A/N: For the One Year Later challenge at HPFC forum. The fire idea came from another fic of mine, Burn, which did not turn out too well (and is now deleted)…please give me some feedback!

Disclaimer: I do not own.

For the lovely & talented hondagirl, who is SUCH a fantastic Rose/Scorpius writer that I'm almost—almost, mind you—a Rose/Scorpius shipper!
Also to everyone at Mt. Olympia (HPFC) because you are all so fun to talk to & purely amazing!

May 1st, 1999

She's changed, she muses, as she sits in her kitchen, sipping her coffee. It's a Muggle drink, and she's become quite attached to it.

She recalls when Seamus first introduced it to her. Apparently Dean's mum makes it—it's fantastic, actually. Surprisingly.

At first, she can't get over the bitter taste, but in the end (once Seamus adds lots of cream and sugar, that is) she begins to adore it, and now she's afraid she's addicted.

She's waiting for Seamus—it's usually what she does. Wait for Seamus. It's all she ever does. She can barely bare to leave the confounded house and let people see the scars she has, everywhere, causing children to whisper and point, and adults to hurry away.

She's nineteen—she should be having the time of her life. She's in her last teen year, yet she can't help but feel alone, sad, and old.

She sometimes thinks of getting in touch with Parvati. Parvati was her best friend—was being the key term. She was too superficial, in the end, and while she told her best friend that she was still beautiful, the first chance she gets, she leaves. Of course.

Which leaves Seamus to talk to her, care for her, be her friend. Her mother, disgusted with her daughter's new face and body, has long since left, and her father, too preoccupied with work, could never be with her full-time.

She knows she's needy. She learned that in sixth year, when she caught Ron's desperate attempts to shake her off.

Though yes, she has changed. She reflects on this.

She is no longer so obsessed with her beauty, now that it's gone. She no longer pines day and night for a boyfriend, now that she has no chance of getting one. She no longer cries at night for her lost self. She embraces it—her change.

She's still a fashion addict, though. She's put on her prettiest yellow sundress and a yellow flower in her hair. She can't help it—he makes her want to live her old life, compels her to begin anew. He confuses her, but in her own way, she loves him.

He comes with a smile and a flower in his hand. It always seems to be the color of her outfit for tomorrow. She doesn't know if it's she who does it, or he.

He kisses her cheek, as usual, and Transfigures the Muggle newspaper lying on the table into a vase filled with water. She never minds him changing the things in her house—they always seem better and brighter once he's changed them.

He tells her that he has something for her—a surprise. But she'll have to wait until the Memorial Service tomorrow to get it.

That's a surprise in itself. She'd never even considered going to the Memorial Service. It makes her cry, it forces her to talk to people, and she'd much rather simply be with her only friend than with a load of people who don't like her anymore.

They do like you. It's him that finally forces her to say she'll go. When she points out that Parvati might be there, thus causing it to be horrifically awkward, he chuckles and tells her he's run into Parvati. He adds that she's as different as her once best friend. She's turned into Dean's girlfriend, into a family girl, into a caring person who's realizing what she lost in leaving her old friends behind and staying that superficial airhead the two had once been.

He puts his arm around her in that way of his, and tells her not to worry. "I'll protect you." It's said in the way he has—the way that makes her think he's her suit of armor. Which he is, he assures her, kissing the top of her head as she's gathered in his warm, pale arms.

A butterfly flies through the open window then, startling them and causing her to laugh and coo over it, exclaiming over its beauty. It has small red circles on either wing, and a small red line running up the left one. On the right, the beauty continues, but she doesn't care about the red line. The left side is infinitely prettier for it.

He stares at it, thinking. He eventually tells her that it's like her, in a way: It's got that one red line, but it still flies. You still have to fly is the message she picks up.

Once they've let the butterfly go, she settles back in his arms—her favorite place in this cold world.

May 2nd, 1999

He comes to her house without fail the next day. She's got his lavender sprig in her hair, and wears lavender robes that cause him to stare.

She whacks him over the head playfully and tells him to stop, and look at her face instead.

He laughs along with her guiltily, saying he'll never look as good as she does.

She laughs again, a soft sound that reverberates through the flat, which hasn't heard laughter in so long.

He's guilty again, telling her his surprise isn't worth the girl she is today, and she tells him she'll be a mess by the end of the ceremony, so it'll be worth her then, if not now. His nod is disbelieving, and she can't help but like it that way.

He takes her hand and Apparates them to Hogsmeade. She tries to hide her face in his black tuxedo, but he forces her to look up. As usual, she's struck with the stares. But today, she's with the best looking man around, so she walks with her chin up.

His smile is especially for her, and he doesn't let go of her hand. She points out the blue of the sky—it's surreal, how perfect it is. It's a deep, royal blue, with no clouds to be found obscuring it.

He doesn't hurry her, and allows her to look—with delight—at all of the new developments. She hasn't been here in ever so long, and she can't help it—she squeals at the dresses, moons at the shoes, giggles at the jokes, and skips down the street. He isn't the least bit embarrassed, and that's what she likes.

Then they arrive at Hogwarts, and she's struck again (like a little first year) at its greatness. She never realized it was so large. She stops dead in her tracks, her gaze fixed on the Gryffindor tower. She resists the crowd of people, who are staring at her now more than ever, and surging towards the door. Finally, it's Seamus that pulls her forward, into the gates, into the building, and into the Great Hall.

She shivers—the last time she was here, she saw dead bodies everywhere she turned. Fred Weasley. Colin Creevey. Professor Lupin. Anthony Goldstein. Elizabeth MacDonald.

And she'd seen the crying families. The red hair of the Weasleys, surrounding Fred's body. The small, frail Creevey boy, broken by the death of his brother. The shocked, ruined face of Andromeda Tonks, staring at her daughter and son-in-law, tears not yet falling. Michael Corner, sobbing next to his best friend. Mrs. MacDonald, looking lost, frightened, and alone.

She turns into Seamus, her one companion, and wills herself not to cry.

He soothes her, whispering things in her ear and smoothing her hair. She will not cry.

Finally, she removes her face and allows him to lead her to a seat next to Dean, who shakes his best friend's hand solemnly and hugs his best friend's friend.

She looks next to Dean, and sure enough, already crying, Parvati sits, leaning into Dean as if he is her life support.

She stares at her old friend, her scarred face darkening, and Parvati stares right back.

It's only a whisper, but the apology she hears is better than anything her friend could have given her. They simultaneously reach over Dean and clasp hands, small smiles adorning both faces.

After a squeeze, Parvati lets go and turns to face forward, wiping her face in a handkerchief Dean has handed her.

The other turns forward as well, noticing her companion's arm casually around her shoulders. She smiles at him, and he smiles sadly back.

And then Harry Potter stands, and the crying fest begins.

He tells them that the war dominated his entire life—the life even before he was born. He explains that he wishes he could have fought all himself, and saved everyone the pain of being left behind by his or her dead friends and family members. He says that what everyone needs is someone to hold onto. Someone to hug after the nightmares, someone to cry to after a bad day, someone to laugh with because they have triumphed! (A cheer goes up here, and she joins in whole-heartedly, feeling, for the first time in a long time, a sense of togetherness.)

He tells them he's found that person. He explains that Ginny Weasley is his stronghold, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger will always be there too. He says that now that he's found those people, he can live his best life, not forgetting the past, but honoring it.

And then he says that they should be happy, not sad, and remember this day always. His big finish is Voldemort is gone, so let us rejoice!

Their victory suddenly washes over her. She's never really thought of it as that, but she realizes it is. And so she stands with everyone else and cheers, screaming and crying and laughing.

This is victory.

And it's happiness.

She's finally identified the feeling that's been nagging her since Seamus came into the picture. Happiness. Oh, how she's missed the euphoric, light feeling it gives her!

The service isn't over, though. Hermione Granger, bushy hair and all (not changed a bit in appearance, but so much in frame of mind) stands and tells them that a bonfire will be held. This is it. They are done with Voldemort forever.

Ron Weasley stands next, and conducts the next cheer; tear tracks on his face, but also a smile. Then he magically begins the fire, telling people to line up and burn anything they associate with Voldemort.

People jump up and get in line, a few sobbing, a few smiling a bit, but most solemn and sad, in a quiet way.

He nods to her, and she digs a wooden figure of a perfect butterfly from her pocket. She Transfigured it yesterday, after he had gone. He nods again, understanding, and gives her a tiny smile. They walk hand-in-hand up to the large fire, watching people throw bits and pieces of things into the fire.

Memories pierce her with every person that passes.

Molly Weasley, crying, drops something small into the fire and kisses her son's cheek.

"Not my daughter, you bitch!" Lavender remembers that moment well, though she was so maimed that day that it's the only memory she has.

George Weasley passes next, his hair long and unkempt, his eyes sunken and sad.

How she remembers the Weasley Twin's big escape from Hogwarts—

"Give her hell for us." Fred Weasley is gone, but Peeves, floating up near the ceiling and looking solemn, for once, will be here forever.

Luna Lovegood is next, holding Neville Longbottom's hand and looking sad yet serene.

Her earrings, those radish ones, are in place on her ears, as always. She'll never forget the oddness of Luna, which will never cease.

And as Neville stumbles up to the fire, and drops in something she can't make out through the flames, she knows Neville too, no matter how many snakes he'll kill, will never, ever stop being Neville.

She watches the rest of the people, musing on how she remembers them, and then gets up to the hot flames. Ron Weasley smiles tremulously at her, and she smiles back timidly. Seamus quickly drops in his object, and she does the same, glad to be rid of it.

He whispers in her ear that he still has to show her the surprise, and she smiles.

She waits patiently as he runs off to get it.

He comes back much slower. He gives her a sheepish smile and tells her that this is his baby.

He's holding a tiny girl, her little hands clutching at his hair and her big eyes staring round at everything.

She gasps and voices her thoughts. You're a father?

There is conflict written all over his face. He looks down at the baby, then up at her, and shrugs. The answer, he tells her, is yes and no. She's his sister's baby.

She raises her eyebrows, and then realization dawns upon her. The conflict disappears from his face as comprehension spreads across hers. His sister that died in the war.

She knows without having to ask. Abruptly, she walks over to the girl and picks her up. She's the spitting image of her uncle.

When she inquires after her name, he smiles.

Aideen is her name—Little Fire. How well it fits a girl who is getting through all of this drama at such a young age!

She smiles at Aideen, and looks at him. All at once, she is overcome. She kisses Aideen on the top of her head, and then kisses him on his forehead.

He stares, surprised, and then leans down and captures her lips. Her eyes flutter closed, and she leans against him, totally trusting.

Aideen is caught in the middle of the long embrace—nothing like snogging with Ron, she reflects—but she doesn't seem to mind. She looks up at them and gurgles, and they break apart.

He hugs her, then, and she smiles up at him and then down at the baby.

"I will protect you," he repeats from yesterday, and looks at both her and Aideen as he says it.

She sighs peacefully and holds his hand as they leave, Aideen in a sling on his back and Dean and Parvati walking next to them.

All is right with the world.