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SIYE Time:10:25 on 29th March 2024
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Normalcy
By notadryeeye

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP
Characters:None
Genres: Tragedy
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1174
Summary: Harry gets one night that gives him a glimpse into what life could be like with the Dursley's. But events turn for the worse and both Harry and the wizarding world are left wondering what it's consquences mean for the future of the world.
Hitcount: Story Total: 500807; Chapter Total: 10113
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the entire Potter Universe. No copyright infringement is intended. I write fan fics for fun and to take up time.




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"Ron, your new dress robes and pressed and lying out on your bed," Mrs. Weasley's voice could be heard amongst the general din swirling around the Burrow this morning.

Other voices and indistinguishable noises of tell-tale movement could be heard through the walls and drifting down from floors above. The sound of running water through the pipes told Harry that Ron must be in one of the bathrooms, taking a quick shower before he dressed in those said robes and readied for the day ahead.

But Harry wasn't readying himself at all. He remained laying in bed, nestled firmly under the covers, his head buried into his pillow as he listened to the sounds around him.

While everyone else was bustling around this morning, polishing and preening, dressing in their best--Harry was still in his pajamas with no real plans to change his attire.

He was going to stay at the Burrow today while the Weasleys joined most of the rest of the wizarding community at the Ministry for a ceremony to officially reopen it and dedicate a new memorial to stand in remembrance and celebration of the lives that had been sacrificed to win the war.

Harry wasn't going.

He had declined invitation from the moment he had heard that there was going to be a ceremony. It wasn't that he didn't believe there shouldn't be and that those who had died during the war and the final battle didn't deserve to be commemorated and honored--but it was just that. Those who had given their lives deserved to have this day and he knew if he showed that would be taken from them.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had showed up a few days ago seeking a one on one conversation with Harry about his decision. Kingsley had assured Harry that he would not be singled out and the ceremony was to honor the dead. He told Harry that he could sit back and would not be expected to partake in any of the speeches or other activities planned. But Harry knew that just going would be enough of a distraction and detraction from the day. So his answer for Kingsley had remained a firm, but respectful 'no'.

Ginny, more than once, had tried to convince him that it would be alright for him to go. She said that it might even be good for him to go, to get him out of the house and to see just how much the wizarding world had recovered and rebuilt since the final battle.

But no amount of conversation had succeeded in changing his mind. In fact, the last time the subject of his attendance had been brought up, he and Ginny had gotten into a row in which he'd snapped at her to "shut up about it". As a result, they hadn't spoken for an entire day, until Harry had sought her out and apologized for being short with her. Since then, the subject hadn't been breeched between them and beside that, things were back to normal.

So it wasn't totally unexpected that after the last outburst he was being left alone this morning as everyone else moved around, getting ready for the off to the Ministry.

But that expectation was ruined just a bit when he heard the door to his bedroom creak open and then close quietly as the sound of soft footsteps padding across the hardwood floor met his ears. He didn't look up but kept his face buried in his pillow, waiting for whoever had entered to make their presence known.

A small, warm hand slid its way from the small of his back up his spine to where it lightly massaged his shoulders.

"I know you're not sleeping," a knowing voice whispered in his ear. A soft kiss was planted just behind his ear and then he felt fingers slide through his bed-tousled hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

Not able to withstand the lure of the touch and too tempted to remain feigning sleep, Harry rolled onto his side to find the blurry outline of his favorite red head a few inches away, sitting on the edge of his bed. His glasses were held out for him and he allowed them to be slid onto his face. Ginny's features slid into stark view and he softly returned the smile she was bestowing upon him.

"Was too sleeping," Harry yawned, his voice low and hoarse from disuse.

"Liar," Ginny shot back. "I would have heard you snoring if you were," she teased, tracing his slightly stubbled cheek with a finger. She repeated the motion and continued to look at him. For a moment her smile faltered as if she wanted to say something that might breach this peaceful exchange.

Harry knew that she wanted to make one last attempt to try to get him to come to the ceremony and the look had been a moment of debate within herself of whether to press or not. What she had decided on, he could guess he was about to find out.

"We're leaving in about ten minutes," she said quietly. She had settled on words somewhere in the middle of not bringing it up and begging him to come.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, not wanting to get into an argument right now by telling her to drop it.
"You still have time to get dressed if you...." she started, but trailed away when she caught the smile fade from his features. Harry squeezed the small hand that had slid into his gently, hoping that she'd understand that he did not want to go there this morning.

Ginny looked down at their entwined fingers for a moment in contemplation before nodding heavily.

"I love you," she whispered, leaning down to meet his lips. Harry welcomed the kiss and sighed slightly at the parting.

"I won't be gone too long," she added. "I probably won't stay for the feast they're having afterwards. I'll come back here and we can try and go for a little walk," she told him. "Down to the pond if you're up to it."

"Sounds like a plan," Harry replied with a nod, squeezing her hand once more.

The sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice calling Ginny for the off broke the momentary silence and Ginny let out a sigh of her own, knowing she'd have to leave.

"I'll see you later," she said quietly, giving him one last lingering kiss and a gentle embrace before she beckoned to her mother's call and stood from the bed, slowly leaving the room.

Harry rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with his fingertips, melting back into his pillow. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the quieting Burrow as its occupants floo'd out of it one by one to the Ministry ceremony. After only a few minutes, the recently buzzing Burrow was quiet and still, the only sound was settling beams and rattling pipes from the many floors above.

He was alone.

Harry must have dozed off in the unnatural silence because he did not hear the door open and close once more.

He only faintly registered the slight dip in the bed next to him.

It was only when he felt movement beside his head that he became aware that he was not alone. He thought for a moment that perhaps Ginny had returned, somehow sneaking away one last time to be with him. He wasn't sure how long he'd dozed off for, but he was fairly certain that it was long enough to know that he'd been alone for a while.

It was when the squirming continued and the sound of soft gurgles and coos met his ears that he became incredibly interested

Harry opened his eyes and turned his head to the left.

A pair of small, bright, blue-grey eyes met his green as a pudgy fist hit the lens of his glasses, smudging them with a streak of drool.

"Hey you," Harry said a bit groggily and confused as he reached up to gently pat the bit of brown fluff atop the little boy's head. Jacob tried to swipe at Harry's retreating hand but missed, wiggling about the best he could in search of the illusive touch.

Harry smiled as he watched Jacob squirm for a moment before the question of how the little boy had gotten up onto his bed overtook him and he looked around.

Remus was sitting in the armchair across the room, watching the scene before him with a mischievous smile.

"He wanted to come for a visit," Remus said allowed, gesturing to his son.

"I'm sure he did," Harry replied, leaning over to blow a light raspberry on Jacob's belly, who gurgled his delight and flailed his tiny arms and legs.

"Why aren't you at the ceremony with everyone else?" Harry asked after another moment of teasing Jacob, looking back up at Remus.

"All Aurors are required to attend...so Tonks had to go earlier," Remus replied. "I'm on my way actually...but just wanted to stop by and see how you were. It's been a few days," he added.

"I'm good," Harry replied automatically, having caught the underlying motive of Remus's visit in his tone and body language right away.

"I see," Remus said with a nod. "Molly said you had a bit of a fall yesterday," Remus added, eyeing Harry carefully.

"I did," Harry replied truthfully with a nod. "But I'm fine. Just got a sore bum and bruised ego," he added.
He was being honest.

Yesterday he'd taken a spill down a few stairs after his legs had given out from under him and he'd not been able to recover enough to grab the railing. Everyone there had of course made a big deal of it, rushing to him and trying to help him up, coddling him and overreacting. It had hurt at first and he was sure he had a few bruises to show for the tumble, but he saw no reason to dwell on it at the moment and wondered why Remus had brought it up.

"Molly just thought you might still be feeling the effects," Remus said off-handedly. "She thought that might be why you were still in bed," he added.

Harry knew that Remus was well aware that he'd declined invitation to the ceremony. So why was he feeling the need to skirt around the issue now?

"No," Harry replied. "I'm just having a lay-about, I guess," he added coolly, narrowing his eyes slightly at Remus.

"Fair enough," Remus said quietly with a nod.

"Harry, I'm not here to drag you to this ceremony..." Remus began after a moment's hesitation.

"Then why'd you keep trying to bring it up?" Harry replied automatically, a bit of a hard edge to his voice.

Instead of looking at all aggravated by Harry's shortness, Remus simply sighed heavily.

"Just thought you might want to give things another thought...about going," Remus said quietly.

"I've given it more than enough thought," Harry shot back. "And I don't see why everyone else has to keep pressing me on it...I've made my intentions perfectly clear."

Harry felt himself getting frustrated with Remus and the conversation wasn't even that old yet.

"What about your reasoning?" Remus asked.

"Do you know what it'll be like if I show up?" Harry replied a bit louder than he'd attended. Jacob had jumped slightly at the sound of Harry's voice. "Do you understand where the attention will be diverted to if I go?"

Remus didn't speak, but the look on his face relayed that he knew.

"I don't want that to happen, Remus," Harry continued. "I don't want anything to be taken away from a day that's supposed to be about remembering and honoring those who've given everything..."

"What about what you've given, Harry?" Remus asked. "Shouldn't that be honored?"

"This isn't about me," Harry said, shaking his head. "It shouldn't be."

"But it is," Remus replied. "It's always going to be, no matter how much you try to push that away and try and separate yourself from the past. You've lived it...and there's no shame in letting people know and honor that."

A part of Harry understood what Remus was getting at...

"You've seen the headlines...you've read what the papers are saying about me," Harry said heavily. "It'll only be another spectacle for them to report on if I show up..."

"I've never been one to put too much stock in the front page of the Prophet as being the voice of the masses," Remus replied, eyeing Harry carefully. “But people respect…”

"I'm not their savior."

There was desperation in the words that had left his lips without much of his own volition. But he had meant every syllable to his very core.

"Harry--" Remus began quietly.

"I just did what I had to," Harry interrupted anything further that Remus was going to say. "I just did everything I could to make sure that the people I care about had a future better than what the alternative was."

Harry paused as he felt the emotion fill up in his chest and move up into his throat, choking his voice a bit.
"I think there's something to be said in that, Harry," Remus spoke up in the midst of the pause. "To be so selfless in the wake of all you've gone through, everything you've done...some might consider that to be heroic in itself."

"I never asked for that," Harry said quietly, shaking his head slightly. "I never wanted to be a hero..."

"I know," Remus sighed heavily. "But that doesn't make it any less true. I think it's that which you need to ultimately accept and perhaps gain a bit of closure about..."

"Closure?" Harry repeated, his eyebrows raised. "How is going supposed to give me closure on anything? Those people will never understand...they'll never really know."

"Maybe it's you that needs to understand, Harry?" Remus said rather bluntly, his words unnerving Harry. Harry stared at Remus openly, feeling quite mutinous. But he did not speak, however, and let Remus go on.

"People may never know, or may never truly be aware of everything you've experienced," Remus continued. "But what they do understand is what you've done and what it means to each of them."

"The headlines in the papers can raise you up and put you up on that pedestal," Remus said. "But what really matters is what the people who were there with you, who've fought beside you and waged their own wars, think."

"And I think you'll find, Harry," Remus said taking a deep breath. "That the people, those who can really appreciate and understand your sacrifices are the ones that are able to look past any of the celebrity that's been created."

Harry wasn't looking at Remus, his eyes were focused solely on Jacob as he wiggled atop the mattress next to Harry. He could feel Remus's gaze on him.

"They deserve their chance to honor what you've done," Remus continued. "And you deserve to know what you've done for them...to see the changes for yourself."

Harry didn't know what to say.

How was he supposed to respond to what Remus had just said to him?

He understood what Remus was getting at, what his mentor and former professor was trying to make him see. But as Remus had also said--there was a difference between simply understanding and accepting that.

He had known deep down, that his reasons for not going to the ceremony were based upon his fear of being idolized and his need to be able to live his life--his want to be just a normal person.

But he had tried to convince himself and everyone else that it was the public, the masses that would succumb to hysteria if he made an appearance, which was keeping him home today. It was their fault...not his. And his insecurities and his unwillingness to play the part of the hero were not at all part of his decisions.

Or so he tried to tell himself.

But Remus had got to the heart of all that without much effort.

There would be no hiding from the world now that Voldemort had been defeated and the war ended. What illusions Harry had about how life would be if he won were never clear enough or planned out enough to account for this. Truth be told, once he had discovered that his own body contained the final horcrux, he hadn't bothered with plans at all. There was just one absolute to work towards it had seemed and that was figuring out how to destroy himself and Voldemort's last tie to this world.

And now...he only planned for a few things.

He knew he wanted to spend time with his friends and adoptive family in the Weasleys; make up for time they'd been kept apart and try to heal the lasting damages the war had caused.

And he also knew, more than most anything else that he wanted to be with Ginny. Now that he'd been given a second chance and allowed a future, the time was theirs to be had together. And he wasn't planning on wasting it, bumbling about, allowing his lingering fears to hinder their relationship in any way. He loved her and now there was nothing to get in the way of that.

But he was surely not going to be allowed to stay stowed away with Ginny and the others, away from prying eyes and the glare of whatever spotlight that would be cast. At some point he'd have to rejoin the wizarding world and figure out some sort of path and future within it.

Perhaps to find that sense of normalcy he'd been striving for, he'd have to find a new role within the magical community and deal with whatever renewed celebrity would follow him for the rest of his life the best he could? Maybe that would have to be enough?

Realizing that he'd lapsed into a thoughtful silence, Harry looked up when Remus stood up from his spot in the chair.

"I'm going to go change him," Remus said quietly as he scooped up Jacob, who gave a small squawk of protest at being removed from the mattress. "Then we'll be off to the Ministry," he added, glancing once more over his shoulder at Harry before he walked towards the door and left the room.
--------------------------------- ----
"Hold still you little devil," Remus said with a chuckle as Jacob twisted away from him and the loosely fastened nappy fell to the floor.

Remus sighed in only slight frustration as he banished the discarded nappy to the waste basket with a wave of his wand and picked up another one in hopes of success this time.

After some careful maneuvering and a little bit of artful distraction on his part, Remus finally got the nappy on Jacob and began snapping up his outfit and redressing him.

"How come you lay still for your mum, but feel the need to be a little wiggle worm for your old dad?" Remus teased aloud as he held up his son and brought their faces together, gently nuzzling his tiny nose. "You're making me look bad...making it look like I can't change a nappy properly you rascal," he added, kissing Jake's forehead softly.

Remus smiled unabashedly for a moment, unable to keep the small bubble of happy contentment from welling up and materializing in a grin. He loved this little boy...his little boy. Jacob made everything better it seemed and his mere presence, every little new thing he did, could subdue any lingering grief and pain still there from the long years of war.

But even as he gurgled and coo'd in his father's grip, Jacob couldn't completely take Remus's mind off of the conversation he'd just had with Harry.

Remus had come to the Burrow on one last whim, hoping that perhaps Harry'd already have been convinced to go by the others. Maybe Ginny would have gotten through to him finally?

But his tentative hopes were dashed as soon as they were formed and he found Harry asleep in bed.

He hadn't come here with a script of what he was going to say and what words he had come up with were spur of the moment reactions to Harry.

And he wasn't so sure that what he had said had done anything but make Harry think.

But maybe that would be enough?

Remus sighed and placed Jacob back on the sofa cushion and began to reach for the final few snaps of his outfit.

But as his fingers fumbled over the last, the sound of shuffling and the indicating noise of movement met his ears and his gaze turned to the door that led to Harry's bedroom.

Much to his surprise and shock, the door opened slowly inward.

Carefully and slowly Harry appeared in the door frame, supported by his crutch. He was dressed in dark slacks and white dress shirt with a black jacket over it. It looked as though he had attempted somewhat to comb his hair and the only indication he'd had trouble dressing were the undone buttons on the jacket and the untied laces on his shoes.

Harry looked up and met Remus's eyes. He looked quite as surprised to find himself up and dressed as Remus did and that was mirrored in his gaze.

"I don't have any dress robes that fit anymore," Harry said quietly and breathlessly as he searched for something to say.” But I found these in the dresser."

"That looks perfectly fine," Remus answered automatically. "You look smart," he added with a nod. Harry nodded back and swallowed slightly to abate the tension in his throat.

"I--er--might need a little help with the shoes though," Harry breathed out, gesturing towards his feet. "Haven't got the hang of laces yet," he added with a ghost of a smile.

"Come on over here," Remus said with a nod of his head, gesturing for Harry to join he and Jacob on the sofa.
------------------------------
Harry lumbered over, leaning on his crutch for support as he made his way. Carefully he lowered himself onto the sofa where Remus indicated for him to sit, the cushions sinking down as he plopped down unceremoniously with a slight groan.

"Here...hold him for a sec," Remus said as he stood up from the couch and scooped Jacob up, moving him to Harry's lap, forcing Harry to quickly take hold of the baby. "Don't want him squirming off the couch, now," Remus added with a smile as he watched Harry adjust his arms to hold the wriggling boy. Harry'd held Jacob quite a few times, but there was always someone right there to aid him when Harry's still unsure grip went awry.

But as Remus sunk to his knees and began working on tying Harry's shoes, he was leaving the little boy's safety solely within Harry's arms, not paying the slightest attention to any uneasiness Harry might have.

"Hey there," Harry whispered to Jacob as he bounced him slightly, attempting to occupy the boy. "Are you being good for your dad?" he asked with a laugh as Jacob's fist narrowly missed knocking his glasses askew.

"Don't let that cute face fool you," Remus said, looking up with a smile as he finished tying Harry's shoes. "He's a little troublemaker, this one," Remus added, groaning slightly as he lifted himself from his knees and sat beside Harry on the sofa.

"Nah," Harry said with a soft laugh. "Just wait till he starts walking and you're chasing him round the place," he added. "You'll think he's an angel now."

"Maybe..." Remus said with a grin, gently extracting Jacob from Harry's grasp and bringing the small boy to his chest where Jacob seemed to curl up comfortably automatically. "Until then..." he trailed off quietly kissing Jacob softly on the top of his brown fluff covered head.

Harry watched the exchange between father and the tiny son with a crooked smile, marveling in getting to see this moment that Remus so deserved.

Remus had done so much for him, for so long. He, more than anyone else it seemed, deserved this happiness. But even after all that he'd given, all that he'd risked and lost--Remus was still there to help Harry pick up the pieces.

Watching Remus with Jacob made Harry think about just how much he looked to Remus as a father figure. Remus had been there for him--maybe not during those long, lost, lonely years at the Dursleys--but when it had mattered. He'd been there unconditionally and without question to prop him and offer him advice without too much of a push or prod towards one way over another.

His own dad couldn't be there physically for him to turn to. And even though nobody could replace that which Harry'd lost--Remus had come narrowly close to filling that deep void.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered when Remus looked up saw that Harry's eyes were upon him. Remus cocked a brow in confusion.

"For being short with you before," Harry explained further. "About not going."

"I don't see a reason for apologies," Remus replied with a shake of the head and a shrug.

"Then...thank you," Harry said instead. "For getting me to come with...." he paused, swallowing his emotion just a bit. "...and for just...always...being there...for me."

Remus nodded with an understanding smile, bringing an arm to rest around Harry's shoulder, pulling him closer.

----------------------------- ------------------
The entrance hall that held the newly rebuilt bank of fireplaces was completely empty when Harry, Remus and Jacob arrived via the Floo Network to the Ministry. So there was no one there to witness Harry’s less than graceful entrance and Remus was the only one there to provide a steadying hand to prevent Harry from falling over completely.

“Alright there?” Remus asked with a smirk as he helped Harry finish brushing the soot from the shoulders of his jacket.

“Yeah…fine,” Harry replied breathlessly. “Floo isn’t my one of my strong suits anyway,” Harry said with a smirk of his own. “I tend to make quite the entrance when a fireplace is involved.”

“Well at least there weren’t photographers or the press core anywhere near to document your arrival,” Remus shrugged with a smile.

“Yeah…where is everyone?” Harry wondered aloud now that Remus had brought up the lack of a reception.

“The ceremony is in the atrium. It’s set off from the fireplaces now with the remodeling,” Remus replied. “That’s where the speeches and presentations are going to be given and the newly built memorial unveiled,” Remus further explained. “It’s probably been underway for a few minutes now, so I gather that’s where the lot is…” he trailed off after checking his watch.
Harry nodded in understanding.

“Well…should we make our way?” Remus said as he gestured towards an archway that led down a dimly lit hallway. Harry gathered that it was the path that would lead him to the atrium where the events of the day were taking place. And as he strained his ears towards the hallway, he caught just the tiniest notions of noise reverberations upon the otherwise silent air–telltale signs of a distant conversation or speech going on.

“I guess…” Harry sighed. He was here. He’d overcome his resolve not to come and now that he was steps away, there would be no turning back.

Remus adjusted a now slumbering Jacob on his shoulder and then together he and Harry began their way slowly towards the archway and out into the hallway that led to the atrium.

As they drew closer to the end of the hallway, the opening grew larger at the far end and Harry could begin to make out what was beyond. The hallway seemed to open up into a vast room that seemed to be bathed in a soft white natural light. Near the end, on either side of the hall, stood a robed figure partially silhouetted.

As Harry and Remus reached the opposite archway, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust and begin to take in the room before them.

The new atrium was just as magnificent as the original with dark wood floors and ornate stonework adorning the walls. The fireplaces were no longer on either side of the walls as he’d realized upon their arrival. But the ceiling, which had previously been a sort of peacock blue, was now domed with large skylights that were allowing all of the natural light to flood the place. Harry momentarily wondered how it was that the ceiling could possibly open to the sky above when the atrium was deep underneath the streets of London, but a reminder that anything was seemingly possible with magic quickly brushed away that stray thought.

Beneath those new skylights sat rows upon rows of chairs, all gathered and facing the far end of the atrium where a great podium stood upon a stage.

Countless numbers of witches and wizards dressed in their best sat upon them, their attention drawn forward as a woman Harry did not know spoke from behind the podium. Her words were momentarily lost as Harry’s eyes continued to scan the room.

There were so many people here. The entire magical community seemed to have turned out to take part in today and it was hard to fathom how the Atrium could fit them all. But here they were, under the rebuilt walls and ceiling of the Ministry of Magic, memorializing and remembering together.

As Harry looked to his left, the blonde-haired wizard standing beside the door finally noticed he and Remus’s arrival and nodded courteously to the both of them.

“Remus,” the man said quietly addressing Remus directly as though they knew one another. From this close Harry could now see that the man was dressed in Auror robes.

“Daniels,” Remus replied with a nod of his own.

“You’re a bit late,” the blonde Auror added. “The little one giving you trouble this morning?” he asked Remus with a smile as his eyes fell on the still baby in Remus’s arms.

“No,” Remus chuckled softly. “I–er–just had to make a quick stop before we came,” he added, his eyes flickering to Harry. The Auror named Daniels own gaze drifted over Harry and he nodded in understanding.

“Well I’m glad you’ve made it,” Daniels replied. “But I–I think the last seats have been filled for a while now…” Daniels added, his eyes scanning the last few rows only a few steps away in which every seat was occupied.

“I could see if we could conjure something up if you’re ok with sitting way back here…” Daniels began.

“I can stand,” Harry interrupted. Conjuring a chair or two would certainly draw attention to their arrival and there wasn’t much room for them to set those chairs up anyway.

“You’re sure?” Remus asked with a questioning look.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Harry assured him. “Just don’t want anyone to make too much of a fuss…” he added.

“I guess we’ll stand then,” Remus said with a nod to Daniels, reaffirming Harry’s words.

With that, Daniels returned his attention to scanning the crowd and the surrounding atrium with one hand stowed within his robes. Harry gathered that it was clutched tightly around his wand kept in an inside pocket as he appeared to be doing some sort of security duty for this event.

Ushered by a gentle nudge from Remus, they made their way along the wall to the side of the two Aurors guarding the entrance. Using both the stone wall behind him and his crutch, Harry leaned against them, trying to take weight from his feet and legs as he turned his attention forwards.

A familiar tall, bald-headed wizard was taking the podium from the woman who had just finished to a round of loud applause.
Kingsley Shacklebolt waited for a moment while the clapping began to die down and the audience began to quiet. He stood there with his head bowed slightly and solemnly as the last applause faded away. He was dressed in dark green, stately robes, a testament to his newly appointed position as Minister of Magic. Amidst a vote of no confidence from the Wizengamot and a building overall unsatisfied pressure from the public over how he’d handled the war effort, Scrimgeour had resigned two weeks ago and Kingsley had been an overwhelmingly popular choice to replace him.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke.

“Today…is a day for remembrance,” Kingsley said a firmly in that low, slow comforting voice of his. Every ear seemed to be drawn to it unwaveringly.

“It’s a day to grieve for and to mourn those who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice for us all and given their lives so that we may have these moments–this time of freedom,” Kingsley continued on.

“While we will and must never forget those who we’ve lost–” he said after a short pause. “We must not forget to live on ourselves–to honor those lives lost by living our own.”

“The celebrations and merriment that have already taken place in the days and weeks since the downfall of Lord Voldemort have tapered off and slowed down as we all attempt to move on,” Kingsley continued on, his voice never wavering as he said the usually much feared name that came with hesitation out of the mouths of witches and wizards. “But we will continue our celebrations and commemorate this victory in the coming days, months and years as we do just that–move forward.”

“Each child born into this world from now on, into families that have weathered this storm and survived the darkness will be a victory in itself and another lasting blow against the faded evil that once tried to take hold of us all,” Kingsley said as many heads in the sea of people nodded in agreement. “And they can grow up not having to know the fear and the uncertainty that the last few generations have been forced to live. Instead–they will be our brighter futures–reminders of today’s triumph and a hope that we may never let this happen again.”

At those words, a renewed round of applause rang out from the crowd, which was soon filling the room and reverberating repeatedly off of the stone walls. The response to Kingsley was immense and immediate and Harry could nearly palpably feel the respect and the esteem that these people felt for their new Minister.

As the applause once again began to abate and the crowd began to settle down, Harry’s attention was drawn away from Kingsley, who had begun to speak once more. But this time, his words were lost on Harry.

At the end of the nearest back row of chairs, a woman had turned and had seemed to notice him standing there, her gaze meeting Harry’s momentarily. The elderly witch turned forward once more and leaned to her left, clearly conversing with the grey-haired man seated next to her. That man, in turn, tapped the wizard to his left and leaned his head in as he spoke in a whisper that Harry could not hear.

And then simultaneously, the two men rose from their seats and slid along the isle and back towards where Remus, Harry and the Aurors stood. Harry hoped for a moment that they would brush past him, heading down the hall towards the floo network fireplaces, or perhaps the loo. But despite hope, the two men stopped directly in front of them, both nodding slightly in greeting as Harry reluctantly met their eyes.

“Why don’t you guys have a seat?” the grey-haired man who the witch had first spoken to said with a gesture over his shoulder towards the chairs. “You’ve been standing for a while…it probably’d be good to get off your feet for a bit.”
Harry didn’t know how to respond at first. He didn’t want to refuse their offer, but at the same time, he didn’t want to take their seats. They’d been there first and were rightfully owners of those spots.

“I don’t want to keep you from your seats,” Harry replied quietly, feeling Remus’s gaze on him. “I’ll be fine standing here.”

“Come now,” the man with a small smirk. “I know what it’s like to be young and stubborn…there’s no need to put yourself through any undue discomfort just to prove you can,” he added. “Plus, I could do with a stretch of the old bones,” he said with a chuckle.

Was he just trying to be stubborn, trying to be macho and prove he was fit enough to stand? What was the real reason he was refusing to sit?

While his mind couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason, neither could his aching feet and legs. In fact, they were soon becoming the deciding and overriding factor that was pushing him towards those chairs. He looked towards Remus, who had a questioning, yet strangely prodding look on his face.

“You're sure it's ok?" Harry asked the men, wanting to make it perfectly clear that he didn't feel entitled to those seats because of who they knew or thought he was.

“I’m positive,” the gray-haired man replied once more. “You two and the little one,” he added, gesturing towards a still-slumbering Jacob in Remus’s arms, “are more than welcome to those seats.”

“Thank you,” Remus said for the both of them, looking quite grateful to be able to sit down and cradle his son a bit more securely and with a bit less strain on his arms.

With that, the two men stepped aside to let Remus and Harry pass, so that they might take their places on the wall. Without speaking another word, Harry followed Remus towards the end of the isle where the two empty seats remained open.
When he reached the end, Remus stood aside and gestured for Harry to move in first and sit beside the middle-aged witch who had initiated the current arrangements. Harry hesitated for a moment, wanting to insist that he take the outside seat and Remus sit next to the women. But he did not argue and instead carefully maneuvered in between the seats and slid with the aid of his crutch to the intended seat.

Trying not to make too much noise and draw too much attention, Harry slowly lowered himself down, attempting not to bump or jostle the lady beside him. Remus sat on his other side and soon they were both situated and settled in their seats.

Sitting felt great and the instant relief it offered to his aching and taxed bones and muscles and it took a moment for his mind to focus once more upon the speech that Kingsley was still giving at the front of the Atrium.

His attention was once more captured by the words their new minister was continuing on with as he spoke to the enraptured crowd.

“We owe much to our young people…” Kingsley said with a strange mix of firmness and regret in his voice. “Who for so long have taken up the cause and rebelled against an evil that we who should have been protecting them, could or would not ourselves undertake.”

“It is they who have earned this victory,” Kingsley continued after a short pause. “Those young witches and wizards who bravely and selflessly defended their right to their futures against a malevolent hatred bent on robbing them of a chance at more than the present–who truly deserve our gratitude.”

“They fought not out of the call of duty that comes with office or appointment,” Kingsley added. “They sacrificed and rebelled not for personal gain or glory...but because they, more than any one of us, understood that it was the right thing to do, no matter the cost.”

Harry suddenly felt uneasy with the current course of Kingsley’s speech. He wondered if his name would be mentioned next and the crowd of witches and wizards would start looking around, craning their necks to catch sight of where Harry Potter was amongst them.

An unexpected pressure settled upon his right knee, stilling the slight, nervous bouncing movement he had not known he was doing.

Harry looked down to find a small, slightly lined hand resting upon his knee. There were several gold and jeweled rings adorning the long, thin fingers that were still lightly gripping his knee.

Harry followed the length of the robed arm attached to the hand to find its owner smiling softly at him, her wide brown eyes a comforting sudden source in the midst of everything.

Harry tried to return her given sympathy with a small smile, but wasn’t sure that it translated to his features in the way he had intended.

“There’s no need to worry, dear,” the middle-aged witched whispered to him as she leaned in towards Harry. “Nobody is going to be bothering you today,” she added.

A small bit of Harry wanted to believe her words and reassurances that he might go unnoticed, but he knew better than to think that he’d leave the atrium and this ceremony without inciting at least a small riot. How this woman could say that no one would bother him was beyond Harry.

But taking into account her words nonetheless, Harry turned his attention once more back to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had continued on with his speech even as Harry’s attention had waned.

“Despite age and experience, these young men and women fought and died alongside those of us who have seen many more years and fought in many more battles,” Kingsley continued on. “They went headlong into danger with unquestionable bravery and unwavering will, doing what we had asked of them and even that which we had not–all in the hopes of creating a better world, a better life for themselves and for those whom they love and care about.”

“Scheming and plotting in corners of castles and classrooms, and on the run from the very evil they were attempting to overthrow--they were the backbone of a resistance against Voldemort and his followers,” Kingsley spoke on. “Forming their own bands and groups, they joined us on the frontlines and behind the scenes, driving forward the effort to bring our world a long overdue time of peace through their sacrifices and toil.”

Kingsley paused for a second, looking down at the podium as if studying whatever notes he may be using to give this speech. He then seemed to inhale deeply and slowly, steadying and readying himself to continue on.

“And then there are those few who went even beyond the normal means and definitions of courage and bravery,” Kingsley said as he looked up finally from the podium. His voice was clam and resolute; his words resonating throughout the hall and within everyone seated there.

“They stood as beacons at the crossroads of heaven and hell, giving much more than any of us can begin to imagine…and guided us once again into the light.”

“To them, more than any, we owe an undeniable gratitude,” Kingsley said firmly. “We owe them the respect, the honor and the accolades they’ve earned by leading us to victory and vanquishing an evil that none of us could have taken down without them.”

A man, sitting in the row just in front of Harry took that moment and those words to glance over his shoulder.

The simple gaze of the one man seemed to have a magnifying effect and Harry suddenly felt as though everyone’s eyes were upon him, searching out one of those few who Kingsley was now speaking of.

The wizard probably only held that look for a few seconds, but it seemed unnaturally long for the moment. Harry felt Remus stiffen and shift beside him and knew he’d noticed the man’s attention also. His knew position was one of tension, aware of the potential situation at hand and ready to intervene if need be.

But the man didn’t step up or escalate his glance to anything more than what it was. It wasn’t a gawk or even an open stare. Instead, he simply inclined his head with a curt nod over his shoulder as if to say a polite “hello” before turning his gaze forward again.

“But we also owe them respect on other levels,” Kingsley spoke through the momentary diversion. “Respect--to let them live now that they are finally free of the burdens that had been placed upon them so prematurely–and that they have now been relieved of. We must recognize and appreciate what they have done for us, but must allow them to move on also…to rebuild what they’ve lost and to build anew the futures that not so long ago were merely dreams.”

Harry felt oddly emotional listening to Kingsley’s words. Without naming any of them, without rattling off a long and drawn out tribute honoring them all, Kingsley had done just that–honor them. But he’d also asked for a sort of collective privacy…a little breathing room for Harry and his close friends to breathe and recover…and to make those hopes and dreams reality.

Kingsley’s words had Harry brought a newfound respect and reverence for the new minister and the old friend who’d been there the past few years fighting with the Order. And he was glad that this new period of hope and light was being guided and lead by someone who genuinely understood what needed to be done in order to prevent the wizarding world from sinking back into despair.

And for once–for the first time in a long time–Harry didn’t feel the need or the pressure of having to lead anyone…to save anyone. As Kingsley had said…he’d been relieved of that burden now and this time, was his time to be himself.

As those thoughts ran through his mind, Harry hadn’t caught the last bits of Kingsley’s speech. So he started slightly in seat when the crowd around him began to clap in earnest as Kingsley stepped away from the podium. All around him, people began to stand up as the clapping grew louder still.

He felt Remus and then the kindly woman on his other side stand up and join the crowd in their ovation. Harry made to stand too, reaching for his crutch to prop himself up. But a steadying and staying hand on his shoulder kept him down in his seat.

He looked up to find Remus’s eyes on him, a gentle smile gracing his features. Without speaking, Remus was able to relay that is wasn’t necessary for him to put in the effort to stand from his seat and that remaining there would be alright.

After what seemed like several minutes, the crowd began to settle once more and the witches and wizards began to take their seats once more. When the people up towards the front of the atrium finally settled back down, a tall, regal looking dark-haired woman took the abandoned podium and stood for a moment without speaking until there was relative silence in the hall.
“We sit now within these walls where so much darkness and tragedy took place only a few months ago,” the woman said in a strong voice. “But from the rubble and from the broken pieces of stone and things far less replaceable…we have come to understand and to move on.”

“But as the Minister said only a few moments ago…we must not forget what has happened,” the woman continued. “And to make sure that it will never happen and we will never forget how close we came to losing it all…we will remember those who have for the good of us all.”

“Forever etched in stone…we will remember,” she said, lifting her gaze to survey rapt crowd as a monument of white marble seemed to rise from the floor behind her on cue. Standing about ten feet from the floor, the white walls of stone came together to form a triangle, a simple memorial to those who had given their lives in the years of the war.

“On these walls we commemorate the lives of those lost in the struggle for freedom,” the woman spoke again. “At this time, we invite you all to pay proper respects and to visit this monument. We only ask you remain orderly as you make your way. Luncheon for the day’s events will be held in a half hour’s time. Thank you.”

With that, the delegation of Ministry officials that had been seated upon the stage exited and the stage and podium disappeared, leaving only the newly unveiled monument standing at the far end of the atrium.

People near the front began to stand and move towards the memorial, a formal line quickly forming as witches and wizards made to pay their respects.

Other witches and wizards began milling around, wandering to find familiar faces and family members to strike up conversations with and share long overdue hugs and handshakes.

Remus sat back down beside Harry as the row before them started to file out, some making their way to join the line for the monument, others breaking off in their own directions.

“You ok?” Remus asked leaning in as he shifted Jacob to his other shoulder.

Harry nodded.

“It was nice,” he replied quietly. “I didn’t know about the monument,” Harry added.

“Dora said they’d decided only a few days ago,” Remus responded. “I think it’s fitting though,” he added.

Harry agreed with a nod.

The former Fountain of Brethren had been destroyed in the battle and this much simpler memorial seemed a proper replacement.

As Harry and Remus spoke, the first people that had viewed the monument were beginning to trickle back towards them, allowing for others to get a chance to take their places.

As men, women and children began to move around them, eyes and gazes began to fall undoubtedly and unmistakably on where Harry was sitting with Remus. He felt the tension began to mount once more within himself as more and more people seemed to be coming towards them.

But the scene and the riot Harry kept expecting to erupt failed to materialize. Instead, the throngs of people passing by only inclined their heads towards him in the same manner the man that had been sitting in front of him had. A few smiled graciously at him as they nodded and passed by. A few even murmured a polite “Mr. Potter,” as they moved on around him.
Harry automatically responded with a few acknowledging nods of his own, trying to meet their eyes as much as possible.

His attention was forced to his right though, as the witch seating next to him shifted as though she too was going to stand, but instead her hand once more found his knee.

“It’s good to see you out and about, dear,” she said in a quite voice as she leaned in to speak to him. “It was a little worrying to hear that you’d been laid up for so long. But you’re looking like you’re on your way to fit now…I hope everything is going well now.”

Harry was momentarily unseated by the comments and the woman’s kind concern. He had to swallow once or twice to find his voice in order to respond.

“Y-yeah…I’m feeling a lot better,” Harry replied quietly. “It’s really good to be out of the hospital and at home,” he added with a truthful smile as she nodded in return.

“Well…enjoy your rest, dear,” the woman responded as she shifted this time to raise herself from her seat. “And take your time recovering…you deserve a nice long break,” she added with a wink as the man who had previously vacated his seat for Harry came up next to the witch and helped her up, most obviously apparent now that he was her husband.

Harry had only time enough to nod and smile back in appreciation of the witch’s well-wishes as she stood and smiled one last time before she was swept away on the arm of her husband.

Harry turned back to Remus once the woman had gone to find the older man perusing the crowd to his left, his eyes scanning the crowd of passing witches and wizards. The blue-grey orbs widened in recognition just as a patch of pink in a sea of darker tones drew closer.

“There my boys are,” Tonks said as her lips broke into a wide grin once she had spotted Remus and Jacob. “And it is good to see you too Harry,” she added with a wink as her eyes landed on him.

Tonks reached her arms out towards Remus and he immediately reacted by hoisting Jacob from his shoulder and handing the small boy to her as he stood up. Tonks received and then cradled her son, kissing him gently on the crown of fluffy brown hair.

“I wasn’t sure if you guys had ended up making it,” Tonks said after she and Remus had kissed chastely their “hello”. “I was just about to pop back home and see what might have kept you,” she added with a hidden undertone in her words. Harry gathered that she had been well aware that Remus had been planning to stop by the Burrow and get Harry to attend.

“No…we were just a hair late, right?” Remus responded, glancing at Harry, who nodded as his eyes were too now scanning the crowds of people still passing by them. If Tonks had made her way to the back, then possibly the others would not be far behind.

And right on cue, as if she’d been drawn by his very thought, Ginny appeared in the nearby aisle way. She was followed closely by Ron and Hermione, who were hand in hand, seemingly engrossed in conversation. While they appeared not to notice as they drew up close to the row Harry, Remus and Tonks were currently in, Ginny suddenly raised her gaze from watching where she was going.

Almost instantaneously, her brown eyes found Harry’s and a dazzling, wide grin overtook her features as she slid past Ron and Hermione and entered the row of chairs. She maneuvered around Remus and Tonks, who both said their hellos as she moved by. But her eyes never left Harry as she came before him, still smiling.

“Hi there,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him gently and then moved to sit in the chair that had been vacated beside him.

Harry could only manage a stupid grin in return as Ginny took his right hand in hers. And although he couldn’t feel the softness of her skin against that of his prosthetic, the warm weight of her hand in his was comforting and he squeezed back.
“I’m glad you came,” she added quietly. “I was just about to head back home if you hadn’t…”

“Remus stopped over and I...decided…it might be ok to come,” Harry replied. “We weren’t too late.”

She nodded in understanding.

“So…were you all sitting up near the front?” Harry asked as he absentmindedly circled the back of Ginny’s hand with his thumb.

“Yeah…and then after the speeches, they all went to view the memorial up close,” she replied.

“I think Mum and Dad are talking to Kingsley now and Bill took Fleur to get her off her feet for a bit…and the others wandered off to who knows where,” she added as an afterthought.

Harry nodded once more and they lapsed back into a comfortable silence as the crowd milled on around them. Harry’s eyes drifted upwards towards the line still forming around the stone monument.

“Do you want to go take a look at the memorial before they set up for the lunch?” Ginny asked quietly, following his line of sight.

Harry drew his eyes back to Ginny and found her awaiting his answer patiently, her wide brown eyes questioning all the same.

“Yeah…I guess…” Harry said, clearing his throat. “I want to…but there are still a lot of people waiting…” he added, trailing off as he glanced upward once more.

“The line’s moving pretty fast,” Ginny replied. “I’ll wait with you–we’ll go together.”

Harry met her eyes again and looked deep into the amber depths. In her own, usual persuading way, Ginny was succeeding in getting him to go with her without being overbearing or bossy.

“Alright,” Harry sighed with a resigned nod. Ginny shot him a small, appreciative smile and stood, tugging gently on his hand to get him to follow. Harry obeyed the pressure, using the steadying support of Ginny’s hand and his crutch to raise himself from his seat.

Together they made their way down the middle aisle of the vast rows of chairs. They brushed passed witches and wizards who were both moving away from the monument and also engaging each other in various modes of conversation.
Harry tried not to look up too much as he and Ginny moved towards the memorial. But he could feel the numerous eyes being drawn in his direction and the he could palpably hear the mummers of renewed conversations picking up all around him.
Whatever anonymity he had enjoyed thus far today seemed to be crumbling by the wayside now. People were certainly noticing Harry Potter’s presence now and the newly switched on glaring spotlight was unnerving.

Beside him, Ginny picked up on his sudden nervousness and had no doubt heard the renewed rumblings of excitement popping up around them as they moved carefully towards the front of the atrium. She slipped a reassuring hand around his back, her hand coming to rest on the other side of his waist as he limped along beside her.

To her left, a trio of young girls, probably in their early teens, stood just off to the side of where there parents seemed to be deep in some conversation. As she and Harry drew nearer, one of the girls let out a gasp as her eyes went wide. Not a second later, the girls let out a smattering of giggles that seemed to grate against Ginny’s nerves.

Whether they were having a laugh over the way Harry was limping along or if this was another case of rabid fan girls not being able to contain themselves (which Ginny didn’t think was a much better option of the two), she wasn’t in any sort of way to ignore their sudden and incessant giggling.

Ginny snapped her head in their direction and she glared at them darkly, her eyes narrowed as she shook her head in disgust. Yelling would have drawn more of a crowd than she wanted, but it seemed that her heated stare was having quite the same effect as the giggling ceased immediately and each girl’s face showed a state of fearful shock as they hurried to turn away and join their parents once more.

Ginny huffed in an undignified satisfaction as she watched the girls scurry away in fear. She cast one more look in their general direction before she turned back to Harry, who had slowed just a bit.

He was watching her now, trying very hard to contain the smile currently twisting his lips.

“What?” she hissed at him, a lingering bit of annoyance in her voice as she did so.

“Remind me never to do anything bad enough to get that look directed at me,” Harry laughed, unable to contain his amusement any longer.

“They didn’t need to laugh like that,” Ginny replied indignantly. “They were being stupid.”

Harry nodded, trying to mask his overly-apparent entertainment he was finding in Ginny’s reaction.

“Oh…yeah,” he added in agreement. “I am rather sensitive when it comes to pre-pubescent girls giggling about me. Thanks for saving me from any emotional scarring I might have suffered as a result,” he teased.

“Alright…have a go at me then,” Ginny scoffed back.

“I’m just winding you up,” Harry chuckled softly, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of her head.

“And I’m not worried about them–or anyone else for that matter,” he added in a whisper as he pulled away. “As long as I’ve got you by my side…I’m safe.”

Ginny couldn’t help but smile back at his words. He really was amazing

They had arrived at the end of the queue of witches and wizards who were waiting to view the memorial stone up close. It was considerably shorter than Harry had expected it would be, but seeing as they’d waited a while to join it, most of the atrium had probably already ventured up. Plus it meant that Harry need only stand a short while and stay on his feet a little less than anticipated.

As they shuffled along in the line, a few more people joined in behind them, nodding and murmuring quick ‘hellos’ to Harry, who politely inclined his head back each and every time.

Within only a few minutes, Harry and Ginny were standing in front of the white marble monument, their hands clasped tightly as they began to study the list of names etched upon it.

There were so many.

So many people had given their lives…had their futures ripped away by the darkest of evils.

So many families had been torn apart…thrown asunder…never to be the same again…

It was so overwhelming to see them all together, carved into the cold stone–staring him right in the face.

Every letter, in every name as he read down the list seemed to be another blow to his mid-section as the reality of the toll this war had taken set in.

There were many names he did not recognize, or had only read in passing in the Prophet’s weekly reporting on notable war fatalities. There were the names of Order members he’d met over the past few years and a few Ministry officials he recognized.

His name briefly raked over the name ‘Sirius Black’ before a lump in his throat forced his eyes on. He’d visited that pain, that loss before–now wasn’t the time to bring it up again.

He and Ginny moved slowly around the three sided monument as they scanned the names on each panel. Particularly hard to take were the names of the students and teenagers that had died.

His eyes scanned over Cedric’s name, trying hard not to dwell on the memories welling up suddenly.

Then there was Terry Boot, Marcus Belby and Ritchie Coote–the beater Harry’d picked during his sixth year as Quidditch captain. All killed during the war–either fighting at the Ministry or attempting these past few months to evade the pursuit of Voldemort and his followers.

Ginny squeezed his hand tight as they passed over the wall, a gentle comfort during such a vulnerable situation.

Finally they made it to the last panel of the monument and Harry’s eyes flickered up to the top of the list, his gaze automatically drawn to the first two names.

James Potter

Lily Potter

He’d seen his parents etched in stone before, gracing a beautiful slab of white marble just like this one. And when he’d first seen the monument, he’d wondered if they’d be included and expected they would. But somehow…it never got any easier to see their names–to think about how they were gone and about how he had left were their names, some pictures and a few second-hand memories of how they’d really been in life.

Perhaps with the war over a small part of himself thought it might get better, that his victory would somehow make their deaths easier? But that was a silly thought–they were dead and no amount of change or the dispelling of the very evil that had taken them would change that…they were gone.

Silently Harry urged himself to move on, his eyes running down the names below his parents’.

His eyes flickered over the names at the beginning of the last column, his attention diverted momentarily to the familiar name of Oliver Wood. He’d known that his former Quidditch captain had died in the battle, but seeing the name in stone was another hard reality to swallow.

And then he heard Ginny take in a deep breath beside him.

He turned to look at her, finding her gaze fixed halfway down on the final column of names on the panel. Her outstretched hand touching the stone; a finger tracing the characters of the name she was focused on.

Charles Weasley

Harry watched her with her other hand as she wiped away the silent tears falling down her cheeks before he put an arm around her, drawing her in close to him. She sniffed away the moisture in her eyes as she leaned into his chest, trying to calm herself.

“He hates it when people called him Charles,” Ginny whispered through her tears as her finger traced the ‘W’. “Maybe we can have the twins sneak up and fix it?” she sniffed as he she tried to stop a sob.

But she could not keep the grief at bay and she cried into Harry’s chest.

“I miss him,” she sobbed quietly. “I miss Charlie,” she repeated.

Harry didn’t know what to say or do besides to just hold her. His throat was swollen and obscured by a different sort of grief that prevented him from finding anything remotely comforting to say to Ginny.

She had always been there for him; had been so strong and steadfast through whatever they had faced…

Unflinchingly she’d held his hand through the dark times; going through unspeakable hardships and unfathomable uncertainties…for him.

But he hadn’t been there for her…not for this.

She’d lost her brother and he had been so consumed by what he had been going through at the time–that he’d left her alone to deal with the loss of Charlie.

Whereas she’d been his rock…his shoulder to cry on…his life-line to cling to…

He suddenly felt hollow…inadequate.

His guilt over this shortcoming was overcoming any grief for Charlie now. How could Ginny continue to stick by him when he’d abandoned her in her most tragic moments? When she had needed him most?

She hadn’t really talked about Charlie’s death to him, aside from a few moments where she’d lapsed into a pensive silence when he’d been mentioned in conversation.

What must she think of him?

At a time when she should have been able to grieve for her brother, she’d been forced to focus on Harry’s needs. She’d rushed to him–trying to pry him out of the abyss that he was inching ever closer to…

Could she possibly hate him any more than he hated himself?

“I think we should go now…”

The whispered interjected barely registered to Harry as a million horrible thoughts whirled around his brain.

He looked down to find Ginny watching him, having just spoken. Without much thought he nodded and together he and Ginny moved away from the monument, her hand snaking back into his as they moved to find the rest of the Weasleys.

But as they went on to meet up with the rest of the family and Atrium changed to accommodate the crowds for the remembrance feast, Harry found he couldn’t stand to be here any longer. He couldn’t breathe and each touch–every intimate gesture from Ginny–made it harder to control himself.

He was going to snap at any moment; to let his anxiety and every self-deprecating thought overcome him…

So feigning tiredness, he’d managed to get Remus to accompany him home before they’d even been served starters. Ginny had insisted she’d go with him, but with a shake of the head, he’d brushed her off and murmured something about ‘just going to sleep anyway’.

She’d cast him a nervous, worried-sort of look as he’d stood with Remus, but hadn’t pushed any further.

He was grateful for the quick and relatively smooth Floo ride back to the Burrow. He had immediately went to his bedroom to unwind and when Remus had come to check on him, he’d assured him he’d fine and insisted that Remus should go back to the Ministry.

With only a bit of an argument, Remus had left, leaving Harry alone, sprawled out on his bed as he tried to hold it together.
Not wanting to be left to stew in his thoughts, Harry craved for some relief.

So against most of his judgment, Harry had reached for the bedside table and produced a bottle of one of his pain potions. He didn’t need to take it again til much later…but right now he needed to escape and he knew it would dull everything and make him drowsy enough to fall asleep.

After changing into pajamas, he’d taken a swig of the potion, not bothering to measure it out.

And as he lay back on his bed atop the covers, it took only a few minutes for him to drift off, the throbbing pain in his head slowly fading until he was numb…

------------------------------- --------------------
She was worried.

Maybe worry wasn’t a strong enough feeling to describe what was currently keeping her awake, having her tossing and turning every five minutes as her restless thoughts pattered against her brain.

Ginny had been lying awake these past few hours after everyone else had retired to their respective houses and rooms.

While she was sure everyone else had found a bit of respite after a long and taxing day at the Ministry, she was experiencing no such luxury. Her mind would simply not allow her body any quiet.

She had tried to make it through the sit down luncheon at the Ministry after Harry had taken leave back to the Burrow. But her thoughts had continued to stray to him, her anxiousness creeping up on her and keeping her from enjoying the afternoon.
Something had been wrong with him when he’d gone. Since they had visited the memorial stone and read the names of those who had died during the years of war, Harry’s mood and demeanor had changed and he’d shut off from her for some reason unknown to her.

As much as she made an effort to try and engage herself with those sitting around her, her focus continued to remain far away, occupied by the odd heavy weight that seemed to be settled in her stomach. She wanted to get back to the Burrow, to be with Harry and ease whatever fear was assaulting her.

So she was thankfully relieved when her father suggested the family return home for the evening once the desserts were dished out and finished.

But even then, the queue for the Floo did not seem to move fast enough for Ginny as she waited to get back. And it was only when her feet had connected soundly with floor of the Burrow kitchen that her anxiety to rush home was abated.

The house had been dark and quiet upon their return; no sound or sign of anyone being there. Even as the gas lamps were lit and began to flicker on around the house at their arrival, there still seemed to hang a strangely strained feel about the atmosphere.

Her first move had been to go to Harry’s room, knocking only fleetingly before pushing the door open. It had been dark at first while her eyes adjusted, but after a few seconds they had focused on Harry’s still form, sprawled out across the top of the covers of his bed.

The way he had been laying had bothered her from the start. Why had he not crawled underneath the covers? Why was he not curled up on his side like he normally slept?

As she had approached the bed, the first thing she looked for was the rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing slowly and rhythmically, his mouth slightly ajar as he snored ever so softly. He looked peaceful and carefree in this slumber…but something about the picture before her had still not settled right with her.

It was when her mother had entered the room behind her to check on things, that she had noticed the drawer of his beside table open and the dark blue bottle sitting atop it, the cover sitting beside it.

He had taken at least a dose of his pain potion and it hadn’t been time for him to do so.

So why had he taken it……?

Her mother had been worried too and had immediately checked Harry’s pulse and for any signs of distress.
But he had been fine…peacefully sleeping and seemingly blissfully unaware of anything going on around him.

Upon leaving his room, they had tried to figure out a plausible reason for why he’d taken it. Ron had gathered that perhaps Harry was in more pain than he’d been letting on and today had just simply been more than he was used to.

That rationale had seemed to placate the majority of the family. But even as they had slowly begun to trickle out of the kitchen and to their rooms, she knew that they were all not completely convinced of what was going on.

So here she lay since then, unable to sleep and unable to keep Harry from her mind…

A nagging worry exciting her consciousness and any preventing rest…
What was she supposed to do with him?

That thought pattered on her mind in the quiet and stillness of her room…

And then she heard it.

It sounded muffled, as though someone had muted a cry of pain.

She lay completely still, barely breathing as she waited for the noise to repeat.

When she did not hear it after several seconds, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she had heard one of the many pairs in the house making a bit too much noise while engaging in certain “activities.” It wouldn’t be the first time…

But another cry pierced the darkness, this time louder and clearer than the last. It sounded anguished and distress and it seemed to echo eerily throughout the entire house, raising goose bumps on Ginny’s skin.

It repeated once more and continued to grow stronger and more drawn out…the time between cries growing shorter…
Somebody was in pain…someone was in trouble…

Panic gripped Ginny as she jumped out of bed, not bothering to put on a dressing gown as she pushed the door open and sped into the hall.

She heard the sound of footsteps and other doors opening from behind her as she moved down the stairs, missing a few here and there. Others in the house had surely awakened and heard the noise too. But Ginny wasn’t concerned about that, her focus was solely on the cries and groans coming from the floor below.

She slipped slightly as her stocking feet hit the polished wood floor of the kitchen. But using the banister, she righted herself automatically, sprinting through the archway into the sitting room. She pushed aside a side table as she skidded slightly. But without much concern over whether she’d broken the lamp on it or not, her hand reached for the doorknob and she wrenched open the door to Harry’s bedroom.

The yells were much louder now and the bedcovers had been tossed onto the floor.

Harry was thrashing about, his back arching away from the mattress as he let out another cry–which was more of a scream now.

The sound tore at her as she crossed the last few steps to the bed.

“Nooooo….don’t!!!”

Harry yelled out again and his features scrunched up in anguish as he swiped wildly at an unseen foe.

"Please...noooo--ahhhh!"

This time the yelling ended with a punctuated cry of agony as Harry clutched at his chest.

A much larger fear gripped Ginny as the realization that something might be going wrong with his medically repaired heart crossed her mind. But as soon as he'd gripped at his t-shirt as if in pain, he pulled away, moaning and whimpering horribly as his head tossed from side to side.

She crossed the foot of the bed quickly, moving onto the little bit of space on the mattress that was not occupied by Harry's flailing body.

But as she moved to take hold of him, to shake him and try and wake him from his nightmare, Harry yelled out again, sitting bolt-upright in bed as he swung his left arm wildly. Ginny had to duck in order to avoid getting hit.

"Pleeaase..." Harry pleaded in a drawn out cry. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

He repeated the last words over and over again as his eyes remained closed and he continued to be locked within whatever horrible dream that was torturing him.

"Don't...don't...I'm sorry...I didn't want--" he cried out frantically, his voice whining and desperate.
"NOOOO!!!"

This time Ginny succeeded in wrapping her arms around Harry as the next cry tore at his throat.

"It's ok, Harry...It's alright," she tried to soothe as he continued to struggle in her arms. "You're ok...you're alright..."

But her words did not seem to have much of an affect on him as he tried desperately to detach himself from her grasp even as he remained asleep.

"Please...please don't let me hurt them..." he pleaded in a strangled voice. "Noooo....NOOOO!"

Harry flailed again wildly, nearly unseating Ginny from the bed.

She had to wake him up...she had to free him from this nightmare.

"Harry!" she called loudly, trying to get his attention. "Harry...wake up!" she urged again, this time taking his head in her hands by placing one on each side of his face. She needed him to focus on her, to hear her voice and wake up.

He continued to fight her, groaning and repeating that he was ‘sorry’.

“HARRY!” she yelled, shaking him harder than she had intended.

His eyes snapped open as he let out a loud shuddering breath as though he’d just emerged from a long bout underwater.
Relieving her fears just a bit, his green irises slid into view. But he didn’t seem to focus on her or anything as he continued to whimper and breathe raggedly against her hands still held tight against his face.

“Harry…look at me…” she pleaded with him. “Look at me!” she yelled at him.

Again he seemed to snap to another level of alertness at his gaze found her.

“Oh, God,” he breathed out as his face screwed up in a mask of torment and fear.

Harry collapsed into her arms as he buried his face in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand threading into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him tight as she whispered soothing words into his ear, trying to calm him.

As she looked over his shoulder, Ginny could see people standing near the door, watching the scene before them with trepidation. But she wasn’t concerned with what they thought or who had been woken by Harry’s screams–her sole focus was Harry as he clutched her so tightly it almost hurt.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered into her shoulder once more. Ginny found herself biting back the urge to tell him to stop saying that.

“Shhh….” She soothed instead, rubbing the back of his head gently. “It’s ok.”

She felt him shake his head in reply against her hold.

“I’m always hurting you…”

Despite the words being whispered against her skin, they rang loud and clear in the otherwise quiet room.

“What?” she breathed out in a startled voice. “Harry, what are you talking about?”

“I always end up–hurting you,” he forced out between shaky breaths.

Ginny tried to separate herself from him, pulling Harry away so that she could see his face. He would not meet her eyes.

“It was just a dream, luv,” she whispered to him. “Whatever you saw–it wasn’t real…“

Harry shook his head and looked up at her for the first time.

“I’m never there for you…” he said in a pained whisper.

There was so much angst, so much desperation in his voice. She still had no idea what he was talking about–why he was talking like this–and it scared her.

“You’ve always been there–“ she began, attempting to reassure him. But he cut her off again.

“No…you’re always there for me,” he said as he shook his head. “I’ve never been…and I’m sorry...” he whispered, swallowing heavily.

Still confused, she scooted forward and wrapped her arms around him once more. Harry, in turn, rested his head against her shoulder.

Seeing that the two were sharing in a private moment, those who had gathered near the door began to disburse, moving out of the room.

“Can you tell me about your dream?” Ginny asked quietly when the door had closed most of the way and they were alone. She wanted desperately to know what had made him say these things and what had been so bad in his dreams to drive him to this point.

Against her, she felt Harry sigh deeply.

“It was just…things I’ve been thinking about…” he began quietly. “Only worse…”

“Like?” she whispered, urging him on gently as she massaged the back of his head. His hair was sweaty from the nightmarish exertion.

“They were accusing me…showing me all the things I’ve done…” Harry began again unevenly. “Telling me…” he broke off and sniffed loudly. “…how I only bring bad to the people I care about…how I hurt them…”

She kissed the side of his head softly, continuing to hold him tight as she hoped her comfort would allow him to open up.

“Who’s ‘they’, Harry?” Ginny asked gently as she let her curiosity get the best of her words.

“Everyone…” he murmured.
“And then him–“ he paused, but Ginny knew who he spoke of. “He was there…and he…he kept telling me, that even though he was gone…I was still evil…I would never escape what he had planned for me…”

Harry’s voice was uneven as he spoke.

“No matter–how hard–I tried to wake up–it was there…” Harry pushed on. “The thought in the back of my mind that he was right…that I’m still–”

He broke off.

“Then you were there…” he began again after a moment. “You were trying to pull me away…to show me he was wrong…”
“But I grabbed you…” he whispered as his breath hitched. “I put–I put my–hands–around your neck…”

“Harry–“ Ginny began as she watched him once more grow upset and choke up with emotion.

“I couldn’t stop,” Harry whispered, shaking away her attempt to interject.

“I couldn’t save you…” he breathed out. “I couldn’t save you…from myself.”

Ginny couldn’t stop the tears that were not running down her own cheeks as she listened to Harry recount his nightmare to her.

“It was just a nightmare,” she whispered as she put her lips against the side of his head. “I know…that you would never hurt me…you could never hurt me…”

“But I have,” he said miserably as he pulled away from her, sitting up and wiping his face and tears he’d shed.

“He may not have been right about me laying my hands on you–hurting you physically,” Harry said shakily.

“I’ve put you through hell, Ginny,” Harry continued, his voice firm, but full of self-loathing. “You have been through so much pain and so much suffering–because of me.”

“Harry…what’s brought this on?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why are you talking like this?”

“Because it’s true,” he said simply, looking away from her and into the darkness of the bedroom.

“Because–seeing all those people today–seeing all those names–” he trailed off momentarily, closing his eyes briefly to compose himself.

Suddenly it clicked in Ginny’s mind–the reason why he’d left the memorial feast–why he’d had the nightmare. He was blaming himself for everything…putting the weight of the world back upon his shoulders.

“I realized–” he began again before Ginny could speak. “As I watched you break down at the memorial–talk about how much you missed Charlie–”

“I realized–that despite the fact that Voldemort’s gone now–there are so many things I didn’t do,” he whispered into the darkness. “So much I could’ve changed–”

“You couldn’t save everyone, Harry,” Ginny told him strongly. “Nobody expected that.”

“No…but–” he replied quietly. “I should’ve done more for the people I did.”

How could the man who had given everything…risked his very life and fought the darkest of evils to save everyone but himself…believe for one second that he should have done more? That he did wrong somehow in his victory?
Ginny could only shake her head in response. Words of comfort somehow eluded her.

“I was so busy playing the hero…that I forgot to take care of the people important to me,” Harry continued, momentarily relieving her from speaking.

“When Charlie died–I wasn’t there–“ Harry continued on. “I mean–I was in my head–too concerned about myself…”

“I should’ve been with you,” he said in self-disgust. “You’ve been my strength for so long…and I haven’t…and I can’t–I don’t understand–how you can still lov–“

But he was cut off as Ginny finally found her voice.

“Don’t--you even say that–“ Ginny said in a tight voice as she tried to reign in her sudden anger. “Don’t you–ever–question why I’m still with you–or why I love you--“

Harry seemed momentarily thrown by her reaction and the overwhelming passion she was showing in her response.

“Because if you have to wonder about that–“ she began, breaking off as it seemed emotion was too much for her. “Then I don’t…know…what we’re doing here…” she trailed off as she swallowed painfully.

Harry’s gaze dropped to the sheets as he became lost in the thoughts spurred by her words.

Ginny shook her head in desperation, willing herself not to blow up at him…to tell him she was sick of watching him belittle himself.

But as she watched him, she couldn’t bring herself to be as angry as she had initially been. He looked so hurt…so vulnerable right now–that she didn’t want to make things worse. She just wanted him to understand…

“You’re right–” Ginny spoke again into the darkness. “Sometimes I’ve wondered how I was still hanging on through everything…how much more I could take…” she added quietly.

“Being with you hasn’t always been easy–” she continued as she retook his hand in hers.

“But loving you has,” she said firmly as she willed him to look up at her. “Falling in love with you has–always--been easy…I’ve never thought twice about it,” she told him as his gaze tentatively lifted to meet hers.

Even in the dim light of the room, Harry’s eyes were shining brightly back at her.

“But I hate it when you do this to yourself…” she continued. “When you put everything…all the irrational blames…back on your shoulders.”

“However–strong–you think I’ve been,” Ginny began. “You’ve been so much more to me…”

“Gin–“ Harry began.

“No…listen…” she stopped him from interrupting while shaking her head.

“You are the strongest person I have–ever–known,” she stressed passionately. “And you have done more for me than you can ever realize–”

“You–just being here–means more to me than anything and overrides everything you think you haven’t done,” Ginny continued.

“You chose life, Harry,” she whispered fiercely.

“You chose to come back–knowing there’d be uncertainty and more pain,” she continued in a strained and emotion-filled voice.

“You gave up a chance of true peace and the opportunity to be with your parents again–which you deserve after all you’ve given,” she added. “Giving up that–and choosing to come back–is the bravest thing you could do…”

“I didn’t come back to be brave,” Harry said in a low voice, squeezing her hand gently. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers once more.

“I chose to return so I could have the future,” Harry continued on quietly. “And it didn’t matter what sort of future it was…or how hard I thought it might be. I just wanted to be with you…”

“Then let’s focus on that future,” Ginny told him. “And let’s forget about the things in the past we can’t change. Let’s stop dwelling on what’s happened. Because we can’t go back…we can only go on.”

As she spoke the last words, she bridged the space between herself and Harry and embraced him once more. She rested her head upon his shoulder and felt him kiss the side of her head gently as he pulled her to him.

“I want to,” he whispered to her. “I really do.”

Ginny felt him lift his head up and then felt his lips resting upon her hairline.

“I just need a bit of time…and for you to be patient with me,” he added quietly.

She lifted her chin from his shoulder and looked up into his face.

“You got it,” she said with a faint smile. “I will always be here,” she added as she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

Harry responded to her touch, his mouth moving automatically in tune with her own lips.

With a contented sigh, Harry pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against hers.
He let out another sigh.

“Am I ever going to be normal?” he breathed out gently.

Ginny suppressed the small bubble of the laughter that had threatened to spill over.

“No,” she whispered back with a small smile as she kissed him once more. “But I don’t want you to be.”

Harry couldn’t keep his own ghost of a grin off his face as he shifted her head to his shoulder and squeezed her tight once more.

They sat there in the darkness, embracing one another for a while. Neither of them spoke as silence stretched out between them; both lost in each other’s comfort.

Finally, after what seemed like a long time, Ginny pulled away, looking Harry over once more as she did so.

“You’re soaked,” she said quietly as she surveyed the sweat saturated t-shirt he was wearing along with the drenched sheets around them.

“Let’s get you into some different pajamas and clear these sheets,” Ginny added as Harry first realized just how sweaty he was.

Ginny hopped off the bed and then helped Harry up also. Together, they stripped the bedclothes off of the mattress, replacing them with fresh sheets from the closet shelf. Once the bed had been put right, Ginny helped Harry out of his t-shirt, using a spare towel in the closet to help in dry off and warm up as he shivered slightly in the cool of the night.

Minutes later Harry was changed and dry and they were climbing back into bed; Harry pulling Ginny down next to him.
They lay side by side; Harry’s arm resting across Ginny’s hip as they faced one another with their heads upon the recently dried pillows.

The moment was relaxed compared to the commotion and tension of just a short while ago. Harry’s breathing was slowing as the remaining effects of the potion he had taken, paired with the exhaustion of the nightmares he had endured began to catch up with him. Ginny could feel him palpably relaxing in the quiet of the room.

She, however, was still quite awake; the excitement of the night still coursing through her. Her main concern was to make sure Harry got to sleep again and got the rest that he deserved.

And there was also a lingering question still bothering her–not allowing her too to succumb to slumber.

Without much thought to what her question might bring to the situation, Ginny spoke into the silence.
“Harry?” she asked quietly, not quite even sure if Harry was still awake.

“Hmm?” Harry grunted quietly in response, just awake enough to do so.

“Can I ask you something?” Ginny questioned in a whisper.

“Yeah…sure…” Harry breathed out deeply as the throws of slumber still threatened.

“When you took the potion…before you went to bed…” Ginny began, hesitating to swallow her nervousness.

“Were you trying to hurt yourself?” she asked, closing her eyes against whatever reaction Harry might have.

There was silence in the wake of her question, but she could feel him tense up beside her and she knew, without looking, that his eyes were open–wide and watching her.

“What?” Harry whispered to her in question. She opened her own eyes to find Harry scrutinizing her with a bit of confusion marring his brow.

“I–I was just–worried. We came home and we found the bottle–” she struggled to get out against the intensity of his gaze. “I–I just–want to know if–if that’s what was going on…” she trailed off into silence.

“No,” his response came a few seconds later. His answer was firm, yet quiet.

“I did not try to hurt myself,” he added, his eyes not wavering from hers. He was telling the truth. “Honestly,” he pressed.

“I just wanted some rest,” he explained as he took her hand and laced his fingers in hers. “And–maybe it was stupid of me to do it–but I needed to fall asleep, to get away for a bit. So I took some.”

“Is that what everyone thinks?” he asked her after a moment. “That I–that I would do that?”

Ginny shook her head, not wanting to start something else that would upset him.

“We were just worried,” Ginny assured him. “I’m sorry that I accused you–“

“No,” Harry cut across her. “I’m sorry–for being stupid enough to do something like that.”

Ginny understood his reasoning and accepted his apology by wrapping her arms around him once more, pulling him tight as they lay there.

Nothing more was spoken between them as they lay in an embrace. And it only took a maybe ten minutes before Harry had drifted off into a peaceful slumber; whatever dreams he may be having no longer marred by his insecurities and tortuous thoughts.

Ginny stayed wrapped in him for another ten minutes or so beyond that before she gently slid out of his grasp, pulling the covers up over him before she padded out of the bedroom and back into the quite night.

------------------------------ ---
The fire crackled noisily into the night, it’s tendrils of gold, orange and yellow licking at the darkening sky above them dotted with stars. But the subtle din of voices and laughter overtook the slight roar of the fire, filling the night with another sort of warmth that ran much deeper.

It had been a wonderful afternoon that was now spilling into twilight.

After meeting up again at the Ministry for the memorial, an impromptu gathering had been organized and the Burrow had once more became a scene of celebration as a large number of teenagers and other young adults filled it.

School friends of Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny had all converged on the Burrow, along with friends of the twins and various members of the Order. A stark contrast from the formal and somber mood of the day before, this gathering had been upbeat and joyful–a real celebration of their victory and of the changing tides that had come with it.

After lots of food and an afternoon of catching up and reminiscing, those who were still lingering about and hadn’t left for home were seated around the fire in a vast array of comfortable furniture that had been summoned or transfigured. The remaining collection of teens and adults were settling in and winding down as a couple bottles of Firewhisky were being passed around their midst. The warmth of the liquor was certainly doing its job in making the evening even that more relaxing.

“Oi! Pass em’ here, Dean,” Seamus’s voice called over the sound of the fire to his best friends as he lounged quite comfortably and cozily on a couch next to Katie Bell, who didn’t seem to mind their current position one bit.

“Hold on, hold on,” Dean scolded as he passed Seamus the bottle of Firewhisky he’d been swigging from, along with some time of lit cigar.

Seamus eagerly took the items from Dean, taking a large swallow and grimacing from the bottle before passing it to Katie.
Harry watched the exchange through heavy eyelids as he sat in a rather cushy and comfortable armchair a few feet away. He’d had a few swigs from the bottle himself, but the reason for his contentment and feeling of relaxation had less to do with the effects of Firewhisky and more to do with the red head currently lounging on his lap. Ginny was sharing his chair, snuggling up against his chest as Harry’s arm wrapped around her possessively.

Harry watched Seamus and Katie share the bottle and the cigar, wondering vaguely if there wasn’t something more being contained within the cylinder they were currently puffing. They both seemed overly at ease, more so than even the other teens lying about.

“Want some?” Seamus asked, holding up the cigar that he’d just taken a drag from towards Harry, who he’d noticed watching him.

“Ah…no,” Harry tried to decline politely as he shook his head at the offer. “I reckon I’ve already had enough damage done to my insides–that I don’t need to do anymore myself,” he added.

Seamus laughed and nodded at Harry’s comment.

“Fair enough,” Seamus chuckled.

Harry felt Ginny’s giggles vibrated against his chest as she too laughed at his words.

“You can pass it along here, Seamus,” Ginny’s said as she stopped laughing momentarily.

Harry was quite surprised at her request and turned his head to look at her. Ginny was looking back and she quirked her eyebrows at him before reaching over to grab the cigar from Seamus.

Harry’s eyes remained trained on her as she deftly put the end of the cylinder to her lips and took in a deep inhale. Then with just as much skill, she blew out a thick stream of smoke, turning to smile dangerously and slyly at him.

“What are you doing?” Harry whispered in amazement as he stared wide-eyed at her.

“Well, I thought that much was obvious,” Ginny sniggered playfully.

“What is that?” Harry asked her, gesturing to the lit cylinder.

“A cigar–cherry flavored,” Ginny replied in amusement as she licked at her lips. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing ‘special’ about it,” she giggled quietly as she smiled at him.

“Well–why are you and how is that you’ve come to know how to smoke that–cigar–so expertly?” Harry asked her in interest.

“I did happen to grow up with six older brothers, who more than once stole into my dad’s tobacco stash he hides from Mum,” Ginny replied. “And I did on more than one occasion–purely by accident, of course–happen onto their little ‘parties’ and ‘persuade’ them into letting me try,” she continued to explain as her grin grew wider.

So it wasn’t just Harry she used her ‘innocent’ charm on…

“Oh…” was all Harry could manage as he smiled at her in wonder at her guile as she took another satisfactory drag from the cigar.

“Give it here,” Ron’s voice cut through the exchange and a large hand entered Harry’s frame of view as Ron’s long arm reached towards Ginny.

“Shove off,” Ginny scolded Ron, pushing her brother’s arm away as she took another provoking puff.

“It’s the last one…give it here,” Ron said, his voice a bit testy. “And it’s not lady-like to smoke…what would Mum say?” he added in an aggravating tone.

“Well luckily she’s in the garden…” Ginny retorted.

“And could be beckoned here at the slightest call…” Ron countered, his eyes drifting further up towards the house.


They were goading each other on--going back in forth in the biggest brother, little sister fashion. It was amusing to Harry to watch Ron try to bait Ginny into giving him the cigar by threatening to tattle on her. He had to hold back a laugh.

“Fine,” Ginny finally relented. “But I was done with it anyway,” she added with a huff as she passed it to Ron and then leaned back into Harry’s chest.

Ron gladly took the cigar from his sister and was about to put it to his mouth–but he was stopped by the glare that was currently being shot at him by Hermione, who was perched upon one of his knees.

“What?” he asked her, his brow contorted in confusion.

“You’re not actually going to smoke that, are you?” Hermione asked him quite sternly.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on just holding it all night,” Ron retorted without thinking, his response immediately earning him an even more intense look from Hermione.

“It’s disgusting,” Hermione said in distaste as she eyed the cigar.

“Yeah…so…” Ron said slowly, clearly fighting against Hermione’s words.

“So…if you plan on getting anywhere near me…you’ll think twice about putting that in your mouth,” Hermione replied threateningly.

Ron seemed torn momentarily; his gaze wavering from the still lit cigar to Hermione, who was eyeing him warningly.

“Here…” Ron said finally, holding the cigar back out to Seamus, who took it with a knowing grin. “I’m guess I’m done with it.”

“Yeah…I’d say…” Fred laughed from his spot on the other side of Harry and Ginny’s chair.

The entire circle of people surrounding the fire seemed to erupt in various degrees of laughter, clearly amused by Ron’s submission. A few mimicked the motion of a whip, repeating the gesture several times as they laughed.

Ron shot back with a few gestures of his own, which were too reprimanded by Hermione.

“God…and you two aren’t married?” Neville, who was seated quite closely to Hannah Abbot, offered in wonder, as he shook his head in Ron and Hermione’s direction. Neville’s comments earned another round of jeers and laughs from the crowd.

“No,” George piped in. “But rest assured Mum’s already got the nuptials all planned out…flowers, seating charts and all…”

Ron shot his twin brothers dirty looks as they sniggered at him. Hermione looked only slightly flustered and even in the dim firelight, a bit red around the cheeks.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll have more than enough to do with one wedding to plan right now,” Lavender Brown spoke up from where she was sitting (surprisingly) with Colin Creevey.

Harry was confused as to what wedding Lavender was referring to. And it seemed his bewilderment seemed to be coming from most of the others as well.

“Are you getting married without telling me?” Fred said in a voice filled with mock outrage as he turned towards George.

“And to think I thought I knew you all this time…” he added in a playfully scorned voice, earning a few snickers from those around the fire.

“You didn’t get the invitation?” George asked slyly, playing along beautifully.

“Actually…well, we thought–” Lavender spoke again hesitantly, looking over towards the Patil twins, who both shared her same look of uncertainty.

Their three gazes slowly drifted away from one another and–to Harry’s surprise–revolved to where he and Ginny were sitting.

“Us?” Ginny’s voice asked in surprise.

The three girls nodded.

“Earlier–we saw your ring,” Parvati said timidly, gesturing towards Ginny.

Ginny instinctively raised her left hand and looked at the thin band and diamond she wore on her ring finger. Harry looked too. He had noticed a few times that she hadn’t taken it off since that night at the Ministry.

Harry hadn’t said anything about it. He hadn’t felt the need to. It was hers as far as he was concerned.

“We figured that you two must just want to keep it quiet–since you hadn’t said anything…” Lavender added.

“We–” Ginny began, glancing back at Harry, who was still looking at the ring on her finger.

“We’re not engaged,” Ginny replied slowly, as if she too was contemplating the meaning of the ring on her finger and the fact that Harry hadn’t mentioned its current placement.

What did it mean? Harry thought to himself.

That ring certainly belonged there and the idea of all it entailed had crossed his mind more than once in the weeks since the final battle. It was certainly something he wanted now.

Did her wearing the ring mean she did too?

“I mean–” Ginny’s obviously flustered sounding voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts. “We hadn’t really–talked–officially–or anything–” she continued to struggle, looking back at Harry for support or guidance in what she should be saying.

Harry looked up and kept her gaze, staring deeply into her beautiful brown eyes.

Perhaps he should help her out a bit…

“Maybe…we should talk about it…officially…” he said quietly, carefully holding her gaze as he swallowed in a bout of sudden nervousness.

“What?” she gasped quietly, a questioning look on her face.

“I just–I think–we could–do something about that ring–” Harry answered, unnaturally nervous now.
Her eyes were boring into his, searching him and pinning him down at the same time. He could scarcely breathe…

What would she say?...

“Mate,” a voice interrupted this most perfect moment. It was Ron.

“Did you just ask my sister to marry you?” he asked in what sounded like utter disbelief and a slight tinge of amazement. Harry didn’t look over to gauge Ron’s reaction.

He had eyes only for Ginny.

“In a round-a-bout way…I guess I did,” Harry replied, still locked completely in Ginny.

In the background there were sounds of shock and a buzz of excitement, all eyes seemingly on the couple.

“Well if he wants a not so round-a-bout answer…he should probably ask me properly,” Ginny breathed out in a shaky voice, her face seemingly so close to his now. “As to avoid confusion, of course,” she added with a small smile.

Harry felt slightly dazed, in awe of what he was about to do.

She was asking him to ask her properly–to be sure.

But he was sure. Ginny made him sure.

“You’ll have to forgive me for not getting down on one knee,” Harry breathed out as Ginny’s smile widened. “There’s no way I’d get back up.”

Harry had no idea why he was trying to be funny right now… this was the biggest thing he’d ever done.

But Ginny was only smiling all the wider.

“Ginny…”

His voice sounded like a mere whisper to his own ears.

“Will you marry me?”


There was a pause as his words seem to echo and the silence following them rival the sound of the crackling flames.
Everything was waiting.

Ginny’s smile twisted just a little as a new emotion entered the frame. Tears made her brown eyes sparkle all the more.

She seemed to be having the same problem as he as she struggled to get her wits and her breath about her.

She began to nod as she struggled against her emotions.

“Yes…” she whispered as she let out the breath she’d been holding in and her teary smile overwhelmed her features. Her arms went around Harry’s neck.

“Yes?” Harry asked in astounded confirmation.

“Of course, you silly git,” she breathed out.

And then she was kissing him and he was pulling her to him as the cheers and shouts of jubilation pierced the burgeoning twilight around them.

It seemed several minutes before their lips finally parted, yet their faces stayed inches apart as they were still lost in the moment–in each other.

“I love you,” Harry whispered as a giddy grin crossed his features. He couldn’t help it. He’d never been this happy before.

“I love you too,” Ginny responded, giving into her own passion and kissing him gently once more. “I love you so much,” she reinforced.

“We’re getting married…” Harry breathed out in awe after a few seconds as he brought Ginny’s arms from around his neck and laced his hand in her left. His fingers felt the ring there, now firmly and rightly there, showing just how much he loved her.

“You did ask me…” Ginny teased him.

“I did,” Harry affirmed, feeling elation and a haziness he was sure had nothing to do with Firewhisky.

“Where are you two going?” Ron’s voice once more interrupted the moment. Both Harry and Ginny looked up from one another to find Fred and George leaving the circle, moving in the direction of the Burrow’s garden.

“To tell Mum that our dear Gin-Gin and Harrykins are getting hitched,” Fred said with a wicked grin.

“Mum’s going to be revolting,” George added knowingly as the two turned back up towards the garden.

“Shouldn’t Ginny and Harry be the ones to let everyone know?” Hermione asked in their direction, but the twins’ backs were towards them as they headed to the garden.

“I think this way might be a bit more interesting,” Ginny said impishly as she eyed Harry.

Oh…interesting it would be…

Not five seconds later, a cry of clear shock erupted from the vicinity of the garden. It was a cry that was clearly Molly Weasley. And they didn’t have to wait long before excited, yet still unintelligible, voices could be heard.

“You know–we could still make a get away for it,” Ginny said to Harry as his gaze drifted towards the garden.

“They’ll think we eloped or something…” Harry replied with a smile.

“Not a bad idea,” Ginny shot back playfully.

“I’m not fast enough…and I’d really be dead if I stole you away like that,” Harry responded.

“They wouldn’t kill you…Mum adores you,” Ginny said as she leaned into his chest.

Harry snorted. He doubted Molly Weasley would love him if he and Ginny disappeared to get married.

“Voldemort–I can handle any day…” Harry began, kissing the top of her head. “Your mum–scares the hell out of me…” he breathed out.

Ginny giggled as she replaced her arms around his neck.

Harry could already hear the sound of numerous amounts of footsteps of the Weasley’s and what was sure to be Remus, getting closer to the bonfire.

“Are you ready for this?” Ginny asked quietly as she smiled up at him serenely.

She was perfect and she was his–for the forever he now had…

“This?” he asked breathily as her face and lips, once more, felt all too close to his.

“This–I’m ready for.”

A/N: Here it is. After months and months of delays due to health scares and the rigors of my senior year of college, it's finally finished! This is the last 'real' chapter, but there will be a lengthy epilogue posted in a few weeks. It's been an amazing 2 1/2 years and I'm so glad I've had you all as readers! thanks
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