Despite the horrible things that had occurred in the house, and Sirius' obvious hate for the place, it was the basement kitchen in 12 Grimmauld Place, London that was used for Harry and Neville's birthday part andprivate end of the war celebration. And, despite the friends lost and empty chairs around them, everyone seemed willing to forget their sorrow for one evening to celebrate.
The kitchen was papered with red and gold flashing streamers and a large banner that simply read 'Happy Birthday' was fastened above the vacant fire place. The remaining Order members who had been the closest to Harry (such as Kingsley and Mundungus) were mingling with the Weasleys, remaining Hogwarts teachers, friends of Harry's and Neville's from Hogwarts, and Neville's last relatives. Food had been lain out on large buffet tables that lined the opposite walls. In the center of the room was the long table, flanked by chairs. Overall, the room had a cheery feel to it, though that cheerfulness was perhaps a thin lie made to cover the sorrow of the remaining members of the cruel war that had just ended.
Dumbledore took a place at the head of the table, and slowly everyone took a chair and the chatter died down. He was silent for a moment, observing the many generations and ages grouped together, all of whom he had schooled at some point. Everyone from McGonagall to Ginny had been his pupil. For a moment he felt the overwhelming sense of time and age, but saved it away for a moment more appropriate.
"Thank you all very much for coming to celebrate the birthdays of Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, and to our private celebration of the war's end. I will keep this short so that all of you can get back to the party," he paused, looking at the group with the sense of pride that a father might hold while observing his child. "I have never seen a finer group of people in my long years and it was my pleasure to fight alongside you. And I'd like to wish a very happy birthday to two of the greatest young men I've met to date, Harry and Neville," he raised his glass. "A toast to Harry and Neville."
The words were repeated warmly as everyone toasted the two men, who fidgeted in the spotlight that had been given them, neither of them comfortable with the attention. As Dumbledore prepared to continue, the sound of a screech owl interrupted him. All eyes were on the tiny basement window as six owls managed through it from the summer night. Each swooped to deliver its letter and left again, leaving letters for Ron, Sirius, Ginny, McGonagall, Snape and Neville. Those who hadn't gotten a letter looked on quietly,fillingthe roomwith an apprehensive silence as the letters were read.
From his seat, Dumbledore observed the faces around him. Snape's face was of interest or concern, his eyebrows knotted in the middle and his lips in a straight line. Across his face ran three long, thick scars that had come from an agitated werewolf a month ago after his position as spy had been compromised. Voldemort had captured both Snape and Remus, forcing them to spend the full moon in the same dungeon. WhatVoldemort hadn't known was that Remus had indeed been taking his Wolfsbane potion until their capture and that Snape's roommate for that night had half the mind of a man and half the mind of a beast. He was lucky to have come out with only those scars.
Hermione was staring at her plate, her face scarlet from a heavy blush. Dumbledore wondered for a moment who it was that was reading her letter. Perhaps it was Ron, whose ears were scarlet and whose face was showing puzzlement and trouble about something. Though Dumbledore doubted that, as she continuously snuck nervous glances up the table at Snape, who had been avoiding her for the entire evening, which was quite a change from the close friendly relationship they had kept during the last months of school.
Across from Hermione sat Harry, whose face was contorted in a mixture of shock and fear that turned him an odd pale color. It was an interesting sight, considering that even in the face of pure evil Harry had been brave. It seemed to Dumbledore that in matters of the heart Harry wasn't as sure of himself as he was on the battlefield. In fact, Harry seemed quite worried as to what the letter in Ron's hand had to say.
Remus was across from Sirius, observing everyone calmly, much as Dumbledore was. Either he hadn't been one to write a letter, or he wasn't worried about what it said. Remus was looking with obvious concern at Ginny, who seemed on the brink of tears, her letter trembling in her hand. The young girl had been extremely lucky in the war, her quick reflexes and sense for what the enemy was doing led her to come out of the battle practically unscathed on the outside. It was her mental scarring that Remus was concerned about, as she had seen far too much for a girl her age.
Further down the table was Neville, who was drumming his fingers on the table top, an unopened letter sitting before him. Remus wondered why he hadn't opened it yet, but was distracted from his thoughts when Ron moved to put his letter down on the table.
"Harry..." Ron whispered, drawing all eyes to him and his friend. That seemed to have woken Harry from his stupor and he jumped out of his chair, knocking it loudly to the kitchen floor, and sprinted for the door. Before anyone would comment or move to follow, Hermione seemed to think that Harry's course of action was best and she too dashed out of the room.
The other people in the room were now quietly whispering amongst themselves. As Snape stood and calmly walked out the door, Sirius was folding his letter back up. Remus missed Snape's exit, distracted by the intense look in Sirius' eyes that were locked on his own.
Snape had every intent of walking out the front door, but upon seeing Hermione slowly making her way upstairs, the sounds of crying evident, he changed his mind. He quietly mounted the steps until he caught up with her and was within her reach. He placed a hand on her delicate shoulder, catching a handful of her frizzy hair in his hand as she spun around. Hermione's face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy. She immediately looked down, seeming more the shy eleven-year-old student than ever before.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Each breath seemed to be trouble for the girl, each word a test of her strength. She sniffed slightly as Snape moved his hand back to her shoulder. She seemed so cruelly warm against his cold touch, her young body so perfect compared to his own war-scarred body. It was a wonder to him that someone like Hermione would like someone like himself. He still had his doubts.
"What for?" he asked sarcastically, knowing bloody well that the Gryffindor-bred girl would surely blame the whole affair on herself. "Stop your crying, you silly girl," Snape said, his voice oddly lacking its chill, as he wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb.
Hermione drew in a deep breath and composed herself for a moment, then looked directly into Snape's eyes. He realized then that she was only a step above him on the staircase, now eye-level and rather close.
"I only wanted you to know how I felt – how I still feel – that night. I never intended for..." she trailed off with a tinge in her cheeks.
"It wasn't all your fault," Snape said in a whisper to avoid eavesdroppers from the kitchen. "You hardly forced me onto you," he added awkwardly. Hermione nodded, her eyes on a spot just above and beyond Snape's shoulder. An awkward silence followed. Snape found it hard to believe that they had been reduced to silences when not so many months ago he had numerous nights of intelligent conversations with this young woman.
Hermione cleared her throat and looked at Snape again, "I'll be teaching at Hogwarts next school year," she paused, looking away for a moment. "Maybe we could use the time to get to know each other better?"
Snape nodded, "That seems the best way to handle this situation... Which position will you be taking?"
"Most likely the Charms position. I won't have much time to prepare, but Dumbledore and McGonagall think that I can come up with a plan for the year quickly..." Hermione smiled slightly. "Give me a chance this year Severus. If you don't believe that I mean what I have said by at least the end of the school year, I won't bring this up again. I would still like to have you as a friend,"
"And if you change your mind by then?" Snape asked softly.
"I won't, trust me," she replied, suddenly sure sounding so sure of herself and so much like the know-it-all that she had been in school. It was a slight relief to Snape to hear that self-assurance in her voice, as that told him that she was feeling better about things now. He nodded slightly and moved to leave.
"I've got to go. Lupin's potion will be needing my attention soon..." he stopped, unsure of what else to say. It had been years since he had been in this situation. He could handle lies, deceit, death staring him in the face, but a woman? He wasn't sure if his training prepared him for this...
Hermione, seeming to sense his discomfort, smiled graciously. "Good night, Severus,"
"Good night Hermione," he replied with a slight bow. Hermione sunk to the stair and watched Snape as he made his way to the front door.
Just as Snape was opening the door, the kitchen door opened and Ron sprinted straight up the stairs past Hermione. He was mildly aware that his clumsy footsteps were echoing loudly throughout the old house, the creaky stairs and landings complaining clearly from the pressure. He stopped just short of the door to his and Harry's room. The door was cracked open slightly, the light of the bright orange sunset lighting a path on the floor before Ron. He caught his breath quietly then gently pushed the door open, aware of each creak of the noisy hinges, and was blinded by the bright sun that shone directly into their room.
Harry was standing at the window, his head against the glass. His eyes were closed and his glasses lay limply in his hand. Ron stood hesitantly next to Harry, with the letter in his hands.
"What were you going to write Harry?" Ron asked after a moment of silence.
"I'm not sure... I know what I wanted to say but I wasn't expecting to say it so soon..." Harry took his head from the glass and put his glasses on, though still refusing to look at Ron. "I... I think I fancy you," he mumbled. His head drooped, his eyes stared at his feet, his body seeming ready for rejection.
Ron nodded, "I thought that's what you might say..." he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"And your reaction?"
Ron sighed and began slowly pacing the space behind Harry. "I'm not sure..." he said shortly after. He knew that working Harry's nerves up like he was wasn't nice to do, but he needed time to think this over before he rushed into anything with Harry and ruined their friendship. "After you ran out of the kitchen earlier, I thought about how I feel about you... I'm confused," Ron stated, pausing in his pacing to look at Harry. Harry looked up at him curiously.
"I know that I feel something beyond friendship for you," Ron said, "but I don't know where it's coming from or how strong it is," Ron ducked his head, feeling his face flush. "It just may be lust," he added.
Harry considered what Ron had said for a moment. "I'd be willing to take a chance if you are... If things don't work out, it'll be awkward, but we'd be back to normal sooner or later," Harry said, trying to remain optimistic.
Ron nodded, meeting Harry's eyes. "I'm willing to try."
The corners of Harry's lips turned up until he had a full-blown smile that Ron couldn't help but return. He caught Harry's eye again, just for a moment, then looked away. Harry chuckled nervously. Ron wondered when they had gotten so uncomfortable around each other. They certainly hadn't been when they saw each other last week, the first time they had seen each other since Harry had been taken from Hogwarts. They had looked at each other, hugged suddenly, and smiled openly...
"How will people react?" Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowed together.
"What?" Ron asked, caught off guard.
"How will the wizarding world react to... us? Will they be different than muggles or the same?"
"How would Muggles react?"Ron asked.
"Some are completely against it and will hate people for it, and others don't really mind as long as no one hits on them," Harry answered with a small smile.
"It's the same in the wizarding world, then. The only difference is that most purebloods don't care who you are with as long as they are pureblood and you have a pureblooded heir to carry on the family name."
"Thanks, I've been wondering about that for a while... Should we go back downstairs now?"
Ron agreed, happy to have an excuse to get away from the awkward atmosphere. But as they were on the landing, Ron stopped Harry to ask, "Are we telling anyone about us?"
"Let's not just yet," Harry said, sending Ron a playful smile. "Let them figure it out for themselves,"
Ron laughed, "Alright, I like that idea."
They slowly made their way downstairs in a content silence. On the second floor landing they found Sirius and Remus letting themselves into Remus' bedroom. Sirius spotted them first and motioned for both of them to come over.
"Is everything alright?" he asked. Remus observed them silently, seeming to know something that he wasn't sharing with the rest of them.
Harry glanced at Ron quickly, catching his eye and smiling warmly. "It is now," Harry said. Sirius nodded and a silence fell over them. Harry awkwardly shifted to his other foot, looking like the gangly fifteen-year-old he had been when Sirius had last seen him. "I really haven't gotten to talk to you since you came back," Harry said. He cleared his throat a little. "I wanted you to know that I really am glad that you're back,"
Sirius smiled and pulled Harry into a rough hug. He absentmindedly noted that Harry was now as tall as he was, and still had a little left to grow. "I'm glad to be back Harry," Sirius pulled away, still holding onto Harry's arms as he observed him. "And so very proud of you,"
"We're all extremely proud of you," Remus added somberly. Harry smiled shyly at him over Sirius' shoulder.
"Now go on downstairs, Harry. It's your party after all!"
"Sirius and I will join you in a while, we have something to discuss first," Remus said.
Harry nodded, smiling at Sirius once more before he followed Ron downstairs. Sirius turned and faced Remus with a sigh. Remus was leaning against the wall by his door, staring at the spot where Ron had been standing. Slowly his eyes moved to Sirius', locking into them and freezing. Sirius searched for something to say, something witty and meaningful and romantic that showed Remus how much he loved him and had missed him. He couldn't find the words.
"Come on then," Remus said.
Sirius followed Remus into the bedroom, feeling slightly awkward and lost despite the fact that he grew up in this house and the long hours he and Remus had spent in there before his trip to the Lands Beyond the Veil. He sat on the bed's edge, unwilling to test the squeaky springs and draw attention to himself just yet, observing the room as Remus opened the curtains and lit some candles.
The room was plain, everything neat and organized, only the absolute essentials visible. The walls were bare, fully revealing the dingy, peeling olive wallpaper that Sirius had despised since his childhood. Despite the stripped look, the room held a sense of comfort and home and Remus, which was good enough for Sirius.
When Remus sat next to him, he again found himself at a loss for words.
"I'm sorry Remus," Sirius managed. He signed and looked across the small room, wishing he could think of the things that he had so desperately been wanting to say to his partner.
"Whatever for?" Remus asked, taken aback by Sirius' abrupt apology.
"For not listening to you, Albus and everyone else and getting myself trapped behind that veil," he swallowed, willing the visions of the veil's horrors away. "And for shortening my time with you and Harry once again,"
Remus shook his head then forced Sirius to look at him. "None of that matters now, Sirius. I only blamed you in that letter because I was afraid I would begin blaming myself like I did when you were in Azkaban. It's fine now," Remus smiled and ran his hand down the side of Sirius' face. "Everything is fine now,"
Impulsively Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus' middle, holding the thin man to himself as he took in the scent that seemed to always hover around his lover. A scent that was almost indescribable, but he knew that it was the same smell of Remus that he had always known–something musky and human with a primitive sense of home.
"You know what I'm going to do?"
Remus pulled back a little and look at Sirius warily. "I never know what you're going to do,"
"I'm going to buy a house," Sirius continued, ignoring Remus' comment. "A large house–maybe even a mansion–that we can live in. Harry could join us, if he'd like to. Young men his age normally want to live on their own though," he added in a quieter voice.
"Those are only the ones who have been pressured by rules from their parents their whole lives. I'm sure that Harry would jump at the chance to move in,"
"His friends could move in too, I wouldn't mind," Sirius paused and locked his eyes with Remus'. "We could share the master bedroom–no secrecy. If you agree to–"
Remus kissed him, stopping Sirius' sentence. "Of course I'd want to, you daft idiot... And I don't think that you'll need to worry about Harry accepting our relationship," Remus added, half to himself, though the comment was directed to Sirius.
"Why not?"
"Didn't you see the way he looked at Ron on the stairs?" Sirius blinked. "Oh come now Sirius, we looked at each other the same way when we were their age. That's probably what Harry's letter was about,"
Sirius nodded slowly, "You're probably right, Moony... And it makes sense–why Harry ran upstairs so quickly... Speaking of which, Harry's party is going without us. Shall we go? We can finish this later,"
"Yes, we have plenty of time now," Remus said with a sigh as they stood. "I am sorry for how I sounded in that letter,"
"It's okay, Remus. We're good now. Like you said, everything is fine... That is, as long as you want an ex-convict as your lover?" Sirius asked.
"As long as you want a werewolf as yours," Remus said with a smile.
Sirius kissed him and whispered, "Always, my love."
Theylingered a few moments in each other's arms before descending the stairs to the basement kitchen. The awkward silence had been broken and Sirius was happy to see that Harry and his friends were laughing. When he and Remus entered, neither noticed that Ginny and Neville were still seated and talking quietly.
"I understand why you got your letter and why everyone else got theirs, but why did I get Luna's sent to me?" Neville whispered, staring at the unopened letter. "I already know what it says and how much I want her back!"
"Maybe it's Luna telling you somehow that she knows and that she's with you in spirit?" Ginny suggested tiredly, throwing explanations around.
Neville sighed. "Maybe... I don't know. This is all confusing me. This letter, Luna d-dead–I'm going to be alone Ginny! Who else would want me?" he asked, his voice becoming hysterical.
"Nonsense, Neville. There are billions of people out there and Luna was only one of them. I'm not telling you to go out and find someone now, but..." she sighed and looked down at her letter. "I believe that everything happens for a reason. Small or large, every action matters," she paused then looked up at Neville. "Luna was here to show you that people can love you for who you are, if given the chance, but she wasn't meant to live Neville. By all means, mourn her death, but don't beat yourself up over it,"
Neville sighed shakily, his eyes shining with tears, "You're right Ginny, thank you."
Ginny gave Neville a sisterly hug, supporting him and gaining some assurance for herself. "Anytime," she whispered with meaning.
She excused herself and quietly snuck out of the room and upstairs into the library. Ginny closed the door behind her, the letter still clutched in her hand, not bothering to light any candles as the dim light of the sky was enough for her. The sun had set and the sky was getting darker now, slowly handing the power of the sky over to the half-moon. She walked over to the window, where the blueish light of the moon weakly filtered in, and stood in thought.
"Why didn't you try harder?" she whispered. "I would have tired to get to know you better, I would have given you a chance had I known you weren't lying!" Ginny sank to the floor, her back to the wall, the light of the moon feebly glowing on her patched skirt. "God help me, I killed you!" she choked on a sob. "I killed you Draco! I could have given you a chance at a new life and instead all-all I did was bloody murder you!" she exclaimed before breaking into tears.
"T-this is all m-my fault! Your life was in my h-hands!" Unable to articulate any other words, Ginny was reduced to sobbing violently into the pleats of her worn skirt, tormented by personal demons, war fatigue and the lives she had taken so young in her own.
As McGonagall and Dumbledore walked outside the library, the young girl's sounds of crying and distress floated out to them. McGonagall paused outside the door, ready to go inside, when Dumbledore placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Perhaps it is best for her to handle this on her own?" he suggested.
"Oh, yes, you're probably right Albus... That poor dear," she added with a sigh. They continued toward the door, but McGonagall stopped once again. "I don't think that you have messed up with Harry at all. Quite the contrary, in fact, he seems quite happy now from what I've seen of him lately,"
Dumbledore smiled at her, a bit gratefully. "Indeed, it does seem to be that way..." he sighed and started for the door again. "Though I don't suppose that I could handle another generation of children..."
"Do you plan on resigning before next year?" McGonagall asked, the slightest bit shocked, though she had been expecting it.
"Yes, yes I do... What say you, Minerva? Will you replace me?"
"Of course. If I don't accept, we'll never know what kind of person you'll hire,"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Could you imagine Severus as Headmaster?" he asked good-naturedly as he held the front door open for his colleague.
"The students would revolt!" she laughed.
Dumbledore paused, a small smile on his face, as he stood over the threshold. The joyful sounds of an infant party could be heard from the kitchen and Ginny's sobs could be heard from the library. He sighed wistfully and with a wave of his hand the candles in the chandelier went out, shrouding the entrance hall in darkness. Dumbledore turned his back on the room and followed McGonagall outside. The door shut behind him with a sharp snap.
A/n- The end!
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