Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling is awesome. She is awesome and rich and completely in ownership of Harry Potter. If you believed otherwise, you are a stupid git. Oh yeah, that's the way to get a reader. Call them a stupid git in the first paragraph. I am not making any money off this, for obvious reasons. Git.

Lost

The end of Voldemort seemed like a goal we would never reach, so no one was more surprised than I was when Harry defeated him and we were free. I remember my face just going slack in utter shock, and then the jubilation of those around me. We were free. There would be no more death at the hands of You-Know-Who. We were free.

Most of us were free, I should say, and I remember my eyes flicking towards the grim looking Professor Lupin. He had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, and looked completely empty. He'd never looked right since Mr Black had died, which had led me to wonder if there had been more to them than had met the eye.

He had raised his head and given me a tight smile before walking out of the room silently. Professor Lupin has a unique way of walking. It is almost like he is padding across the floor, but he walks like a man on a mission. His head was down, his eyes to the floor, and I remember the sadness that I had gained from looking at him.

Days later, we were all preparing for the celebration parties. Dumbledore had let Harry recover before announcing the fall of Voldemort, which meant the Boy-Who-Lived was allowed to join in the drunken revelries. He'd asked me to go with him, and I had known there was a meaning to his simple request. After so many years of me falling in and out of love with him, he'd come around. I shook my head, though. Some time ago I'd realised I didn't want someone like him. Someone who thought brooms was a higher priority.

We were all living in Headquarters, a holiday home of Dumbledore with all the frills. It was a million times better than Number 12 Grimmauld Place, but for some reason I missed the wispy spider webs and the ancient feeling it had given me. I missed Mr Black, and I suspected that for Professor Lupin, the celebrations and the downfall of Voldemort would only make the pain of losing him feel sharper.

'Ginny, are you staying here tonight?' My mother asked me as she donned her luxurious new coat. Dumbledore rewarded his loyal allies richly.

I nodded as I threw another log on the fire. 'I'll be fine, mum.' I told her.

'Are you sure?' You-Know-Who was dead for certain, and she was still worried Death Eaters would find Headquarters, which had remained hidden for the rest of the war, and kill me – or worse. 'I've left information on how to contact me on the kitchen table and I think Remus is staying as well.'

'We'll be fine, Molly.'

I looked up from the dancing flames and saw him standing by the doorway that led into the dining room. He was holding on to the frame and I was not sure whether it was really to support himself.

My mother's lips thinned, but she nodded. 'All right. Thank you Remus.' She walked over to him and kissed his cheek. 'Stay safe both of you.' She threw some Floo Powder into the fire I had lit and called out a name that was completely foreign to me. It didn't matter. I didn't want to party and I definitely didn't want to party with my parents present.

'Any reason you're not going, Miss Weasley?' He asked me as he sat down. The chair he had chosen was high backed and one of the most comfortable.

'I'm exhausted.' I replied simply.

He frowned and lines appeared in between his eyebrows. 'Have you seen a Healer, or at least Madam Pomfrey?'

I gave him a small smile. 'I'm not exhausted in the physical sort of way. I'm just exhausted from all this celebrating. I've spent so long, and so much, getting up to this point that I don't want to do anything any more.'

He smiled back, and he looked like he understood what I meant. 'Ah yes. We've lost so much that there doesn't seem to be any reason to party.'

'You're talking about Mr Black, aren't you?' I asked him in a tiny voice. I didn't want to make him isolate himself in his room and never speak to me again.

He played with a thread from the arm of his chair. 'I am.'

I sat forward. 'Will you tell me about him, please?'

'You lived with him for months, Miss Weasley.'

Frowning, I stood up and walked over to the cabinet. Lined up behind the protective glass were fine liquors and other expensive sorts of booze. It wasn't locked, so I slid it open gently and took out some of the Firewhiskey. I poured two chunky glasses half full of the stuff and gave Professor Lupin one of them, taking the other glass and the bottle back to my seat.

'I lived with him for months, sure, but you know how he was. He locked himself up with the Hippogriff when he wasn't ranting and raving about his family.' I said and took a sip. It burned, like the name hinted, but I was no wimp.

Another smile, but it was bitter. 'Ah yes. I'd almost forgotten. After a while the memory fades, and I began to remember him as he was when we were children.' One hand was still fiddling with the loose thread, but the other was resting on the other arm with the whiskey in his hand. 'When we were at Hogwarts, he was lively, exciting...he and James made living there tolerable. We would play pranks on people, of course, but we were only young and thought we knew everything. I wish we could have stayed that way forever, but people grow up and they change...'

He had stopped indefinitely. I watched him drink the rest of the whiskey, which made him screw up his face. Without a word, he walked out the door and into the pouring rain. 'Hey!' I called. I went after him in my slippers and robe.

The rain pelted down on my face and made my clothes plaster to my body as I ran down the path, trying to see Professor Lupin somewhere. He was sitting at the bottom of the road. 'Professor! Professor Lupin!' No answer. 'Remus! Remus?' This time he turned around.

I hurried down there and stood beside him, panting heavily. 'Don't just leave me alone like that.' I said with indignation.

'What are you afraid of, Miss Weasley?' He asked me. 'Death Eaters? You-Know-Who? It's all over and we have no meaning.'

'Of course we have meaning.' I said.

'Tell me what mine is then.' His head was in his hands and he looked indescribably sad. 'I'm so lost...'

And in that instant I saw him as a young boy that had stumbled into the woods one evening and was now so terribly off course. I gave him my hand and he took it so I could help him to his feet. We were both soaking wet, the rain dripping off my chin and ears. 'You'll be right.' I told him. 'You don't need people to make you happy.'

'I miss him, Ginny.' The change from Miss Weasley was quite poignant. 'I miss him and no amount of whiskey or talking is going to make me feel any better...'

I looked down and saw that we hadn't stopped holding hands since I'd helped him up. I tightened my grip.

Author's Note: Sorry for calling people gits. Anyway, I can't remember if I ran this by my beta reader (I may have, but I wrote it immediately after reading OotP.) I am beginning to worry about how many times I use rain in my stories. I can't help it! I love the rain! I'm not entirely happy with this story, but I like it enough. Ok, so thanks to Iselin and Irene (because I know I ran it by Irene).