Aftermath by cjbaggins
Chapter Notes: Although I thoroughly enjoyed the 7th book, at the end, there were a few things I felt were missing that needed to be tied up. One of them, I haven't addressed here (namely the whole Goblin/wizard issue that I thought for sure would be resolved by the end, but wasn't); these are the others...
Ron and Hermione led the way out of the office, but as Harry reached out for the handle of the door to close it behind himself, a voice stopped him.
"Potter," it said, quietly, and although Harry recognized the voice, it contained none of the usual sneer.
Harry released the handle and turning to the new portrait hanging on Dumbledore's right, looked, for the second time in just a few hours, into the black eyes perpetually-framed with the curtain of limp, black hair. All of the other portraits seemed to have fallen, within seconds, into a deep sleep.
"Snap--" Harry began in reply but, thinking better of it, quickly amended, "Professor."
Harry wasn't sure but he wondered if there just might have been the slightest twitch at the corners of the portrait-Snape's mouth. It was gone, though, before he could be certain.
Snape's eyes bore into his. "I heard what you said, Potter. To the Dark Lord. About me." He looked somewhat uncomfortable but his eyes never left Harry's. "Thank you," he finished simply.
Harry raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. "It was the truth," he pointed out.
Snape's portrait acknowledged the comment with a curt nod. They fell silent and merely looked at each other for many moments, the silence not-quite-awkward, not-quite-comfortable.
It was Snape who broke the quiet with a wry chuckle and a bemused shake of his head which made his hair swing with the motion.
"If only you didn't look so much like your damn father, Potter."
Harry felt his mouth curve into the smallest of grins, almost of its own accord, but when he spoke, he feigned offense. "Oi," he said, "watch it. He was a good man." He paused before adding, "Like you."
This time there was no mistaking the twitch of Snape's mouth. He cleared his throat.
"Good night, Potter ... Harry."
Harry smiled, easily this time.
"Good night ... Severus."
He turned from him and the other, still-slumbering, portraits (although many of them were now grinning in their supposed-sleep, and Dilys Derwent was dabbing at her closed eyes) and strode from the room, his thoughts still on bed and simple sustenance.
As he descended the stone stairs, he saw Ron and Hermione waiting for him and from the looks on their faces he could tell that they had heard his conversation with Snape's portrait. Neither of them spoke, though, for which Harry was grateful, and the three of them descended the rest of the way in silence, Hermione slipping her hand into Ron's as they went. Harry smiled to himself at the sight but almost immediately a lump formed in his throat and his heart ached with such intensity he knew he would need to speak with someone else before he could rest.
They made their way back to the Great Hall, still in companionable silence. Harry had failed to drape the Cloak back over himself for their return trip, and instantly regretted it as soon as he approached the doors. For although the Hall had cleared out considerably in the trio's absence, as people and creatures alike had gone to find a place to sleep, there were still many jubilant admirers who surrounded him as soon as he'd crossed the threshold. Harry tried to receive their enthusiastic handshakes and back-slaps with gracious good humour, but he was now so long past weary that he could barely stand. Fortunately for him, Luna caught his eye and gave him a knowing smile.
Standing, she said, in a surprisingly loud voice, "Well, personally, my favourite part was when Mrs. Weasley called Bellatrix a bitch. Wouldn't you agree?" She turned expectantly to those nearest her. Many laughed at her comment, but Hermione wheeled to face her, scandalised.
"Luna!" she cried, though Harry detected the tell-tale quiver of her lips which meant she herself was biting back laughter.
Her exclamation brought forth more hilarity from the group and Harry used the diversion to reach into his robes and grab his Invisibility Cloak to pull it over himself. As he passed Luna, he clasped her wrist and murmured, "Thanks." She beamed in his direction and continued chatting animatedly to her temporary audience.
Harry, as anxious as he was to see Ginny, veered away from the Weasleys' table, abruptly intent on another plan; his hand had brushed against the three wands in his inside robe pocket as he'd reached for his Cloak, and he had something else he needed to do first.
Striding between the much emptier tables, he soon saw the group he sought: still looking ill-at-ease at their surroundings, the Malfoys sat together murmuring quietly to one another. Not able to resist, Harry refrained from removing the Invisibility Cloak until he was standing immediately before the family. Only then did he yank it off, revealing himself. As expected, the Malfoys startled, jumping back in their seats.
Harry faced Draco and realized, with a small jolt, that he no longer felt any malice towards him. Without any preamble, he reached his hand into his robes. On Draco's left, Lucius mimicked the gesture instinctively, and futilely Harry knew, as he had been disarmed months before. Draco turned a scornful look on his father, the contempt clear on his face.
"He saved my life," he spat out. "Twice. Why would he harm me now?"
Lucius' hand dropped, impotently, back to his side, shame clouding his features.
Harry ignored him, his eyes on Draco as he held out the hawthorn wand. "This belongs to you."
When Draco made no move to take it, Harry extended his hand a little further towards him, giving it a bit of a shake.
Reluctantly, Draco reached out and plucked the wand from Harry's hand. "Thanks," he choked out, obviously stunned.
Harry shrugged. "It's a good wand. Worked for me, anyway," he added dryly. Draco managed a lopsided smile at his words. "I think it will accept your will again, though."
Draco nodded, apparently willing to defer to Harry's superior knowledge in such matters.
Harry was about to go, when he remembered something. His eyes rested on Draco's mother who was staring at the wand in her son's hand with something akin to awe.
"Narcissa," Harry said quietly.
She raised her head to him but seemed unable to look him in the eye, her gaze resting somewhere in the vicinity of his left cheek.
"You didn't give it away," Harry said. "That I'd survived. I know why you did it ..." His eyes flitted to Draco for a moment. "But it worked out well for me, so ... thanks."
Narcissa, still not able to meet his gaze, nodded her acknowledgement of his words.
Harry turned from them and slipped the Invisibility Cloak over himself again as he looked to the table where the Weasleys had been sitting. He saw Mrs. Weasley talking to Percy and Professor McGonagall, and Mr. Weasley conferring with Kingsley, but his heart seemed to falter as he realized that Ginny wasn't sitting with them anymore. His eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for the one person he still needed to see before he could allow his battered body the rest it craved.
He finally found her standing in a little group beside the staff table, and his heart hammered out a few extra beats. As he hurried over to her, he was vaguely aware that she was with Ron, Hermione, Luna, Dean, Seamus, and Neville, the latter brandishing the Sword of Gryffindor and reenacting his slaughter of Nagini amidst cheers and jeers from his friends, but Harry only had eyes for Ginny.
Noiselessly, and still invisible, he crept up behind her and slipped his (still-concealed) hands around her waist. The others didn't notice her tiny gasp at his touch and she had soon relaxed and leaned back against his chest.
"It's me," he murmured in her ear, rather unnecessarily as he knew that she knew. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent, revelling for a few moments in the feel of her in his arms, albeit through the cloth of his Cloak. Soon needing to be with her alone, though, he clasped one of her hands in his and led her from the group. Ron, surprised, watched her go and called her name.
"Where're you--" he began, but Hermione, smiling to herself, whispered something to him and he nodded, understanding lighting his face, and turned back to Neville.
Ginny strolled through the Great Hall, no one noticing that her right hand seemed to have vanished completely. Harry led her to the Entrance Hall, and pulled her into a dark and secluded spot near the stairs. Before he could remove the Invisibility Cloak, Ginny had grasped it and yanked it off and he could tell that she had been anxious to see him.
As the Cloak pooled silently at their feet, they stood motionless, simply staring at each other. A lump lodged itself in Harry's throat again and his eyes burned. There was so much to say, so much he wanted to share with her, but he wasn't sure he could speak if he tried. Instead of attempting it, he reached for her again and pulled her into his arms. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, hot tears leaked out and slid down his cheeks.
"Harry..." Ginny began.
"Yeah?" he managed to choke out, swiping at the moisture on his face.
She pulled away so she could look at him. "There's so much ... So much to tell you, to ask you ... So much I don't understand ..." She exhaled forcibly. "But I'm so tired, and if I am, I can't imagine how you feel..."
He grinned at her, despite his fatigue; delighted, and relieved, that she understood.
"Besides," she went on, a mischievous glint in her eye, "I reckon we'll have a lot of days, or years even, to talk ..."
Harry stared at her before responding, again delighted at her understanding, and utterly amazed that she was voicing the very thought he himself had had less than thirty minutes previous.
"Definitely," he assured her.
Ginny grinned at his enthusiasm and leaned in to kiss him. Harry pressed his fingers to her lips, though, preventing her from doing so.
"Wait," he said, realizing there was one thing that needed saying now. "Your brother ..."
"Typically speaking," Ginny said, and her eyes danced again, "kissing you is a lot more pleasant if you don't mention any of my male relatives first."
Harry dropped his gaze to the floor, the lump in his throat expanding at an alarming rate, making it difficult to breathe.
"Harry..." Ginny ducked her head to catch his eyes with hers. "I'm joking ..."
"I know," he muttered around the lump, still avoiding her eyes. "It's just--" He broke off abruptly and sighed heavily.
"What is it?"
Harry's heart ached painfully and his eyes burned again at the concern he could hear in her voice. Not at all sure he could push any amount of volume past the now-boulder in his throat, he whispered, "Fred ..."
Her eyes welled up at the mention of the name and Harry gripped her shoulders in his hands and forced out, "Ginny, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice cracked on the last word, tears blurring his vision.
"Harry ... Shhh ... Don't ..." Ginny murmured, a few tears wending their way down her cheeks. "It's okay..."
" 'Okay'? How can you say that?" Harry snapped at her. "It's not 'okay'. It can never be 'okay'. It's because of me. It's my fault."
"Don't be stupid. Course it wasn't."
"It was. If I'd only just given myself up right away. If I'd--"
"No. Stop it. You're not to blame, Harry. Don't look at me like that, you're not."
Harry opened his mouth to protest but before he could speak he heard another voice from the shadows.
"She's right."
Startled, they both turned to see George pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to them. He looked awful: his clothes were torn and dirty, one side of his face was bruised and swollen, and a nasty gash on his arm showed through his ripped robes. It was his eyes that Harry noticed most though -- they were red-rimmed and so bloodshot that the whites were almost non-existent.
"You aren't at fault, Harry."
Harry snorted his disagreement. How could they be so dim? "But Fred--"
"Knew exactly what he was getting into. We all did. And yeah, he's gone, and it hurts like hell, but we had to fight, Harry. We had to." George raised his hand when Harry opened his mouth again. "We had to," he reiterated. "All those years of suffering and fear ... Of pain and loss ... We had to stop it Harry, had to fight it."
"But I could have stopped it tonight. All I had to do was--"
"Harry don't be so thick." George reached out and firmly clasped Harry's shoulder with his left hand. "We care about you, ya git. We didn't want anything to happen to you, alright? We couldn't let you just walk to your slaughter, now could we?" He squeezed Harry's shoulder even more tightly. "And I know what else you're thinking and you can stop that right now too. We don't blame you. And we don't hate you either. Alright?"
Harry was ready to argue again but George held up his index finger menacingly.
"Ah ah ah. Say it."
"Alright," Harry replied grudgingly.
George nodded, satisfied. "Right. That's settled then. I don't hate you." He turned to go but threw over his shoulder as he went, "At least, not unless I catch you snogging my baby sister..."
Harry wheeled to face him, his heart thumping madly.
The motion George made, though decidedly small, was unmistakably a wink.
Relief flooding his system, Harry turned back to Ginny to see her grinning at him, despite the tears still in her eyes. "Now?" she asked.
He nodded. "Now."
And leaning in, her lips found his.