the warm and cosy kitchen. He noted thankfully that they were the first to arrive. Only Molly was bustling around, preparing breakfast.
"Oh, Harry, dear," she breathed and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug.
"Molly," he greeted her. "Can I help you with something?"
"No, no. Just sit and have a cuppa," she smiled and directed her wand – maybe a bit too forcefully – at a mug, which flew directly at Harry. He only just managed to catch it, before it hit him in the chest.
"Thanks," he muttered and sat beside Ginny, who had been watching her mother with concern. The elderly witch seemed normal enough, but her nervous movements and the brightness of her eyes gave her away.
"Morning, children," Arthur mumbled and sat down on the table. "Molly, is that Ron upstairs?"
"Yes. He arrived in the wee hours of the morning, asking if he could sleep in his old room," Molly explained absent-mindedly.
Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. Why would Ron stay here instead of his house with Hermione? The opening of the door interrupted their thoughts. A dripping wet Percy stumbled in.
"Am I late?" he panted.
"Um, no, Percy. We only just arrived ourselves," Harry muttered and watched Percy straighten his glasses and dry his hair with a spell. He looked a bit disorientated. "Something wrong?"
"No, no, I was just caught up at work," he mumbled and avoided Harry's gaze. "Excuse me."
Ginny sighed and exchanged another look with him. It was clear as day that Percy hadn't been at work, but at the place he would always visit on this day. Somewhere, where it seemed to be raining. Fred's grave. They knew it had been hard for Percy, having been in feud with his family for so long and then trying to reconcile. The guilt had eaten him up after the war. He had felt like he should have been the person to die and not Fred, because he considered himself the most useless of all the Weasleys. But, thank Merlin, he had Audrey now.
"Audrey's not coming, is she?" Ginny whispered, having had the same train of thoughts as Harry.
"She doesn't understand. She feels even more like an outsider," Harry whispered back and sipped his tea.
Sometimes even he felt like an outsider, like they should all hate him for the deaths he had caused. On a day like this he didn't know how to look anyone in the eyes. Suddenly his lack of sleep hit him and he swiftly stood up, before his eyes started to droop.
"I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in a flash."
Ginny raised her eyebrows, but nodded. Today it was okay to seek solitude. So he went out through the back door to watch the sunrise.
The same scenes played over and over in his head and the same faces lay dead on the ground. Unconsciously, he rubbed his scar, although it hadn't hurt for a long time. He wished he could go back and save some – all – of them, but he couldn't. He knew that it wasn't his fault, but the guilt still nagged on him. If Sirius could only see Harry's little son, who he had named after his Godfather, he would be so proud. If only Remus and Tonks could watch their son grow up. If only …
He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to think about it over and over again. Not even today. Today he wanted to remember the joy they had brought into his life and how thankful he was for their words and actions. That was what he was going to speak about in his speech.
When the sun had fully risen over the horizon, he turned and walked back to the house. Everyone would be there now. The people who loved him, even if he had brought them so much pain. Molly, who would run out and cry all of a sudden; Arthur, who would try to smile and comfort his wife; Bill and Fleur, who would tell Victoire about the meaning of her name; Charlie, who would look as if he would rather be back with the dragons, but didn't want to leave at the same time; Percy, who would stare into nothing and suddenly start to babble about something from the ministry; George, who dared everyone to look at him, because he couldn't stand the shy, scared, hurt, pitiful gazes; Angelina, who was the only one to return his gaze openly; Ron, who would lash out at everyone and then apologise the next second; Hermione, who would smile knowingly at him as she suppressed tears; and Ginny, who would be unusually quiet and cling to Harry's hand like her life depended on it.
He had been so frightened this morning, lying awake in his bed. He had thought that a step had creaked and someone had entered his children's room to murder them. But nobody had been there. If he could only protect them…
But he couldn't protect them from life, he knew that. The only thing he could give them was carefree childhood and a life without war or a dark lord.
Loud voices welcomed him, when he entered the burrow. One voice was clearly his wife's, screaming at another person. Alarmed, he drew his wand and dashed into the kitchen, but no Death Eater had invaded it and no curses flew around. There was only Ginny, her flaming red hair whipping around with every movement, screaming at Ron, who appeared to be something between angry and guilty, while the rest of the family followed the argument with big eyes.
"What's going on here?" he asked harshly and silence fell over the room.
