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After The Adventure | ||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Drama, General, Romance Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 4 Summary: The adventure is over but life is beginning. Struggle and triumph, joy and sorrow. After the Adventure picks up as Harry's talk with Dumbledore's portrait ends shows his life start to unfold, a life without Voldemort. It's not going to be easy, but it is his. (Rated M for violence, adult themes, complex ideas of morality especially in the weeks after the war.) (Not sure what constitutes Negative Alcohol Use. Improper may fit better, but marked it as a warning.) Hitcount: Story Total: 3141 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. |
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Chapter One: The Sound of Winter Harry Potter left the office of the Hogwarts headmaster without a proper goodbye. Goodbyes were for the end and the one thing this was not was the end. More than that, there was nothing left to be said between Harry Potter and the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. There were plenty of questions still left unanswered but not a single one of them overwhelmed the sense of numb exhaustion that had taken hold of his body. He kept the Elder Wand tight to his person as he swept through the castle feeling like another person entirely, someone who had the right and the ability to feel very little that day. Hermione and Ron stuck to either side of him and there was a muted thankfulness. He knew that had he needed to-perhaps even had he the choice-Harry would have done this alone. However, they stuck faithfully to him despite the fact that there was a lot that either of them would want to do. As they approached the Great Hall, Harry heard that he had been noticed by some of those within the doors but he continued down the foyer to the castle's front doors. Disheveled and looking as exhausted as he thought, Luna and Neville hurried from the room an approached them. "Where are you going?" Neville asked. Harry paused, allowing himself a moment to wonder at the transformation in his friend. "We'll come with you." He opened his mouth to protest but found very lit-tle motivation and saw no outward sign of that either of them were willing to listen to anything that he had to say against it. Ron might have begun to protest but Harry found himself raising a hand and ges-turing out of the door. He felt no less comfortable with the added companions, even was able to appre-ciate them ferociously in the corner of his mind that was able to process what was happening. He headed for the lake as soon as they cleared the doors, doors which were jammed open by rubble and had to be climbed out of. The bodies of the Death Eaters from the first battle, earlier in the evening still littered the grounds and he had little curiosity for their identities as he stepped over them. Instead, he focused on keeping one foot in front of the other and the silence that the grounds had taken on. Short of the lake, he saw the broken and defiled tomb of Albus Dumbledore and angled for it, his phoenix feather wand in his hand. Wingardium Leviosa. The magic came silently to him, more easily than ever before. He watched chunks of the destroyed white marble lid rise and then with an equally silent flick of his wrist repaired it. It rotated and spun in midair as he brought his off-hand up, clutching the Elder Wand for the final piece of magic it would ever do–hopefully. The magic looked into him, found what he wanted and did it. For just a moment, in blazing glowing gold the lid bore the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, as it would under this particu-lar moon at this moment in its cycle for the rest of time. He stooped over his mentor's tomb, finding no fear whatsoever gazing into the pale, cold face that clashed with his magnificent dark robes. He felt no revulsion as he slid the Elder Wand into the grasp-ing cold stiff hands and no remorse as he let the lid fall back into place, sealing it this time for added measure. The symbol of the Hallows meant more to Harry than the objects themselves or even the leg-end. Despite what Dumbledore might have thought of himself, he had willingly died to spare others' lives. He knew in the end that to conquer death, one only had to die and that made him a true master of death. In the next moment the weariness overtook him and he wavered on his feet. His left arm was lifted and thrown over broad shoulders while the right encircled more completely the shoulders of the second per-son. Looking from left to right he didn't see Ron and Hermione but Neville and Luna. A soft chuckle managed to tear from him. "Boy-Who-Lived, he can duel but he can't make his way up to Gryffindor Tower on his own. What a tosser." "That's right," Neville said, as if humoring someone young or stupid, "A tosser. Now come on." Harry didn't take exception to the tone; he was finding that even with help it was hard to walk. He felt as if someone had flipped a switch and made his body start to shut down. "Up we go." For Harry it might have been years or seconds after his head hit the pillow but he heard a slight com-motion from the door and it was somehow enough to rouse him from an unsteady sleep that he was sure had been filled with dreams. He rolled over in the four-poster bed and peeked out through a gap in the curtains. The voices were hushed, but there was a bit of edge to both of them. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself into a sitting position and found that he could not make himself stand. He crawled out of bed, quite literally falling to the floor and crawling for a couple of feet before he could get a leg under him. "See what you've done?" shot one of the voices, and Harry realized that Ron, Dean and Ginny were around him. "Sorry, Harry." Harry turned his eyes on Ginny's worried face, matching gazes with her so that it was impossible for him to not see the emotions dancing around in her eyes. None of them looked very good, but then he could imagine she probably could have said the same of him. "It's okay," he whispered, hazily. "What's wrong?" "Mum wants you to come back to the Burrow," Ron replied, quietly. "George, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Dad and Hermione are there already, trying to get some sleep. Of course, you know Mum, something got into her and she decided she had to be down in the kitchen with the House Elves cooking for everyone who was going to be waking up in the Great Hall tomorrow." That got the most solid emotional re-sponse out of him that he thought he had had since Voldemort's corpse was dragged from the room. It started as a smile but within seconds he was laughing and crying at once. The uncomfortable, terrified look Ron gave him did nothing to stop this, but he felt Ginny bury her head against his shoulder, felt her arms around him and tried to find the strength to hug her back. It was a feat he barely accom-plished. Molly Weasley was another damn hero in a crowd full of heroes who would never be entirely whole again. He loved her and all of them as he had never thought he would be able to love anyone in that moment. "The Burrow will be crowded," he managed as he calmed down. "Lots of people I want to talk to, hands I want to thank, apologies and explanations I need to give. That's something for tomorrow, Ron." He saw that Ron didn't look even a little bit dejected, instead more relieved at Harry's apparent return to sanity. "Where, then?" Ginny demanded against him. "Where will you go?" "Grimmauld Place," he replied, resting his chin on top of her head. "I'll come too." His eyes rose to Ron as Ginny spoke and he watched the fight play out across Ron's face before the redhead took a step backward and held up both hands in defeat. Harry did not directly respond to her, instead he whispered into the air a name. "Kreacher." The crack signifying his arrival made Harry's head turn slightly, made him wince. "Yes, Master Harry?" the old elf replied, looking a little apprehensive. "I'm really proud to know you." The reaction was instantaneous and so Dobby-like in its tenderness that as Kreacher smiled widely it almost hurt. "I have to talk to you about something tomorrow, something important, but first I need to sleep. Please... take us home." He felt Ginny shift against him, turning outward to glance at her brother and house-mate. "Come 'round for dinner at the Burrow or I reckon Mum will send snatchers of her own to find you and force-feed you both." The grudging humor in his best mate's voice let Harry know that Ron was going to be alright in the end with Harry and Ginny... whatever form their relationship took. The house elf reached not for Harry but Ginny, who he was surprised, had no problem taking it. In one moment Harry was nodding agreement to Ron, then he blinked and they were standing in the hall of Grimmauld Place, the elf pulling Harry's jacket off with a snap of his fingers before Harry knew it. "Master bedroom," Harry managed, "Is it safe to sleep in?" The elf paused, jacket in hand and turned back to them. "This home is of the Noble House of Potter," he replied, grinning as broadly as earlier, seeming an en-tirely different elf than before the war. "Everything is safe to Master Harry and his friends, Kreacher sees to it." The note of pride tore at Harry's heartstrings but he couldn't broach the subject of freeing Kreacher, not tonight. Revolution could come in the morning, tonight he thanked Kreacher, told him to rest and ascended the stairs, his right hand in Ginny's. They said nothing to each other, though whenever his footsteps wavered, she gave his hand a squeeze to remind him she was there and that was motivation enough for him to get them to the door of his room. This was his home. The Burrow was his home. Hogwarts was his home and in time even the cot-tage in Godric's Hollow would be his home. For a lonely orphan boy who had once slept beneath the stairs he had so many homes, so much family. Inside the room had clearly been recently changed. A thick dark red carpet lined the floor, similarly colored walls awaited him, bare as they were. The emerald sheets had been turned down and looked as they themselves had been expecting him, expecting both of them. Harry allowed himself to match eyes with the redhead for the first time since arriving at Grimmauld place. What he saw dampened his spir-its. What had this year brought her? "Ginny?" "Harry, I'm scared," she admitted, not looking away. "It's silly isn't it? Tom's dead... but I'm scared now. I don't know who I am, Harry. I've been The Youngest Weasley, Ron's Little Sister, The One Voldemort Possessed, Harry Potter's Girlfriend, The Rebel, but I don't know who I am right now. I don't know what I'm going to be tomorrow." "The end's the beginning," he replied, attempting to sound sage and wise as his sight swam before his eyes. He noticed that his trainers hadn't made it home with him, or maybe they had and Kreacher had removed those too. Still, he stripped his socks off before collapsing back onto the bed. A moment later, the bed shifted slightly as she eased herself onto it, and then surprisingly pulled the covers up over both of them. He wondered if she had noticed that he was cold or simply did it out of sheer habit. "I'll be here, too." He wanted to say something more for her but since he had left the Great Hall last, Harry had felt everything from afar, like he was watching someone else's life. That would have scared him if he had been feeling things normally. That, too, was not important to him. He scooted forward, arms wrap-ping around Ginny and then closed his eyes. "I'll be here." The night passed in silence after that. Several times Harry was woken by fitful nightmares, some of them his own, some of them Ginny's. Often she, too, woke at his. Each time it would happen, they would lie precisely where they were and watch each other until sleep overtook them again. Perhaps she, like him, was struggling with not understanding her feelings. Maybe not, though. He knew from the light spilling in from the window that on one such occasion, morning had come. Still, he watched her for a few moments, thinking that if he refused to go out into public and make appearances for a few more hours, everyone could deal with it. If he hadn't earned the right to more sleep than should be good for a person once in a while, well, that was too bad. This pattern continued until the light pouring into the room was dimmer than he would have liked and Kreacher had apparently allowed someone into the house and let them knock on his bedroom door. He did not feel fear: only someone he trusted wholeheartedly would have been allowed this far without Kreacher alerting him. "Who is it?" he called, wincing at his rough voice and the air of irritation it carried. More than that, he disliked that it was apparently enough to wake the girl in his arms. "It's Hermione...can I come in?" There was a second's hesitation and then she added, "Are you decent?" Harry, who had been forced to change in front of Hermione so many times since the hunt for the Horcruxes began, knew what she was actually asking. Were they both decent? His laughter seemed to irritate Ginny, who called for Hermione to come inside as she made a half-hearted attempt to extract herself from his arms. "Prat," she replied, sleepily as the door opened and Harry just hugged her tighter in apology. There were a lot of worse ways to wake up than to laughter, though. He loosened his hold on her to roll onto his back and tilt his head toward the doorway, surprised to find his glasses still on. "R-Ron sent me," Hermione started, frozen in the doorframe like a deer caught in the wand light. "I don't think he wanted to-" "To see this," Harry replied, evenly. The mirth on his lips felt wrong but at the same time at least he could feel... last night had been terrifying. To get to be close to Ginny again should have done this to him, left a sense of joy in his heart. Still, in that moment, even with Hermione blatantly embarrassed as she looked down at the pair of them, Harry felt like not laughing but cheering. He couldn't imagine what kinds of celebrations were happening all over Magical England. With an exasperated sigh, Ginny pulled down the covers to reveal that yes, they were both not only decent but still in their clothing from the battle which in Ginny's case meant dirt and dust and in Harry's the blood of Severus Snape. "Look, Molly's really... insistent that no one starts dinner until you two get there and unless you want a riot, I think you better get up." Harry glanced over at Ginny, who had apparently resigned herself to getting up, stretching as she sat and then finally stood to hunt down her trainers. "Come on, it's nearly five in the evening." Harry saw what Hermione was carrying and said, "No chance you've got anything Ginny might be able to wear in that magic bag of yours, is there?" When Harry Disapparated, he wasn't sure what he had expected. With the deaths of Fred Weasley, Tonks and Lupin and so many others perhaps he had thought things would be somber and quiet, but that wasn't how it was at all. What was left of the Order of the Phoenix seemed to be there, as well as a several stray Hogwarts students Harry knew if he counted would constitute Dumbledore's Army, with its new recruits and all. Hagrid was the first to notice them; towering over the students he was telling a story to in his dark, hairy suit. Harry didn't even hear his call of greeting over the sheer amount of fireworks and firecrackers scream-ing around in the air, shapes and colors swimming, turning, twisting and shifting. A ways away from the long array of tables pushed together, someone had started a massive bonfire and Ron was currently hovering just above the flames on an old Broomstick, apparently telling a story of his own to half of Gryffindor house. When he had apparently stood still too long for their tastes, Ginny and Hermione seized either of his hands and pulled him insistently along toward the party. Hogwarts house elves were in attendance and Harry saw that they were not the strangest guests the Burrow had that night. Imposing and regal in his mauve robes, Minister Kingsley had apparently pulled himself away from the office, but it seemed it was still for business as he was huddled close with Hor-ace Slughorn and Minerva McGonagall at one end of the table, apparently discussing something seri-ous. Somewhere in the crowd near the fire, music stopped playing. The fireworks Charlie, Bill and George Weasley had apparently been setting off slowed and then stopped all together. Harry realized why as he looked away from the Minister to the rest of the crowd. Descending dangerously toward the fire, Ron had just caught sight of him and was screaming. There were no words, but it was not a yell of terror, it was something like Harry had been feeling like doing all morning, it was almost like the howl of an animal. He raised a hand to his best mate and said the only thing that came to mind. "Get your arse out of the fire, Ron Weasley!" As laughter erupted and spread across the expansive gathering, the Gryffindor Keeper shot up into the sky. The party started just outside of the gate, so Harry had no need to go into the house. He was assaulted with a chorus of cheers and greetings whenever he came near a large enough group. It didn't feel horrible because he could look into the faces of people he knew and see them still alive and breathing and passionate. His jab at Ron had seemed enough to set most people back about their business though, and Harry watched his friend descend back to the ground through the center of a bursting firework, coming in for a landing on the ground. "That boy," Mrs. Weasley clucked from his left trying to sound disapproving. Harry turned, finding that Hermione had vanished at one point into the crowd and over Mr. Weasley's shoulder he could see her shouting Ron down, or trying to over all of the noise that had just reasserted itself. On his right side though, Ginny just clung more tightly to his hand as he approached her parents. They turned nearly matching gazes on the pair of them, looking first at Ginny, at their hands and finally at Harry. Harry watched, unable to completely erase the mirth in his face for this semi-serious moment. When Mrs. Weasley dislodged Ginny's hand in her effort to give him a tighter hug than Hagrid could ever dream of, Harry's grin grew freely. "We're so happy," the woman yelled, still barely heard from right beside him. When he should have replied with something equally jubilant or at least thanked her for their blessing, he instead said, "You killed Bellatrix Lestrange." Her face quickly twisted with worry and if Harry hadn't seen her less than twenty-four hours ago he might have believed her look one of a bit of fear. "I did," she yelled back; tone as even as it possibly could be in that case. This time Harry hugged her. He hoped he didn't need to tell her what was in his mind, hoped she could understand the complexity of emotions he felt about her ending the life of the woman who had killed his godfather, tortured Hermione and attempted to take Ginny's life. When she ushered him toward the food-laden tables, Harry followed but only after Ginny had again taken hold of him and Arthur Weasley had slapped him once on the back. He watched Mrs. Weasley's wand shoot bright showers of red into the air and saw an almost immediate reaction. The area around the Burrow might have been full of a hundred, maybe two-hundred revelers and while she was good, Mrs. Weasley was not able to whip up this much food by herself. The house-elves of Hogwarts must have helped and it was all the better because as Harry was steered to the seat at the very head of the line of tables, more people than he could count were coming at her beckoning. George and Ron seemed to be the head of the line on their broomsticks. Many people simply took plates and left for other parts of the field, often coming by to congratulate him, or say a kind word, shake his hand, anything to take up just a bit of his time. After almost an hour of this, Ginny leaned over from beside him and whispered something in Bill's ear. After that, Harry noticed that Bill and Fleur seemed to be about as close as most people got to him. This allowed Harry to eat for the first time since Aberforth had fed him nearly two days ago. He was ravenous and gave Ron a run for his money with his appetite. Someone was always floating a drink down the table toward him and he, Ron and George seemed to be unable to turn down the mead, fire-whiskey or rum that inevitably ended up in front of one of them. It lead to the occasional awkwardness as Fleur and Bill occasionally let someone through to talk to him, such as McGonagall to whom he confessed his gratitude with surprising control for his state or at one point Percy, who had apparently been in the drink himself and made a very large and pointed deal of Harry standing up and being hugged by him. The gesture did a lot to repair Harry's awkwardness around him but he had seen Percy's reunion with his family and the way he cared for Fred's body. He was glad to give it, even though Gin-ny informed him it was a sign of the end of the world. The night wore on and became hazier and hazier. At one point, Harry was pulling Ron away from a group of younger members of the DA who were being regaled by the story of the Death Eaters who had caught up with them the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding but at another he found himself telling Elphias Doge loudly and in front of nearly thirty people that he was right about everything he had ever said about Dumbledore, that everyone in their pasts made mistakes and the worst mistakes of anyone's life should not ruin and invalidate everything of import they had done. He knew that at some point Gabrielle Delacour and her parents had left him the gift of a bottle of wine and he had instantly handed it off to Ginny who had been very vocal that he not even consider touching it. By the time he had pulled himself away from Monsieur Delacour's man-to-man talk the party had halved in number and was lit only by the fire and several spelled lights, many of which Harry thought must have come from the Deluminator. He allowed Ginny to lead him closer to the bonfire, where someone had gotten the music going again and many couples, including Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waltzing. Though he hadn't danced in any manner since the Yule Ball, he managed to recreate a passing attempt at the waltz, rewarded with surprisingly patient laughs when he missed a step and nearly toppled them both into someone beside them which could at any point have been Ron and Hermione, Bill and Fleur or Minerva McGonagall and Horace Slughorn who was, himself, very much into the drink. Harry's heart ached when he found himself for half a second looking for Tonks and Lupin, only to remember that their son lay in bed without any idea that his parents were gone. Almost as if they had read his mind, Ginny tugged him insistently away from the fire, toward a tall woman who even in this dying light resembled her now deceased sister intensely. Andromeda Tonks was waiting well away from the revelry, with a bundle in her arms that he knew was the recently born Teddy Lupin. He matched eyes with the woman, hoping that his drunken visage could pose the ques-tion over the noise, which young Teddy seemed to visibly dislike. When she nodded he approached with surprising carefulness and clear-headedness. He was gazing curiously down into the currently brunette child's fussy face, trying to spot his father or mother in it when Andromeda lightly shoved the child into his arms. Teddy's small eyes opened, bright blue for a moment and then an emerald that reminded Harry of those he saw in the mirror. Those eyes locked on his and Harry felt overwhelmed again as he held the child close to him, allowing Ginny to shift one of his arms under Teddy without a bit of guilt. The party was still there and was almost a pleasant background as the upset boy visibly calmed, watching him. Harry grinned down at the child and lightly bounced his arms as he stepped slightly closer to Andromeda and turned the child toward her and him both. "Alright, Cub," Harry called, though he knew the child wouldn't hear or understand him. "You've got your grandmother and she'll do amazing with you." He turned to the eldest Black sister. "But you've always got me and everyone in my family. Everyone in your family." Andromeda, for all her airs and her defensiveness when last he met her, was openly touched by his words, and awkwardly attempted a one-armed embrace of him. He didn't mind though, life was awkward. That was living. He was allowed to hold his godson for a full minute more before Ginny and then Hermione took over in turn. When he became upset again at the noise, Andromeda eventually departed, but not before slipping Harry a piece of paper. He put it into his pocket, preferring to open it in private when his head was cleared. Bill shoving a glass of firewhiskey into his hand did little to bolster that. Ginny apparently wandered off to be with her mother and father because the next time Harry really came to his senses, he, Ron and Hermione were lost together in the ever dwindling crowd of dancers around the fire, which someone had seen fit to feed and make larger and warmer. The music was just slightly quieter, quiet enough he could lean forward and tell Hermione she would have to teach him something about children because he wanted to have his Godson over to Grimmauld Place as soon as possible for an evening. Hagrid, holding Fang as if he were as light as a bowtruckle was lightly dancing to the music a ways away, singing along with the lyrics which Harry did not know and could not understand, plied as he was with 'congratulatory drinks.' It did Harry's heart well to see it and he knew he would have plenty of long talks with Hagrid in the days and weeks to come. As the sun began to rise again, he found himself lying in the grass like one of any number of partygoers who were winding down. Ron and Hermione were on his right, Ginny, George, Luna, Bill and Gabriel-le lay to his left, the latter two apparently too tired to hunt down Fleur and the Delacours. He and Ron were speaking freely of things Harry had wondered would ever be spoken about again, about the Chamber of Secrets, about the locket, about Ron fishing Harry and Gryffindor's sword out of the pond and about Severus Snape. The last was a subject that made the others fall silent but Harry spat vehe-mently that he thought Snape was a hero. Hermione looked uncomfortable at the assertion, but some-thing within Harry was rabidly sure of it. He flexed his numb legs and his light head swam as he turned. His gaze toward Ginny. "Then there's you lot," he called, a bit loudly in the quieting night. "Dumbledore's Army, sticking it to the Carrows!" Somewhere nearby yet another such group of lounging partygoers echoed a roar of 'Dumbledore's Army!' and Harry thought he heard Neville's voice among them. "Bloody heroes your-selves, every one of you." "Yeah, yeah, blimey Harry, you're a lush," called Neville from nearby, again. "I'm alive," he yelled back. "I'm bloody-well alive. We're alive!" With that, with energy he didn't know he had, he got his shaky numb legs under him and stood up. Surveying the field, he saw maybe twenty or so people sitting around the tables outside the gate, apparently blatantly listening in on their conver-sation. Another thirty people could be counted lying about the field as he had been, some wholly un-conscious. "That's the heart of it, isn't it? That's why we've got people drinking, eating, laughing and dancing instead of sitting in a dark room feeling as bad as anyone here has a right to feel." "Harry," someone called, coaxingly from the group who he had just stood up and taken a shaky step away from. "Do not pity the dead," he said, in a passable imitation of Dumbledore, whether the conversation had ever been real or not. "Pity the living and above all pity those who live without love. Well tonight I've run around with my friends and family. No one here shares any blood with me, but how does that make any of you not my family? I don't know about you all, but I think those who've died would have wanted this. I love everyone here so much, and I can see everyone here loves each other as well. That's what set every one of us apart from Voldemort, made us stronger than he and those that followed him." He stumbled slightly as he wavered backward, but found himself unable to stop talking until he got the statement out. "We're out here, people, because we won. Even those who aren't with us right now, those who we'll have to bury... they won too. They're here with us. Every last one of them." For a moment he remembered his parents, Lupin and Sirius in the forest and the person they walked with seemed so far away... but so lucky and gifted, despite walking to his death. "Thank you, everyone." Whatever he had planned to say to wrap up this impromptu speech which he now felt the embarrassment of in his colored cheeks, this wasn't it. He felt tears welling up and didn't bother to hold them back Harry's blurry gaze moved down at his friends, but only saw Ginny. Reaching out a hand to her, he thought to bring her to her feet, maybe just to kiss her, maybe to dance or to go join the people at the table... anything to stop crying because it felt like it was going to never end. She didn't take his hand but did stand up and after a moment so too did Hermione and Ron. "Alright, alright mate," Ron managed awkwardly as he and Ginny patted Harry on the back. "No more to drink, right?" As that managed to reach him through the tears, Harry laughed while nodding an agreement. "Good on you, know when you've hit your limit." Ron's advice was accompanied by the redhead taking a swig of firewhiskey from a bottle Bill had just tossed up from the grass beside him. Hermione's reproachful smack on Ron's shoulder was a bit off target, letting Harry in on the secret that she had indulged more than a little herself. "Alright," Ginny said. "Here or Grimmauld Place?" He tilted his head curiously. Somehow he hadn't even considered leaving even with his eyelids growing heavy once more. Much less the implication that Ginny was going to come with him. Was that how it was going to be finally? A life with Ginny? Would they live together? Would she be there to share his mornings, days, evenings, laughter and tears, pain and pleasure, good and bad? Would they console each other after nightmares that it was inevitable would keep hold of them for years? It was too late, too late by far to be thinking about things like that. "If I promise not to drink anymore, can we just stay here?" he swept a hand over the crowd. The nearly-asleep quarter-Veela and her Weasley brother-in-law were sharing some joke which judging by Bill's gestures was at Ron's expense. Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus and the ever hard to understand Zacharias Smith were a ways away, apparently joining Hagrid in a drinking song of some sort, though Luna was underage. Ernie Macmillian, Professor McGonagall and Mr. Weasley were sitting at the closest end of the table, apparently having turned away from Harry after he broke down and were listening to Charlie talking about the time Norberta the Dragon had nearly mauled someone during an escape attempt. Fleur and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be entertaining others, whose faces Harry couldn't make out down at the other end of the long line of tables. It was a patchwork family, all of them hurt, injured or broken and it had a lot of strained ties within its ranks but this was his family and that was all that Harry wanted that night. "Won't be the first time- hic- I've slept outside." "You lot!" Harry spun back toward the row of tables to see that Mr. Weasley was beckoning them over. Hardly able to stand himself, Harry reached down and helped Bill to his feet, willing to admit that the only reason he wasn't falling down was Ron's heavy weight counterbalancing him by holding onto his left arm. Bill, apparently in far greater control than Harry helped Gabrielle to her feet. She seemed to be more open, happier. Perhaps being included in the adults' party long after her bedtime had come al-lowed her to open up around Harry but he was happy to ruffle her hair when as they were walking back toward Arthur Weasley, he was thanked by her for saving her from the Grindylows. Ginny pulled an exasperated face but he responded to it by merely taking both Gabrielle and Ginny's hands and playfully pulling them ahead toward the table. In the end the redhead smiled as well and pried both of them free of Harry's grasp, taken Gabrielle's hand herself and leading her off ahead of Harry, who realized after taking one off kilter step that he could not give chase. Mr. Weasley shared happily the news of a promotion ("Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, just until we hold proper elections for the Minister, then I'll be heading up the Department for Muggle Welfare. Voldemort set it up to control them, but not anymore,") before Mrs. Weasley dragged Harry and Ron by the ears toward the other end of the table, trying not to laugh herself at their poor attempts at somberness before force-fully dunking each of their heads into a water barrel. Harry came up shivering, hooting and sputtering out a mouthful of the water. He had just enough time to watch a chuckling Bill be pushed by Madame and Gabrielle Delacour into his mother's waiting grasp, to be dunked after Ron had gotten out of the way of a barrel. "Sober up, you lot," Mrs. Weasley called. "And that goes for everyone! I've got some water waiting for each of you." As it turns out she did not mean the barrels either. A dripping Bill momentarily frustrated his wife by placing a kiss on her cheek and soaking her with a canine-like shake of his long, sopping hair before dragging both Harry and Ron to the table, shoving full jugs of water into their hands. George stumbled forward from where Harry knew not and produced a couple of vials, each of which he emptied into one of the tin jugs. "Trust me, mate. You've drank a whole hell of a lot. If you want to avoid the consequences, down it all. That potion should help for what's already worked its way a bit too far in, but you need to keep up the fluids." Mr. Weasley was counseling not as a father but as an equal in the moment, so that Harry felt a bit of pride in his chest as the man stepped away from Bill, George, Ron and he. "To Dumbledore?" Ron said, raising his jug, liquid sloshing down his arm. "And to Fred," Harry replied. "And all the others, too." "Cheers," chimed a third voice whose owner Harry didn't look to see. Too much of the jug soaked the shirt that Kreacher had made for him, emblazoned with the Black and Potter family crests. Before the sun had fully risen, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had found themselves sitting and then laying out beside the dying embers of the bonfire alongside Bill and Fleur, Charlie, George, Neville and Luna, who Harry learned had not yet seen her father but was having trouble accepting that his betrayal of Harry had been anything other than a vicious attack by the nargles. In the distance, some of the partygoers had gotten a second wind and moved off farther away from the house. Harry respected and admired their stamina, but assumed many of them had passed out hours ago and were just now waking. He let the cool morning, the soft hand in his and the softer chatter of a small group of people who had been through much lure him to sleep. |
| Reviews 4 |
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