And Death Shall Have No Dominion . . .

And Death Shall Have No Dominion . . .

Chapter Three - Remus and Tonks

There was no way to prepare for these dreadful days, Hermione knew. When Harry had lost Sirius, Hermione had read everything she could get her hands on about bereavement and grief, but ultimately, only Harry could find his way through the emotional minefield of mourning. Colin Creevey's death had been hard because she had known him. She had seen him on a regular basis in the Gryffindor common room and had routinely sat near him during meals in the Great Hall. Colin had been sweet-natured, excitable, and determined. She would miss him.

Fred's death had hurt so much more for a multitude of reasons. She had known Fred better than she had known Colin; she had stayed in his home, dodged his numerous attempts to trick her, watched him effortlessly play Quidditch, cheered with everyone else when he and George had left Hogwarts - and Umbridge - with a bang, and had seen with her own eyes just how productive he could be in the business world. She had loved Fred like the annoying older brother that he was, but she had pushed her own sadness away when he had died in order to be there for Ron. The loss of Fred Weasley would eternally affect those who had cared about him. His larger than life persona would not allow anything less.

The shocking and unpredictable deaths of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were not as horrendous to Hermione as Fred's death had been, but they were still appalling. Hermione had known Lupin as a favourite teacher and Tonks as a funny and animated member of the Order, but the worst part of their deaths was that they had left their child parentless and alone. Teddy Lupin would never know his parents, he would never get to experience what Hermione had taken for granted during her youth - the love that only a parent can give.

Hermione grieved for Teddy more than anyone else. His life, like Harry's and Neville's, would be irrevocably harmed by the loss of his mother and father. Hermione would never forget how Harry had reacted when he had visited the graves of Lily and James Potter for the first time; the poignancy of that moment had impressed upon Hermione just how much their son had been injured by their absence. Hermione Granger planned to dedicate her life to helping others remember those whom she could never forget.

*

Ron felt confused as the service for Lupin and Tonks came to a close. He had believed that he had known Lupin pretty well, had even implicitly trusted his judgment when he was younger, but all of that had changed a few months ago. Ron had seen the man alter from someone he had thought was strong and dependable into someone capable of abandoning not only his wife, but his newly conceived son, too. Ron knew all too well about making impulsively bad decisions, but he would have never assumed that Remus would voluntarily discard his family - werewolf or not. Ron himself had made a similar mistake, but had regretted it the second he'd made it - he knew he could be thickheaded sometimes, but at least he had known that he had been wrong without having to be told.

Ron had mixed feelings about Tonks, as well. During his fifth year, she had seemed vibrant and even comedic, but during his sixth year she had become depressed and withdrawn, a shell of her former self. He wondered just what had happened between Lupin and his wife. Had he really cared about her or had Remus just been lonely and looking for companionship? Tonks had appeared to truly love her husband, but had their relationship been as solid as the one Ron was used to seeing between his own mum and dad? Deep down, Ron felt that they probably did love each other, but there was no means of measuring such things now. Either way, they had left an important legacy behind, a legacy that couldn't be disregarded.

Ron found himself staring at the tiny blue-haired figure of Teddy Lupin as he sat in his grandmother's embrace. Ron knew that Harry had been named as Teddy's godfather, and he wondered if Harry would spend time with Teddy like Sirius had wanted to do with him. Ron reckoned so. Harry Potter wasn't the sort of man to renege on his obligations, no matter what they might be. Andromeda seemed like she would be a much kinder guardian than Harry's aunt and uncle had been and that could only be a good thing. Ron hoped that Teddy's family would help him remember the parents that Teddy should never forget.

*

Wispy clouds floated over the proceedings as Harry solemnly watched his dad's best friend being interred next to his young wife. He wondered somewhat morbidly about the colour of Tonks's hair as she had been buried. Had it been the same shade of violet that he had first seen her with or the bubblegum pink she usually sported? Had it been tinted blue like her son's? The thought made Harry crack a small grin, which promptly twisted into a frown. What was the matter with him? Why was he thinking of hair at a time like this? Why did funerals tend to bring the stupidest memories to the forefront of his mind? It was embarrassing, even though nobody knew about it except him.

There was something strangely definitive about this particular memorial service. Perhaps it was because this one would likely be the final war-related burial he and his friends would attend. Perhaps it was because it involved the last of his father's friends - the last marauder. Perhaps it was because it included Remus Lupin, one of the few parental figures Harry had had left. Harry didn't honestly know the answer, but he had felt more shaken by this funeral than he wanted to admit. It was hard to sever the only remaining connection to his parents that he had had.

Harry took a deep breath as he tried to fend off the unsettling feelings that were rising within him. The aroma of lake water and grass met his nostrils, and Harry peered down the row of marble tombs. All of those who had fought and died during the Battle of Hogwarts were being laid to rest here, and Harry's thoughts drifted as he stared unseeingly at the foot of Dumbledore's grave. Harry himself had sealed the crack Riddle had desecrated it with, and several marble slabs were now adjacent to it, decorating the lawn of Hogwarts castle; these people had doggedly stood for what was right, rather than what was easy. Harry looked back at the site of Remus's tomb and remembered that Lupin's life had never been easy. Remus had spent the largest part of it hating who he was and how he was perceived. Remus had never evinced that same amount of forthrightness that James or Sirius had, but in the end, he had made the right decision. Harry had once condemned Lupin for some of his more questionable choices, and now it was difficult not to feel guilty for what had been said in the heat of the moment.

Harry glanced over at Teddy Lupin as he lay sleeping peacefully in a bassinet next to his grandmother. His bright hair again reminded Harry of Tonks, and Harry thought of his responsibilities as Teddy's godfather. Was he up for the task? It was a bit scary when he really allowed himself to think about it. Still, he knew that he would do anything to keep Teddy from growing up like he had. Harry swore to himself that Teddy Lupin would know that people cared about what happened to him; Teddy would never be as mistreated or as neglected as he had been.

As Harry regarded his godson he began to feel an odd twinge swelling in his chest like a fist that was trying desperately to get out. He cleared his throat as if that would help, but it only caused Ginny to eye him pensively. Ginny had been through so much during the past few days, and Harry felt obligated to shield her from any additional pain. He turned away from her, much like he had over a year before, and attempted to focus on happier thoughts. He and Ginny had gone a long way toward mending their relationship, and Harry didn't want to ruin it now. He recalled their conversation from the previous afternoon, hoping it would chase away the hollowness in his heart.

"Are you going to be okay?" Harry had asked when Ginny was able to bring her weeping back under control.

"I think so," she had whispered, sounding like a little girl. Harry had rubbed her back in soothing circles as she wiped her watery brown eyes. "Thank you, Harry."

"For what?"

"For being here for me. For not shying away, even though things aren't what they used to be," Ginny had answered. Her reply had frightened Harry slightly, and he had remained silent for a while as he tried to pluck up the nerve to speak once more.

"Do . . ." Harry had started, "do you think things can go back? To what they were before, I mean?"

"Before you vanished into thin air knowing that you might die doing what you needed to do?" Ginny had supplied.

"Er . . . yeah. I suppose so."

"I don't know."

"What don't you know?" Harry had inquired. He was feeling so nervous that his stomach was churning and his pulse was pounding in an unpleasantly fast rhythm.

"I don't know that I want to go back. In fact, I think it's best if we don't." Harry had straightened so he could look down into her face. He had searched her eyes with a certain urgency, terrified that she was rejecting the prospect of a future with him.

"What do you mean, Ginny?"

"I want to go forward, Harry. I'm tired of looking backwards. All I've done over the past several months is try to stay busy as one worry after another bounced all over my brain. It's been horrible if you want to know the truth - not knowing whether you were alive or dead, not knowing if you were making any progress or if you were suffering at Voldemort's or someone else's hands. I'm sick of being left out, Harry. Can you understand that?"

"I understand," Harry had replied softly. "I never meant to leave you out."

"Yes, you did," Ginny had contradicted him. "You meant for me to be safe, but that also meant that I was going to be shunted aside whenever things got a little more dangerous. Things were dangerous here too, you know. Things were bloody terrible at times," Ginny had said, her eyes going unfocused.

"I . . . Neville mentioned . . . I was furious when I realized that you might have been hurt anyway, Ginny." Harry had attempted to explain. "Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it." Harry had been gazing at George when he had said this, and tears rose in Ginny's eyes yet again.

"It was worth it, Harry," she had insisted, her voice saturated with emotion. "It has to be worth it." Harry blinked and looked at his shoes.

"I . . . I missed you," Harry had eventually confessed in a faint voice. Ginny had merely nodded her head, but as she squeezed him into a fierce hug, Harry could tell that she had missed him, too.

Harry grabbed the sides of his chair so viciously that his knuckles felt like they were going to split open from the pressure, but the lump in his chest continued to burn like it was on fire. Remus and Tonks were gone. They had been taken just like his parents, Cedric, and Sirius had been taken. They had died to help him just like Dumbledore, Moody, Dobby, Colin, Fred, and countless others had - even Hedwig was gone now. Harry could picture them all, regretted the violent manner in which each of them had been killed. Harry clamped his eyes shut to keep from betraying himself, but Ginny wasn't fooled. As she draped her arms around his shoulders from behind, Harry felt the first tears he had shed since the war had ended slide hotly down his face. Harry Potter would always remember those who had been lost; the lives they had led made them impossible to forget.

*

Ginny regarded Harry carefully as he sat beside her, clearing his throat and looking wretched. She could tell from his rigid posture that he was having a difficult time with Remus and Tonks's funeral. Ginny, for her own part, felt cried out. She had wept for so long last night that today she felt more numb than anything else. She wasn't trying to be disrespectful or callous, but yesterday had left her feeling as wrung out as an old sponge and she didn't think she had it in her to grieve anymore.

Ginny had cared a great deal about Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks; Lupin had been the best teacher she had ever had, barring Harry, and Tonks had manifested the kind of spunkiness that Ginny herself aspired to. She recognized the fact that Harry felt a lot more connected to them than she did, however. Hermione had mentioned that Remus had named Harry as Teddy's godfather, and considering how seriously Harry took such matters, Ginny was sure that this was weighing on him fairly heavily today.

Harry had been so wonderful after her brother's service. He had soothed and calmed her, listening when she needed to talk and holding her soundlessly when she needed quiet comfort. Ginny saw Harry surveying the various tombs that lay before them and noticed how dejected and haunted his green eyes were becoming. Harry's eyes were by far his most expressive feature; whatever might be hidden in his face could always be found in the fathomlessness of his eyes. Abruptly, Harry grimaced, drawing his brows down in a severe line, and Ginny could clearly make out his scar peeking from beneath his black mass of hair.

As quickly as the look had come it was gone, but Ginny could appreciate that Harry's veneer of tranquility was about to shatter. To make things easier for him, Ginny decided to take him away from the crowd. She glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw them peer at her with expressions of sympathy and compassion. She positioned herself behind Harry, stretching her arms around him as she pressed her mouth close to his left ear.

"Would you like to take a walk?" she whispered, and Harry's body suddenly quaked sharply against hers.

"Y-yes," he gasped audibly as the first unbidden sob escaped, covering his face with his hands. Slowly and gingerly, Ginny moved to pull Harry to his feet. Wrapping one arm around his back, Ginny led Harry blindly off toward the lake, treading carefully so that he wouldn't stumble. For some reason she was reminded of the night when she had guided Harry away from Dumbledore's ruined body, and she nearly stumbled herself at the power of the memory. They had only taken a few steps when Harry lost his composure entirely, and he wept bitterly where he stood in the circle of Ginny's arms.

Ginny had very rarely seen Harry cry; this reaction from him, although not utterly unexpected, was heart-wrenching. It was as if he had been holding every wounding image, every emotion at bay, and now that it was pouring out, he couldn't stop it. Ginny had thought that she was beyond feeling anything, but she was wrong. Seeing Harry's agonized sorrow made tears spring into her own eyes, and she drew him in as close to her as she could, wanting to ease the anguish he was feeling. She spoke tender words to him as memories from the past filled her mind.

She could see Harry as a scrawny eleven-year-old boy, trying to get onto a train platform. She remembered Harry as a bloody mess as he sat before her and the slain basilisk, telling her that everything was going to be all right. She recalled Harry fainting on the Hogwarts Express when that ghastly dementor had entered their compartment. She could picture Harry emerging from out of nowhere in front of the maze, Cedric Diggory's body lifeless beside his. She remembered the terror in Harry's face when he had heard Moody say that he was being possessed by Voldemort, how Harry had told her he needed to speak to Sirius, and his enraged expression as he had chased Bellatrix Lestrange down directly after Sirius had been killed. She could recollect laughing and joking with him at Fleur's expense, playing two-aside Quidditch with him, and sitting with him in Slughorn's train car. She could see the jealous look on his face when he and Ron had walked in on her and Dean, see him treating her differently, and see herself realizing that Harry was showing interest, actual genuine interest in her. She relived their first kiss in front of the whole common room, their many happy hours by the lake after that, and their passionate but interrupted birthday kiss in her bedroom. At that moment, Ginny realized just how much she loved Harry - had always loved Harry - and the words tumbled from her lips along with her words of solace.

After enough time had passed, Harry managed to settle down, gazing at her unsteadily with red-rimmed eyes. It took a few moments before he was able to speak, but when he did he spoke with the deepest conviction. He repeated those three magical words back to her, thanked her earnestly for waiting for him, and vowed that she would never have to wait for him again. Although the pain of mourning had not yet departed, would not completely depart for quite some time to come, they smiled softly at each other nonetheless. They both stood there, remembering vividly how much it had taken for each of them to reach this point, and promised one another with actions instead of words to never, ever forget.

*****