The Burrow Again

The Hogwarts Express arrived at precisely three o'clock, and Harry and Hagrid made it to the platform at precisely four. Ignoring the driver's shouting and swearing they lugged their trunks onto the specially enlarged carriage. They stumbled into their seats and lay down in them. Harry felt sick from his whisky and was already regretting the binge. He wished he hadn't listened to Hagrid and was surprised that he had tried to get Harry to drink. Harry supposed that Hagrid had already been drinking before he arrived at the cabin and that offering Harry whisky was part of his own way of coping with the tragedies of the week previous. Harry rubbed his bleary eyes and looked around. The carriage was identical to all the others on the train, only it was much more spacious. Being here reminded Harry of his sixth year, when he was immobilized by Draco Malfoy in the Slytherin compartment. Tonks had been there to help him; an icy coldness clutched at Harry's heat once again. He wondered where Draco was now, probably in hiding with his parents who would surely be being hunted down with all the other surviving Death Eaters on the run. It occurred to Harry that Narcissa Malfoy had deceived Voldemort when asked if Harry was still alive, and if there would be a trial, Harry should let the Wizengamot know that the Malfoys weren't completely bad.

Hagrid started bellowing out a tale about when he used to take the train to Hogwarts (before he was expelled) and Harry pretended to listen, watching the scenery fly past with his head on the gently vibrating window. 'And yeh wouldn't believe the names they used ter call me Harry, "Rubeus the Round,", "Hagrid the Fat Slob", and I felt like shit Harry, I was an outsider even then! 'Course, the teachers weren't that bad, but…' Harry's stomach started rumbling, and right on cue the trolley lady appeared. 'Anything from the trolley dears?' she asked in her familiar old voice. 'Only if it's alcoholic, love!' Hagrid said loudly. To Harry's surprise, the trolley lady blushed. 'Well I might have something,' she said awkwardly, fumbling through some bottles on the bottom shelf, 'but I only usually stock for the children, and-' 'It's fine honey!' Hagrid cut across her, 'Just give me an' Harry the whole trolley, we're starved!' 'Oh, okay, I suppose so,' said the lady, and she pushed it inside the compartment, looking unsure of herself. 'Well, don't jus' stand there baby!' Hagrid belched, 'Come sit in here with us and eat!' She sat down next to Hagrid, looking suspiciously smitten, and fumbled with a chocolate frog wrapper. Harry fell asleep. Sometime later he jolted awake. 'Oh my God Hagrid,' Harry began, 'I just had the weirdest dream, I dreamt that the trolley lady was in love with you… what the-?' Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Hagrid and the trolley lady were entwined on the seat, kissing furiously. Harry shot a shield charm between them. 'Protego!' The trolley lady was thrown back onto the floor, and looking embarrassed, she got up and ran out of the compartment slamming the door behind her, like a little girl. 'What the hell is wrong with you Hagrid?' Harry shouted, 'First you offer me alcohol and now you're snogging the trolley lady? How old is she? Seventy?' But Hagrid wasn't listening. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell into an alcoholic slumber. Harry sighed and continued his contemplation of the darkening scenery.

The sky was black by the time Harry and Hagrid arrived at Kings Cross station. Harry was glad when he finally got out of the train, as Hagrid had vomited throughout the compartment; whisky didn't help his motion sickness. They slowly dragged their luggage across the platform and through the barrier, making their way through the bright lights and crowds to the carpark. They found a shadowy area away from the muggles, and disapparated together. Harry felt the compression unbearable; his head still ached from the whisky. Their feet finally hit the swampy Burrow grass and they both collapsed onto the ground. 'YEEEOWWCH!' Hagrid shouted; he had sat on a gnome, which had bit him in a sensitive area. Hagrid drop-kicked it away. 'Jesus Christ, Harry, I'm a mess,' he groaned, looking down at his vomit drenched beard. 'Molly won't allow me inside. I'm gonna kip in the broom shed.' Harry watched him stumble off towards the shed, picked up their trunks and started dragging them towards the house. Suddenly, Harry was nervous. He knew he was about to enter the home of a grieving family, and he didn't know what to say to them. He hadn't talked to Ginny since the battle; would her feelings towards him have changed now that her brother had been killed? And what would he say to Mrs Weasley? Harry remembered seeing her boggart and was chilled with the knowledge that her worst fear had been realised… And it was his fault…

Harry opened the door into the dimly lit house. He put his trunk to the side and made his way, slowly to the living room. The room was empty, apart from Ginny, who was sitting on the couch in a loosely wrapped blanket. She was staring at the opposite wall, and barely noticed Harry enter the room. Harry felt extremely awkward, so said nothing and sat down on the couch beside her. 'Are you okay?' Harry asked after a long period of silence. Ginny looked at him. 'I don't know,' she whispered, and she collapsed against Harry, her head against his chest. She started shaking and crying uncontrollably, soaking Harry's robes. Harry stroked her hair. 'It will be alright,' Harry whispered, 'Voldemort is gone now. No one can hurt us anymore.' 'I've been hurting every day since the battle,' Ginny sobbed, 'No more Fred, and Tonks…' 'And Lupin,' Harry added. He waved his wand and set a fire in the fireplace, filling the room with warmth. Ginny retracted from Harry and lay against her cushion. Harry got up and opened his trunk, pulling out a bottle of Rubeus' Finest Whisky. He unscrewed the lid and drained it in one go. 'What is that?' asked Ginny. Harry showed her the bottle. 'It's some whisky that Hagrid brewed up. It helps numb the pain a little.' Ginny looked at the trunk. 'Do you have any more?' 'Yeah, heaps,' Harry said, and he pulled out two more bottles, one for himself and one for Ginny. She drank it, like Harry in one go. 'Oh my God, that is amazing,' she murmured. Getting to her feet, she went to the trunk, took out more bottles and threw some to Harry. They sat and drank until they were half blind. They giggled quietly at nothing. Just as Ginny was reaching regurgitation level, Hermione walked in, dropping her trunk on the carpet. 'Is that alcohol?' she asked Harry and Ginny in an accusing tone. 'No, it's fucking pumpkin juice, nerd,' Harry burped at her, sarcastically. 'You got a problem with two friends drinking whisky together after their fucking family and friends have been killed?' Hermione blushed. 'I'm sorry Harry,' she said, 'It's just that I care about you guys and-' 'Oh shut up!' Ginny interrupted, 'You don't know what it's like to have family die! While your parents were safe playing didgeridoos and riding kangaroos down under, my parents were putting their lives on the line dueling Death Eaters! MY BROTHER IS DEAD YOU SKANK!' Hermione burst into tears. 'I'm so sorry,' she sobbed, and she pulled out a whisky bottle from Harry's suitcase. She drained it and opened another one. 'Yeah, you drink you whorBLEEAAARRGH!' Ginny exclaimed, vomiting all over Harry's robes. Harry laughed and so did Ginny and Hermione. Half an hour later, the lounge littered with empty bottles of Rubeus' Finest Whisky, Harry, Hermione and Ginny crawled up the stairs and collapsed into Ginny's bedroom, shutting the door behind them…