White Chrysanthemums

Chapter 1: Memorial

There is no end of it, the voiceless wailing,

No end to the withering of withered flowers

To the movement of pain that is painless and motionless,

To the drift of the sea and the drifting wreckage,

The bone's prayer to Death its God.

-T.S. Eliot

***

It was ten in the morning and the Boy Who Lived had an immense headache. This was not because he had been drinking - he was a teetotaler - and people weren't really trying to put him under stress. Really.

But under stress he was.

The day was April 13^th. Sometimes Harry wished he wasn't a teetotaler.

"Ready, yet, Gin?" he called out, his hand on the doorknob.

"Almost," she said, in that flat, toneless voice that she had adopted of late.

Harry groaned, and checked himself again. Fly zipped. House keys, wallet, and wand in pockets. Tie immaculate. Tiepin irreproachably placed. Jacket over arm. Hair over scar. Ohshitwait -

"I've got the flowers," said Ginny, appearing from the bedroom, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums. She was in a short, black silk dress, her freckled arms pale and bared. Her red hair had been put up in a tight bun that reminded Harry of McGonagall's customary hairstyle. McGonagall ... He shook off the memories.

"I hope we're not late," said Harry.

"You don't care about being late," said Ginny, in that horrible flat voice.

No. He didn't. He wanted to be late. It was just that no one would understand. Except maybe Luna, or Ginny. But Luna was a minority of one. And as for Ginny ...

"You alright?" he asked, glancing at her worriedly.

"No," said Ginny. "Let's go."

Her heels clicked against the concrete of the pavement outside as she made her way to Harry's car. Where they were going, they couldn't Apparate.

Where they were going, it was disrespectful to Apparate.

Harry got into the passenger side, and Ginny turned on the engine. Soon they were zooming down the road, dodging traffic in a way that bordered on the illegal. Ginny was a great driver.

About ten minutes later, they were driving on the highway. Harry wanted to die. His headache had gotten worse, and his scar was prickling the way it always did on this day. He was not the kind of person to be carsick - just try riding on a broom - but he was nervous to begin with, and that, coupled with the swerving of the car, was making him feel ill.

"We won't be late," said Ginny softly, turning the wheel with amazing precision. "We're never late."

"No," Harry mumbled. "Of course not." He sighed, and looked out the window. "How much longer before we're there?"

"Forty minutes," said Ginny.

Two more minutes inched past in silence. Then Harry said to the window, "What's the matter, Gin?"

"Later," said Ginny. "This isn't the time to talk."

"I just want to know," said Harry. "I just -"

"I know you do!" Ginny spat, all of a sudden bursting from cold mist to brilliant wildfire. "I know you want to know! I know that you've finally noticed that not everything is absolutely, wonderfully perfect with Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter!" She veered left.

"OH MY GOD, WATCH OUT--" Screech.

"And I know what I'm doing!" Ginny continued, still raging. "I know exactly what I'm doing! It's you who doesn't know - the problem's with you, not with me!"

Screech. Cars began to honk behind them.

"GIN, I THINK YOU SHOULD -"

"Fuck you, Harry," she said. "I can drive. You're the one who doesn't ever remember to flip on the indicator -" Screech.

"GIN, JUST FUCKING STAY IN THIS LANE, PLEASE -"

Screech. "Shut up," said Ginny. But she stayed in that lane, much to Harry's relief. She was a great driver, yes, but she was also unnervingly reckless.

Thirty more minutes until they got there. Harry wished he was back home, in the flat. But then again, he'd be home with Ginny. He wasn't sure if he wanted that.

That was when Ginny took one hand off the steering wheel and popped in a CD. An ominous guitar riff began to play.

"Er ... Gin ... isn't this a bit disrespectful?" Harry ventured.

"Would you rather listen to a funeral dirge?" Ginny demanded.

Harry's stomach turned. "No."

The music filled the strange, discordant silence between them. She had done this before - pop in some music to distract them both, to drown out the unexplainable rifts between them. But she had never done it ... on this day. On April 13^th.

You and me

We're in this together now

None of them can stop us now

We will make it through somehow

You and me

Even after everything

You're the queen and I'm king

Nothing else means anything.

Harry bit his lip. He had never liked this song. Ginny was humming along to it, though she fell silent at the words, "You're the queen and I'm the king."

Harry reached out and stopped the CD.

The silence overwhelmed them both. The car turned right into an exit that Muggles didn't take notice of. An exit that most certainly did exist, but no one needed to take it. And if some adventurous person thought they might try a random exit that day, it would never be that one.

The road led on and on. They went through a forest, and came out again. Finally, they reached a vast stretch of green grass, where many cars were already parked. There were also some brooms leaning against stands with anti-theft charms built into them.

"We're here," said Ginny.

It was a quarter to eleven.

***

Behind the grassy stretch, there was a raised ground, also covered with grass, with a few stone steps leading up to it. Here, there was a mound. It too was covered with grass. Beside the mound was a marker of glossy white marble. Letters of gold declared:

Albus Dumbledore

Order of Merlin, First Class

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot

Member of the International Confederation of Wizards

Defeater of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald

Beloved Protector and Mentor of Many

-

Rest In Peace

You Have Been Avenged

Harry and Ginny were not the only ones there. There were many witches and wizards. Some were in suits and dresses, others in their best robes. Many of them were people that Harry knew. Seamus and Lavender had already arrived - along with Neville, Luna, Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and the Creevey brothers. None of the Weasleys had arrived yet. Neither had Hermione.

"Hello, Ginny," said Luna vaguely. "Harry." She smiled at him.

Harry forced a smile. He had descended to the bottom of the cold, hollow feeling he always had on this day. He was numb just now - in the coming days after this, he would feel the pain all over again. It was always the same. Some things did not change.

"Morning, Harry," said Colin. Harry was glad to see that he hadn't brought that infernal camera. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Harry lied.

Ginny walked up to the mound, bowed, and then placed the white chrysanthemums at the foot of it. There were already many of the same flowers piled there, shining against the green. An absence of hue. The color of emptiness.

"How's Ginny?" asked Colin. He was in black, like everyone else, but he still radiated the kind of cheerfulness that Harry could not bear to be around. Not on this day.

"Ask her yourself," said Harry shortly, and made his way to the mound.

He could feel the cold clutching at his stomach. He bowed automatically, then straightened.

You knew this would happen, didn't you? You knew the end was near. And you didn't tell anyone. Not that it matters. You're still dead. Like Grindelwald, like Voldemort, like Fudge. Your Age is over. My Age has begun.

I don't like my Age.

"How much longer?" asked Harry, to Seamus.

"Another hour until noon," said his old schoolmate. "You alright? You look a bit peaky."

"It's nothing," said Harry.

Meanwhile, Lavender was talking to Ginny in hushed tones. Ginny's face had gone completely blank. Her replies to Seamus' wife were in that same, horrible, flat tone.

Then the Weasleys arrived, all in a white minivan. The minivan was fairly large, but it had been further charmed so that all of the family could fit in. Pouring out of the car like clowns in a circus came Arthur and Molly Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy and Penelope, Fred and Angelina, George and Katie, and Ron and Hermione. They were all in black.

One by one they mounted the stone steps up to Dumbledore's tomb, placed white chrysanthemums at the mound, and bowed.

"Hello, mate," said Ron, clapping a hand to Harry's shoulder. He looked pale. Harry was glad. So he wasn't the only one feeling horrible over this day.

"How's wifey?" asked Harry, forcing a grin onto his face.

"Wifey is doing fine," said Hermione, appearing on his other side. Harry suddenly felt much better - all three of them were together once again. All three of them ...

Then Ron and Hermione smiled at each other, and Harry suddenly felt a sickening lurch in his stomach, knowing that they would always love each other more than they would love him.

Yes, romantic love wasn't always the thing that it was declared to be. And platonic friendships were often so much stronger. But Ron and Hermione had real love. Deep love. A love so strong that Harry couldn't help but envy them. After all, he had never experienced that kind of thing before.

"How's everything going with you two?" asked Harry.

"Well, I got a promotion," said Ron.

"And you didn't?" Harry asked Hermione, smiling.

"I couldn't possibly give myself a promotion," said Hermione, smiling back. She was the senior partner of a highly successful wizarding law firm, as well as founder of the Non-human Rights Organization. She would probably end up on the Wizengamot at the rate things were going for her.

Ron, on the other hand, had become a Mediwizard at St. Mungo's. He specialized in Artifact Accidents. He was very good at his work, actually - though he would always be eclipsed by the great Hermione Granger-Weasley.

"Ron!" Seamus exclaimed. "Hold on, you two, I'm going to steal him for a moment -" Seamus dragged him away.

Hermione made a noise that, on any other day, might have been a laugh. "What's wrong with Ginny?" she asked, once Seamus was out of earshot.

"Gin? She's fine."

"Don't lie to me, Harry," said Hermione. She looked very somber in black velvet.

Harry sighed. "Alright, then. I don't know. Is that good enough for you?"

"No," said Hermione bluntly. "You've got to have some idea -"

"What on earth are you two talking about?" interrupted Ginny.

Both Hermione and Harry jumped. Ginny gave them a mirthless smile. "I do hope you're not talking about me behind my back."

Hermione looked straight into her friend's eyes. Harry wanted to hide. "Why would we do that?" asked Hermione calmly.

Ginny returned the stare. "Yes, why ever would you?"

"Hello, Harry," said a voice that had changed a lot since they were children. Ginny and Hermione broke away from their staring contest to look at Neville Longbottom.

He had grown up to look a lot more like Frank Longbottom, although there was a lot of his mother Alice in him still. He was fair, with light blue eyes and close-cropped light brown hair. He had grown not to be very tall, but tall enough. Most of the roundness of childhood had left him, though he was pleasant-looking, rather than hawklike and thin.

Neville was greeted enthusiastically by all three of them. He was, of course, a good friend, but this time he was welcomed as a relief from the tension.

"I hate this day," said Neville wryly.

"Everyone hates this day," said Ginny shortly. "I'll see you later, Harry. You and 'Mione have a nice chat." She moved on, a slim figure in black silk.

"I hate to talk work outside of the Ministry, Harry, but -"

"Please, Neville. Some other time," said Harry, as decently as he could.

Neville turned slightly pink. "Sorry, mate. But this is really important."

Harry gritted his teeth. He was about to say something sharp, when Hermione said, "Let him talk, Harry. He wouldn't say something unless it really was dreadfully important."

"Right," said Harry. God, why was everyone allied against him?

"It's the Lestranges," said Neville. He was now forcing out the words one by one. "Or at least, Bellatrix Lestrange. We've just got news from Tonks, all the way from Russia - which is why she can't come today, by the way. We think Lestrange is trying to rouse up another Death Eater movement. It's not doing too well without - without - Voldemort - but ... you know ... it's an Auror's job to get rid of Dark Wizards, and -"

Harry had turned very, very pale. "She's alive?"

"Yes," said Neville shortly. "She's very much alive."

Hermione glanced around them. "Neville, maybe you shouldn't alarm everyone."

"People have to be ready," said Harry.

"She's in Russia," Hermione pointed out.

"And there are also such things as Apparition, broomsticks, Floo, and -"

"International Floo is regulated," said Hermione impatiently. "A broom flight from Russia would be a great feat indeed. And you'd need a passport to be able to Apparate internationally, even if you had skill enough to do so -"

"There are ways, Hermione," said Neville. "You ought to know that."

"It's pretty unlikely," said Hermione. "And I don't want everyone to be stampeding about on Dumbledore's grave. If you must be on your guard, then alert all the Aurors here. There are plenty of them."

"Right," said Neville. "Thanks, Hermione. Just wanted to make sure Harry knew." He moved off.

"Bloody Lestrange woman," Hermione cursed. "How many lives has she ruined now?"

"Too many," said Harry quietly. He was thinking about the color of Avada Kedavra.

"The ceremony's about to start," she said. "I'm going to find Ron and Ginny." She smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Harry. You'll do just fine."

The sun was at its peak. The chrysanthemums glared a brilliant white. So many had arrived - Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. Even some Slytherins ...

For a moment, Harry froze up. By sheer force of will, he got himself to move - right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot -

He got all the way to Dumbledore's mound, now surrounded by piles and piles of chrysanthemums. Standing behind it, he gazed out at the sea of people before him. Some felt it more than the others - but all of them grieved for Albus Dumbledore. He did not turn to look, but he could sense the two coming to stand on either side of him.

"It'll be alright," whispered McGonagall from his left side.

"We're here," murmured Lupin from his right.

"We speak in the daylight, in the bright light, in the white light," Harry recited automatically, trying not to speak too fast.

"Where the darkness is banished, where the night has no place," said Lupin, in a strong voice - weariness had only crept in a little.

"Here may the light flourish. Here may you rest in peace," said McGonagall.

"You lived long, you lived well." The words were coming to Harry easily now ... words that he always scoured over the night before, so that he would not forget in the middle of this ceremony. Words that he was now saying for the seventh time. He could not bear to think that it had been so many years since Dumbledore had died.

"Never did you move to hurt," said Lupin.

"Always did you move to heal," said McGonagall. Her voice was still clear, though there were now tears running down her face.

Harry closed his eyes. "Rest in peace, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." It was as if the quotes were disappearing from their voices. This magic - not an active magic, but a strong magic nevertheless - was binding them to grieve, to honor, to remember. Everything all over again ... Everything Dumbledore had stood for. Everything that he had fought for. Everything that was being realized now.

"I am the Burier," said Lupin. "Your body I took, your body I carried. Your body I placed into the ground. Rest in peace, Albus Dumbledore."

"I am the Recounter," said McGonagall. "I remember you, from years long past. I will remember you from our first meeting, to our last. I will remember, and honor you until the end of my days, continuing the work you have left for me. Rest in peace, Albus Dumbledore."

"I am the Avenger," said Harry, and here the bile rose in his throat. "Your killers I sought, your murderers I found. They are gone now, into the earth and behind the veil. They are gone, and I am here. Blood for blood has been repaid. Rest in peace ... Albus Dumbledore."

"Rest in peace," echoed those gathered.

For a moment, they all felt the silence - a good sort of silence - press about them. Then the moment was gone, and it was over. Relief washed over Harry. His shoulders slumped. He turned to go.

"You did well, Harry," said Lupin, smiling.

"He always does well," said McGonagall. She was also smiling.

The years had not been kind to either of them, though Lupin was no longer as patched and worn as he had once been. He was an Auror in the service of Ministry, and one of Harry's colleagues. It felt strange for Harry to address him as an equal, even if he knew that he was. At least, in the matter of Defense against the Dark Arts.

As for McGonagall, she had become Headmistress of Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death. There were grey hairs on her head and wrinkles around her eyes that had not been there before, but otherwise she seemed in good health.

"Thank you," Harry muttered. "It was nice to see again, Prof - Headmistress. I'll see you tomorrow at work, Prof - Lupin."

"Take care, Potter," McGonagall called after him.

He hurried away from the flower-covered mound and down the stone steps, nearly slipping. He made his way to the black Lexus and tried the door before he realized that Ginny had the car keys. He swore, then brought out his wand, ready to hot-wire the car if necessary. Not that he knew how to hot-wire it.

"You alright, Harry?" asked a dreamy voice.

"Hello, Luna," said Harry, sticking his wand back into the pocket of his dress jacket.

She smiled, her huge pale blue eyes sympathetic. "You did well."

"So I've been told."

"There's something I wanted to ask you. About Ginny."

"I don't know what's with her," said Harry testily. "So just leave me alone."

Luna's smile disappeared. "You're being blind. You know exactly what's wrong with her."

"Now you sound like Hermione."

"I wouldn't mind sounding like her," said Luna thoughtfully. "She's terribly clever."

"Yes, and I'm not," said Harry. "I don't have any idea why Ginny's acting the way she is ... I just don't know ..."

"How long have you two been together?"

"Three years," said Harry. He hesitated. "I think."

Luna Lovegood motioned with her chin. "Look over there."

Harry glanced over at the raised ground of Dumbledore's tomb. Then his blood froze. "Oh, my god."

"Maybe now you know?" she suggested.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked, but he didn't stick around to find out. He half-ran, half-strode to where Draco Malfoy was talking to Ginny Weasley.

"- don't see why Potter gets the prettiest girl -" Malfoy was saying, when he caught sight of Harry. His grey eyes glittered. "Well, well. Speak of the devil."

"You bastard. How dare you come here today -" Harry hissed.

"Speaking Parseltongue again, Potter?" asked Malfoy, a wide grin on his pointy face.

"Goddammit, Malfoy. Get away from here, you Death Eater spawn -"

"Draco was cleared of all charges," Ginny interrupted. "Harry, you ought to remember that. You were there at his trial."

"Testifying against me, if I recall," said Malfoy lazily.

Harry didn't listen to him. He gaped at Ginny. "Draco? Since when is he Draco?"

"Ever since he was given that unfortunate name," she snapped impatiently.

"Gin -"

"Shut up, Harry."

Malfoy smirked at him. Harry wanted to pound him, to kill him slowly ... but this was here and today. This was the day Dumbledore had died. This was the place he had been buried.

Ginny placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "If you don't have anything nice to say -"

"I've got lots to say, whether it's nice or not," said Harry. "Didn't you hear me up there, Malfoy? I was his Avenger. I killed every single fucking Death Eater that ambushed him." The memories were tumbling into his head, burning behind his eyes. Flashing images, uncontrollable. His heart, cold and sick and numb. "Including your father."

Malfoy's smirk faded - but only a little. "Not everyone, Potter. You didn't kill everyone."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ginny sharply.

His heart plummeted. "Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry whispered hoarsely.

"Bingo," said Draco Malfoy.

They stood there in that tableau, for a frozen moment; Ginny's hand on Harry's shoulder, as if forbidding him to go any closer. Harry's body tilted forward, ready to lunge at the other man. And Malfoy himself standing hands in pockets, dressed in expensive grey silk robes, one shoulder lifted higher than the other. There was a gap between Gryffindor and Slytherin, just as there had always been.

Then Harry did lunge - and Malfoy staggered back, holding onto Harry's wrists. Harry was livid with anger. "How did you know? How do you fucking know -"

Then there was a cry as Weasley men rushed around them, and Hermione and Ron were pulling Harry off Malfoy.

"He was sentenced Not Guilty, Harry - you know that -" Hermione was saying.

"What did you say?" Ron was demanding to know of Draco Malfoy. "What the hell did you say to get him like that?"

The twins were now on either of side of Malfoy, looking threatening.

"Let go of him," Ginny commanded.

Her brothers looked up at her, surprised, and released their long-time enemy.

"Gin, what -" Ron began.

"He said nothing that we don't know," said Ginny firmly. "Bellatrix Lestrange is loose in Russia."

"Russia?" asked Malfoy. "I haven't said that bit yet. She's in Petersburg, actually -"

"Where's Neville?" asked Hermione suddenly.

"He's left," said Luna, who had appeared without being noticed. "By broomstick. I expect he's worried about his grandmother. She's caught a bug, you know."

"Gin," Ron sputtered. "You're not supposed to be taking his side -"

"The war is over," said Ginny coldly. "Don't be childish, Ron."

"But - but - you're younger than me -"

"More reason for you to grow up," said Ginny in that horrible, flat, colorless voice.

Hermione regarded her curiously. Luna smiled her dreamy smile, but there was a trace of knowing.

"What the hell's happening?" Ron asked. "I still don't understand -"

"It's just a typical showdown with Malfoy," Ginny replied. "You ought to recognize it. Except that we're all ganging up on him while he's alone. Gryffindor bravery, eh?"

Everyone winced at her sarcasm - except Luna, who was a Ravenclaw.

"Is it true?" asked Luna. "Bellatrix Lestrange is back?"

"Yes," said Draco Malfoy. "She's back." When everyone looked at Harry, he said rather testily, "Of course you wouldn't believe me, would you?"

"No one believes a Death Eater," said Hermione quietly. "You should know that by now, Malfoy."

"I was so sure I killed her," said Harry, the words spilling out before he could stop himself. "So sure ..."

"Doesn't matter," said Hermione briskly. "You'll get her, won't you?"

Harry did not say anything.

"There's nothing left to say," said Ginny. "So we might as well all go home. I'll talk to you later, Draco."

"Right, then," said Malfoy. He nodded. "Nice chat we've all had." He sneered, then turned and left.

"What do you mean, talk to him later?" Ron exploded. "You don't - you can't - aargh!"

"I'll see you later, Ron," said Ginny coolly. "Give Mum my love. You too, Fred and George."

"Goodbye, Ginny," said Hermione. The two women looked at each other. Their eyes locked. Ginny looked away first.

"Goodbye, Hermione."

Harry and Ginny walked over to their Lexus. They got in, and Ginny started up the engine.

As they drove out of that place, Harry said shortly, "I don't understand."

"No," said Ginny. "You don't." They entered into the forest. "What exactly did Draco do that grated on you so much?" Ginny asked him.

Harry closed his eyes. "He was wearing grey," he said quietly. "Grey. Not black."

Ginny did not say anything. There was the click and whir as Ginny put a disk in the CD player and The faint click of buttons being pushed. The music began to reverberate around him; a thrashing, pounding song - thrashing and pounding the way the ocean thrashes and pounds at a beach. Purify. Cleanse and clear away. Kill this silence.

But there still were no words.

***

He was tired. His lungs were burning. He was so very, very tired ... he just wanted to give up ... yes, give up ... just let go ...

But the anger deep inside, the anger that was slowly relinquishing its hold over him in the face of exhaustion, the anger over so many deaths ... the anger would not let him give up.

And yet his strength could not come from rage. He was burning out. He was disappearing ... fading away ... a quick flame ...

"Just give up," Bellatrix Lestrange sang. "Just give up. We are here, we will be here forever. We are saving the world and you are trying to prevent us."

"Saving by destroying?" Harry laughed. His laughter turned into coughing. Too many hexes, too many jinxes ...

"Crucio," said Lucius Malfoy, Azkaban-haunted eyes looking almost happy.

Harry dodged the curse. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," he said, over and over again, a chant, a mantra, a focus.

"You can't possibly win now," said Bellatrix Lestrange with an obviously mad smile. "We are the future. And you are remnants of a vile past."

"Come here, boy," said Rabastan Lestrange, leering. "Come here and die."

"Don't hurt him," said Malfoy. "Remember... don't. The Dark Lord wants him alive--"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry shouted - he had been practicing, practicing on ants and spiders and once a large beetle, but never had he done a human being before ...

Avery fell over, pale with blood pouring down his face.

Not good enough ...

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted, again and again and again ... vaguely aware that he had finally done it, aware that Jugson and Macnair were lying dead ...

"CRUCIO!" Bellatrix Lestrange had shouted at him.

The pain was overwhelming, but he had felt worse ... oh, he had felt so much worse before ...

"You took Sirius and Dumbledore from me," said Harry through gritted teeth. "Don't you dare even think you can do worse."

"I'm afraid we can," said Bellatrix. "CRUCIO!"

And the pain was everything. He fell to his knees, but his fingers clutched his wand. Ohgodohgodohgodohmygod -

But he could walk through the fire, through the ice, through whatever they would throw at him. And he got up.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted. "Severo! Asphyxiate! Garroti!" Bloody curse after curse, until his voice ran out. He meant every one of them. And they fell dead - Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Dolohov, Rookwood, Avery, Mulciber, Nott, Travers ...

Then there was only Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.

"So it's come down to this," said Malfoy.

"Your voice is gone," Bellatrix observed coldly.

To the left was Lucius Malfoy, to the right was Bellatrix. Hate and fear and rage were all welling up in his soul ...

"Avada Kedavra," he said in the hoarsest of whispers.

Lucius Malfoy fell over in a flash of green light.

Harry felt dizzy. If only ... if only he could just lie down ... oh god, he was so tired -

"They may be dead," said the last Death Eater, "but I'm alive." And with that Bellatrix raised her wand and her lips formed the first syllable of the Killing Curse, but Harry croaked it out first and everything was green and he could see Bellatrix lying over on the floor ...

Then he was falling too, into sweet, black oblivion ...

When he woke up, Hermione had broken free of a Full Body Bind that had been put over her, and was now dragging him and Ron out of the fire, sobbing all the while. Neville was trying to help, but he kept tripping over himself ...

And the fire raged in the old Riddle house. When it died away, there would be nothing left but ashes and fragments of bone.

***

They got back home at five o'clock, since they stopped by a coffee shop for some tea. They said nothing to each other in between. Ginny made a beeline for the bathroom, while Harry went over to Fawkes' golden perch. The naked baby bird sneezed.

"Sorry you couldn't make it," said Harry. "I know how much you loved him."

Fawkes regarded him solemnly.

"Guess who was there," said Harry, taking off his shoes and stripping off his socks. "Malfoy. And he was wearing grey, too ... I don't know why that bothered me so much. I mean, it was dark grey. But ... he's not grieving. Everyone ought to be grieving." Fawkes blinked. "Not everyone in the wizarding world came to the ceremony, of course. Because, not everyone knows about it ... and thank God. I don't think I could have done the ceremony in front of so many people." He sighed. "Declaring myself an Avenger. I'm not an Avenger, really. More of a murderer." Harry was silent. Then, "What do you think, Fawkes?"

The baby phoenix croaked.

The bathroom door opened and Ginny came out, her hair undone and flowing down her back. She began to undress there, in front of Harry. Harry diverted his gaze to Fawkes.

"For goodness sake, Harry, we've been living together for nearly a year now. This isn't anything you haven't seen before."

He glanced over at her. She had pulled on a t-shirt and was now halfway into her jeans.

"Sorry, Gin."

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Doesn't matter." She pulled savagely at her pants. "I guess I better start making dinner, then."

"We've just had tea," Harry pointed out.

"Beef takes forever to roast," said Ginny. "Unless you want me to make spaghetti again -"

"I'll make sandwiches," said Harry. "Don't worry about dinner."

"Right," said Ginny, nodding. "Thanks."

Harry screwed up his courage. "Er, Ginny ..."

She lifted up her chin. "You want to know, don't you? You want to talk."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I guess I do."

She sat next to him on the bed. "Fire away, then."

He tried to ask The Question, but instead he asked, "How did you know? About Bellatrix Lestrange being in Russia. He told you?"

"Neville told me," said Ginny shortly.

"You're not an Auror."

"No. But I am a Ministry Hit Wizard. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Oh, alright," said Harry. He couldn't think of anything else to say - there was nothing to ask except for the inevitable question, but he couldn't - wouldn't - ask it.

The silence ate them up that night. And Harry dreamed of that last battle in the old Riddle house.