Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Notes: Sorry about the delays in getting this chapter out. I had a serious bout with writer's block on this one. That, coupled with work, having a social life, purchasing a new computer, and the Thanksgiving Holiday, have caused the delays. Also, I know that I said at the end of the last chapter that I would be revealing the Forbidden Chalice in this chapter, but I have decided to push that portion back one chapter. There were some things that I felt needed to be said first. So, my apologies. Fortunately, much of the next chapter was actually written several weeks ago. After a bit of tweaking, I should have that one out fairly quickly.

The Day After

Thank you Bella, but no. I can attend to this myself. Crucio!

Harry's eyes opened to the darkness of Ron's old bedroom. It had only been a dream, nothing for Harry to be concerned about. Dreaming about the Battle was to be expected, and presumably, it would be a part of his dreams both now and for the foreseeable future. As far as he knew, it was just his memories intruding on his sleep. It would be a couple of years before he would realize the deeper meaning behind this particular dream.

They had arrived at the Burrow in the early part of the afternoon. As soon as Harry and Hermione had walked into the door, Mrs. Weasley them off to bed. Neither of them argued. Both were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. For his part, Harry was glad to hear Mrs. Weasley order them off to bed. It was more the tone that she had used that made him glad. It was the tone of a concerned mother, and it meant that she was not angry with him, at least not yet. When he finally did manage to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and tell them that Ginny left the Room of Requirement because of him, that might all change.

Harry and Hermione had spent the better part of an hour in that corridor, holding on to each other and letting all of their feelings out. Harry felt some measure of relief. It was as though some great burden had been lifted, not gone completely, only lessened. But lessened was enough for now.

Bill Weasley found them a little while later, still sitting on the floor and huddled together. He had been sent out by Mrs. Weasley when she had begun to worry about them. Upon finding that they were both alright, Bill left them alone. He was smart enough to know what why they had left and why they were now sitting on the cold stone floor of the hallway, with their eyes puffy and tears still running down their cheeks. They needed time to themselves.

"Hermione, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to put you through all of that, but I had to make Voldemort believe that I was dead. It was the only way I could get back to the school. I know that I should've found some way to let you know."

"You're damn right you should have," Hermione said with a tone that showed she was still slightly angry with Harry. "Just promise me that you'll never do that to me again."

"I promise. No more pretending to be dead." It was a meager attempt at humor on Harry's part, one that provoked something that was sort of like a smile on Hermione's face.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" she finally asked.

"Yes." Harry stood up and held out his hand to Hermione. "Come on. We should do this some place with a bit more privacy." Hermione grasped his hand and they began walking. Harry began telling her what happened after they separated, only hesitating when he told her about using the Resurrection Stone. To his surprise, she bore that part of his tale quite well. A few tears well-up in her eyes upon when Harry told her how much Ron regretted not pursuing her sooner, but she Hermione held firm, refusing to break. The closest she did come to breaking happened when Harry told her that she had been his ultimate reason for choosing to live.

By the time he was finished recounting the events of the past few hours, the two of them were standing in front of the headmaster's office. They went inside and Harry spoke to Dumbledore's portrait, telling him of the loss of the Resurrection Stone, and that it would remain lost forever. Using the Elder Wand, he then repaired his Holly and Phoenix wand and promised to return the Elder Wand to its rightful owner.

Hours had passed since that time, and now, Harry lay in Ron's old bed listening to the sounds around him. The house was peacefully silent. Even the ghoul, who was once again living in the attic above Ron's bedroom, seemed to be keeping quiet out of respect. Apart from the wind, the only other noise Harry could hear was that of Hermione's breathing as she slept next to him. Even with the engorgement charm she had put on the bed to make it big enough for the both of them, she was still lying quite close to Harry. He could feel the warmth of her body, but strangely enough, Harry did not feel uncomfortable sharing the same bed with her. As a matter of fact, he felt an unusual sense of security with Hermione being so close to him.

After Mrs. Weasley had ordered them to bed, Hermione had snuck down to Ron's bedroom. She had not wanted to sleep on her own. With all she had been through, he could hardly blame her, and as badly as she had made him feel for pretending to be dead, Harry was not going to deny her this. Letting her sleep in the same bedroom was the very least that he could do to ease some of her pain. It was not as though that hadn't spent the better part of the last several months sleeping in the same tent with one another. Sleeping in the same bedroom would be no different.

There was one glaring problem, however, and that was there was only one bed in Ron's room. The camping bed that Harry normally slept on had been put away, and even though they were both adults, Harry doubted that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be terribly inclined to allow he and Hermione share the same bedroom. Therefore, asking to have the camping bed put in the bedroom was quite out of the question. Harry tried to be honorable and offered to sleep on the floor, but Hermione would not hear of it, telling him that he deserved to sleep in a bed just as much as she did. At the time, he was too tired to argue with her, a fact made quite evident when he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Even after what seemed like several hours of sleep, he still felt very tired. Harry closed his eyes, hoping to get some more rest, but now that he was awake, his mind had become active, pouring over different thoughts. Mostly what now concerned Harry was how his life had changed. It was not what he had expected or wanted, but now he had to deal with the reality of what his life had become. He began to wonder what the next step would be for him. Would he be allowed to return to Hogwarts and finish his seventh year? If so, would he even be able to bring himself to go with all of the memories, good and bad, that Hogwarts now held for him? These thoughts churned in Harry's mind for several minutes before he finally decided that trying to get any further sleep was a useless pursuit.

Wanting to do something else, he chose to get up. As he sat up in bed, Harry felt as though he had aged several decades since this morning. His muscles were stiff and sore, and a dull pain radiated out from the spot on his chest where he had been hit with Voldemort's killing curse. He looked down at his battered watch. It was nearly midnight. He had been asleep for more than ten hours. Thinking that his muscle stiffness was caused by nothing more than being asleep for so long, Harry pushed himself to get up and walk downstairs, hoping that some movement would loosen things up.

When he got downstairs, Harry was surprised to find Mr. Weasley sitting in his usual chair. Mr. Weasley was different now, he seemed older somehow. He had always been a light-hearted and uplifting sort of person, who always tried to ease everyone else's tension by making himself appear to be relaxed and calm. That look was now gone. In its place was a man who was weary and heartbroken.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Harry," Mr. Weasley replied, jumping slightly in his seat at Harry's sudden appearance. "You surprised me. I didn't expect anyone else to be up right now."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's alright. Come on, have a seat, if you like. I wouldn't mind some company." Harry slumped down on the weathered couch nearby Mr. Weasley. "Care for a drink? I suppose we have a little bit to celebrate about." It was only then that Harry noticed the bottle of fire whiskey pinned between Mr. Weasley's leg and the side of the chair and a half-full glass that he was holding in his hand.

"Sure, why not," Harry said more out of courtesy. He really did not think there were very many things to celebrate. Mr. Weasley summoned another glass from the kitchen and filled it up for Harry.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I suppose. I didn't think I would sleep for that long. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"That's no surprise. You've had quite a past couple of days. Breaking into Gringott's, defeating You Know Who, and all that followed by a big party. You're a big hero now, Harry. Not that you weren't before, but now…"

"Yeah, well I don't feel like a hero."

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry for a moment, contemplating this sentiment. "No, I don't suppose you would. That's not the person you are, Harry. If I had to guess, right now I'd say you were wondering if it was all worth it."

That really was a good question, one that Harry had only one answer for. "Some of it is worth it, I guess."

"But not all of it, right?" Mr. Weasley asked, already seeming to know the answer.

"No, not all of it." Harry took a sip of the fire whiskey, which didn't really help him feel any better. "Ron and Ginny weren't supposed to die. I was the one who supposed to die last night. That's why I went off to face Voldemort. He had to kill me for it to be finished."

Mr. Weasley's expression changed to surprised concern. "What do you mean Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment. If anyone deserved to know the truth, it was Mr. Weasley. "Alright, the truth. I guess I owe you that much. Do you know what a horcrux is, Mr. Weasley?" For the next hour and a half, Harry told Mr. Weasley the entire story, pushing himself through everything. It was only when he began talking about Ravenclaw's Diadem did he finally pause for a few moments before forcing himself to blurt out that it was he who had let Ginny out of the Room of Requirement. Mr. Weasley remained silent throughout, listening intently, only asking the occasional question.

When Harry was done, he sat silently, unable to look Mr. Weasley in the face. "Well…that's quite a tale Harry. It's no wonder Dumbledore didn't want you tell anybody what you three were up to," Mr. Weasley said trying to take in everything he had just learned. He sat silently for a few moments before speaking again. "Harry, I know this must be hard for you. Ron was like your brother, and I know how you felt about Ginny. But you shouldn't go blaming yourself for what happened to them. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but I can't help think that it was."

"Of course you do. You wouldn't be human if you didn't feel that way, and I would venture to say that no matter how many times anyone tells you differently, you're still going to feel that way. All I can tell you is that neither Molly, I, nor anyone else in this family bares you any blame at all. So, let's have another drink and not worry anymore about blaming ourselves for things we did not do." With that, Mr. Weasley emptied his glass with one gulp and filled it with another generous portion of fire whiskey before holding it out. "Let's drink to those we love and the happy memories they have given us." Harry raised his glass, tapped it to the side of Mr. Weasley's, and took a large gulp of his own.