Hi, just a quick note to say that I'm getting some of the finer details from Wikipedia so I apologise if the information is wrong. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. It's a bit shorter than the last one but I didn't really want to dwell too much. I'm sure you understand why.
Disclaimer: Credit to the writers of The Royal Family as one of the lines I used is derived from that show.
The next week was a big blur in each of their memories; with only single moments standing out in their minds.
Voldemort had been burned in the late evening, in the attendance of only he who was controlling the flame. Harry didn't wish to attend so instead spent the day working at the Burrow, doing whatever he could just for the sake of keeping busy.
He went for the ashes the next day, taking Ron and Hermione for support. Ginny had chosen not to come, and he didn't blame her for that decision. Together, with the ashes, they travelled to Little Hangleton; Harry was going to put Voldemort to rest in the one place he despised most.
"It wasn't all bad," Harry said after circling Tom Riddle Seniors grave, scattering ashes as he went.
"What?" Exclaimed Hermione. "Name one good thing that came from knowing him."
"Speaking parseltongue," he told them. "Really, you should have seen Dudley's face when I set that snake on him by accident; priceless."
They were still laughing when they arrived back at the Burrow, to looks of confusion from the residents who knew where they'd just been.
Harry buried Snape on the Wednesday. There were more people there than he'd have thought would have come; all the teachers of Hogwarts came to pay their respects, and even the Malfoys put in a brief appearance, but left quickly due to the hostile glances that kept going their way. Harry was glad they'd come, though he thought they left, not because of the glares, but after seeing Snape's grave, as it read; Severus Snape, 9th January 1960 – 2nd May 1998, as brave as any lion.
Time together was limited as Saturday approached, and conversation was difficult even when they did manage to steal away. Mrs Weasley's eyes were always red and puffy whenever Harry saw her, as were Ginny's and Hermione's. George and Ron seemed beyond tears, and they simply sat, hardly speaking, barley eating, which only added to Mrs Weasley's worries – especially in Ron's case; he always ate at least three helpings, now he was barely forcing down one.
Whenever Percy was in sight he would be seen pacing, muttering under his breath, Harry suspected he was blaming himself for Fred's death and wanted to contradict him, but he knew his efforts would be useless. Charlie arrived on Thursday evening, adding to the already cramped household, so Bill said he and Fleur would go back to Shell Cottage until Saturday.
Mr Weasley seemed like the only one who was up to doing anything, but he was still grieving. Harry spent his time helping him with preparations; de-gnoming the garden, tidying the house – although he did this less often as that seemed to be what Mrs Weasley did to distract herself – and setting up tables and chairs for the wake.
"It'll be a small do, you know? Just family and friends," Mr Weasley had said. Harry should have realised then that 'small' to the Weasley's was actually quite large to other people; as the Weasley family was quite extensive and Fred had a lot of friends.
Needless to say it was quite cramped as they gathered on the hilltop at sundown. It was a beautiful place to be laid to rest, Harry thought. The Burrow was just visible in the distance, its many floors jutting out at odd angles, the windows reflecting the last of the sun's rays and it shined like a beacon, guiding Fred home.
Harry walked alongside Ron and Hermione as they made their way back to the Weasley's home after the service. Ginny was helping Muriel navigate the rough ground from a short distance behind them; Harry could almost feel her annoyance emanating towards them.
"And where's that Barny boy from the wedding?" They heard her ask. "Can't even be bothered to turn up to his own cousin's funeral," she said disapprovingly. Harry shot a glance at Ron and Hermione at her words and they shared a brief smile at the memory, each trying to hold on to it. Smiles were few at the minute.
"If you write the word 'funeral', the word 'fun' is clearly visible within it. Fred always thought I never had enough fun, not that I needed to; he had more than enough fun for the both of us," Percy said to light chuckles from the crowd seated in the Weasley's garden. The sun had set and the light now came from a canopy of paper lanterns that were floating above their heads.
"But he's in a better place now, and it's time for me to pull my weight," Percy continued, "so from now on every laugh that escapes my lips, I dedicate to my brother, who lived laughing, and died laughing." Percy finished, raising his glass, and the rest of the crowd followed.
Harry saw Mrs Weasley get up from where she was sat on the table next to his, rushing to hug her son, and almost spilt his drink when he saw George beat her to it. She was momentarily stumped by the appearance of her other son but then decided to join in, wrapping her arms tightly round the both of them, and they walked back to their places, their arms still around each other.
Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Ginny cry so much as she did that day; her tears fell in a near constant stream and every time there seemed to be signs of them stopping, a new wave would hit. When they were laid in her room that night, Harry found himself joining her, letting go of the grief that had welled up inside of him since Saturday. Mostly though, he just held her, rocking her into a restless and uneven sleep.
The next day was even harder for Harry, though he didn't voice this; he thought it would somehow be insulting to Fred's memory. Ginny seemed to understand though and she pulled herself together in order to be strong for him. To Harry, losing Lupin was almost like losing Sirius again. When he'd thought about him, he always saw him coming into that role, especially as their friendship grew stronger; but that could never be now.
Their funeral, unlike Fred's, really was a more intimate affair, although there were still more than enough Weasley's in attendance. They were buried in a small churchyard near Andromeda's home under the heading; Remus Lupin 1960 – 1998 and Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin 1972 – 1998, love conquers all.
They were invited back to Andromeda's afterwards to drink and celebrate their memory. The house was small and therefore became quickly crowded as people filled in. Eventually drinks were passed round and toasts were made. Harry found himself sat in a corner, wanting to get up and say something about his father's friend, but no words would form in his mind.
Shortly after sitting down, Teddy was passed his way and Harry realised that he'd never actually seen his Godson before now, except for photographs that Remus had shown him. He extracted him from the cooing crowd and settled him on his knee.
His hair was still the vibrant shade of turquoise that it had been in the picture Lupin had shown them before the battle. Lupin had been wrong; looking at Teddy was like seeing Lupin in miniature. Harry guessed he said he looked like Tonks because he was scared that if he said Teddy was like him, it would mean he was like him in other ways; but Harry could see no signs of lycanthropy in his little face.
"Hello, Teddy," Harry told him, "I don't know if you know, but, I'm your Godfather, Harry Potter."
"Well of course he knows," said Ginny, coming and sitting beside him, not even caring that he was talking to a one month old baby. "You're one of the most famous wizards in the world; how could he not know?" Harry smiled, wishing that that were really the case.
"How are you?" She asked, her eyes crinkling in concern. "I know you looked up to him," she said, confirming Harry's suspicions that she knew he would miss Lupin most.
"I don't know; I just feel so alone," he confessed. "He was the last connection I had to my dad; I can't help but think that I'll never know anything else about him. The three people that knew him best are all gone..." He sighed. "What about you? Tonks was your friend, and your eyes are still puffy from yesterday," he observed.
"I'll survive," she sighed, and laid her head on Harry's shoulder opposite Teddy who had fallen asleep, blissfully unaware that he was alone in the world. Harry knew then that he would make sure that wasn't the case. It was his turn to play that role now, and he was going to make sure he did a brilliant job of it.