Author: Pitry
Title: War Is Over 1/17
Rating: Teen (for several depictions of explicit violence in later chapters)
Genre: Gen
Characters: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy, various others.
Summary: In the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry felt tired. In the morning after the morning after, he was downright exhausted. The war may be over, but there are still battles to be fought.
Notes: canon pairings (no focus on romance).

In the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry felt tired, as if he hadn't slept for days, weeks, or even years. In the morning after the morning after, tiredness gave way to exhaustion, which was already threatening to become a full blown breakdown. Harry couldn't remember what not being tired felt like, couldn't remember what rest was like, couldn't remember silence or feeling not elated with joy or shocked and depressed with the terrible truth or frightened to an inch of his life, but simply being. Being bored, being mildly amused, being disgusted with things like spiders and leftovers from yesterday.

In short, if Harry Potter didn't find a bed right now, he would drop on the floor of the Great Hall right there and then and start snoring between the debris.

It shouldn't have been this hard to find a bed. After all, he was at Hogwarts, where four dorms with many, many beds were available. But he had tried that before, curling in his old bed in the seventh-year dorm room of the Gryffindor Tower. Needless to say that with the doors to the tower all open, and everyone looking specifically for him, he didn't get much sleep even in that once safe haven.

No. He had to get away from Hogwarts, from the debris, from the bodies, and mostly from the people who still wanted him around, to see him and to touch him, as if fearing that if they left Hogwarts, that if they lost sight of Harry, this new reality everyone was trying to get used to would simply disappear, that they would wake up and realise it was all a dream and Voldemort is still out there.

And everyone wanted a piece of him. Everyone expected him not only to stick around, but to stick around with them. This one was a Gryffindor student, the other fought in the battle just now, here's a classmate, or a teacher... Some of them had more of a right to him than others, of course. Harry forever would look at the Weasleys as his family, and that they wanted him to share in their joy and grief was only natural, understandable, even touching - a reminder that despite their losses, to which he still felt responsible, he was one of them.

But he couldn't. He couldn't look Molly Weasley in the eye, not after Fred. He couldn't be there and pretend it wasn't his fault, or at least, his responsibility. That he hadn't been careless with others' lives. And that one of those lives ended up being Fred Weasley.

He had to get out of there, he had to get out of there now, and he had to get out of there alone.

The invisibility cloak, of course, provided a partial solution. He could put it on, and for a moment become invisible. But only a moment, because the school was crowded as it had never been before - it seemed for a moment like all of Britain's wizards found their way into the remains of the great hall. With every step of the way, he would walk too closely to someone, step over another's toes, or knock something off. He would be invisible,yes - but not undetectable.

But it was a start. He could put on the cloak and go - where? He wondered for a moment, and the solution offered itself instantly. Hogsmeade. The Hog's Head. He had waved Aberforth goodbye and thanked him again last night, and saw him take the path back to the village and to his pub, muttering about politicians, kids, wizards, glory seekers, and just about everything else. He couldn't help but smile even now, remembering Aberforth's rant. Yes, Aberforth would understand.

And so, under the invisibility cloak, he set out on the small road to the village, walking undetected towards the old man's pub. And immediately he felt better. The air felt fresher, as if all the death and destruction at Hogwarts changed how the place smelt and felt, and not just how it looked. He could see the new sun, still fresh, promising a better day. The road was still wet from the rain of the evening before, or the one before that, he couldn't even tell anymore. It all felt like a dream, and none of it mattered anymore. And for a moment, he felt as if he didn't need to sleep at all, as if he could just spend all the day walking like that, alone, enjoying an endless morning in silence.

Of course, by the time he made it to the Hog's Head, he felt like he couldn't keep his eyes open for another second. A weak knock on Aberforth's back door was all he managed, and there was no end to his joy when the door was opened only a moment later. Aberforth looked around at the seemingly empty alley in confusion, and then his face broke into a smile.

"Get in, Potter," he muttered softly, and Harry followed him in, still not taking off the cloak.

Aberforth seemed to approve. "Keep your cloak on, boy," he said, "the Hog's Head has been getting more costumers than I've seen in years. No need for them to see you here. Just go upstairs, room six is free."

"Thank you," Harry muttered, an inadequate way to express his gratitude, but the only one he managed at the moment.

"Just go to sleep," Aberforth said gruffly, and returned to the pub.

Harry climbed the stairs, still under his invisibility cloak, careful not to make any noise. Tt the second floor, he found room 6. It was small, simple, with no excess decorations. There were no pictures of famous wizards, or luxurious furniture, or a big bath. The only thing in the room, in fact, was a simple bed, and that was the only thing Harry really wanted at the moment.

He didn't even bother to undress, just removed his shoes and crawled inside the blanket. He couldn't even remember his head hitting the pillow before he was fast asleep.

He wasn't quite sure what woke him curtains were drawn, hiding the sun from view. The bed was comfortable, the pillow soft, and for a second he closed his eyes again, ready to fall back into oblivious sleep.

But there it was again - the noise. Harry jumped awake, sitting up and opening his eyes wide, looking for his wand. And then he breathed again - it was only Aberforth, putting a tray on the bed stand.

"Thought you might be hungry, Potter," he said. Harry realised that he wasn't just hungry - he was famished. His stomach agreed loudly, and the old barkeep smiled.

"Toast, eggs, orange juice and some fried mushrooms," he said. "More like breakfast than dinner, but I figured you wouldn't mind."

Harry nodded and started wolfing down the meal.

"It doesn't look like they've realised you're gone yet," Aberforth continued. "Or, at least, they haven't realised you're here yet. I've had people coming and going all day long and no one's asked about you."

Harry nodded again, pleased. The longer he had before being forced to find a new hiding place, the better.

"They are talking about you, though," Aberforth continued, and his eyes found Harry's. "You better be careful. Soon the legend around you will be so big that no one would believe you actually exist."

"That might not be such a bad idea," Harry replied, and Aberforth chuckled again.

"I'm not so sure about that, boy. I think you will find that there are quite some benefits to being a hero."

"I don't want them," Harry said immediately. "I'd rather just be normal."

"You'll never be normal, Potter, whatever that means, so get that notion out of your head. And the sooner you accept that you're a hero and are going to remain a hero for the rest of your life, the easier this is going to be for you. Don't fight it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You give up very easily, don't you?" he said dryly, and Aberforth just smiled again. "Well, we'll see," Harry concluded quietly and finished his orange juice.

"Yes," Aberforth agreed. "We'll see. Who knows, maybe you will get your wish. The last couple of hours already had some gossip that wasn't all about you."

"Oh?" Harry asked in interest and Aberforth burst out laughing.

"See?" he asked, laughter still in his voice. "Already you wonder how can anyone talk about anything else but you, so soon after your great victory."

Harry rolled his eyes, but took the comment in the same good spirit it was given. "What were they talking about?" he asked again.

"You-Know ... Voldemort."

"Well, that makes sense. Do they use his name now?"

"No. Nor would they touch his body."

Harry looked at Aberforth in confusion.

"They've been sorting through the bodies from Hogwarts. Preparing for the funerals, that sort of thing."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, thinking of red-headed Fred Weasley, whose body will probably be moved to the Burrow, and of Lupin and Tonks, who will probably be buried close to the house of Andromeda Tonks.

"Well, someone moved his body from the Great Hall alright," Aberforth interrupted his thoughts, "but no one knows what to do with it."

'Why can't they just bury him?" Harry blurted out.

Aberforth didn't answer immediately, but watched him closely. "Yes, you would have, wouldn't you," he said in a mixture of pity and wonder.

Harry thought about it for a moment. Where could Tom Riddle Jr. possibly be buried? Not in any wizard cemetery. No one would want to have their loved ones lie in proximity to the greatest monster of all time. And every wizard cemetery would have by now a good amount of Tom Riddle Jr.'s many victims, lying there as a result of two eras of sheer terror. No, no one would want to visit graves of family or friends and see the name Tom Riddle on their way.

And besides, what would they write on the tombstone? Here lies the worst wizard who had ever lived? This is the final resting place of a murderer, a coward, a monster? Beware, here be monsters! The most terrible man to have ever lived has found his eternal resting place here.

Here lies Tom Riddle Jr., a man the world would have been better without. Remember his crimes. Never repeat them.

No, now Harry understood what Aberforth meant. Of course the body could not be buried in any area known to wizards around the world.

But Harry couldn't quite accept any of the alternatives, either. Throw him away somewhere? Or perhaps, like Berty Crouch Sr., turn his body into a bone and bury it in an unmarked spot, or turn him into nothing altogether?

It was reasonable, it was sensible, it was no more than he deserved, and it was probably the best thing to do. And to Harry, it felt so utterly wrong.

"I think they decided to deal with it in the morning," Aberforth finally said. He had been watching Harry intently, when he spoke as well as in his silence. But he offered no word of advice, no suggestion as to the best course of action, and Harry knew that if he ignored the opportunity that was silently suggested in Aberforth's last sentence, he wouldn't think any less of him.

In fact, he would probably think better of him.

But Harry knew he couldn't ignore that opportunity, and he knew that Aberforth realised this - and still, he brought it up. Harry was grateful for the opportunity, just as he was for the bed and food. He even tried to say so, but was immediately silenced by Aberforth.

"You did your bit," the old man said grumpily, "now it's my turn to do mine. Only the natural order of things."

Harry smiled and watched the old man leave the room. As soon as he was gone, Harry jumped off the bed, put on his shoes and his invisibility cloak - being otherwise fully dressed - and quietly opened the door. Tiptoeing down the stairs, he realised he need not bother being quiet - the noise from the pub was deafening, and Harry wondered how he could sleep at all with that noise. It sounded as if the celebrations of Voldemort's defeat were still going strong - and good for Aberforth that they were going on in his pub, Harry thought with a burst of loyalty. With all the help he had given them, Aberforth Dumbledore deserved to be the one to make some money from the celebrations.

If the Hog's Head was noisy in its celebrations, Hogwarts' crowd was downright deafening, at the end of the second day after the victory. To Harry, it seemed as if none of the people who had participated in the battle wanted to leave, and more and more joined them.

Some, of course, had to leave. Kingsley Shacklebolt was still cleaning things up at the Ministry, together with other Ministry officials, investigating Death Eaters and hiring new staff. Rita Skeeter, who had shown her face around Hogwarts after the battle and followed Harry around, trying to interview him, was gone - doubtlessly following Kingsley and looking for the best ways to blame him for anything she could think of, Harry thought darkly. Others whose services were invaluable were already gone, too. But together with the teachers, the students, and the surviving members of the Order, Harry could see friends and relatives of those who were present in the battle; wizards and witches who had long gone into hiding from fear of Voldemort and his Death Eaters - for a second, he thought he had recognised Reg and Mary Cattermole amongst the crowd; and even some of Gringotts' goblins were there. Harry considered searching to see if Griphook was still there, and whether he lamenting the loss of the Sword of Gryffindor - again. But in the end, he decided against it.

He had more important things to do.

Most of the bodies were no longer in the castle. A lot of the rooms have been rebuilt in the day since Harry took off. A lot of the rubble had been removed. The old castle was slowly being restored to its former glory. But in a far away room in the dungeons, some of the bodies were still lying, unreclaimed by any wizard or witch. Not just Voldemort was there - Bellatrix Lestrange was put next to him, ever to his right, even in death. And other Death Eaters, some recognised by Harry, some not. His eyes went over the dead for a moment, and he was unsure what was he trying to see, who he was looking for, until he realised. Vincent Crabbe's body was not amongst those who were put in the dungeons. His classmate's body was never found, consumed forever by the Fiendfyre he had conjured.

For a moment Harry stopped, averted his eyes from the bodies, and thought hard. Was he sad for Crabbe? Was he sad for any of them? His first reaction was no - not for Crabbe, not for Bellatrix, and definitely not for Riddle. Not ever for Lord Voldemort. He wasn't sad for any of them. Pity, maybe, but they have chosen their path freely, and he was happy they were dead, and if all the sorrow and pain they have inflicted on others wasn't gone, at least they couldn't inflict more.

And still, his eyes sought the 18-year-old Vincent Crabbe between the bodies, and something in him regretted not seeing the body.

But Crabbe wasn't the reason he had come to the room, and neither was any other Death Eater. He came for Voldemort, and now that he was there, he was no longer sure what to do. He wanted to bury him, yes, in quiet, by himself, without a tombstone, without any words. Without the hate on people's face and without the anger that this man was getting a grave, while some of their loved ones never will. But now that he was there, he realised this might be a tougher task than he first imagined. Even if he could find a far away spot, a part of the grounds of Hogwarts which no wizard or witch were occupying at the moment, how would he get Voldemort's body there? He had no wish to put that body under the invisibility cloak - and he wasn't sure that this would prove any good - the two of them, even when one is carried, would be too big for the cloak.

His salvation came from an unexpected source. With just enough time to hide further inside the room once he heard the footsteps, Harry could hear Kingsley Shacklebolt and Cornelius Fudge walking into the room.

Fudge looked at the bodies in disdain. "This is what's left of him," he said in a voice full of hatred.

Kingsley nodded. "The last remains of Lord Voldemort," he said, and Fudge visibly shuddered.

"I'm still not used to hearing the name," he apologised half-heartedly, and Kingsley acknowledged him with a nod. Harry remembered what Aberforth said - most people still didn't call him by his name. Even after his death, Lord Voldemort's name was enough to put fear into the hearts of wizards. He suspected it would take a long time before that bad habit disappeared for good.

"I have half a heart to burn them all now," Kingsley continued. "It would save us a lot of trouble. But I suppose we need to give the families some more time to claim the bodies."

"I doubt anyone ever will," was the reply he got from his companion. "Being the relative of a Death Eater isn't just an embarrassing anecdote."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, and Fudge continued. "I mean, you gotta wonder, don't you? They were all raised to be this, so who says their family isn't just as filthy, only they had more sense to hide it? I say, arrest the lot of them."

"To arrest them, you need a reason," Kingsley replied, but not without kindness.

"They were Death Eaters," Fudge mumbled. "That's reason enough."

Harry felt the anger rising in him. This was Fudge, the man who employed Dolores Umbridge until the end, who had never recognised her for what she was, a woman who gladly cooperated with the Death Eaters even without being one herself, who cooperated with them willingly and with joy. And he was lecturing Kinglsey about the relatives of Death Eaters, about people - Harry realised - who might be like Andromeda Tonks, who had joined the fight against Voldemort out of her free will, despite her parents, her sister, her upbringing? About people like Sirius?

He had half a mind to reveal himself there and then, and to shout at Fudge for his words and ignorance and his part in allowing Voldemort to gain power again in the first place. But he remained quiet, and simply listened to Fudge speaking again.

"Well, no one's going to claim You-Know-Who," he said, "so we might as well get rid of him tonight. The sooner his body is gone, the better."

"Tomorrow," Kingsley said again. "We'll be back again tomorrow. Are you going back to the Ministry?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I tell you, Kingsley, in a way, it is lucky the protections of Hogwarts are down, even if it will take forever to put them back up again. If I had to walk through the Great Hall and the Grounds again to get out of here, I don't know what I'd do. All those people! And none of them will shut up." Having finished airing his grievance with the celebrating survivors, Fudge turned on the spot and Apparated.

Kingsley stayed behind a moment longer, surveying the room, and then followed Fudge and Apparated out of the castle.

Harry looked around thoughtfully. Ignoring Fudge's words for the moment, he was glad now of witnessing the conversation, or at least its end. So the battle had damaged the defences around Hogwarts enough to allow Apparition inside the castle. Well - that made things easier.

Harry Potter grabbed the lifeless body of the man who had haunted his dreams for years, and turned on the spot.

He appeared again far away from the noise and commotion. Right where he wanted to be - deep in the Forbidden Forest, in the same spot that only a couple of days ago had served as the camping site of Voldemort and his supporters. Here, where Hagrid's huge spiders once dwelled, he put the body down on the earth, and waved his wand once, twice, creating a hole big enough to put it in, a forgotten grave for Lord Voldemort. Another swish of the wand and the body was in the grave, six feet under, the earth back on top, and the forest clearing looked as if it was never disturbed - well, aside from a giant or two.

There was no stone to mark Tom Riddle Jr.'s grave, no tombstone, no last words. No funeral procession, no mourning family and no hating messes. Tom Riddle lived and died in infamy as Lord Voldemort, but was buried an anonymous body in an unmarked spot, deep in the forest, where no one would ever know. And for the first time in a long, long while, Harry Potter felt pleased.

Another turn on the spot and he, too, was gone from Hogwarts.

He Apparated back at the Hog's Head's door. Unseen beneath his cloak, he tiptoed up the stairs into room number six, removed his shoes, socks, and this time his clothes as well, and went back to bed.

He woke up once in the middle of the night to the sound of laughter. People were celebrating in the street, unwilling to go to sleep, to let the day end. It was the second day since the victory over Voldemort, and still people had a hard time believing their good fortune, and just wanted to know for sure they're alive. Harry smiled and turned in his bed, falling back asleep immediately.

The next time he woke up it was already morning, and Hermione Granger was sitting on a chair by his bed, eating a piece of toast and reading the Daily Prophet.

"Morning," he said after he put his glasses back on his face.

"Oh," she said, "you're awake."

"How long have you been here?"

"About half an hour, give or take. Aberforth told me you were here," she continued, seeing the puzzled expression on his face. "He's keeping the fact you're here a secret, of course, but he figured he could make an exception for me and Ron."

Harry nodded. Aberforth wasn't wrong. He sat up and look at the room. "Where is Ron, really?"

Hermione's face darkened for a moment. "In the Burrow."

Harry nodded. Of course. "How is... everyone?"

Hermione looked as if she was going to cry for a moment, but then the moment passed and when she spoke, her voice sounded completely clear. "They're... coping. George's taking it very hard, of course. And Molly... it's hard. You know. The funeral's in three days."

Harry nodded again. He knew. And there was nothing to say, really, so he reached for the plate and picked up a piece of toast.

"What are they saying?" he gestured towards the paper as he asked with his mouth half full. If Hermione found it distasteful, she said nothing, and just passed on the paper.

Harry scanned the headline. Oh. Right. He should have expected it. He raised his eyes and met Hermione's gaze. His expression was all she needed for confirmation.

"I thought it was your handiwork," she said.

The headline, of course, talked of the great mystery of the disappearance of Voldemort's body.

"It seemed like the best thing," he shrugged, and Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she said.

"What?"

"It's just... I'm not sure if it wasn't the best idea to just let people... do whatever they wanted with him."

She didn't look at him when she said those words, but after a moment her eyes met his, and she was unapologetic about it. "People need closure," she explained quietly. "You had your closure, you saw him die, you - " she didn't say 'killed him', and he was grateful for it. He wasn't sorry Voldemort was dead, no. And he knew the role he had played in his death. But he didn't use the Killing Curse on Tom Riddle Jr., and he didn't use it on purpose. Tom Riddle died because of his own stupidity, his own short-sightenedness. Lord Voldemort's death was brought on by his own mistakes. Not because Harry set out to kill him.

"But a lot of people didn't get that closure, Harry, and seeing the body disposed of... it might have given them some peace," Hermione continued. "Now it's just a mystery. It makes people scared again."

"They will get over it," Harry said shortly. He wasn't about to apologise, too.

"I'm not so sure," she answered, and for a long moment afterwards, the only sound that was heard in the room was the sound of toast being chewed.

"Anyway," she finally said, her voice and face bright again, "this wasn't why I came here. I came here to... to ask you a favour."

"Anything," he said, and meant it completely.

"I'll be going after the funeral. My mum and dad - they're in Australia, and I need to find them. I don't have a lot to go on with, just their new names and the fact they're probably in Sydney. But I need to find them again. And I think Ron will need to be with his family for the next couple of weeks."

"I'll be happy to come with you," Harry said in such earnestness that Hermione cracked a smile.

"Thanks, Harry," she said. "I'd rather not do this on my own."

"Are you kidding me? I'm just looking for an excuse to get away!" he said passionately, and she became serious again.

"You'll have to live with it, Harry. You need to accept that people are going to keep on looking up to you. If you thought you were famous before... you're going to be a hundredfold now. And I don't think only in Britain, too." Her words were almost word-for-word the warning Aberforth Dumbledore gave Harry the night before. And she was right. They were both right. Of course they were right.

But if Harry could postpone that moment in which he would have to face to being the most famous man in the wizarding world, and with it postpone the obvious role it would force on him, he would do whatever it takes. He wasn't ready, not yet. Despite spending the last seven years in the spotlight, ever since the day he walked into Diagon Alley with Hagrid, he realised this would be on a completely new level, and he just wasn't ready.

But he didn't have a choice. The war might be over, but Harry's life would still be dictated by it, for years to come.

As if reading his mind, Hermione smiled. "I'm really glad you'll come, Harry," she said. "Now come on, let's get out of here. I'm sure the Weasleys would love to see you."

Harry looked at the floor, and didn't answer.

"No one blames you, Harry," she said softly. "None of us thought we'd make it out alive when he showed up. And you were ready to die, you went there to save us all, and - it's not your fault. Surely you realise that?"

"I know," he said quietly, but still didn't meet her eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," she repeated. "It's because of you that - you saved us all, Harry. You beat him. We all knew what was at stake when we went to fight. And you beat him. And you saved so many people. No one could save everyone, Harry, not even you."

"I know," he repeated.

"Then come on, then, because the last thing Molly needs right now is to think that you blame yourself. She's already grieving enough. They need you there."

They needed him. For a moment, Harry craved not to be needed - not by anyone. But it wasn't fair. The Weasleys had sacrificed Fred for him, for the fight, and he wasn't the first who was hurt, not with Bill and Arthur, and Molly's two brothers... for the Weasleys, he was willing to be needed.

And so he packed his invisibility cloak. Everything else was left, only a couple of days ago that seemed like forever, in Bill and Fleur's cottage, or at Hogwarts, and was now back in the Burrow, Hermione reassured him. And they went downstairs and said goodbye to Aberforth, and once again Harry tried to thank the man and was turned down with a grump. And so they stepped into the chilly May morning, and Apparated to the Burrow.

Going back to the Burrow had always been like going back home, to the home Harry never had. From the first time he had been there, arriving in that flying Ford Anglia, he had loved everything about the old house, from the magical watch and cluttered living room to the garden gnomes. But most of all, he had loved the Weasleys. It was them who made the place a true home for him - and they were the reason his heart was, for the first time, filled with dread as they were approaching the familiar house.

He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew he had no choice. He knew his actions had saved so many people, perhaps the entire wizarding world itself. Definitely the Weasleys. But it wasn't until he saw Ron walking towards him from the house, relief on his face, that the lump in his throat melted away.

"You finally made it," Ron said quietly, and looked at Harry, and Harry looked back at Ron, and saw the happiness underneath the grief. "Mum was worried about you. I told her you were fine, that you probably found all the attention a bit too much and was hiding somewhere."

"Yeah," Harry smiled, and Ron smiled back, genuinely happy to see him. He then turned to Hermione and hugged her tightly, ending the hug with a kiss. Harry smiled - in the past he dreaded this possibility a bit, then became impatient with his two friends. Now he was just happy for them.

"We had to send her after you, or Mum would not shut up. C'mon, she'd want to see you."

Harry nodded, and followed Ron into the Burrow, only to be engulfed by Molly Weasley the second his foot stepped in the house.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, and embraced him, her eyes full of tears.

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," he said, trying to be as soothing as possible. "It's okay."

Behind her back, Ron did his best not to chuckle, and Hermione smiled a sad, understanding smile.

Finally, Molly let go of Harry. "Oh, Harry," she said again, this time more in control of her emotions. "It's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said honestly, and her eyes filled with tears again.

Finally, she had let him go, and another red-headed Weasley caught him for a hug. He was lost in Ginny's arms for a moment, the first time they had a chance to be together at all for such a long time, longer than he could remember. He knew Ron would prefer not to see them show their affection to each other too much, but for just that moment, he didn't care, as he kissed her and held her and just marvelled at the fact that they were, once again, together, and for once there was nothing to come between them.

But Ron wasn't mad - when Harry caught his eye, he was almost appreciative, and then Harry looked around and understood. For what must have been the first time in two days, Molly Weasley's face was shining with happiness and she was smiling her biggest smile, looking at the two of them.

If Harry's presence in Ginny's life made Molly Weasley happy enough to forget her grief, even just for a little bit, it was alright by Ron, and Harry was grateful both for the effect it had on Mrs. Weasley and for Ron's approval. But not as grateful as he was for being with Ginny once again.

Everyone was in the living room, spending time together - Bill and Fleur, Charlie - even Percy. Only the twins were missing. Ron had whispered to Harry as they were went outside for dinner that George hardly came out of his room these last couple of days. He did not seek comfort in his family, and only came down for meals, where he sat down, quiet and subdued, not participating in the family chitchat that had slowly gone back to normal, if only for five minutes at a time. It was almost like that summer when Fred and George were hiding in their room, working on the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, but not quite - instead of weird explosions, there was only silence.

The entire evening was not quite what Harry had come to expect from the Weasleys. The regular bursts of laughter and jokes were shorter than usual, and quieter, and the silences were longer, in which every member of the family was quiet and deep in thoughts, deep in mourning.

They tried to be happy with the great victory, and with Harry's presence. Hermione, sitting next to Ron and hugging him the entire evening, would engage Harry in conversation every once in a while. He was sitting opposite to them, hugging Ginny. At times the others would also drop in with the conversation, and for a moment there would be laughter and joy again - and then the silence would come back. And yet, even as the night grew longer and with it the silence, and the yawns started appearing, no one in the Burrow's living room made any attempt to leave. They would come up with new topics of conversations, new ways to stay awake, to stay together.

And so, they reached the topic of the Malfoy family. "You know," Arthur told Harry in a quiet tone, "they arrested Malfoy."

Harry nodded. He wasn't surprised. After all, Lucius Malfoy had been one of Voldemort's closest followers, even if he changed his mind in the end. "Well, Lucius does have some things to answer for," he said.

"No, not Lucius - well," Arthur corrected himself, "they did arrest Lucius, but they also arrested his son, the one who was in your class."

"About time," Ron said, but Harry, who until then had been half-sitting, half-leaning on Ginny, sat up in attention.

"What did they arrest him for?" he asked.

"Are you serious?" Ron turned to him, surprised. "He was a Death Ea - you're the one who insisted all that time a couple of years ago that he had become a Death Eater! You were right! He tried to kill us!"

"They shouldn't have arrested him, I mean, he didn't really want to..." Harry's voice trailed, as Ron made disgusted noises.

"Maybe you could come down to the Ministry tomorrow with me," Arthur suggested gently. "Talk to Kingsley, if there's something you want to say on the matter."

"Yeah, maybe I would," Harry answered.

"What are you - I'm not - have you completely lost it?" By now, Ron was sitting up at full attention as well, staring at Harry. Hermione seemed to be grabbing at his shirt, as if afraid he'd get up completely if she didn't hold him back.

Molly got up from her seat completely, standing and yawning in the middle of the living room. "Well, looks like it's time to go to bed!" she announced, trying to stop the discussion from going on any further. And sleeping might not be such a bad idea. Harry was about to sneak a smile at Ginny, when Molly started talking again. "Harry, you'll sleep in Ron's room, as always; Hermione's staying with Ginny, like last night. Bill and Fleur - "

"It's alright, Mum," Bill got up, and distracted Molly before she could catch the expressions of the four teenagers who were sitting on the floor, ranging from apprehension, through misgiving, to exasperation. "We'll go back to Shell Cottage for tonight, and come back tomorrow. We know there isn't enough space here."

"Are you sure? We could put Percy and Charlie - "

"No, no, it's fine," Bill reassured her, this time distracting his mother from the grateful expression of his two brothers - the only place left, of course, was the attic, and no one wanted to sleep next to the ghoul, who had been even more noisy and intolerable of late, as it had been banished from Ron's room back to his old dwelling place.

And so, the Weasley family went to sleep. Harry gave Ginny another long kiss, this time for goodnight, and shared with her the disappointed look at her mother's intervention. And then, stealing a glance towards Ron and Hermione and seeing that they were still locked in a kiss that didn't seem to be about to end anytime soon, he walked towards Arthur Weasley.

"When are you leaving for work tomorrow?" he asked quietly, as to not alert Ron.

"A bit early, I'm afraid," Arthur replied, with enough decency to keep his voice down as well. "Things at work have been mad, of course. I'll be leaving around 7:30."

"I'll be down," Harry promised, and Arthur nodded and bade him goodnight.

And just in time, too, as Ron's finally emerged from kissing Hermione, and with a slightly apologetic smile gestured Harry towards his room. "Mum's been driving us mad," he complained as they were climbing up the stairs. "You think none of her sons ever dated someone before!"

"Maybe she's just not willing to admit ickle Ronnikins has grown up," Harry teased.

"Yeah, you wouldn't guess we're adults, what with winning a war and all."

Harry laughed loudly as they finally entered Ron's room. The argument was forgotten, his stomach was full and he was about to enter a comfortable bed, and most important - he was finally home again, and everything was alright. And if he woke up sweating in the middle of the night with Ron already up and looking at him strangely, neither of them said a word, as there was no need to, but instead returned to sleep.

Things will go back to normal eventually.