A/N: The reason I'm doing this fic is to answer a lot of the questions that fans might have of the gap in the chapters. I'm going to make it two different fics, because as James and Lily had Harry when they were only 19 or 20 years old, Harry and Ginny wait until they are 26 and 25 to have James. I want to explore the wizarding world after a war (which we never saw in the 10 year gap between Voldemort's first fall and the Sorcerer's Stone), and anything else that has been creeping into all of our imaginations since finishing the DH so quickly, haha.

P.S. This chapter is still all about Harry's reactions to what has happened. I've just got to get all of this down on "paper" before heading anywhere with the story. The next chapter, we will start doing the dialogue, action, decision-making stuff. Enjoy!

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end…"

-Semisonic, "Closing Time"

The Mourning After

Harry had gone straight up to bed.

He hadn't talked to anyone after entering the common room the night before.

He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone.

There were probably some people who thought this strange, but Harry knew, and rather hoped, that his closest friends would understand. Of course, they couldn't.

Voldemort had been right about a few things during the Battle of Hogwarts. All the people, all the bodies, and all the families that had been torn apart, bruised, and broken for nearly three decades were ultimately broken for Harry. That was a burden he had dealt with a little bit at a time over his life. He had watched Cedric, Sirius, Albus, and Severus all fall in front of him, for him. Now, however, he needed a good night's rest.

He felt like he lying down on his bed after a long day's work. In reality, he was finally falling to bed for the first time in his life. Sleep took him quickly. There was no one else in the room. He could faintly hear a party going on in the common room. It was nothing extravagant, as friends had fallen that day, but a celebration of life nonetheless. It wasn't terribly difficult to block out the distraction. Harry had become quite adept with things such as silencing charms and protective wards (with much thanks to Hermione).

Apparently silencing charms wear off when you want some sleep.

Harry wasn't angry about being awoken, but once he found his glasses, he looked at his watch and realized that it was four in the morning. Rolling over, a handsome photo album slid off his stomach onto his bed. Retrieving it, he flipped it over to see a picture of Lily and the Marauders. They had been with him the most during that walk into the forest. Even Pettigrew. Harry's musings about Snape over the last day had made him realize that Dumbledore was right. Everyone deserved a second chance. There were some like Voldemort and Bellatrix that would never even accept, or lie to get, a second chance. However, on the whole, when faced when what is right and true in this world, Harry had seen that decent people never chose what was easy.

Pulling his curtains back, he slowly got out of bed. After cracking his window slightly to tempt a breeze, he saw he was still dressed in his robes from the day before. He slipped into his shoes and made his way for the common room. There were people everywhere, but they were all asleep. There were students passed out on every couch, chair, love seat, and comfortable stretch of wall. Harry smiled one of the biggest smiles he could remember.

His gaze fell onto two people in particular. In the corner, next to the fireplace, with pillows surrounding their bodies for more comfort, were Ron and Hermione. Each had two fingers still clinging to the other's hands. Ron was snoring softly and Hermione seemed to be grinning, even in sleep. Harry thought about what would happen if they awoke right now, and got an idea.

After grabbing his Invisibility Cloak from his room, he exited the tower and made his way through the castle. Their was no one in the halls, which had been cleaned up somewhat by the teachers and house elves, but still bore signs of a mighty struggle mere hours before. He walked slowly, taking in the place that was his home. He didn't need to talk about anything that had happened to him. He needed to be there for others to talk to him about what occurred in their lives. That could wait.

His feet took him to places without him even realizing it. He strayed into a door before seeing a bathroom without urinals, and after seeing where he was, was a little disappointed not to see Myrtle. He would make a left and see a place he had once been forbidden to go because a giant, three-headed dog. Glancing up another corridor, he remembered seeing the odd picture of a petrified boy and a 'dead' ghost. After traversing the courtyard, which was being bathed in pale, yet crisp moonlight, he saw the place that Sirius had lifted off with Buckbeak.

His memories came flooding back. But this time, they all had purpose, and he smiled again.

Another turn and there was the spot that Cedric had offered his advice about the second task. Yet another, and he could plainly see in his mind where Fred and George had left a bit of their swamp.

He smiled again. Fred was gone. But he smiled again.

Finally, he made his way down to the front gate, which was thrown open as an invitation to any who needed to see their children (or Voldemort's dead body). Harry exited the castle and saw a strip of wall that he and Ginny had once enjoyed fifteen minutes at.

That seemed like a lifetime ago.

His footsteps took him towards Hagrid's Hut, which he was pleased to see was in good condition, and that the smells wafting from its chimney meant that its occupant had cooked the night before. Hagrid was still here. Harry had always had a nagging feeling that Voldemort has always taunted him about his friends' deaths. As if dangling another life in front of him would somehow make Harry want to give up. Voldemort didn't understand at all. Intimidating a boy, a man, like Harry Potter meant that you were tickling a sleeping dragon, then poking a rising dragon, then asking it to duel.

Harry laughed again. Tom Riddle knew so much about Hogwarts, except its motto.

He made his way toward the lake, seeing the faintest hint of dawn approaching. A speck of pink at the center of a semicircle of lightest blue signified the onset of a new day. Harry took a seat at the edge of the water, under the beech tree he had visited so many times, and stared out over the lake, which looked more like silk rippling in the light wind. His mind began to wander again.

Everyone was safe. McGonagall had assured anyone at Hogwarts that the rest of the Death Eaters were being rounded up, etc., etc., etc. The only thing that mattered to Harry was that no one had to fear walking around the grounds anymore. If something was good enough for Hogwarts, that was good enough for him. He had realized, over the past year, that certain objects do certain things to certain people. The history of wandlore was something he had never really considered, but it turned out to be most crucial. Harry felt that the brick, stone, glass, and wood of Hogwarts were the same.

This place had given so much to so many, without any need for acknowledgement. It had given Harry challenges, privileges, memories, friends: a home. He had no idea how long he had sat there until a pebble of orange crept over the distant mountaintops. He put up his hand to shield his eyes from the light, and in so doing, the cloak slipped off his head and down his back. He didn't really mind anymore. He had come to terms with everything that was important to him at the moment.

Or so he thought.

Not even minutes later, someone else was striding down the lawn, making a beeline for the only other person awake, the only person outside, the only other person in her world.