Aftermath

Danger at Dusk

"Hello Auntie," said the sallow young man standing at the window of the dilapidated shack at the sound of a "pop" from within. The tall, gaunt woman who had just Apparated in, scoffed, "Don't you dare "Auntie" me, why weren't you at the meeting?" Her voice was shrieking, sliding between hysterical and childlike, but her tone was harsh, she was angry. Her nephew made no attempt to deceive, "I decided, in light of recent events that it was a rather tedious waste of my time. The Dark Lord is dead, accept it."

Somewhere behind him he was aware of her snatching something from a table and throwing it at him. It whizzed by before slamming into the wall and tumbling to the floor, an old book. He rolled his eyes.

"You ungrateful little bastard, after all that I have done to keep you alive, after all that my sister sacrificed to spare you the punishment you deserve, after all that has..." she began heatedly. He cut her off.

"Yes, yes, after all that has happened, how could I be so obtuse, so gullible, so worthless as to think that when the Dark Lord is dead, the war is over... unless you haven't noticed, it is."

He turned to face her for the first time since her arrival and found the pallid dark-haired woman with the cold grey eyes staring angrily at him. She looked every bit the witch of those Muggle Halloweens.

"The "Wizarding world" has been celebrating for weeks now. The Ministry of Magic has announced a holiday on the day your "Dark Lord" was killed by Potter, their hero. Potter himself has gone into hiding with that Mudblood someone failed to kill in the graveyard when they got Weasel. Doesn't it look to the rest of you like it's over, you lost, time to go home or run away before they kill you? There are Auror patrols every day now and the curfew is still up, but that means nothing because a few have already begun breaking it. What is the point of a meeting to discuss a new strategy when we know that tomorrow more of you are going to be captured and posted to Azkaban? They've already got Snape and everyone knows he was hard to catch, whoever's next, I don't want it to be me."

The woman was furious.

She stood glaring at him throughout the speech and when he was finished and had calmly returned to the window to look out at the black cover of the night, she said, "I didn't kill that Weasley boy, so the person who "failed to kill" the Mudblood was you!"

He snorted.

"I didn't kill him either, I found him dead and stunned the Mudblood, Potter was coming and looking fierce, I had no plans of dying that morning after surviving the night before."

"You coward, you should have died then! My sister had just sacrificed herself for you... to spare you..." she began ranting again but he tuned her out.

He did not need to be reminded of that incident.

His father had been deceived, told that Voldemort merely wanted to "see" his son to "hear" his side of the story of a botched ambush. He knew full well that he would be killed if he went, that his explanation of, "I recognised them, they're on our side," would not save him or Pansy and her family.

His mother must have known this too, for she tried to warn his father, but he did not listen. He said that he would understand, that he would give him another chance and that all would be well. But he had given him another chance before; this was the end of it. In the end his mother formulated the excuse that kept him away while she went to attempt deception on Voldemort.

He killed them both.

So no, he had not forgotten, he would not forget, but he would not die for a cause he had come to realise he did not truly believe in anymore. He would not die for some half-blood madman when he could have been living free now.

Granted, it would be with grudging thanks to Potter, but at least he would not be hiding in a grimy old shack with her, in the seediest part of Knockturn Alley instead of the finery he was used to at Malfoy Manor.

In reality, he bore no animosity to his aunt. She may have been slightly insane due to years at Azkaban prison under the Dementors, but she was still his aunt and he did not really know her. Since he had gotten to know her though, he had come to find that riling her up was a wonderful idea. The fact that she had sworn to her dying sister to protect him, and made the mistake of letting that slip in a rant once, did not help her any either.

Suddenly, her voice came sharply at him, "Were you listening?"

Again, he did not try to lie to her, "No."

She gave a scream of frustration behind him and he bit back the urge to comment on it. Instead, he waited for her to calm again before asking, and with an exaggerated sigh at that, "So... what did you all discuss at this "meeting" tonight?"

"Oh ho, so you want to know now do you?" she demanded.

"Yes, I want to know and do be quick about it, I have a feeling I might have to refuse and after I've done that I would like to get some tea."

In the glass of the window he made out a thin, sickly smile on her face, "Oh no, my dear nephew, this is one plan you won't refuse."

He was almost afraid of what she was to say next.

*****

Harry Potter was angry.

No, he was not angry, angry was too mild. He was... he was... he was absolutely livid, completely irate, positively fuming and if he did not find a way to release it soon something was going to explode.

He could not believe it. He would not believe it, or them. How dare they? How dare they even for the slightest moment think that he could find sitting around the Burrow when there was still a fight going on relaxing? How dare they think that they knew what was best for him anymore? How dare they try to imprison him here when it already hurt him to stay? And how could they dare to patronise him again? He had had enough of that at school under Dumbledore.

All he had wanted that morning was something to do. They probably would not be hunting Death Eaters for the rest of their lives, and if that was the case, then so be it. Ron's funeral had been a week ago and even though it would pain them, he could not stay at the Burrow "recuperating" anymore.

He was finally seeing what Hermione had already seen; as usual she left him to play catch up.

Waking up in the mornings was hard. For a few fleeting seconds he expected to hear some snappy comment of Ron's or be woken by him yawning or just hear him snoring nearby. Then reality would set in and the fact that he would never hear those things again would hit him and off he would go for breakfast.

Bill and Fleur had their own home and Bill would be gone off to work, but Fleur, who was heavily pregnant, would be there. Charlie was helping the Order and therefore not there. Fred and George would be at their shop, rarely stopping by the house anymore in fact. Ginny was finally graduated from Hogwarts and therefore home, but Harry was not in any mood, form or fashion, prepared to restart any relationship with her. Hermione would be awake, but she did not go down to breakfast until she saw him emerge from the bedroom, as if to make sure that he was still there. And Mrs Weasley would be down there making breakfast for them as enthusiastically as she could manage.

Sitting there with Fleur, Ginny, Hermione and Mrs Weasley, he often sarcastically thought of them as one big, happy Weasley family. The perfect little family, they were, full of warm breakfast, smiles, hugs and love, and missing three members in the worst way.

And the rest of the day would be spent this way too.

After breakfast they often went their separate ways, but never away from the Burrow unless it was important because it was too dangerous for Harry or Hermione.

Though he was worried for Mrs Weasley, for she seemed to be throwing herself into making him happy and treating so very well, he did not care what she or Fleur did after breakfast, lunch or dinner.

He would spend that time with Hermione, deciding now that they would wander off together, while she read and he played Wizard's chess with Ginny; or just outside in the grass where he would have a few uncomfortable conversations with Ginny, attempting to regain some normalcy, and Hermione wrote a letter to her worried parents assuring them that she was safe but could not come home for their safety; or just sitting on the floor of Ron's room, with Hermione's head in his lap while she slept and he stared out of the window bored out of his mind. All wandering was now confined to his head.

This had to stop.

During those times he had had enough time to think about their recurrent question. It had extended to the point of invading his dreams, filling them with claustrophobia as he was locked in a small room and hundreds of voices demanded an answer to the same question. He had never in his wildest dreams thought that staying at the Burrow would ever feel like this. For now it felt like someone had made a mistake somewhere and that he should be dead and mourned and Ron here living the life he was supposed to.

So it was why he had finally gone down to breakfast that morning before the others and managed to catch Mrs Weasley having a discussion with Charlie, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and Mad Eye Moody.

Tonks had seen him first, and gave her characteristic greeting, "Wotcher Harry!"

She was smiling as bright as ever, possibly happy to be "engaged" to Lupin as it was, and her hair this morning was a brilliant green accentuated by the light in the window behind her, the kind he had last seen in the jello Dudley so loved. Of course, Dudley had also loved everything that was edible, and he doubted that she was... well, except to Lupin.

He forced that image out of his head and cursed his imagination.

Lupin and Mad Eye looked up after that with Mrs Weasley and Charlie.

He replied quietly, "Hi."

Tonks failed to notice the rest of the room had yet to respond to this, and continued, "What're you doing up this early?"

"Nothing, actually, I wanted to talk to all of you," he said, deciding that pointless small talk was unnecessary at the moment.

Finally, someone else spoke, this time Lupin. "Oh, what did you want to talk about?"

Harry stepped into the kitchen to find that his one-time Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had a bit more colour than usual. The war effort seemed to be going better than usual, or maybe it was his relationship with Tonks that was doing him some good, but there were still a lot of grey hairs invading his dark brown. Mad-Eye Moody looked as, well, mad as ever, and Charlie and Mrs Weasley were rather silent. Perfect, a captive audience, and they seemed to have been expecting this conversation. It grated on his nerves.

"Well you see, I've been thinking about going back out there to help you," he began and was pleased to find that his voice was steady and stating rather than requesting.

"Bellatrix and Draco are still free, there are other less dangerous Death Eaters and their helpers running about too, and I want to help you stop them. Hermione needs to see her parents, but it's not safe for them. My being here could draw trouble here if anyone ever found out, and I can't sit around waiting for them to either. I want to help the Order again."

For a full five minutes after he finished speaking the room was silent. Even though they seemed to be taking the time to think this over amongst themselves, it was not good. When Lupin cleared his throat eventually, and began in careful speech, he knew that they were refusing him.

"Harry... Harry, you're eighteen years old, barely nineteen, and you've been through more than any of us could imagine since you were a year old. And despite this, you are a good person, you saved us all and we are grateful. But we believe that the time has come that you just, lived. You are living now, we know this, but we want you to live, play Quidditch, see your friends, go to a party if you want, your fight has ended, we will deal with the rest."

With a sense of irony he realised that weeks before they had had this same "conversation" while he was at St Mungo's. Then they had used different words but it was the same thing, they still wanted him out of it.

He knew that he should be happy about it, but his anger was building. Immature, hormonal retorts and protests were quickly forming in his mind but he restrained them. There was nothing to say to change their minds, and so he decided not to.

Without a word to any of them, he turned around and went back up the stairs to his room.

He barely heard Mrs Weasley call his name as he went.

And that had been hours ago. He had not even gone down for breakfast.

Now, pacing his room in irritation, becoming increasingly incensed as the moments passed, he sorted through a flurry of thoughts in his head for something decidedly childish to do in reply. If they were going to treat him like a child, he would just plainly act like one.

And he made a point of ignoring that little Hermione-voice harshly scolding him for this regression in behaviour. The real Hermione was for some reason sleeping late this morning and therefore not there to do it in person.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He wondered who it was; he had locked it for a reason after all.

Not bothering to answer, he continued to pace until Ginny's voice came from behind, "Open the door Harry, I want to talk to you."

He was not in the mood for this now. He walked to the door anyway and pulled it open only a bit, just enough to see her face and demand, "What?"

"Don't give me that tone I..." she began to retort.

"Listen, I don't want to talk right now, I don't have time for this, and frankly I've had enough of talking!" he snapped.

"Well, you're going to talk to me!" she said and pushed past him into the room.

Whatever happened to the shy girl who wouldn't talk or the one who understood him perfectly at Dumbledore's funeral?

He turned on her the moment the door was closed. She was standing there glaring at him, nostrils flaring slightly and red hair almost bristling as she demanded; "Now I don't know what you're up here moping about, but whatever that lot told you this morning is no reason to do it!"

"You're right, you don't know, you never knew a lot of things and what they told me is none of your business now! What they told me gives me the right to be up here, and for that matter, I was not moping!" He delivered the last bit through clenched teeth and glowering at her.

She did not move, she never did back down from arguing with him. Instead she shot heatedly, "Then tell me what it is! Maybe I can help, all we want to do is help you!"

He laughed.

"You can't help me!" he shot back, "Whatever use you think you could be to me, you're not, so go away Ginny!"

She would not, but came at him from a different angle now, "You're not the only one who misses him you know, he was my brother!"

"This has nothing to do with Ron!" he replied, not even believing that she had gone there, "Just leave it alone Ginny, go away!"

Finally, she threw off all reasons she could come up with and said, softly now, "Harry... Harry talk to me... why won't you? You've come back and all you're doing is avoiding me. What have I done? What have we done to you that you don't even like being in the same room with me?"

"Don't pretend that you know anything about offering emotional support," he said dangerously, "you'll just embarrass yourself."

She looked stunned, but he did not stick around for the rant that was surely coming, he turned his back to her and then Disapparated.

When Harry finally reappeared at the Burrow it was late in the afternoon.

He had not really intended on leaving it altogether but somehow or the other he had Apparated to Hogsmeade. Their beloved, now slightly vacant, misted over, Auror-patrolled Hogsmeade with Hogwarts castle on the hill overlooking them. And that meant that it was his first time out of the Burrow in days which gave him the opportunity to stretch his legs in long forgotten surroundings while he thought.

And that meant that he came across his familiar haunts, like The Three Broomsticks, Hermione's beloved Scrivenshaft's, Zonko's Joke Shop, which was still closed but the twins were thinking about buying, Madam Puddifoot's, the site of his disastrous first date with Cho, the Shrieking Shack, and Honeyduke's.

And somehow or the other, that led him to The Hog's Head.

That trip to The Hog's Head had not taken long; it was the last place he had visited. He had not intended on going in, better judgement reminded him that he would be seen, identified and then the next day the Daily Prophet or some other rag would be running the headline, "Harry Potter Down's 'Em at The Hog's Head!" complete with a manufactured photograph of him in a drunken stupor. But he ignored it and went away.

Moments later he was out again with three bottles of firewhiskey stored away in his jeans pocket, as he had not come with robes and Disapparated to the Burrow.

The very minute he Apparated into the front yard, he was assaulted by a near hysterical Hermione who babbled with frightened, tear filled eyes, "Harry! Where were you? I woke up and you weren't here! Ginny said that you argued with her and then you left. Why did you do that? It's not safe Harry, isn't that the reason I can't go home, how could you forget that?"

She was both angry and relieved and all he could do was smile at her.

After a few minutes of him doing it too, Hermione stopped her ramblings, which had extended to checking him for any spell damage, when she felt the bottles in his pocket and drew them out with a shocked expression on her face.

She stared at the bottle and then at him, and back at forth for a while before asking, "H-Harry, is this... is this firewhiskey?"

"Well, actually, it is. I went to Hogsmeade you see, and after walking about a bit, seeing all the old places- it was a bit deserted- I went to the Hog's Head and got us some," he explained, still with the smile on his face.

She was not amused.

"Harry... the Hog's Head... you could have been seen, don't you remember Fifth Year?" she began to protest.

That cut the smile from his face.

"Yes I remember Fifth Year," he told her quietly and she blanched a bit, "but I don't care, it's not like if I can leave the Burrow now is it?"

She was now completely confused.

In the fading light of the sun, she furrowed her brow and looked up at him for explanation while the light played glints of honey-gold in her eyes.

Choosing not to though, Harry simply took her arm and led her away from the house, ignoring Ginny looking at him from the doorway, and round the back to the broom shed Professor Dumbledore had Apparated him into before Sixth Year.

He shook his head a bit, trying vainly to push those thoughts away; he did not want to remember that either.

With the door closed behind them in cobweb-filled shed (another thought of Ron crossed his mind) he turned to her and said, "How large do you think the glasses should be?"

"What?" asked Hermione, now even more, if it were possible, perplexed.

Disregarding her reply, he drew his wand and cast "Engorgio!" on the interior of the shed and the insides magically expanded for them. He then conjured a blanket for them to sit on, two medium sized glasses for their drinks and then enlarged the bottles and set them down. Looking around a bit to ensure that everything was right, he sat down on the blanket and then turned up to her with a smile and patted a space beside him for her to sit.

She just stared at him shocked.

It did not last long though, for she soon sputtered, "W-what? I-if you t-think that I... that I am... that I would... you're insane!"

He reached up and pulled her down unto the blanket and thrust a glass into her hand.

"No, just tired."

He said this with more weariness in his voice than he had intended and chose to distract himself from it by pouring them both some of the warm alcohol. He could feel her eyes on him all the while.

"Of what?" she asked meekly, he knew she would.

"Of trying to answer your question," he told her simply.

She was confused again for only a moment before realisation hit her and she began to protest, "But Harry I never meant that..."

"No, just let it go... cheers!" he told her and raised the glass in salute before bringing it to his lips and swallowing some.

He instantly sputtered it out.

"Ah... too warm," he said, eyes watering while his throat burned, and then chilled it before trying it again.

Hermione silently stared at him a while before drawing her own wand, chilling her glass and then drinking it too.

*****

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea.

Even though first time drinkers, they had already consumed the first bottle and were into the second, laughing foolishly at nothing and with the beginnings of slurred speech, having the time of their lives.

And then it happened.

It was just an accident really. Hermione had suddenly jumped unto him to give him a peck on the cheek for some nonsense he had said, he was not really sure, but he had moved his head (and how cliché was that) and it ended on his lips.

She was startled by this, not yet drunk enough not to blush, but his reaction probably startled her even more.

Instead of pulling away in horror, as she had no doubt been planning to do, Harry pulled her closer and kissed her back. And this was no accident.

And then suddenly she must have forgotten the embarrassment because she was kissing him again. And this time it was filled with all the emotions pent up in her. And they flowed ever so easily to him when he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.

Soon she was straddling him and his hands were clawing at her back and her collar, uncomfortably pulling her shirt up in the front to her throat while her hands found their way into his hair. When she gasped at one point, almost being choked, he lifted her up against him and laid them both down unto the blanket and without once breaking the kiss.

Now that they were lying down though, he found that he did not like the way their clothes seemed restrictive and he knew that this was a bad idea.

But he could not stop himself.

The sound of her ragged breathing, the slightly saline taste of her skin, her hands now climbing his chest under his shirt, the moan she gave when he reached her neck... was undoing him slowly. It would soon take all his strength to stop this from going further.

Into the fading light of dusk, something had gone wrong. They forgot that they had been "just friends" for seven years now. They forgot that they had just lost their best friend no more than four weeks before. Or maybe they had not forgotten and were trying to forget. They forgot that they were at his house, with his family and he was not there with them.

Not that they would have wanted him here, now, with them while they were... well, doing whatever it is that this was.

Hadn't they just been talking about something? If he recalled correctly, hadn't it involved what she wanted? She had said something about "Wanting nothing and having everything she already needed?" And what did he say? How had they gotten to this point where she had pre-empted the clothes idea and was pulling at his jumper. Oh gods this had to stop, no matter how much he wanted to, this had to stop.

Thankfully though, something else stopped them for him.

It was soft at first, as if from far away, the popping sound of Apparition as someone unknown arrived at the Burrow. It was not enough to entirely tear his mind away from the fact that she was not stopping him from almost ripping away the buttons of her shirt though. But the louder, closer, following "pops" did.

He drew away from her neck and looked up, squinting in the dim light of the shed as she had at some point removed his glasses, and told her, "Shh!" when she looked up at him puzzled.

A few more had Apparated in then and he was very sure that they were not Weasleys or Order members either. Those voices sounded... sinister.

He was quickly sober.

Rising off the floor and lifting her with him, he found his wand and she handed him his glasses. She came into focus looking frightened, but mussed and with swollen lips. Strangely, he was rather pleased at this, but the sound of a definitely unfamiliar voice sharply hissing without, "They're all inside, move quickly but quietly, remember she wants Potter!"

He moved at once, drawing Hermione behind him and walked to the door, taking care to avoid the bottles and glasses at their feet. He listened for the sound of them, making sure that they were gone, before he carefully opened the door and peered out at the Burrow.

The sight that greeted him was of a group of Death Eaters, of no more than twelve, all in masks and black robes, marching towards the house. The lights were still off within; someone must have seen them for he seriously doubted the women would really be sitting in the dark. As if to confirm this, what was surely the ghoul in the attic began to raise an unholy din.

The element of surprise, for them at least, was lost.

Some of the group stopped, one ripped off his mask and Hermione took in a breath behind him. In the front was none other than one Draco Malfoy.

He would recognise that white blond-haired wanker anywhere.

He rushed out of the shed behind them, not really thinking about it, and shouted "STUPEFY!" and dropped him first.

When Draco fell the others split up.

Some headed to the house where Ginny had appeared in a window and was now rushing back into the darkness, while the rest turned on him and Hermione ready to fight. Harry was more than happy to engage them.

Two came at him at once while the others took off after Hermione who took off towards the orchard round the back of the house. One of them suddenly Disapparated before her, but this was something that had happened once too many times in the war to faze her much. She almost immediately stunned him.

The ones on Harry immediately attempted the Killing Curse but he dodged them and said, and rather haughtily so that he scared himself, "Don't you learn, your master tried that once and look what happened to him!" before casting, "Petrificus Totalus!" on the first and stunning the other.

Vaguely, he was aware of a patronus rushing out of the house before a scream that sounded rather much like one he had heard somewhere echoed into the darkening evening. And today the sunset was anything but bright, it was simply blue.

Hermione suddenly called, "Fleur!" and he knew where he had heard that scream. It was at the Triwizard Tournament in Fourth Year just as Viktor Krum, under the Imperius Curse, stunned her. It was worse now to know that they had stunned her and she was pregnant...

Hermione raced on to the house and he attempted to give her cover.

Then someone shouted a curse that he knew only too well. It was not an Unforgivable, but to him it just as bad, "Sectusempra!"

A truly, blood-curdling scream came from the house and he forgot all about the Death Eaters he had been fighting with as he raced after Hermione.

He could hear the remnants of the battle that ensued as he approached, and cursed himself for not Apparating in to warn them. By the time he got there though, Hermione was screaming too, and he begged every deity known to man that it not be Fleur they had attacked. He shook like a leaf in the wind as he uttered "Lumos" and his wand lit up.

Fleur was on the floor in the kitchen, looking slightly like a beached whale, eyes shut but thankfully with not a trace of blood in sight. Mrs Weasley was nearby, and apparently had been trying to protect her daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild when she had been attacked too. But Ginny... pretty little Ginny, with her flaming red hair and bright brown eyes, lay in the middle of the living room.

There was blood everywhere, soaking through her clothes and into the carpet beneath her, mixing into her hair and coming out of her mouth. She was bleeding from many deep cuts in her arms, legs and one at her throat, almost as if she had been locked in an Iron Maiden and then suddenly set free.

The gurgling sounds she made and the blood that still flowed meant that she was still alive, but if they did not help her soon, she would die. But there were still Death Eaters round the house and he had no real hope of fighting them off alone no matter that he had stopped Voldemort. The longer he stayed here too; he ran the risk of drawing more of them.

Acting quickly, he did the only thing that came to mind. He cast a freezing charm over her body, which cooled her blood and slowed the flow. Then he shot off his patronus, wondering how he managed to find a happy memory then, along with a flurry of red sparks, and then snatched Hermione, who was now crying hysterically, trying to help Ginny, and Disapparated.