A/N

Hey, everyone! Just thought that I should say that this is my very first Harry Potter FanFiction! It is about pretty much every character's lives after the battle, but I am not sure how long it is going to be! :) I really hope that everyone enjoys it! :)

The door slammed open with a cloud of dust to reveal a boy around eighteen years old. He was tall, ruggedly handsome, and had a hard face. Glasses circled around his bright, emerald green eyes, and as he sighed, he ran a hand through his messy black hair. The hand was heavily scarred, and anyone that knew him would know
that it was from the last year and a half of Auror training. Harry Potter had been admitted early on into the training program, after he made the decision to not return
to school for his seventh year. He, and his best friend Ron Weasley, felt that they had learned more on their journeys than they could ever learn in a classroom. Ron was tall, lanky, and wore slightly battered robes. He also had a hard face, but it was slightly softer than his best friend's. They both put down their suitcases, and breathed in the musty air. "Well," said Harry, "We had better start cleaning." The only sound in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place that evening was brushes scrubbing at the floor.

Harry's Point of View

He could not believe that he was actually here. When he had received ownership of this house, years ago, he had sworn that he would never set a foot in it. But after he had stayed there for a couple of months when they had been on the run, he realized that it wasn't that bad. The house reminded him of Sirius, which hurt sometimes, but he could not bear to forget his godfather. Even though the house carried bad memories, it also carried good ones. The kitchen, where Fred and George had nearly chopped Sirius' hand off. The kitchen where Mrs. Weasley sang Irish songs while she cooked enormous meals. The long wall of house-elf heads that had Santa hats on them during Christmastime. Harry had made the decision grudgingly. He had begun his Auror training, and realized that he had no place to live. He could have just bought a small flat in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, but what was the point of spending all that money everysingle month when he already had
a perfectly good house? Well, God knew that it wasn't perfect. By no means. But Harry and Ron were going to work on it piece by piece until it was. Once Hermione finished her school year, she had promised that she would help them with the cleaning, and decorating. When they had first entered the house, Harry half expected Sirius to be lurking in some dark corridor. But it was empty. They were the only two in the house. And it was absolutely filthy. Mundungus had been ordered to put everything back into the house by Dumbledore, but he seemed to have unceremoniously dumped them into a pile by the front door. Silver goblets with the Black family crest engraved on them were strewn across the floor, and golden cauldrons had enormous dents in them. Harry sighed, and picked up his suitcase. Him and Ron walked up the large marble staircase that was coated in dust. A rat ran past Harry as he walked down the long hallway lined with portraits of members of the Black family. After Ron bade Harry a good night, he walked into Regulus' room, and then walked straight back out. At the look of confusion that Harry gave him, he murmured, "Too Slytheriny." Harry grinned at him, and then walked into Sirius' old room. He scooped the papers off of the bed that had been strewn everywhere during Snape's raid of the house. He murmured "Tergio" and the sheets rid themselves of the dust that was coating them. Harry dropped his suitcase at the foot of the bed.

The last thought that he had before his eyes closed was that he really needed to do something about those posters of girls on motorcycles.

I really hope that you all enjoyed! Please review! I prefer no flames, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. :) I am begging whoever is reading this for suggestions and constructive criticism! Please? Pretty please? You'll be my best friend :)