a/n: Yeah, everyone seems to be writing their own one shot version of this. Most of them are similar, fluffy and self indulgent. I’ll be the first to say ‘Mine’s no different.’ I really just wanted the whole reunion in the Great Hall scene. This is most of the 1st chapter of a 3 chapter story. The rest will not be here on SIYE because it won’t conform to ship standards (it will be h/g/l, don’t ask, I just wanted to give it a try.) Meanwhile, this much of it was clearly h/g and I wanted to show something for my time away from Prophecy, which I should be getting back to, soon. There are, btw, a couple other one shots that Ill be putting up at irregular intervals.

The POV in time jumps around, a lot. This was intentional. I wanted to hopefully pull the reader into the confusion that the character’s lives have been in since the final battle. Even with everything supposedly over, the characters obviously have their own issues to work through.

And, as promised, I have a yahoo group site now. It's the Yahoo! group Prophesyunknown (yes, I know I used a different spelling, I didnt realize it until after the fact. Whoops) and you can find the address on my bio page.

Okay, enough with the novel before the short story. Once again, thanks TheWritingMuggle! Hope you all enjoy.

For the first time in three weeks, Harry was able to fully and completely relax. In the hours and days that followed Voldemort’s defeat, he had been bombarded with requests for interviews from both the newspapers and the Ministry. He had attended funeral after funeral, each one leaving him ever more drained.

He had thought he was tired after the battle itself. He went back to Gryffindor Tower and collapsed in what should have been his bed. The previous ten months all caught up with him, and he slept well into the next day. No one had bothered him.

When he finally woke up sometime in the late afternoon, he saw some preserved sandwiches on the bedside table and realized they were probably left there by Kreacher. At that thought, memories of Dobby came rushing upon him and he started to cry. Thoughts of Remus and Tonks followed and the tears wouldn’t stop. Colin was dead, Fred was gone, and still all he could do was cry into his pillow.

Kreacher later told him that he had tried to get his master to stop. He patted and poked, called and yelled, but he couldn’t get Harry to respond. Ultimately, he went for help, and the next thing Harry remembered was an arm wrapping around his shoulders.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Harry,” came the voice of one of his oldest and best friends. “It’s all over, now. You did it. Everything will be okay, now.”

“No it won’t,” he mumbled into the wet pillow, tears still falling unabashedly. “Remus and Tonks, Te... Teddy doesn’t have any parents... My fault... And Fred... the Weasleys will hate me.”

“Harry James Potter, that is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard from you. Remus and Tonks died doing what they knew was right, they did it for you; they did it for Teddy, the same as your parents.” Another choked sob came from the pillow and she continued, “And Fred went the same way. He did it to protect his family and his friends, and what’s more, he went with a joke on his lips. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way and you darn well know it!”

Harry continued crying, seventeen years of loss at the hands of the now deceased dark lord Tom Riddle, grief that he had never before given the proper outlet to. Hermione realized this and went back to her gentle nurturing. This was something Harry needed, something he had never had the chance for, before.

“Come on, Harry. Sitting up here by yourself isn’t going to accomplish anything. The next few weeks will be difficult, sure, but over time, it’ll be better. You’ll see.”

“Time...” murmured Harry. “I have time.”

Hermione, quick as she usually was, couldn’t immediately discern what Harry meant. But, as he slowly stopped his tears, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and began to sit up, she realized. Harry had intended to die out there. In fact, while she didn’t know the whole story, she was pretty sure he had died out there. The surprise was that he came back. Now, for the first time since his fifth year, Harry Potter had the rest of his life to look forward to.

“The rest of your life, Harry. Is that going to be time enough for you?”

Harry laughed. It wasn’t the kind of laugh the he gave at a well told joke, it was more the type when the twins had accomplished a prank that cheered the entire school. It was a laugh that came from deep inside him, and it was possibly the first time she’d heard Harry laugh like that in more than a year. She was initially worried Harry might be losing it, but then she realized that he was just laughing. It was good and honest, just like him, and it warmed her heart to see him like that.

“Okay, Harry, go on and get cleaned up, we’ll have some sandwiches and then head on down to everyone else.”

The funerals had taken a lot out of him. He came home from each one emotionally drained. It was all he could do to hold himself together. With his entire life in front of him, it seemed that now his emotions no longer settled for letting themselves be bottled up.

Today was the Lupins’ funeral. He would remember that clearly each time he saw little Teddy in Andromeda’s arms. Even though Nymphadora would always be just ‘Tonks’ in his memories, Teddy was proof that at the end, she was Nymphadora Lupin. At least Moony had that happiness in his life at the end.

He talked at the funeral, doing his best to hold back the tears. He lamented in his eulogy how Remus had been his last link to his parents; no one seemed to think ill of that bit of selfishness. At the end, Andromeda approached him with Teddy. They discussed the past, and then they discussed the future. Andromeda wanted Harry to live his life and, since Teddy was her last link to her daughter, they decided that she would take care of him.

They argued a bit over expenses. Harry certainly had more money than he knew what to do with, but Andromeda insisted she was fine and wouldn’t hear of taking Harry’s money. When Harry finally pointed out that a good portion of his money was Sirius’, and hence would have been hers barring the estrangement from her family, she relented and agreed that Harry would be free to provide whatever he thought was necessary within reason. Harry was also welcome at her house anytime, no calling ahead necessary, to visit his godson. They both walked away feeling a bit lighter.

And through it all, by his side, was Ginny. They would come back to the Burrow from each funeral and separate from the others. Harry would let his walls tumble down and inevitably wound up crying all over her. She often cried herself, especially after Fred’s funeral, but she would resolutely hold Harry until he cried himself to sleep.

As long as she could remember since knowing him, Harry had been a pillar in her world. He always seemed so strong. When things went wrong, Harry would be there. No matter what people said of or to him, he never let it truly get to him. There were, of course, the occasional moments of angst, but if anyone deserved to feel a bit angsty, it was him, as far as she was concerned.

It hurt Ginny to see Harry this way, but she figured that as long as he had been strong, he deserved his time being weak. She would be strong for him for however long he needed. That was how they had ended up here, her sitting back against a tree at the edge of the yard, Harry lying down with his head in her lap, and her alternately massaging his temples and running her hands through his messy black hair.

She felt his head flinch under her hands and, when she looked down at him, she saw he was smiling. Thankful that it wasn’t another nightmare, she was pretty sure she knew what he was remembering. He always had the same smile when he dreamt of it, and he always told her about it when he woke up.

He was walking with Hermione down to the Great Hall. She spent the time trying to convince him that the Weasleys were not going to hate him, they didn’t blame him, and they weren’t going to ask him to go away and never return. It seemed no matter what she said, though, he wouldn’t believe her. As far as he was concerned, Fred’s death was his fault, as were all the others, and, more importantly, he had given Ginny every reason to hate him. First he left her for her own good, or so he told himself, then he refused to let her fight for the same reason.

No, Ginny would be in her rights to banish him from her life completely.

They reached the Great Hall and walked into the most emotionally charged atmosphere Harry had ever encountered. All over the hall, people were laughing and crying. They were congratulating each other on their survival and mourning those who didn’t survive. Up by the head table, Madam Pomfrey was working on those who were injured — not badly enough to require a trip to St. Mungo’s or a stay in the Hospital Wing, but the minor injuries that were left. All along the Ravenclaw table, there was food and juice spread out. It wasn’t a feast, but it allowed those who were hungry to have a bite to eat while dealing with the emotional turmoil of the previous days.

And at the far end of the Gryffindor table was a pack of red-heads, the people whom Harry was simultaneously scared and yet wanted most to see in the world. George was on one side of the table flanked by Ron and Percy, alternately laughing at jokes they were telling and memories they were sharing, and then sitting stoically, staring across the hall at nothing in particular as the realization that his brother was not coming back once again set in.

Across from them were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. They were hugging and talking, doing their best to come to grips with the situation. All of a sudden, Bill, who was next to Percy and across from Charlie, looked over and noticed them. He gave Harry a smile and a nod and looked back to Ginny. Ginny’s head, in turn, whipped around so quickly Harry was sure she would give herself whiplash.

In the blink of an eye, she was up and racing full tilt across the hall. Anyone in her way was shoved aside with abandon as the applause started. Her reckless action had brought notice to everyone that the Savior of the Wizarding World had entered the Great Hall. Ginny vaulted the Hufflepuff table and, upon reaching her target, jumped bodily at Harry, wrapping her slender arms and legs around his torso, and proceed to kiss him thoroughly.

The applause had grown to a roar, and now it was increased with cheers and calls. But Harry didn’t hear any of it. She didn’t hate him. She was here, she was safe, she was in his arms, and she was kissing him. The desperation he felt just a short time ago in the dormitory melted away, as did most other thoughts in his head. He pulled her closer — though it didn’t seem possible that could happen — never wanting to let her go, and returned her passionate kiss with every fiber of his being.

Eventually, Ginny reluctantly pulled her face away from Harry, and the sounds of the world rushed back in to meet him. He gently lowered her to the ground, keeping his hands on her hips and never breaking contact with her deep, brown eyes. He decided he could stare into them forever and be perfectly happy with his life. Meanwhile, Ginny was backing away, placing herself at arms length, meeting his stare. She opened herself to him, willing him to know everything she felt in a single look, which is when he noticed she was angry.

Too late was his understanding, and the next thing he knew, he was on his arse on the floor and his jaw was killing him. Ginny towered over him, much taller than her stature should have allowed, her hands balled into fists at her side. She glared down at him as he felt at his jaw and noticed that the hall was now deadly quiet.

“Harry Potter! You PRAT!” With that, she kicked him in the side of his leg and continued kicking him to emphasize her points as she went on, “You great... selfish... Don’t you ever... You... You PRAT! NEVER leave me again!”

Once her tirade ran out of steam, she fell onto her knees next to him. The lack of sound left in her wake brought new meaning to the phrase ‘the silence was deafening.’ She look at Harry, tears coming from her eyes, and crawled over to him. She pulled out her wand, causing him to flinch, but she held his head in place as she cast several minor healing charms over his face, starting with his jaw. She worked her way poking and prodding down his torso, stopping to cast more charms when he winced, until she had healed all the cuts and bruises on his legs. She then sat herself in his lap facing him, looked into his very confused green eyes, and was once again kissing him for all she was worth.

The cheering picking up once more, amidst some hysterical laughing. Once more, the duo lost track of their surroundings and Ginny pushed herself further into Harry, her personal savior, forcing him to fall backwards. As his arms were around her waist, his motions pulled her down on top of him, their kiss never faltering.

It was at that point that several pairs of arms levered them up and pried them apart. The hall, formerly filled with applause and cheering was now filled with even louder cheers, cat-calls and even some cries of “Let them be!” aimed at whoever was separating them.

“Okay, you two,” came the familiar tone of Ginny’s father. “This is not the time or the place.”

“As happy as I am for you, mate, I really don’t need to see this,” said Ron.

“So, close your eyes,” mumbled Ginny.

“But my eyes are closed,” mumbled a resting Harry.

“Go back to sleep, Harry,” instructed Ginny, still rubbing Harry’s head. “You need the rest.”

“I was dreaming about us, again.”

“I figured as much, love.”

“No more, right?”

“No more funerals, Harry. Lupin’s and Tonk’s was the was last.”

“Mmm,” was his indeterminate response as he reached back above his head and pulled her down for a kiss.

“So, is there anything else, Harry?”

“No, you know the rest. After I fixed my wand, I went to the tower to get some sleep. Then Hermione helped me over my little emotional breakdown,”

“Remind me to thank her,” interrupted Ginny.

“And then I came to find you,” Harry finished.

Every day since they were rejoined, they had taken time to tell each other their stories. “No more secrets,” they agreed. So, Harry told her everything from his sixth year, and then all that had happened to him, Hermione and Ron after the wedding. Harry explained to Ginny that Snape had been on their side all along, and he revealed how Snape had given him the final memories before he died.

“No more secrets,” he reminded her, but he didn’t expound any further. Ginny looked at him and understood, he wouldn’t tell her, it wasn’t his to tell. But if she asked...

Several days after that particular discussion, after Fred’s funeral, Ginny broke down and, in a moment of weakness, asked Harry about the memories. He told her.

“He was brave, that’s for certain. But, I don’t know, I can’t feel better about him. Everything he did to you at Hogwarts, Harry, it doesn’t seem enough to forgive him.”

“I thought the same thing, Gin. I don’t know, maybe one day...”

Ginny, in turn, told him all about school under the Carrows. The tortures of detention under the Cruciatus, which were admittedly not as bad as they could have been. The Slytherin students were usually assigned the detentions as practice, and the rest of the students had quickly learned to act like it was worse under those who couldn’t perform the curse as well. The Carrows would assign the supposedly ‘better’ students again.

Harry shuddered anyway. ‘Not as bad’ meant nothing if it involved the Cruciatus. He meant to keep her safe, and instead she was tortured in the safest place he had ever known. He broke down, again, when she told him. She spent time reassuring him that she understood perfectly that knowing she was safe in turn kept him safe. She said that she would do it all again knowing that his not knowing allowed him to do his job and bring an end to Voldemort. She reminded him, once again, that she had her own vendetta to settle with Tom Riddle.

Ginny told him about the reformation of the DA under Neville and herself, and of their attempts at stealing the sword of Gryffindor from Headmaster Snape. She commented that in retrospect, many of Snape’s decisions involving detention in the Forbidden Forest and cleaning for Filch made more sense when understanding his allegiance.

Their discussions allowed them to come to peace with everything that had happened to themselves and to each other. The funerals, as physically and emotionally draining as they had been, had helped them come to peace with what had happened to their friends no longer with them. It was a peace that no one begrudged them.

On the night they first left Hogwarts, Harry was unable to sleep and made his way out of Ron’s room, which he was sharing for now, and down to Ginny’s. He knocked lightly and, upon receiving an answer, opened the door. He saw Ginny in her bed looking worriedly at him. Turning, he pleaded to Hermione with his eyes, and she responded by merely nodding, getting out of bed and leaving the room, disappearing up the stairs behind him.

Harry instantly fell into Ginny’s bed and clung to her, hugging her like his life depended on it. He didn’t know what to do with himself lately. He had never been an outwardly emotional person, preferring instead to shoulder his burdens himself. But recently, he couldn’t seem to stop the outpouring. He held up in front of everyone else, including Ron and, except for that one moment in the tower, Hermione, but around Ginny, it all just came out. And he always felt better, afterwards.

That was why he came here. His emotions were once more running unchecked in his head, and not only was Ginny the only person around whom he felt it safe to let them loose, she was the only place he felt he could let them loose. It was unfair to her, she had lost friends and family, too, and didn’t need his burdens as well, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

While he clung to her, tears once again starting down his face, she whispered in his ear. She told him it was okay to let himself go. She would be strong for him. She would always be there, she promised. And through all the comforting whispers, he could feel tears that were not his own running down his forehead. This caused him to grasp her even tighter.

And while they lay there, gathering whatever it was each needed from the other, Harry heard the door open. Ginny’s whispers never stopped, but he felt her head shift on his. There was gasp from behind him, very clearly Mrs. Weasley’s, but it was followed quickly by the sound of the door quietly closing. Eventually, they drifted to sleep.

After several nights of this, Harry no longer made any pretense of going to Ron’s room, and was surprised one evening to find that Mrs. Weasley had done the laundry and put his folded clothes in Ginny’s room. The nighttime crying grew less and less, though even after a couple weeks, there were nights it was worse than others, and they spent their time talking, whispering to each other, and sometimes even kissing to offer each other comfort.

Under the tree with Ginny, Harry could never remember feeling so at peace. It had been days since he broke down on Ginny’s shoulder. She had helped him back from the edge of his own emotions, and he knew, without a doubt, that he could not live the rest of his life without her. He had time now, and he would let his life run its course with her, but while nothing was certain, he knew the rest of his life would be spent with her.