Under the Stars

It was on a clear, early spring day that five people toiled up the slope towards Hogsmeade cemetery under the pale afternoon sun.

Katie hadn't been here since Alicia's funeral, but the others had made this pilgrimage every year. They were going to Alicia's grave, six years to the day after she'd died.

Lee led the way, sombre and morose in comparison to the Lee of New Year's Eve. Katie followed him, George just behind her. At the end, slowly and steadily, came Fred supporting a very pregnant Angelina. She'd insisted on coming with them and no one had had the heart to make her stay behind.

Alicia was buried with the others who'd been killed by Death Eaters. Some had been strangers to her five friends; other names were all too familiar. Katie had to force herself not to look for the names that she knew were there, etched onto gravestones. This was Alicia's day. One day, she promised herself, she'd come back up here and visit the other graves

Fresh flowers already adorned Alicia's grave. Her family came in the morning, her friends in the afternoon. As one, Katie and others gathered around her gravestone and stared at it. Anyone, any stranger who didn't know about this part of the cemetery and looked at the gravestone would know that Alicia Jayne Spinnet had only been twenty when she'd died. Perhaps they'd look at the date of her death, and realise that she'd been a victim of the war. Perhaps then they'd read the inscription Always loved. Forever in our hearts and wonder about the people who'd loved and lost the young woman buried beneath the solemn grey stone.

Each of them placed their own offering of flowers, their own tribute, on the grave. Daisies, lilies and roses testified to their love for Alicia.

No one spoke. Lee sat down, cross-legged, staring at the ground. Angelina, teary eyed, leant on Fred for support. Katie just stood, feeling George's presence behind her right shoulder as she gazed at the gravestone, reading over and over again the inscription. Alicia Jayne Spinnet. 15^th February 1978 - 21^st March, 1998. Always loved. Forever in our hearts.

Always. Forever. Katie found herself contemplating the two words, thinking she'd rather have Alicia, in the flesh, flying towards the goalposts with the Quaffle in one hand, or laughing and joking, eating ice-cream straight from the container, or just real, just alive. Her last image of Alicia was of her body, lying on the floor of the living room, the way she'd died so horribly obvious to any witch or wizard in wartime. Always. Forever. Alicia would always be 14, toasting marshmallows on the common room fire. Or 15, jumping up and down and shouting because Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. Or 20, tall and slim, confident the war would end soon. It had ended earlier than she'd expected.

"Katie?" This time, as George slipped his arms around her, she didn't push him away. This time she let herself turn around and bury her face against his chest and cry for Alicia like she hadn't been able to six years ago. It didn't matter that she was crying in front of the others, because Angelina was crying too and so was Lee and even George and Fred were teary eyed. That was what it meant to be friends; you could cry for each other and you could grieve together, and Katie knew that that was what love was, too, and that because they'd always love Alicia she'd be forever in their hearts, and that they'd always have each other, now, and she'd been crazy to risk losing it. And Katie knew that she had George and she had friends and she had a family and that made life worth living, even though horribly awful things happened, like to Alicia. And Katie knew that that was why they'd won the war, because even when things got terrible they still had love, and love was always and forever.

***

George stared at his twin, and then at the baby Fred was holding in his arms. "Wow," he said, feeling like he'd felt when Mum and Dad had brought Ginny home from the hospital all those years ago.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Fred beamed.

George thought he looked just like a baby, really, but felt that wouldn't be the best thing to say. "He is," he said, trying to get over the idea of his brother as a father. George was already an uncle, many times over, but it was different when it was Fred's baby, Fred and Angelina's baby.

"Here you go," said Fred, handing the baby over.

George watched in amazement as baby Samuel blinked at him, and then promptly started to cry. "Oops."

Fred grinned. "Give him back to Angelina."

George carried the baby back over to the bed and deposited him into his mother's arms, whereupon Samuel stopped crying again.

"I can't believe you two are really parents," said Katie in a rather awed voice, reaching out a finger to stroke Samuel's cheek.

"Neither can I," said Angelina, rocking the baby. "But he's really here. Our little boy. You want to hold him, Katie?"

"Of course I do!"

"Pass the baby," grinned Fred, as Katie carefully lifted him up.

George watched her with his nephew, a rather strange feeling settling in his stomach. He realised that he rather liked the idea of Katie with babies. He'd often thought of him and Katie getting married and having kids, but that had always been rather unreal and distant, until the moment she had taken Samuel in her arms.

"You two will be godparents, won't you?" Fred asked.

"Of course," George answered for them both.

Angelina smiled. "There's no one else we'd rather have. It had to be you two."

"That's what friends are for."

***

Katie took another bite of her chocolate cake, remembering the first time she'd been to the Golden Wands with George. They'd left before their food had arrived, and she'd then cried all over him.

It was her birthday, this time, and this meal was going rather better than that one. She didn't feel to need to burst into tears, for one things, and for another things were certainly no longer awkward between her and George.

It was November, so they'd been back together for just under a year. That year had been the best Katie had had since she'd left Hogwarts. Her little flat seemed much brighter, and even work seemed more enjoyable. Sometimes she felt like a teenager again, back at school, except for the fact that they didn't have to sneak into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom if they wanted some privacy. Having a ghost wail and cry at you was not conducive to a romantic atmosphere.

George, having finished the ice-cream sundae he'd insisted on having, had stretched out his spoon intent on stealing some of Katie's cake. She knocked it out of the way with her fork, and, as he reached into his pocket for his wand, shoved the rest of the cake into her mouth.

"Wonder if I can still Summon the cake?" George asked, looking at his wand.

"Don't try," Katie mumbled through her very large mouthful.

"What'd you say, darling? I didn't quite catch that."

"Cheeky." Katie threw her napkin at him, earning them a dirty look from the waiter, who sent it back to Katie's side of the table with a wave of his wand.

"I can't take you anywhere, Katie," George said, in a mock-angry voice.

"'Course you can." Katie grinned at him.

"That's good, because we're going somewhere. Do you want any coffee or anything?"

"Not if we're going somewhere exciting. Where are we going?"

"Wait and see."

They paid the bill, then stepped out into Diagon Alley. It was much less crowded at night, golden lanterns throwing light on the cobbled ground and illuminating the way for the witches or wizards who had business there at night.

"We're Apparating," George told Katie, stopping outside the restaurant.

"I don't like Apparating."

"I know, but there's no other to get there. You'll be fine if you hang onto me, OK?" Without waiting for a response, George stepped in closer to Katie and put his arms around her. "Ready?"

"If I have to be." Katie shut her eyes. She couldn't describe what it was she disliked about Apparating, but George was forever Apparating places. She trusted him; he'd never splinched himself yet.

A moment of complete nothingness, then the popping sound made on arrival. Katie opened her eyes and looked around her.

They were standing on the shore of a lake. The moon was glistening on the tiny waves that had been ruffled up by the cold and the water lapped gently at the pebbly shore. Behind them were trees and a slight slope, around them, hills. The wind was cold and Katie pressed closer to George, gratefully.

couple of times for holidays when we were younger. That's the Coniston Old Man, up there. There's a lovely view from the fells. One day, I'll bring you back in the daylight so you can really see everything."

"It's pretty." Katie had seen pictures of the Lake District, but she'd never been here. It was nice and peaceful and quiet, and the cold didn't bother her, not really.

"Not as pretty as you," George whispered, resting his head against hers.

Katie smiled, concentrating on the feeling of his chest rising and falling with each breath. "I love you, you know that?"

"I was hoping you'd say that." George let go of her.

"Why?"

Her heart seemed simply to stop for a few beats as George got down on one knee in front of her, silhouetted against the lake and the moon.

"Because I love you, too. I love you stupid, crazy amounts, I always have - and, oh, Katie, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she cried. "Of course. Yes. Definitely. Will you get up off the ground so I can give you a hug?"

"I love you, Katie."

"I love you, too."