Neville had always loved his bed at Hogwarts. It was large and comfortable, and the only time he'd ever had a bad night's sleep was when Ron's snoring was particularly loud. That was why at first he couldn't figure out why he had a horrible crick in his neck as he returned from the land of Nod. It took a few moments of semi-consciousness for him to remember the events of the previous evening and to realize that instead of the warm, comfy bed in his dorm he was laying on one of the most used couches in the Common Room in front of a fire that had burned down to embers in the night.
He shivered slightly as he swung his feet to the floor and stood, trying to work out the other stiff muscles that revealed themselves as he started to move. Looking down at his watch, he hoped that Harry and Hermione were already up as he desperately needed the loo and, only slightly less pressing, he was eager to get down to breakfast to see if Luna was there. He'd been a bit leery of her at first when they'd met on the train at the beginning of Fifth Year, but despite her quirks he'd taken to admiring the lithe Ravenclaw from afar since the previous year during the DA meetings. Then she'd gone with them to the Ministry and had proven her mettle while simultaneously endearing her to him even more. But ever since they'd gotten back in September he hadn't been able to work up the courage to ask her to Hogsmeade. If there was anything positive to come out of the tragedy of Ron's passing, it was that it appeared he and Luna had been given the chance to get to know each other, and he wasn't about to squander it.
Finding their dorm room empty, Neville quickly showered and changed before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was disappointed on his arrival that Luna wasn't there, but his mood brightened considerably when she walked through the doors about 20 minutes after he'd sat down. He couldn't hide the smile on his face as she walked over and took a seat right next to him. "Good morning, Neville," she said quietly.
"Good morning, Luna," Neville responded, his nerves fighting a war with his happiness at seeing her. A happiness that she didn't seem to entirely share, much to his disappointment. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough," she responded as she started pulling serving dishes towards herself. At his questioning glance, she turned her head to him and spoke in little more than a whisper, "Spiritual awakenings and the shattering of false masks don't really lend themselves to a peaceful night's sleep." In a louder voice she continued, "Besides, my dorm mates were up most of the night talking about everything that happened yesterday and trying to figure out how they could jump Harry."
Neville nearly choked on the drink of orange juice he'd been taking and sputtered as he responded, "Why do your dorm mates want to hurt Harry?"
"Hurt him? What do you mean hurt him?" she asked, looking at him oddly. It took a few seconds for recognition to cross her features. "Oh, I'm sorry Neville. 'Jump' is a Muggle term. It doesn't mean ambush or attack like you seem to be thinking. Well, not entirely I guess," she said with a slight, and cute as far as Neville was concerned, pinking of her cheeks; something else the 'old' Luna was not known for doing. "It means they were trying figure out a way to drag him into a broom cupboard." Luna smiled lightly as Neville's cheeks then started to turn pink as he realized what she had meant. "What he did yesterday, both what happened in the Great Hall and the rumors that spread from Gryffindor Tower after he got back there in the afternoon, seem to have . . . well, caused Harry to have an even greater increase in popularity amongst the young women of Hogwarts, if you catch my meaning." Neville could only nod as he went back his eggs and sausage.
As breakfast continued it became apparent that Harry and Hermione were not going to make an appearance. He wondered where they were and hoped they were okay. Yesterday had been emotionally draining for him; he could only imagine how they were feeling. Still, their absence allowed him to do something he'd spent six months working up the courage to do. "Luna?" Neville asked, and the fellow blond turned her large silvery eyes towards him. "Do you . . . I mean, would you like to take a walk through the greenhouses with me this morning?" He continued quickly before she had a chance to answer. "It's just that it's still kind of cold outside, and I really enjoyed our talk last night, and you said you would like to have more walks, and I thought that maybe the greenhouses would be a nice way to be kind of outside without really being outside, and . . ." he scrunched up his face, convinced that he was doing this all wrong.
"A walk through the greenhouses sounds like a lovely idea, Neville," Luna replied with a smile, immediately setting him at ease. The two finished breakfast and walked up first to Ravenclaw Tower and then Gryffindor Tower to pick up their winter cloaks; even the short walk out to the greenhouses was likely to be unpleasant without them. They bundled up and made the trek across the grounds to Greenhouse 1. Neville knew the layout of the greenhouses very well, having spent a great deal of time in them helping Professor Sprout, so he took Luna's cloak and hung it up next to a different door than the one they had come in before offering Luna his arm as his grandmother had taught him to. She accepted with a smile and they moved through the plants slowly, idly speaking about the plants themselves, their experiences with various flora and fauna, or just making idle chit-chat. It wasn't until they made it to Greenhouse 4 that any topic of real consequence came out. It had arisen innocently enough, Neville asking what Luna liked to do during the summers.
"Well, for the last few summers I've spent a lot of time talking to my mother. Well, visiting her grave and talking; I like to think she was listening though," Luna said, and though it was said matter-of-factly enough Neville could sense the sadness in her voice. He started to apologize for brining it up when she cut him off. "It's alright, Neville. I think talking about some of this would really help, and you're very easy to talk to," she said with a small smile. "It's just . . . it's been hard enough with her being gone just because she was my mum, you know? But it got to be especially hard when I started growing up." With Neville again seeming to not really know what she was talking about, Luna found herself having to explain. "Neville, you remember those lessons from second and third year with Madam Pomfrey about the changes boys and girls go through as they become men and women, right?" Neville blushed and nodded; short of classes with Snape the lessons with the Matron about puberty and 'growing up' had been the most uncomfortable learning experiences of his life. "I don't know how it is for boys, but a lot of the things that Madam Pomfrey went over in those classes are usually reinforced or explained more at home by mothers and older sisters, at least that's what Ginny said. I didn't . . . I didn't have anyone but Mum to talk to. I love Daddy, but I've always known I could never really take anything serious to him, not after Mum died." Luna took a deep breath to center herself. "And so I would talk to her about all sorts of things. It was a chance to let a little bit of this me back out while trying to get a handle on stuff like hormones and monthlies and starting to like boys," she reddened slightly as she mentioned the last two.
Neville, for his part, just nodded in understanding. "I never really thought about it like that. I never had anyone to talk to about all of that stuff either. I mean, the boys in the Tower are always talking about that sort of stuff, but I guess what you're talking about is different. Less . . . well, less boasting and posturing and more substance." Luna nodded and he continued. "Gran isn't the most open person in the world, and the lessons she and I had were always about deportment and how to be a proper English gentleman, stuff like that. Dad, well . . . I think you know what's going on with my Mum and Dad," Neville said quietly, and Luna answered in the affirmative before stopping their walk to pull him into a hug which he returned gratefully. "I miss them," he admitted as they continued on their walk. "I mean, I never really knew them I guess, and I do get to see them over the holidays, but . . . I wish I could talk to my Dad they way you talk to your Mum."
"There's nothing stopping you, Neville," Luna answered as they walked back into Greenhouse 1 through the door that Neville had put their cloaks next to. "It might help you work things out. I know that I have a lot to talk about with Mum the next time I get to visit."
"Like what, if I may ask," Neville questioned as he helped Luna put her cloak back on.
"Like this really cute Gryffindor boy who I've been talking to and that I think I might be starting to like as more than a friend," she returned with a shy smile.
Neville gulped. "Really?" he managed to croak out. Smooth, Longbottom he thought to himself.
Luna, however, just nodded coyly. "Yep. And I'm hoping he might be starting to think about me the same way" she said as she lowered her head and stared at her feet, unsure what would happen next.
For a moment Neville wasn't sure how to respond until words that he hadn't heard in almost five years came back to him. 'Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.'[1] As the words from his Sorting reverberated in his head, Neville proved once again that he had been sorted into the correct house by gently taking Luna's chin in his hand and lifting her head up, his other hand moving to the small of her back. Meeting her stare with his own, he whispered, "I'm positive he does," Neville said before closing the gap between them. Her arms lifted around his neck as their lips met, the first true kiss for either one of them made slightly awkward by the huge smiles both had on their faces.
{-}
Harry and Hermione spent a productive day in the War Room reviewing memories, working on some of their homework, and jotting down notes on either Caleb's lessons or their ideas for Ron's eulogy. They also worked on a few letters to be sent off with Hedwig later; one from both of them to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, one from Harry to Remus, one from Hermione to her parents, and after viewing one particular memory from Caleb Harry drafted a final letter to Gringotts. They decided to forego lunch, as neither of them was either particularly hungry or particularly eager to interact with the student population at large or encounter the staff, with the possible exception of McGonagall or Hagrid. Hermione was fairly sure that Harry would likely try to melt Snape with his brain if they encountered each other today.
The day wasn't without its pitfalls, however. At one point during the afternoon Hermione almost had to Stun Harry when, while perusing the Marauders Map looking for Neville and Luna, he had seen Draco Malfoy lurking in the hallway outside the door. He had stormed towards the door intent on dragging the blonde Slytherin into the room and beating a confession out of him, and only Hermione's repeated reassurances that she had a plan for Malfoy had kept Harry from following through. He had insisted on hearing her plan, though, and after doing so agreed with her that it probably had a better chance of success in their learning what Malfoy knew and what he was up to than Harry's proposed 'Stinging Hexes to the testicles until he talks and then do it a few more times' methodology. Both agreed her plan would probably not be as satisfying as Harry's idea, however.
As dinnertime rolled around they both agreed both that their hunger was starting to affect their concentration and that they needed to find and talk to their friends. In particular they wanted to bring Neville into this room and show him his ancestor's journal; they had refused to read it until Neville had a chance to do so himself. Checking the Map and seeing the hallway outside was clear, they left the Room and waited for the door to disappear completely before heading first to the Owlery to post their letters and then down to the Great Hall. They had intentionally timed their entrance toward the very beginning of dinner so that hopefully they could take their seats without drawing too much attention. It seemed to have worked, as only a few people were already in the Hall and they were able to sit down and start fixing themselves plates without being unduly noticed or accosted. Just as they were about to pick up their flatware Neville and Luna showed up, and both Harry and Hermione smiled at seeing that their friends were holding hands as they approached. "Alright there, Neville?" Harry asked as the two blonds sat down across from them.
Neville smiled back at Harry and Hermione. "Pretty damn alright, Harry," he replied, turning to look at Luna. "You?"
"Alright," he replied. "Listen, Nev, when we're done with dinner there's something we'd like you to see. You and Luna both, actually." Both teens on the other side of the table nodded their assent before fixing their own plates.
Dinner proceeded much as Harry and Hermione had expected; they noticed a high number of looks turned Harry's way as the Hall started to fill up, though people were at least careful not to speak so loudly that their gossip could be overheard. All things considered, it was about as good as Harry could have hoped for given how dinner had gone the previous night. The Hall quieted down when Dumbledore stood and approached the podium once again.
"Good evening students," he began. "I wanted to pass out a few announcements before you all go back to your evenings. First, classes tomorrow are cancelled in order to give you all an extra day to catch up after yesterday's tragic happenings. Please use the time wisely to make sure you are prepared for your lessons on Tuesday. Secondly, services for Mr. Weasley will be held later this week at his family's ancestral cemetery in Devonshire. I've been asked to relay to you all the thanks of the Weasley family for the outpouring of sympathy that they've already received both from yourselves and your families, but to let you all know that the services will be private. Those students who have been invited by the family to attend will be notified by myself or Professor McGonagall either this evening or tomorrow and will be exempted from classes the day of the services. Lastly, please note that, until further notice, there will be a permanent Auror presence in the school. Should anything untoward arise, please immediately seek out either one of them or the staff." With that, Dumbledore returned to his seat and dessert appeared on the tables.
As Harry bit into his first forkful of treacle tart a familiar Scottish voice called from behind him. "Mister Potter, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall called. "I've been asked to relay to you that services for Mr. Weasley will be held on Thursday at eleven o'clock. I have a personal note from Molly asking that the both of you Floo to the Burrow after breakfast that morning to spend time with the family."
Harry looked to Hermione, who just nodded sadly. "Thank you, Professor. We sent a letter off with Hedwig earlier, but if you speak to Mrs. Weasley again this evening can you please let her know that I'd like to say something during the funeral?"
McGonagall observed the boy for a moment. Potter had never been one to stand in front of a crowd and orate, though she'd heard many good things about the handling of his 'illegal' defense group the previous year. It was a testament to both his feelings for young Mr. Weasley and the burden he was undertaking that he was going to step so far out of his comfort zone at what promised to be both a very emotional and, likely, politically charged event. Minerva had heard from Molly that the Minister of Magic had invited himself to the services, and she was sure he was going to try and take the opportunity to glad-hand the Boy-Who-Lived again like he had tried to at Christmas. She was very proud of the man Potter was becoming, but could not bring herself to say that in the current company; she had to uphold her image of impartiality in order to maintain discipline. "Very good Mr. Potter. Also, since I would guess both you and Miss Granger will require dress robes, please meet me in the Entrance Hall after breakfast tomorrow and I will escort you down to Hogsmeade so that you may purchase some." With a nod at the students, she turned and walked way.
Feeling recharged after dinner, Harry and Hermione walked with Luna and Neville back up to the Room of Requirement. Luckily it appeared that Malfoy had not managed to make it up there before them, as when Harry asked for the War Room the solid-looking wooden door had once again appeared. Once inside, the two newcomers remarked on the wonder of the configuration before Harry escorted them over to the conference table and the book still sitting at its head. He didn't say anything, simply picking up Caleb's letter and handing it to Neville to read. The teen's face revealed a series of emotions as he read; first shock, then wonder, and finally a smile as he looked down at the book in front of him. He turned a questioning gaze on Harry, who just nodded and clapped the other boy on the shoulder before walking over to Hermione, who had pulled a book off the shelves by the range and was sitting on one of the cushions reading. He grabbed a book of his own from the available choices and took up a position next to her as he opened it, while Luna stayed with Neville as he sat down in the chair at the head of the table and opened the journal to the first page with trembling hands.
Traditionally the Longbottoms had kept journals and records that future generations of the family could peruse but Caleb's, who was arguably Neville's most noted ancestor, had never been found. Until now. The gravity of what he had before him, not just for his family history but for him personally, was not lost on the sixteen-year-old. His father had become an Auror because of Caleb's contributions to England and the world at large; Frank had thought that service to the masses was a worthy life to lead. And when Neville had been working with the DA the previous year, one of his inspirations was the stories that had been passed down about Caleb's prowess as a warrior; it was in his blood somewhere, he just had to figure out how to tap into it. To now have the man's folio in front of him, to be given a chance to read not only about the man's exploits but his thoughts, feelings, and motivations, was more precious to Neville than any gold in any vault. This was his family, his history, and his legacy, and he tore into the pages with abandon as he sought to absorb the life experiences of his several times great-grandfather.
And that was how the night continued until curfew, the only change in positioning coming when Harry and Hermione swapped from the defense books they'd been perusing back to their homework. At that point Luna moved over to join them on the cushions with a book from the shelves, as she didn't have her school books with her. Neville spent the entire time devouring the journal voraciously, and it took all three of the other teens calling to him that it was time to go before he pulled himself out of the world he had delved into. After escorting Luna back to Ravenclaw Tower (Harry and Hermione making sure to give the other two a little privacy to say their goodnights), the three Gryffindors returned to their own Common Room, where Neville immediately took a chair in the corner and continued reading while Harry and Hermione headed up to their respective beds, the long day finally catching up with them.
{-}
Hermione barely kept her scream suppressed when she awoke with a start a few hours later. The nightmare had been very vivid; a bright streak of green light hitting Harry squarely in the chest. His lifeless body collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Side-by-side gravestones, one for Harry and one for Ron, and her standing there grieving as her world fell even farther into darkness. But it had been the high-pitched laugh, one she had never heard in reality but that Harry had described to her in detail, that had awoken her; Voldemort's laughter.
As the adrenaline left her system Hermione fought hard to get her breathing back under control. She peeled back her curtains and looked around the room, making sure she had not disturbed her dormmates, before laying back down and trying to fall back asleep. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get that laugh out of her head. Finally giving it up as a bad job, she quietly slipped out of bed, donned her dressing gown and slippers, and made her way down to the Common Room. She curled up in one of the big chairs near the fireplace and threw a quilt over herself before opening the book on advanced shield spells she'd gotten from the War Room, but try as she might she kept finding her mind wandering back to her dream, that sickening green spell and that hideous laughter. Eventually she couldn't take it, and stealthily made her way up the stairs to the one person who she felt would understand; after all, he'd experienced those things in dreams as well. Unfortunately, he'd also experienced them in real life.
Slipping through the doorway into the Sixth Year room, she made her way over to the drawn curtains of Harry's bed. Kneeling down beside the bed she started whispering his name through the barrier, hoping that he would hear her. When this failed to gain the attention of her best friend, Hermione pulled the curtain a little aside and peeked her head in. There lay Harry, black hair askew as usual and apparently asleep. She watched him for a moment, taking pleasure in seeing the steady rise and fall of his chest, that tangible reinforcement that he was still alive and by her side. Feeling an even greater need for that, she lifted herself slightly and bent down, placing her head gently upon his chest so that she could hear his heart. Closing her eyes, she savored the sound thumping through her ears as her body rose and fell in time with his.
She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but she was startled when a hand slid slowly and gently up the side of her torso. Opening her eyes quickly, she looked toward the head of the bed and saw Harry's sleepy eyes half open and looking down at her. Embarrassed at being found in such a state, she started to apologize. "Harry, I –"
Harry, still seemingly mostly asleep, stopped her with a finger to her lips before sliding over and lifting up the covers in invitation. Taking only a second to consider, she shrugged off her dressing gown and slippers and slid into the bed next to him, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Resting her head back against his chest, the soothing feeling granted by the sound of his heart was multiplied by his hand absently running through her thick brown hair. She was already very relaxed when he fell back to sleep completely and soon followed him into the realm of dreams, the comfort of his presence sufficient to keep away the terrors that had plagued her earlier rest.
{-}
The rest of the week up until Thursday passed in a bit of a blur for Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. Neville spent every waking moment that wasn't in class or spending time with Luna consumed by Caleb's journals, but he had still only made it up to the end of his ancestor's Hogwarts career. Luna spent her time as Luna usually did, which meant classes and the Library, with the addition of quality Neville time when both were available. Aside from Monday, when they went with McGonagall to Gladrags to get dress robes, Harry and Hermione spent their spare time in the War Room. Sometimes they worked through memories or the books on the shelves, but in large part they worked on Ron's eulogy. They were having a lot of trouble figuring out what to say; Hermione kept finding famous quotes and trying to play off of those, but Harry was trying to take Caleb's advice about speaking from the heart . . . well, to heart.
One thing Caleb had said in a stored memory had kept rattling around in Harry's brain, and as midnight approached on Wednesday he thought he really had what he wanted to say down. He'd been warned by McGonagall that the Minister and some of his staff were going to be present, so he was also trying to mentally prepare himself to deal with the Ministry the following day. As Harry put the finishing touches on the parchment he had written the final version of his comments on Hermione came quietly back downstairs in her nightclothes, dressing gown, and slippers. After she'd had nightmares on Monday night as well Hermione once again found herself in Harry's bed needing the comfort of his presence in order to sleep through the night. Then the previous night they'd just waited until the rest of the Tower was asleep and then done what they were doing now; forgoing the attempt to sleep separately and just sneaking her up into the boys' dorms. No one was aware of this but Neville, whose only comment was a suggestion to add a localized Silencing Charm and a Sticking Charm to the curtains, the former in case one of them woke up loudly from a nightmare and the latter to prevent anyone from opening the curtains without them knowing. The Invisibility Cloak ensured no one saw her enter or leave and was kept draped over the headboard if needed in a hurry.
Through those days leading up to the funeral neither teen was willing to think beyond the mutual comfort factor that their actions were giving, and though it often crossed both of their minds neither brought up the deeper burgeoning emotions that their almost constant closeness was seeming to engender. And while they'd both realized the increased emotional attachment to each other, neither noticed the seemingly unconscious increase in their physical closeness during their waking hours. Hermione had started automatically weaving her arm through Harry's as they walked the halls; both had started dishing food onto the other's plate at meals; Hermione had taken to leaning up against Harry on the cushions in the War Room or on the couches in the Common Room, and on those occasions Harry's arm would wrap around her protectively. Perhaps in different circumstances they might have considered exactly what their actions would appear like to an outside observer; to them, even had they been aware of it, knowing the other was still there and still close was worth any misunderstandings or gossip with them as the subject that was developing.
Finally Thursday morning arrived. Harry put on the black slacks and shirt that he'd bought before tying the deep silver tie that Hermione had picked out to add just a dash of color while still remaining respectful of the event. The outfit was completed by him donning black formal outer robes, and after making sure his wand and the Cloak were secured in their respective places he made his way down to the Common Room to wait for Hermione. His best friend appeared about 5 minutes later, dressed very similarly to him except that her silver tie was shorter and looped in a scarf style instead of the standard Full-Windsor like Harry's was. Looping her arm through Harry's offered elbow they decided to skip breakfast and made their way to Professor McGonagall's office, where they were going to then Floo to the Burrow. Upon their arrival, their Head of House appraised them quickly before deeming them acceptable and indicating they should make their way through the fireplace.
Harry's first thought as he arrived in the kitchen of the Weasley home a little after 9 o'clock was that he had never heard the house so quiet. He'd always associated the Burrow with a certain vivaciousness, an energy of life and family that felt decidedly absent currently. Arthur, Bill, and one of the Twins (Harry thought it was George) were seated at the kitchen table, heads tilted down looking into cups of tea that, if Harry's guess was correct, had long gone cold. It seemed as if they hadn't even noticed the Floo activate; not knowing what to do Harry walked over to Arthur and placed his hand on the older wizard's shoulder. This broke the man's reverie, and he immediately stood and greeted both newly arrived teens with hugs and calls of welcome. His words brought Molly from another part of the house, and both Harry and Hermione stifled their gasps at the appearance of the Weasley matriarch as she bustled her way to them.
To Harry, Molly Weasley had always radiated as a force of nature. She loved her family fiercely, and that had always showed itself in a number of ways. She was stern. She was short-fused at times, especially when they did something wrong. But she also was quick with a hug and to make sure you had enough to eat. She might not have been Harry's textbook definition of how he would have liked his mother to be, but she was as close to a mother as Harry had and he loved that she always tried to include him when she spoke of her children. She'd raised seven of her own and was under no requirement to accept him as such, but that she had meant more to Harry than he would ever be able to express.
Except now she'd lost one of those seven, and the toll it was taking was readily seen in her. She had deep bags under her red, swollen, and puffy eyes. Her hair, which though she was born a Prewitt had been just as fiery red as if she'd always been a Weasley, seemed to have lost its shine and even greyed some. Though she smiled as she came over and embraced Harry and Hermione, he could easily tell it was a façade that she had erected for their benefit. Even her hug had lost its usual power, like she didn't have either the physical or emotional strength to expend on the endeavor. Though, in typical Molly fashion, she made sure to ask if they wanted anything to eat before making sure the tea on the table was refilled.
"Mrs. Weasley, where's Ginny?" Hermione asked as Harry took a seat next to Bill.
"She's upstairs in her room with Fleur," Molly responded, and with a nod from Harry the young witch made her way to the stairs to check on the youngest Weasley. It was something the two of them had agreed on previously; though Harry had seemed to instinctually know what to do for Hermione over the last few days to help her in her bereavement he was fairly sure that he wouldn't have a clue how to deal with Ginny. She was to be Hermione's charge to keep an eye on, while Harry was going to see if he could start to bring the males of the Weasley clan around.
"Where are Charlie and Fred?" queried Harry to the group that remained in the kitchen; Molly had once again moved back into the living room, where she sat in a rocking chair with something that Harry was unable to identify at that distance.
"They'll be along soon," Bill answered. "There are a lot of family from hither and yon that will be at the service, and they and Percy volunteered to take the first shift of escorting and ushering. George and I will take the next shift at around 10."
Harry nodded as he processed the information Bill had provided before he asked the next in his set of questions. "So Percy has been around?"
"Yeah, he hasn't been staying here but he's been 'round for dinner every night," said George, not looking up from his tea.
Harry frowned but soldiered on. "I hear that the Minister is going to be there today," he commented. Of course he already knew the answer, but he was trying to draw the men into something other than staring at the table blankly.
It was Arthur that responded this time. "Yes, as will a few other Department Heads." The laconic answer truly disturbed Harry, and after several more attempts to spark conversation died he excused himself to go check on Molly. He approached her from the side as she rocked and looked down at what was in her hands, and he cringed as he realized it was her clock, the amazing and, as far as Harry knew, unique device that showed the status of her family, everything from 'Home' to 'Quidditch' to 'Mortal Peril.'
A clock that now had eight hands instead of nine.
Upon seeing that simple yet unmistakable proof that his best friend was gone all the emotions Harry had suppressed in the last few days, everything he had bottled up so that he could take care of Hermione, or deal with classes, or focus on the lessons in the War Room, broke out of their cages with a vengeance. Without realizing he had done it Harry suddenly found himself kneeling in front of Molly, his head in her lap next to the clock as his shoulders shook from his sobs and he whispered, "I'm sorry," over and over again.
Of all the things that might have pulled Molly Weasley from her downward spiral none would have been as effective as this one, seeing one of her children in pain. Here was one of her sons, maybe not her blood but as good as, who needed her now, and she would be damned if she wasn't going to do something about it. She put the clock to the side of the chair and started running her hands through Harry's hair, whispering "It's alright, sweetheart," to him gently as he purged his soul. As his cries continued unabated the rest of the house approached the living room, each bearing witness to the scene before them. Hermione had thundered down the stairs and rushed to Harry's side, laying her head next to his on Molly's lap as her arms curled around him, adding her own tears, support, and soothing words to Molly's. Molly split her attention between both of them, and was soon joined by her husband at her left shoulder, her eldest and his betrothed on her right, and George and Ginny taking places next to their father. Serendipitously, the other three boys arrived at that moment and, saying not a word, filled in the circle around their mother and their siblings she was providing comfort to. Hands found those of the person next to them, or wrapped around shoulders or waists, and for the first time since their tragic loss a mere five days before the entire Weasley family was able to spend a few moments grieving, healing, and drawing strength as one.
(A/N:
[1] Excerpt from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling, 1997
Sorry for the delay, I was out of town on family business. I've also realized I had some more to interject and so expanded this chapter past what I originally had. As a result, 'The Funeral and The Fallout' will be next chapter.
Though it seems to go against book canon I like the dress code that the movies developed and so have somewhat adopted it here; it's hard to believe that an entire population would run around in nothing but a glorified bathrobe. School robes basically take the place of a prep school blazer for both genders. Weekend dress codes are more relaxed, and similarly dress robes are a more formal; think double-breasted suit jacket versus tweed blazer. Same applies to adults; we all know the wizarding world is sociologically behind the Muggle world, so it would make sense that the adult dress codes leaned more toward those of Pre-World War 1 Britain, where it was almost scandalous to be seen without a jacket (or in our case robe) on.
As always, thanks very much for the views, reviews, follows, and favorites.)