"Hold on, what did you say?" Bill asked, having stopped what he was doing—in this case, repairing a section of the Grand Staircase at Hogwarts—to look over at his brother.

Ron, who also had been helping to mend this particular section of the stairs, lowered his wand. Between the two of them and the many other volunteers that had turned up to help clean up Hogwarts, they'd been working on repairs and replacements for the last five hours.

Loads of people had turned up to lend a hand, each taking to different parts of the castle since the damage was extensive and seemingly never-ending. Bill had practically seen everyone he'd ever known—including coworkers, old school mates, his ex-girlfriend from his Fifth Year, people he knew casually around both Gringotts and Diagon Alley—so many of them turning up.

Much of his family had been among them, save for George, who couldn't bring himself to come back to Hogwarts. Fleur was currently helping in upstairs classrooms, trying to set them right. His mother had been on the grounds helping with garden work; his father in the Great Hall repairing windows. He'd even caught a glimpse of Ginny helping organize portraits with Luna and a few other friends down on the Second Floor.

As for him, he'd been on the stairs almost the entire time he'd been here, charming cracks and rebuilding entire missing sections and railings. With as many stairways as there were in this castle, he didn't see himself taking on any other tasks today. In fact, the longer he worked, the more he noticed others coming on to join him, as if everyone realized how big the job was.

Only in the last twenty minutes had he run into Ron, both of them coming together to work on the same Fourth Floor section together.

"You're going where?" Bill added.

"Australia," Ron said

Bill stared at him, confused where this sudden trip had come from. "On holiday or…?"

Ron laughed a little, taking a moment to wipe his brow as the sight of a charmed suit of armor came sailing past them and up the stairs on its way back to where it belonged.

"Not exactly. Hermione asked me to go with her since she needs to bring her parents back. I've told you how she modified their memories to protect them and sent them down there? Well, now that things are safe, she wants to bring them back. She wants to see them."

"And she asked you to come along?" Bill asked, sensing Ron was burying the lede here. He seemed to be leaving out one very important detail of his story. Mainly the one where he and Hermione were spending quite a bit of time together. More so than usual.

Ron nodded absently, already taking a few steps up the stairs to examine the next nearest cracked step.

Bill hummed, still finding himself surprised Ron wasn't elaborating, "did she ask Harry to come along too?"

"Uh, I don't…" Ron hesitated. "Harry didn't want to go." He turned back to Bill. "He's earned himself a rest, don't you think?"

Obviously, but so had Ron. They all had.

"Sure," Bill said, starting to smile a bit, "but usually you three are a package deal."

"I suppose, but I mean, it doesn't always have to be that way." He hesitated again. "And, Hermione and I sort of thought it would be nice for just the two of us. And Harry's really busy…"

He trailed off.

Bill continued to smile. Ron really wasn't going to say it, even if it was obvious that something had clearly happened between Ron and Hermione somewhere between leaving Shell Cottage and now. Anyone paying attention would have noticed their entire demeanor together had changed recently. There were signs that they may have even been a proper couple.

But not obvious ones. They'd clearly been keeping things quiet due to the nature of events lately. At most, you'd usually catch them always sitting together and offering each other affectionate gestures of consolation at a funeral—but nothing so telling that you couldn't also mistake them for very good friends who cared about each other.

Still, if you knew them, it was evident in the small changes. The way they looked at each other; the way their smiles were more focused and specific on the other person. They were touchier than Bill had ever seen them in the past, even just earlier today. A few minutes before Ron had come to help him on the stairs, just before Hermione had gone in another direction to help elsewhere, there had been some very deliberate swift touches. It was as if they were trying to establish some connection before separating.

To Bill, it had almost felt like a weak substitute for a quick kiss goodbye.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ron asked, catching Bill smiling at him.

"You tell me," he said. "I feel as if there's something you're not saying."

"I'm…not," Ron muttered, though Bill could sense Ron realized he was doing a shit job of this. And for someone who'd spent the last several years keeping secrets very well, it seemed obvious that this was not a secret Ron was trying very hard to keep.

Bill laughed. "I can't tell if you want me to just ask you what's going with you and Hermione, or if you're really just doing a pitiful job trying to hide it."

Ron made a face. "We're not trying to hide it."

"So there's an 'it' to…not hide?"

"The hell are you on about?" Ron asked, laughing a little. "You're not making any sense."

"Yeah, I'm the one…" Bill said. "Out with it already! For Merlin's sake, Ron, if you and Hermione are together, I feel like you should be shouting it from the top of the North Tower. Because it sure as hell took you long enough."

Ron rolled his eyes. "We're not hiding it, but we're not shouting it either. It's new and we're taking it day-by-day." He shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal."

"It's not that…" Bill laughed. "You're so full of shit. You've wanted this for…" He stopped to think about that. "I remember first noticing the two of you that summer you were all at Grimmauld Place, so it's at least been that long."

Ron begrudged a smile at that, but quickly tried to shake it off and make his face resemble something more to the tune of, "No…that's not true."

"Either way," Bill offered, "Good for you. I'm happy for you. Once you two let the word properly get out, I think everyone will be." He paused to dodge several ghosts who were drifting by right where he stood. "And going on romantic holidays together already? That sounds like a big deal."

"How do you reckon going to retrieve her parents and restoring their memories is romantic?"

"I mean, it won't take you every second of the day to do that," Bill said rather obviously. "Perhaps consider how you might spend some of the rest of your time? Just a thought." He smirked. "Do yourself a favor, mate, and try to have a few of those. The sweet, romantic, thoughtful kind. They go a long way."

Ron flipped him off, though he was also noticeably proud—as if there were worse things in the world he could be getting the piss taken on for, and that he actually didn't mind it.

It was sweet. Bill couldn't help but take the moment to realize that for the first time in ages, Ron figuring out this new relationship of his might have been the main priority in life. Not surviving, or helping to keep Harry alive, or attempting to save everything…just how he could maintain something real with a girl he'd fancied for ages.

It was certainly a nice change of pace.

As for the castle, the progress seemed to be coming along as well as most of them could have hoped. It wouldn't be done today, but one could see how in time it would be. Perhaps not even too far in the future. In fact, by the time Bill and Ron made their way to the Fifth Floor, it almost looked as if you'd never have known there had been a fight in this particular part of the castle. The portraits were all hung and repaired; tapestries had been mended; suits of armors and statues put back in their rightful places; spell damages in the walls attended to. People had evidently been busy.

Not long after they'd started on their next stairway, Dean and his friend, Seamus, had made an appearance, passing between floors and stopping to chat. They claimed that they'd been popping into classrooms and seeing how they'd been restored to mostly working order. Dean mentioned that everyone working the Great Hall had done such a good job, one would have never guessed Voldemort met his demise in that very room.

"I think everyone was most keen to get the Great Hall back," said Dean. "It being normal again sets a tone for everything else."

Seamus was nodding. "Because if that could be made to look like it did in the past, then so can the rest."

"I'll admit," Dean said, gesturing around, "when I heard they wanted Hogwarts up and running for next term, I had doubts. Now, not so much."

"Ginny was saying she hoped they wouldn't have it ready," Ron said, sitting himself down on a step and looking up at them. "Joking, I think, but it's because she has to come back in September and finish school. She's been saying she'd happily take a break."

"I can see that," Bill said, thinking about how he would have been torn about heading straight back himself. Yes, normalcy and all that being restored was important, but…loads had recently just happened. Some intense, rather tragic things. People likely still needed to properly digest. He didn't know if he could have done it.

"I'm just glad I'm done," Seamus muttered. "After last term, I don't think I could just come back here and pick up like it used to be. The idea of regular lessons, Quidditch, feasts, house points…" He blinked. "I don't even remember…"

He then looked up the stairs, a shadow passing over his face as if he was remembering something specific; something unpleasant. "It all feels different now after the Death Eaters. I don't know how I could go back."

Bill watched Seamus rather sympathetically. What he was describing was exactly what Bill had suspected—students who'd spent the last year at Hogwarts would likely now view the school very differently after a year of…hell. All of the torture and suffering; the anxiety. He tried to imagine having to watch someone get an Unforgivable Curse practiced on them in the same classroom they'd been doing exam prep for the next year.

"Maybe it'll be a good thing," Ron offered. "Things have to eventually go back to normal, you know? That's what Hermione thinks." He looked from Seamus to Dean. "She's coming back to do her seventh year."

"Is she?" Bill asked. "She's already decided?"

"She has," Ron said with a lazy smile. "Already talked to McGonagall about it, though McGonagall is apparently going to make an announcement soon that anyone who was forced to miss school last year will be welcomed back without penalty, so it wasn't ever a thing she needed to worry about anyway."

He sighed. "But anyone who knows Hermione knows it would absolutely kill her to be thought of as someone who didn't finish school. Her not having N.E.W.T.s scores on file somewhere would keep her up at night. I told her no one's going to care given everything else she's done, you know? That's bigger and way more significant than some bloody exams. But this is Hermione we're talking about."

"Yeah, nothing about that surprises me," Seamus said, which prompted Dean and Ron to chuckle.

"So wait," Bill said, looking at Ron, "if Hermione's going back, does that mean you are too?"

Ron made a face, as if that was a stupid question. "Why would I do that?"

"To finish school properly?" Bill offered. "To be with your girlfriend?"

"To your first point, I don't care," Ron said. "I got my education the hard way. I don't need exams. To your second point, I can visit her. She's likely going to be desperate to catch up on everything she feels she's missed anyway. She'll be buried in some book and I'd just get in the way. It's probably better if I'm not around."

"Huh…" Bill said blankly, finding that surprising. If only because he'd have thought Ron would have wanted to go and be with Hermione, but apparently they'd already discussed this and had some sort of plan, which…alright. Good for them.

"But what about Harry?"

Ron let his face grow even more doubtful. "You think Harry is going to go and sit through some bloody Defense Against the Dark Arts class after what he'd been through?"

"Could you imagine?" Seamus laughed.

Dean also laughed. "He is our Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"He could teach the class," Seamus quipped.

"Right?" Ron agreed. "I'd love to imagine him trying to sit that N.E.W.T. exam. Can you see someone trying to dock him points for something?" He made his voice sound funny. "'I know you defeated the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter, but you didn't correctly identify all the traits of a Grindylow, so I can't give you full marks!'"

They all laughed, just as Bill cut in with, "Alright, I get it, but some people—like your girlfriend, mind you—may just want to be able to say they finished school. Clearly it's not unheard of."

"I mean, I'm fine with not being able to say that," Ron muttered.

"Yeah," Seamus said. "I know I finished already despite it not being much of a real school year, but I wouldn't go back if I had the choice."

Dean shrugged. "I've thought about it. Only because they worked so hard last year to keep me out of this school, so sometimes I think I shouldn't take that for granted and finish what I started, you know? Plus, I'm not you—" He pointed at Ron, "or Harry. I'd likely be asked why I never finished."

"You didn't mention you were thinking about it?" Seamus said, looking back at Dean and sounding very surprised. "What about being flatmates?"

"I mean, I probably won't go back. I was only just thinking about it."

Seamus began walking back down the stairs; evidently ready to move along. "Well, is it 'probably' or is it 'definitely'?"

Dean followed along after him, and Bill couldn't quite make out what he'd said in response. He did catch Ron's eye—both of them sharing a sarcastic, "That should be a fun chat" expression.

"So Hermione's going back to school," Bill said to Ron once they proceeded to get back to work on the stairs, "and you're not. What is the plan, then? I know it's not live at the Burrow forever."

"Definitely not," Ron cast a quick spell, mending a crack. "Harry said I can live with him at Grimmauld Place. Rent free. He doesn't care."

Well, that wasn't the sort of good deal one got every day. Bill sure would have loved a rent free option straight out of school. Shit, the money he would have saved…

"That's fantastic," Bill said. "Makes sense he'd move there."

Ron nodded, focusing back on the stairs. "For now it does. I don't think Harry's keen to live there forever, though. He considers it Sirius' family's place and it's strange for him. He'd never get rid of it, but he's mentioned wanting a different sort of place one day. Somewhere he can ride a broom around."

He looked back at Bill. "I also don't think he likes the idea of Kreature all by himself and lonely, and since he's getting older and probably only has a couple of years left—"

"House elves can move," Bill said. "They're bound to their masters, not—"

"I know," Ron interrupted. "But he's apparently been at that house for 50,000 years or something—he's older than dirt. I reckon Harry would feel bad. You can ask him. All I do know is that he's planning to live there for a bit until he figures out what's next, and he's asked if I'd like to live there too."

"Well, good for you," Bill said, genuinely meaning that. Listening to Ron have a few next steps figured out was reassuring to hear. Though it did beg the question…

"What other plans do you have? For the future, I mean."

"You mean for a job?"

"Sort of, yeah," Bill said. "I was just wondering what it is you wanted to do with your life now that you're free to have real choices to make about it."

Ron took a heavy breath. He didn't look as if he really had an answer to that—or if he did, he didn't look entirely sure that he wanted to speak it into existence. Maybe he hadn't really given it much thought? If that was the case, who could blame him? Bill had to remember that not everyone had tried to plan everything out at fifteen like he had.

And truthfully, look where that got him. Sure, he'd followed the career he'd wanted to do to a place he'd hoped to go, but his life plan had changed rather drastically since. At twenty-one, he'd have told you he'd be spending his life traveling the world and having adventures until well into his thirties or forties. At twenty-four, just after he'd moved back home, he'd have told you he was most definitely going back to Egypt as soon as this was all over.

But here he was, twenty-seven, a survivor of a war, married, settled in a house he'd purchased, headed back to his boring bank job, and very likely going to start a family in the coming years.

One could really only plan for so much before life decided it had other plans.

He and Ron finished up with stair repairs up to the Fifth-Floor before Ron decided they were overdue a break. Bill didn't argue, mostly because he could use one as well; he also wanted to check in with Fleur and the others downstairs and see the progress done on the rest of the castle.

They both wandered back down to the ground level, admiring others as they passed who were still hard at work, and stumbled upon Neville near the bottom of the stairs. He'd been helping levitate objects that others were repairing back up to their rightful spot in the castle. He'd just replaced a badly damaged portrait, and was asking someone to go and inform the portrait's subject that they could return when they were ready.

"Harry was looking for you," Neville told Ron once they were within earshot. "I told him I thought you were upstairs, but he said he'd find you eventually."

"Did he say what he wanted?"

Neville sighed. It was a funny sort of sigh, as if he was hesitating in a way. "Yeah, something about a memorial he's got planned out on the grounds for—"

"Oh, right," Ron said. "Yeah. He told me earlier what he wants to do. I take it he wants to get that started?"

"Seems that way."

"You going to come out to it?" Ron asked, taking a few steps forward to carry on his way, but still looking over his shoulder at Neville.

Neville, who Bill had seen at almost every single memorial and funeral that he'd attended; who seemed to be very much about paying his respects to everyone, slowly shook his head. "I think I'm going to keep working. There's still loads to do."

Ron stopped at that. Perhaps he also was surprised to hear Neville wasn't turning up to a memorial event.

"Really?"

Neville nodded. He looked slightly ashamed, but not overly so. "Yeah, I just…I mean, I know he did things in the end, but I…can't."

Bill looked from Neville to Ron and back again. He felt very lost. "Who are we talking about?"

"Snape," Neville said.

"Since no one else gave him a proper funeral," Ron told Bill. "Harry wants to hold a small memorial service for him on the grounds today. After everything he did, it feels like the least we could do."

That was news to Bill, though certainly a thoughtful gesture. He hadn't realized that Snape hadn't had anything properly done for him—it was hard to keep track with how many services there were—but it was only right that something was done.

Bill could admit, it had taken him some time to come to terms with the Snape that he'd been led to believe existed this previous year being someone else entirely—someone who'd been on their side and helped tremendously. To go from being a traitor and a murderer to...the opposite, really—it had been a lot to digest. But Bill had slowly come around on the idea, even going as far to sympathize with him when he really thought about it. It seemed like a dark and lonely path to have taken, never letting anyone truly in.

"Look," Neville said to Ron. "I understand why Harry wants to do it and I respect it, which is what I said to him. But…" He sighed. "My history with that man is…" He made a face, again looking almost guilty for whatever it was he wanted to say.

"I mean, I get it," Ron muttered. "He was an arsehole. You won't see me saying otherwise. But I can admit that if it weren't for him—"

"I know," Neville said firmly. "Again, I understand. But I can't get past the damage he did to me. You remember the boggart in third year? The form it took for me?"

Ron slowly nodded. "Yeah…" He looked over at Bill. "It was Snape."

"Oh shit," Bill said, looking back at Neville.

"He terrified me," Neville continued. "Made my life a living hell. He threatened me, he tried to kill my pet, he taunted me." He paused. "He let the Carrows punish…" He stopped and grimaced as he spoke. "He was in charge and he let them…" He looked back at Ron. "You didn't see what happened to people here. First-years. Children."

"I get it," Ron said. "I do, Neville. Though, some would argue that at least he kept them from killing people. Ginny said she once got detention—you were with her, right? Trying to steal the sword?"

"Yeah, I was."

"And that he didn't hand you all over to the Carrows," Ron offered. "Didn't he give you something easy to do?"

Neville shrugged. "Sure. Small victories. But if your best argument is that none of us died during all the torture and pain inflicted upon us under his time as Headmaster, then…" He made a face.

"No, I know," Ron said. "I was just trying to explain where Harry is coming from and—"

"I understand where Harry is coming from," Neville said. "I respect his choice. I can respect what Snape ultimately did, but as I told Harry…" He shrugged. "I can't forgive him."

Ron was quiet for a moment, though did ultimately nod. "That's fair."

Neville forced a quick smile to indicate he was keen to move along, pointing at something behind them. "I'm going to get back to work. But a group of us were planning to go to the Leaky after all this tonight." He looked from Ron to Bill and back again. "Come along."

"Yeah, maybe," Bill said, watching as Neville stepped away to get back to his tasks. Once he was gone, he turned to Ron. "Snape was his biggest fear?"

"When we were younger, yeah," Ron said, his eyes getting a bit wide for a moment. "He was really cruel to Neville—to all us, but especially Neville." He looked back at Bill. "Was he not cruel back when you had him?"

Bill thought about that. No…not particularly. Strict and stern; not the type of teacher you'd want to cross, sure, but cruel wouldn't have been the word he'd have used to describe him. Not when he'd been his professor, at least. When everyone was under the impression he'd killed Dumbledore, that was a different story. In that case, Bill felt cruel wasn't a strong enough word…

But the Snape he'd known back at Hogwarts had been this younger man; in his early twenties, curt and seemingly jaded, but not cruel. If Bill remembered correctly, he hadn't been teaching for long by the time he'd started. Maybe just a year or two? He was brilliant, but clearly still working out how to properly handle a classroom full of students. Some professors came in fun and engaging—Snape came in hard and cold.

He could remember him being very strict—you didn't talk out of turn or mess around in his class—but even at eleven, Bill had always assumed that was because he was trying hard to exert authority over his not-much-younger students. In the case of his seventh-years, he would have only been three or four years older than him. They could have easily walked all over him if they'd wanted; if he let them.

But he never allowed that. And if you behaved in his class, he left you alone. At least, that's how it had been for Bill.

He'd even go so far as to say that he and Snape had got on. Well, at least as well as one could get on with a man as cold as he was. Because while Snape was never hesitant with the criticisms and snark, Bill managed to escape most of that. Snape would walk by his cauldron, inspect his work, and—while he never complimented it—his comments were always respectful. "You've managed a correct draught, Mr. Weasley" or "Unlike some of your peers, it seems you can follow directions, Mr. Weasley."

That had been as good as praise, as far as Bill was concerned. In fact, the only time he'd ever been given something even slightly resembling a compliment from Snape, it had been after he'd achieved twelve O.W.L.s—quite the impressive feat. Even then, Snape had immediately followed his, "Well done, Mr. Weasley" with, "Perhaps you could now teach your brother how to sit down, be quiet, and properly get his lessons done."

Charlie had never been a big fan of Snape the more Bill thought about it. They'd had a more difficult time because he tended to talk too much. Telling Charlie to sit quietly through class was practically an impossibility. He and Snape certainly butted heads.

But Charlie also butted heads with McGonagall for the same reasons. If Charlie wasn't getting into trouble for talking too much in class, Charlie wasn't breathing. It was only ever under threat of missing Quidditch did he ever shut up.

Still, even Charlie would have likely said he was a jerk, not some cruel arsehole who would assume the form of a child's boggart…

After their talk with Neville, Bill and Ron split up in separate directions in search of different people. He was quick to find Fleur, standing in the Entrance Hall chatting with Percy and another woman that Bill didn't recognize. As he began to approach, Fleur smiled brightly at him, apparently happy he'd found his way over.

"We were wondering where you were," she said when he'd drawn near. He politely smiled at everyone, including over at his brother and the woman standing beside him—the latter of whom returned the smile similarly. She was quite tall, as tall as he and Percy, and quite skinny, with pin straight, long dark hair. She had a very reserved nature about her.

Though, to be fair, that could be said about most people these days.

"Did you get all of your stairs repaired?" Fleur playfully asked him, seeing as she'd teased him earlier that he would be here for years attempting to mend them all.

"Almost," he said with a lazy smile, looking over at Percy and the woman. "You lot been busy?" He then stuck out his hand to the woman. "Hi, I'm Bill."

"My brother Bill!" Percy said, taking over the introduction from there and speaking to the woman. "Fleur's husband. We were just talking about him." He looked at Bill. "This is my…friend, Audrey. Um, from the Ministry. We worked together—work together? I'm not quite sure where all that stands right now, but…"

He grinned awkwardly. He was doing that thing he did where he talked too much.

"Nice to meet you," Audrey said, shaking Bill's hand.

"I've mentioned her," Percy continued, almost as if he couldn't help himself. "When I told you I had a coworker who was helping me get information about raids and who was being watched? The one who passed me the information that prompted me to write those anonymous letters?"

Yeah, that did ring some bells. Bill smiled at her, offering, "Well, I suppose we have you to thank for helping keep us safe, then."

"Oh, well, Percy did the hard work," she said. "And he helped me as well. We looked out for each other."

She smiled at Percy; he smiled back.

Well, then. This all felt rather…

Bill looked at Fleur, who smirked a little as if she clearly sensed a vibe too, but instead of letting the awkwardness hang in the air, she quickly said, "I was speaking to Ginny not long ago, and 'Arry 'as asked if we would attend a memorial—"

"For Snape," Bill said, finishing for her. "Yeah, I've heard." He looked at Percy. "Are you going?"

"Of course," Percy said. "Why wouldn't I? Are you not?"

"No, I'll go," Bill said. "I've just heard that some people…" He paused, giving his brother a funny sort of look. "Was Snape ever cruel to you?"

"To me?" Percy mused. "Not really. Stern and rather curt, yes, but he was a serious man, so that's to be expected. He did once tell me I liked to hear myself talk too much, but I didn't feel it was a cruel comment. I could certainly have worked to be more succinct at the time, so he wasn't wrong. And to be fair, I did take that suggestion to heart and I have learned—"

"'Ave you?" Fleur asked, sounding as if she was at least half kidding.

Percy smiled, clearly finding her comment playful rather than true. "But no, he was never cruel to me. Now if you ask Ron, or Ginny, or Fred and George…"

He'd said 'Fred and George' so automatically, as the unit they'd always been, that it didn't even occur to him he was speaking in the present tense. The habit was so ingrained in all of them.

"—they'll tell you something different. They all hated him, but…" He threw Bill a look. "Is that really surprising? Can you imagine their personalities against his?"

Bill supposed he could acknowledge that. Though as difficult as his brothers could be, he didn't think they really should have been dealt cruelty in response. It all just seemed like such a different experience than what he'd been through.

But perhaps that had been it? Maybe students, much like the twins who didn't care much for the seriousness of school, simply wore him down over the years. Or, more likely, his role as a double agent had caught up to him in a way that left him in a tremendously dark, cruel place. Voldemort had returned in these last few years; it was bound to have taken a toll on the man to have him in one ear and Dumbledore in the other.

Not that it really excused anything if he truly was as cruel as Neville said, but it explained some things.

He was a complicated man. Apparently, equal parts hero and arsehole. Bill still couldn't quite wrap his head around it all, but he did feel it was only right for him to have a respectful send off like everyone else. Everyone deserved that much.

Fleur wasn't entirely sure when she stopped considering the Leaky Cauldron as one of the least desirable places she could possibly spend an evening in, but somewhere along the way she'd had a change of heart.

Now when she looked around, she saw happy, warm memories.

It reminded her of long days at Gringotts, where she'd come here after work to talk to coworkers; where she'd watch Bill across the room before she knew him; where they would have many of their early dates here. There had been that silly night where she'd almost blown an Order mission out of jealousy at seeing Bill with Tonks. She felt embarrassed even now thinking about that...

There had been many silly memories, which is where her fondness now stemmed from. Her thoughts of the Leaky Cauldron were simply full of pre-war pleasantries, even if they were also accompanied by sticky floors and foggy pint glasses.

It had been a different time.

But tonight, sitting among so many people she'd met along the way—all of them stopping by after a long day spent helping to rebuild Hogwarts—it reminded her of those early days when she'd first moved to the U.K. If she closed her eyes and pretended, it almost felt the same as it had years before.

The group that had gathered here was especially large and had taken over most of the pub. Tables had been dragged together, people were swapping chairs and making the rounds to talk to everyone; someone was always offering to buy someone else a drink. Fleur wasn't entirely sure who'd paid for the glass of mead currently in front of her, but Bill had handed it to her and told her to drink up. She'd obliged without protest. She was happy to simply drink and talk to people. It felt like ages since she'd just causally enjoyed conversation with people.

At the start of the night, she and Bill had found themselves at sitting with Kingsley, who did eventually confirm the rumor that he likely was going to be taking over the role of Minister of Magic for an interim period.

"No better person for the job," Bill told him, raising his drink to him. "You were invaluable to the cause."

Kingsley shrugged modestly, but also confidently. He had a way of somehow pulling both off simultaneously. "They'll have a proper selection soon enough to make it official, though I feel I may be the sole candidate for that as well."

"You've got my vote," Bill offered.

Kingsley smiled. "I often ask myself if I'm up for it. At my core, I'm an Auror, not a politician."

"You are a good man," Fleur said, raising her own glass to him. "Which is what we need more than anything. Also, you cannot possibly do any worse than the last handful we have had."

"That's true," Bill agreed.

"Scrimgeour wasn't so bad," Kingsley said. "He was just put in a very difficult, fairly unwinnable position. But he was a good man." He sighed. "We will see. I'm bracing myself."

Down the length of the very long table this group had put together, on the opposite end from she and Bill, sat Harry, who seemed to almost be holding court with a group of his friends all around him. Fleur couldn't help but notice that when one person left and a chair even remotely nearby was free, someone else would swoop in almost instantly to take it. People were flocking to be around him.

"You can tell it drives him mad," Neville was saying, having stopped by later on to say hello with a blonde girl called Hannah in tow. "But it's the price of fame and acclaim, I suppose."

"But he's always been famous," said Hannah. "Literally since he was a baby. Why does it have to be different now?"

Neville threw her a funny look. "He did defeat Voldemort recently." He gave her a playful sort of shoulder bump. "Did you miss that?"

Hannah threw him the same funny look back. "So…the same thing he did when he was a baby?" She bumped him right back in the shoulder. "You could argue it was more impressive that it did it before he could walk and talk…"

Neville laughed. "Well, it's fresher in people's minds now. We all saw it this time." He laughed again. "I've honestly had too much to drink to try and make this make sense."

"Yeah, I think I've had too many as well," Hannah mumbled, also laughing. Then they looked at each other and laughed again for some silly reason. They clearly were enjoying each other's company in their semi-buzzed state.

But it was in a lovely way—a fun way. People were cutting loose a bit; they were letting themselves have some fun; they were embracing things they may have not done so readily prior to the battle. Fleur was witnessing more sweetness and silliness everywhere—from these two across the table from her clearly flirting; to Ron and Hermione finally doing something about their relationship; to even Percy earlier that day openly excited about his "friend" Audrey.

She didn't want to claim love was in the air, but something was in the air—something that made people realize how close to death they'd come and that now they were going to act. Act on life, act on their feelings, act on not putting off tomorrow what they could today.

It was wonderful to experience. It truly was something beautiful that had emerged out of some of these darker days.

"Well, if it isn't some of my favorite people," said Ginny once she'd turned up halfway through the night, smiling at the group of them in a rather buzzed sort of way as she plopped down in a seat nearby. Even her smile felt a bit drunk and overly happy. She'd apparently been enjoying her evening.

Neville raised his glass to her. "Having a good night, then? You seem to be enjoying a drink or two?"

Ginny smiled rather cheekily. "Perish the thought, Neville. I'm underage for another month and a half. I would never…"

She then turned that smile onto Bill, who rolled his eyes in a good-natured way—as if he should be more concerned, but he wasn't. He actually took the opportunity to stand up and excuse himself, mentioning then that he was off to grab something else to drink.

"But not for Ginny, though," he joked. "Since she's obviously underage and clearly not half way to pissed right now."

"Bit more than halfway," Ginny quipped, that silly smile still plastered on her face.

Bill stared rather blankly at her—Fleur could practically see the big brother in him struggling to figure out how to proceed here—but he eventually must have decided it was easier to ignore because he blinked, shook his head, and then turned to walk off without another word.

It was a reaction that made Fleur laugh. She then turned to Ginny and said, "As far as I am concerned, you have proven yourself old enough to do many things. Having a few drinks is the least of anyone's worries."

"This is why I like you, Fleur," Ginny said, squinting at her as if the lights were too bright. "You make sense. You are wise."

My, how far she and Ginny had come…

It seemed Ginny was clearly keen for a chat, and it was evident she was very friendly with Neville and Hannah because three of them kept the conversation going for ages before a boy called Ernie popped over to ask to steal Hannah and Neville away. When they'd gone, that left only Fleur to sit and listen to Ginny ramble on in her happy, silly sort of way. It actually seemed she liked to gossip a bit after she'd had a bit to drink.

"Those two—" she'd said the moment Neville and Hannah were out of earshot, "will end up married one day. Mark my words."

"You think so?"

Ginny was nodding as if she'd never been so sure of something in her life.

"Are they together? I could not tell…"

"Hard to say exactly what they are," Ginny said with a shrug. "They've had a thing for a bit now. All started last year when we had our little group. Remember how I told you the Death Eaters were forcing Purebloods to only associate with one another? Constantly keeping us apart from everyone else in the hopes we'd…who the hell knows? Pair off and inevitably have Pureblood babies or whatever?

"Well, the whole pairing off plan worked for those two. They clicked early on and haven't looked back." She laughed. "Though, Neville would hate it if you told him his relationship was born out of some Death Eater plan, so…do yourself a favor and don't say that to him."

Fleur nodded thoughtfully, sipping her drink. "Speaking of new relationships, your brother and Hermione—"

Ginny made a noise much like a groan, immediately adding, "About bloody time, right? Exhausting those two." She rolled her eyes. "I mostly blame Ron. He's an idiot. But it's not as if Hermione doesn't hold her share of the blame for them taking so long. They're both…"

She waved her hands in an erratic, dismissive sort of way, apparently hoping that somehow conveyed her message. Oddly enough, Fleur understood her perfectly.

"They say good things come to those who wait," Fleur offered.

"You don't believe that, do you?" Ginny asked, looking skeptical. "Because that seems to go against all the advice you've ever given me."

Fleur threw her a look as she sipped her drink; her expression was silently asking what that meant.

"You're the one telling me to act now; don't wait. With Harry last year? You said, who knows what will happen and that he could die. That I should let him know how you feel." She pointed at her. "You told me to go and seduce him while I still had the chance to do it."

Fleur spluttered a laugh into her glass. She had said that, hadn't she? And she'd meant it. That was still sound advice.

"You don't seem like one to wait for good things to come," Ginny added. "The opposite, really. You chase them."

That was fair. Fleur couldn't argue that because she hadn't ever been the type to wait when it came to matters of the heart. She never saw the point in waiting for an opportunity when you could create your own. However, some people were the type to wait, and she supposed they were entitled to good things as well. To each their own.

"You are right," Fleur said, setting her glass down. "I am not one for waiting."

Ginny nodded. "I like to think I've become better at that. Acting, not waiting, but…" She shrugged and glanced down the table at Harry. "Sometimes, you're forced to wait while he's got to go and save us all."

Fleur made a sympathetic sounding noise, again sipping her drink.

"I took your advice, by the way," Ginny said. "I never told you that, did I?"

"What advice?"

"The whole seducing him thing," she said "On his birthday, before your wedding, I brought him up to my room like you suggested."

"And?" Fleur asked, hoping to hear her advice paid off.

"And…you were right. He did not object when I kissed him."

Fleur smiled, thrilled to hear it. "I knew he would. I am never wrong about these sorts of things." She nudged her. "And was it everything you wanted—?"

"No," Ginny said rather bluntly, surprising Fleur. "Because what I wanted involved having more than three minutes with him before Ron came barging in to break it all up like a prat."

"Non…" Fleur said slowly, now feeling both disappointed and mortified for her. "Did he witness…?"

"Nothing more than us snogging," Ginny offered. "We didn't get a chance to…" She looked back at Fleur. "I was so angry with him because, of course, he scared Harry right off. And the next day was your wedding, so then he was gone…."

Fleur again made a sympathetic sort of noise, glancing once more at Harry down the table. Ginny turned to watch him too, and he must have felt their eyes on him because he caught them looking and threw Ginny a funny sort of smile, almost as if silently asking what she was looking at. Fleur saw her shrug and smile back. They were having some sort of silent conversation only the two of them could decipher.

Fleur let it play out for a moment before clearing her throat. "How are things with him now?"

Ginny didn't respond; she was still looking in Harry's direction, despite Hermione having now approached him to speak to him. Her lack of response made Fleur reach out and gave the tabletop in front of Ginny a quick slap, causing her to snap her head back toward her.

"Sorry? Did you say something?"

"You and Harry." She gestured down the table toward him. "You seem…friendly. Hopefully more than friendly?"

Ginny mustered a coy little smile. "It's Harry. I can never just be friends with him. Not anymore. But we are…" She sat up straighter. "Look, if you're asking whether we're back together in some official way, then…no. We're not."

Fleur stared at her. Ginny did not seem the slightest bit upset or annoyed by that admission. That seemed…odd. Unless this was just Ginny's confusing, roundabout way of trying to say…

"So you are back together in an unofficial way?"

"I don't even know what that means," Ginny said, still smiling, "But we've been...hanging out."

Ginny suddenly looked around, as if checking for something. There was no one directly near them, but Ginny still lowered her voice as if there were.

"If I tell you this, don't judge me, alright?"

"Why would I judge you?"

"Eh…" she said rather weakly before she took a deep breath. She already looked as if she was contemplating if she should keep going, but she also looked as if she was bursting at the seems to share whatever it was.

"So, Harry and I…it's hard to explain, but things are obviously mad right now. For everyone—especially him. After everything, we're just spending time together and easing into…something. I don't know what to call it right now, but it is something. We can work the details out later."

Fleur slowly nodded. Easing back into things was good.

"Because there are good days and bad," Ginny said, nodding for some reason. "For both of us, some days are harder than others, but we've been hanging out and helping each other through it the best we can." She paused. "The day of Fred's funeral was really hard."

"Of course…"

"And I was up and down so much that day," Ginny continued. "Fine one minute, bawling the next. After the whole thing was over, I was off with those three—" She gestured to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "and eventually Ron and Hermione went off somewhere. That left me and Harry, and we started talking." She smiled almost despite herself. "And we talked, and talked…it was lovely. But then at some point, we're talking about Fred, and now I'm crying again and—I don't even know what happened, but it went from him comforting me, to us kissing, to…"

"To…what?"

She made an obvious face. "Let's just say Ron didn't barge in that time."

Fleur let herself laugh. "That is…wonderful. Why would I judge you for—?"

"Because it was after my brother's funeral!" Ginny said loudly—louder than she probably wanted, because she immediately shrunk into her seat a bit and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Once she saw no one was, she took a deep breath and looked at Fleur. "I mean…after my brother's funeral? Who does that?"

Fleur didn't know if there was really an answer to that, but instead offered, "You were in a strange place. Grief affects everyone in strange ways."

"If I'm honest, there wasn't much grief in that moment," Ginny muttered, reaching up to cover her face as if she was embarrassed. "It was probably the only part of that day where I wasn't upset. At all. Not even a little bit. I was actually really happy."

"Well, that is good, then," Fleur said. "Fred would want you to be happy! George even spoke those words to everyone that day."

Ginny lowered her hands to look at her. "I don't think this is what he meant. The kind of 'happiness' I was experiencing is not the kind my brothers want to think about me having. Ever. It's a very specific kind of happiness…"

Fleur couldn't help it, she laughed. "I understand, but again, I think it is all the same. We have mourned and grieved, we will continue to mourn and grieve forever, but we must also continue to live life and find happiness."

Ginny snorted a laugh, but before Fleur could ask what was so funny, she said, "You know with your accent, it sounds like you're saying 'a penis'. 'Find a penis.'"

"Well, in your situation, can they not be one and the same?"

Ginny let out a short laugh at that. Fleur, however, was now determined to pronounce it correctly; already screwing up her face in concentration as she put on her best attempt at an English accent—really attempting to sound out that H sound.

"HA-ppines."

She looked at Ginny for approval.

"Now it sounds like you're laughing at a penis," she said. "You know—'ha, penis!'" She giggled. "Just do it your way."

Fleur sighed, conceding to that. "Well, my point is the same. You are allowed happiness." She paused. "HA-ppiness." She made a face and groaned a little. "You should not feel bad about the act of being happy!"

Ginny, who was still rather lost to the giggles and the humor of the moment, said, "Don't change it! It's better your way."

Perhaps it was. Fleur, who was also feeling rather giggly now, offered, "Well, in that case, I wish you 'happiness' —all that you can handle. Which is hopefully plentiful."

Forget giggles, Ginny was full on laughing now.

"Because experiencing happiness," Fleur continued, deciding to play into this now, "I think, is important to a relationship. Or, in your case, easing back into one." She grinned. "It is important to ease. Take it slow."

"So you're saying…" Ginny said, taking a deep breath between laughter, "to ease happiness?"

"But do not ease happiness too slowly," Fleur offered. "There is a fine line…Let us just say that no one is a fan of happiness being rammed through too quickly either."

"No ramming happiness," Ginny said, between laughs. "Got it."

Fleur hiccuped. "Well no, I did not say that. There is a time and a place for ramming, it is more the 'too quickly' you want to avoid."

Ginny lost it at that, which made Fleur laugh as well. They both gave into the laughter and let themselves have it out. It felt lovely to stupidly laugh—even drunkenly—because she hadn't done it like this in ages. She genuinely couldn't even remember the last time she really, really laughed in the company of a female friend. What had once been a staple in her life—girls all around her, making her laugh constantly—was now something so foreign, she was rather startled into remembering how wonderful it felt.

Once Ginny finally got it together, she took a deep breath and said, "This is now the best conversation that we're ever had, Fleur. I mean that."

"What are you two having a laugh about?" came Bill's voice, having come up behind them and stopping behind Ginny's chair. "I could see you across the room practically cackling."

Fleur looked at Ginny, who looked right back at her. They shared another quick laugh before Fleur said, "Happiness."

Bill blinked, looking as if he was questioning what he heard and looking for clarification. If Fleur had to guess, her accent was now tripping him up as well. "Sorry? What?"

"You heard her," Ginny said, smirking up at her brother and staring at him upside down. "A penis."

"Happiness!" Fleur clarified, smiling at him. "To be happy!"

"Ohhhh," Bill said, realization dawning on him. "Ha..ppiness. That...makes more sense."

"See, you thought she said 'penis; too," Ginny teased. "Filthy mind you've got there, Bill."

Bill made a face and gave her a playful bop on her head. "Why are you joking about penises? What would you know about that?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Ginny challenged without skipping a beat.

Bill, clearly not expecting that response, muttered, "Uh, no. I do not. Not at all. I'm just going to live in denial and pretend you're still little for the rest of time. That you're not talking about penises or drinking in a pub with me…"

Fleur stood up then and moved to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Silly to pretend. She is not little anymore. Better to accept that."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, still looking upside down at him. "I'm not little anymore. I can talk about penises if I want to."

Bill shook his head and begrudged everyone a smile. "Well, this is certainly fun and not awkward at all."

Fleur put her arm around him, giving him another quick kiss and a pat on the chest. "I certainly think it is fun."

"I bet you do," he said, smiling at her in a way—well, it was a way she hadn't seen in a bit. A way she enjoyed. It was that sexy and perfect way he would look at her when he suddenly had ideas about certain things they could be doing elsewhere. Alone and elsewhere.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or the good company, or the fact that it was the first time in ages that she'd let herself forget about the rest of the world and all of her problems for a couple of hours, but at this moment and time, she felt normal. Or as close to normal as she could remember. She felt like a typical twenty-something should; she felt alive and, dare she say it—happy. She wasn't sure how long it would last; she'd likely wake up tomorrow and her dreams and memories would try to bury her once more in grief, but for now, she wanted to embrace happiness.

And if Bill kept looking at her like that, happiness was exactly what she'd embrace later that night.