A/N: JK Rowling is master and I am pretending to have a fraction of the talent she does.
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“He’s not dead!” Ginny screamed. “He’s not dead!”
Remus walked over to her, a desperately strange look upon his face, a mix of devastation and guilt. He tried to find the words to speak, but was left empty at Ginny’s face.
“No, no, no!! He promised that he would return! He told me that he would come back! He can’t have died, it’s not possible!”
“Ginny, I’m so sorry…” Remus fumbled out.
Ginny let out an outrageous cry and crumpled to the floor, her body shaking violently in a collision of fury and pain. Remus stood awkwardly, uncertain of what to do next. He kneeled down to gift a hug, but Ginny shoved his hands away and demanded he leave.
Remus allowed his hands to swing back at her push and stood pained with guilt. Should he tell her? No, he couldn’t “ it would only cause more harm than good. But this…this standing, waiting, watching her grieve…how could he not? He remained silent, watching, wishing he could change everything, but the damage had already been done; it was too late to go back on the plan now. He gritted his teeth and stayed his ground.
“Oh, Harry!” Ginny sobbed. “It’s not fair! Why is this happening?”
Remus lowered his head for a moment, examining the dirty boots that had taken his lying mouth to this place.
Stay the plan, Remus, stay the plan, he thought forcefully.
“He died to save the rest of the world, Gin, you should be proud,” he spit out shamefully, “we did all that we could, but there were casualties…you knew that could happen.”
Ginny stopped for a moment and lifted her eyes to meet his. She bore into them with an anger like he had never seen from her before and he quickly looked away.
Casualties, Ginny thought bitterly as she gripped the silence, as if you can so easily describe what’s happened.
Remus swallowed and tried frantically to think of something else to say, something cold and heartless to help him remain strong. Anything too genuine and he might give in, he might cave.
All of this will be for nothing, he told himself. Be cold, you must be cold.
He glanced back at Ginny and noticed she had returned her eyes to the floor upon which she was kneeling. He jumped at the opportunity to speak without eye contact and said the first thing he could think of.
“Those who died fighting to try and save Harry would be particularly hurt to know you are so angry that he did not live, not to mention Harry himself would feel like a failure. Voldemort is dead, Gin, Harry’s accomplished what he’s spent his life trying to achieve.”
Ginny’s breathing slowed and Remus felt the heat begin to rise in the room.
Keep going, keep saying things like this. She will get angry and move on, she won’t contact you, she won’t try to find Harry, Remus mumbled in his mind.
Such evil, cruel thoughts, but he had to make the plan work, it had to be effective.
“There was nothing left for him, really. What sort of life could he have had, he would have been lost…he would have been felt empty, without cause or reason.”
You are a horrible, foul git, Remus thought again. How could you say something so dreadful?
He watched her body, her back rising patiently from breath to breath, her chest buried into her knees and her hands cradling her neck, strands of hair tangled between her fingers. He would never forgive himself for this. Neither would she.
Then, just when he thought he might never hear from her again, a subtle squeak broke the air.
“You prefer him dead then?” She asked so quietly Remus could barely understand her words.
His heart dropped from within his chest to the very caverns of the earth. Of course he would never prefer Harry dead! How badly he wanted her to know that. He clenched his jaw and took in a shaky breath.
“I’m simply stating reality, Ginny. No sense clinging to untruths or fairytales.” He said calmly, his mouth dry with lies.
Ginny could feel her cheeks hot and aching beneath his words. There was something growling within her, a different sort of sound from the pain of losing Harry. This was a growing anger, a burning, bitter, howl. Slowly she stood to her feet and turned to face the man she had come to love as a father. Why was he acting this way? She watched him fumble with his hands, his eyes only meeting hers in sporadic movements.
“Who are you?” She finally said, cocking her head in disbelief. “The man I know would never say such things. His heart would never have been so cold.”
Remus swallowed again. He had never felt so nervous in his life.
“Harry killed Voldemort, that’s what he wanted to do, that’s what he lived for,” he replied harshly, pretending to shrug her question away.
“Everything in Harry’s life was not about Voldemort…” Ginny replied softly, the pain burning in her eyes.
Remus struggled for arguments.
“Harry’s life was a sacrifice to our world.” He said quickly.
“Why, then, did you fight so hard to save him?” She exclaimed. “If you thought it better he die, if, all this time, you thought he would simply be a sacrifice, what was the point of such battling on everyone else’s part?”
Remus stood without recourse.
“Harry never wanted, nor expected, to die; I don’t quite understand why you’re saying these things!” She finished.
Remus inhaled deeply, wondering what he could say to stop her, to hurt her more. All the words fluttered through his weary mind, his heart barely able to stand the painfully thick situation any more.
“Harry knew what might happen, Ginny, and I thought you did, too.”
Ginny scoffed again, her jaw dropping slightly at the indignance and insensitivity of the man who had once shown incomprehensible compassion to her and Harry. Her breathing began to shake under the weight and she rolled her fists tightly, trying to understand what Remus was saying to her.
“I was well aware of the possibilities, Remus, thank you. I, of all people, was completely, desperately aware of what might happen.”
Remus shoved his right hand into his pocket and gave her a quick, shifting glance. Ginny shook her head slightly in continued frustration.
“I spent every night pacing, every morning that he didn’t return in horrible knots, knowing that any moment you might arrive alone to tell me that something terrible had happened. I lived my entire life, every moment, every second, knowing that my husband, my son’s father, my best friend, might never come back.”
Remus hit her sharply with his eyes.
“Then why are you acting so surprised?” He said viciously.
It was a burn so hot Ginny could almost physically feel it singe her organs. Remus watched her with a strong glare, but could only hold it for a few more seconds before he turned away once more. He knew he had said it this time.
Ginny’s jaw tightened. This terrible, harsh man was not the same man that had comforted her at her parent’s death, nor the same man that had put his own life on the line hundreds of time to save hers and Harry’s. She remembered him cradling her son in his arms, a beam across his face, a drive to protect the Potters more than ever before.
This was not him.
“You don’t mean these things, Remus.” She said.
“Ginny, I just don’t think you should be so naïve. Harry’s life has had one purpose since the time he was born, and that was to conquer the Dark Lord. He has done that and his purpose has been fulfilled.”
“What?” She scoffed. “What about his friends? His family? We all love him and need him! He never wanted to be the-boy-who-lived, you know that!! Harry worked hard because he knew he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t fight Voldemort because that was his purpose; Harry fought Voldemort because his life gave him purpose.”
Remus didn’t know how to respond and found himself fumbling foolishly for a response. Without figuring it out in his mind first, he repeated himself and hoped it would stop Ginny this time.
“We shouldn’t treat his death like a failure. He did great things for our world and that is what should be remembered.”
Ginny’s chest began to cave and she stared at his face even harder, though he refused to look back.
“A failure?” She asked breathlessly.
Remus continued to stare down and Ginny became increasingly angry at his emotionless display.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
Remus waited quietly, contemplating her command, wondering and desperately hoping that he could hold himself together. He gathered his breath and then slowly lifted his eyes to hers, but could barely stand ground as Ginny filled with tears once more.
“I never said he was a failure, Remus.” She blinked as the tears began to drip down her nose and onto the floor.
The two bodies formed a tension in the room hot enough to bake in. Remus didn’t know how much longer he could hold the secret back as he watched Ginny return her face to her hands in desperate, wet sobs, and even though he would much rather simply abandon the task he couldn’t pry his feet from their current position on the floor.
“I would never think he was a failure…” she managed through her tears, “I love him too much…”
Remus’ heart began to break through his rough skin and he could almost feel the blood pour down his chest and arms.
“I love him so much…I need him…I…oh, James…James needs him…James needs his father.”
Suddenly something broke within Remus’ chest. He had hoped to avoid mention of James as much as possible knowing that not only did he feel like a vile being for ripping a young boy’s father away, but he remembered Harry, hardly able to walk for thoughts of all the things he might never get to experience with his son. Harry loved James very much the way Lily and James had loved Harry and he knew the bleeding, scraping, searing pain that was exploding in his friend’s body at this very moment.
He dropped his head this time not to avoid her eyes, but to try and hide the tears billowing behind his own.
“Oh, Ginny,” he said gently.
“I’m so sorry, Remus, it’s just…”
Remus, filled with new resolution, reached forward and grabbed her frail body into his arms.
“I know, Gin, I know,” he whispered, “I love him, too…”
He lingered in thought, holding her against his heart, watching her red hair bobble about against his chest with her sobs. He began to weigh his options, seriously preparing to end this charade and finally speak truth. He imagined the words he would speak, the lines he would say to soften the blow.
However, the longer he thought, the more he could envision her stepping back from their embrace, her eyes furious, her mouth spitting out defensive, bitter words, being more upset with the truth and his void of moral character allowing him to lie her in this way, than should he of leave the plan alone. He knew that Ginny would not see the necessity of his actions.
Then there was Harry who was, and had, sacrificed more than Remus would ever be able to comprehend. He thought about Harry, unconscious in a locked room, wandless, a prisoner, because he couldn’t restrain himself for the plan. Could he do this? Could he have the willpower to give up his life, destroy his family for the sake of strangers?
Harry really is an incredible man, Remus thought.
However, if he didn’t carry out the plan now, he might never get the chance. His thoughts were broken by Ginny’s voice again.
“It hurts…it hurts so bad…” she hummed into his shirt. “First Bill and Charlie…and I didn’t want to believe it when Tonks came running back to tell us about Fred and my father…oh, my mum…the reports kept coming back…I was just waiting…wondering…hoping…James was sleeping on the couch, Harry had placed him there before he left…how will I tell him?”
Ginny released another round of lurching sobs and threw her arms up around Remus’ neck. He hugged her even more tightly as his shirt filled with salty tears.
How can I keep this from her, he thought, his heart ripping into pieces, she deserves to know!
“Oh, I can’t do this,” he muttered, intending to speak silently. His voice carried over Ginny’s ears and she responded with a deeper hug, grateful to have her father-figure return.
“I can’t, either, but we can be strong together, Remus, we’ll need that. James’ will need that.”
She continued to cry into his shoulder, the sound screaming into Remus like a train, violently off track. He gripped her even tighter and shuddered as each sob expanded the desperate void in his gut.
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“Stupid memories…” Ginny mumbled as she popped into the living room of her home, her hands shaking, her body barely strong enough to stand on its own.
She felt cold, drained, like there was nothing left within her to sustain human function. She shook off the weight of the images still beating around her mind and headed towards the kitchen, wanting to never think about Harry’s death again.
She shuddered and pulled her arms around herself, realizing that she had left her cloak at the burrow.
“Damnit,” she muttered.
Her breathing was still forceful and erratic as she tried to push Harry out of her mind. However, not only did it fast prove an impossible task, but Ginny knew deep down she really didn’t want to push any of it away.
She looked around the house, her heart beating in a strange rhythm amidst the silence.
This should be Harry’s home, too, she thought.
However, there was no evidence that any man had ever lived there. James was growing up faster than she would have liked, but even then he was just a boy and his mark was much different than her husband’s ever would have been.
A chill curled up her spine as she thought about Harry walking around the house, his cloak wrapped tightly, his body tucked away in corners to avoid being discovered. She imagined him watching her, listening to her cry, watching James beat her at chess…all the moments of life she’d never thought to concern herself much with.
Did she want Harry to share those things? Of course she did, why was that even a question? No, no, she couldn’t, she couldn’t handle it, or take it on this late in the world of things.
“Excuses…” she spoke into the air. “You know that, Gin.”
Confusion reverberated throughout every wall, every nook and cove and pressed back into her pale skin.
Why did I just walk away, she asked herself. Do you want him? Don’t you love him?
Ginny shoved a hand through her messy hair and gripped it tightly, similar to the way Harry used to when he was frustrated or in concentrated thought. Why didn’t she let him finish? What had possessed her to walk away in that manner? Emotions collided like waves against a daunting cliff, nagging at the water to reach its peak.
I think I want him, I mean, I think…er…I do…I…Ginny fumbled over her own thoughts, her heart breaking against her better sanity. I just don’t know…I…I mean….
“Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!” She finally screamed as she threw her empty fist at the wall, wishing there had been something in her palm to watch crash against the paint. “I don’t even know what I want!!!! I thought I always wanted you, Harry, but I don’t understand this, I don’t…how is this real?!!!! Why couldn’t you have stayed dead?! Or better yet, never of died at all!!!”
She rubbed her forehead and began to dart her eyes around, looking at nothing of particular importance. Suddenly her eyes caught a cream-colored piece of parchment on the mantle of the fireplace and she slapped her cheek.
“James!” She cried as she rushed towards it. With the stir about she’d forgotten that Hermione had promised to send word of his first evening at school.
She gripped the enveloped tightly, read the finely printed words on the front and slowly opened it.
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“Gryffindor!” The sorting hat bellowed across the great hall.
James jumped from the tall stool and skipped to an open seat at the Gryffindor table, a giant smile creeping over his face.
Mum’ll be so happy, he thought through his grin.
He looked up to the head table and noticed Hermione smiling back at him, raising a “thumbs-up” just above the table for him to see. He smiled even wider and accepted the congratulations and handshakes flooding from all sides of the long, wooden table.
He looked about, his nerves still squirming, but not nearly as much as they had been only minutes before. His heart was slowly calming itself as he noticed all the other nervous first years trying to find seats about the great hall and wondered if any of them would ever become close friends like his father had made.
He thought about his parents and his aunt and uncle, the stories of how they met and the adventures they shared and he longed to have the same for himself.
I’m in the same house, at least, he thought again, and that is a good place to start!
James cradled the image of a thick red and gold scarf packed tightly away in his trunk. He had discovered it in a trunk in Ginny’s room a couple years earlier and snuck it away for his own. He would wear it sometimes when he was home alone, dreaming and hoping for the day he would receive his own.
“Hey, I’m Nicolas Finnigan!” A short first year with a heavy Scottish brogue popped from James’ right shoulder, ripping him from his peaceful thoughts. “Guess we’ll be spending loads of time together, then, same house and all?”
He smiled heartily and James let out a pleasant sigh.
“James Potter, and I suppose we will,” he replied graciously.
“Hey, me dad knows a Potter, talked about being friends with him, same year and everything. Are you related to Harry Potter-that’s who me dad knows. The greatest wizard to have lived, you know. Right killed Voldemort before I can even remember!” Nicolas rambled aimlessly and James wondered if he should let on about his father.
“Yeah, I’m related to him,” he said quietly.
“Was he your uncle then?” Nicolas asked without sincere concern for the response.
“No, no he wasn’t,” James replied.
Just as Nicolas opened his mouth to respond someone loudly cleared their throat and the room silenced. James looked up to see Headmaster McGonagall standing at her podium in front of the head table.
“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” She said as all the students cheered loudly. “I would like to welcome all of the first years to what is surely going to be the beginning of a spectacular time in your lives!”
The first years clapped meekly amidst the rest of the student’s gentle cheers, still a bit uncertain of their place in the school.
“I have a few start of term announcements,” McGonagall continued, “We are pleased to have Mr. Filch with us for another year, but I would like to remind all of the students that his cat is not to be chased, captured, shaved, dyed or mangled in any such manner.”
James heard giggles from a pair of dark-haired boys near the middle of the Gryffindor table and noticed McGonagall give them a stern eye.
“I would also like to remind students that the Dark Forrest is off-limits without proper chaperones and ask that you respect the creatures that reside there.”
There was a nod from a very bold centaur at the edge of the head table and a few students murmured about the room once more.
“Lastly I would like to announce that Professor Lupin will not be with us much longer and his replacement will take over all his courses in a few weeks. With this, Defense Against the Dark Arts will not begin until the third week this year.”
There was a mix of low whispers and groans that filled the air, the overriding sound being a confused murmur. The headmaster had delivered this news in such a calm and organized manner one would naturally assume it was something of coming knowledge and not very surprising at all, however the reaction in the room proved otherwise.
James was quite fond of Professor Lupin and had been looking forward to learning from him since he was a little boy. Ginny had spent hours retelling stories of the adventures his father had made with the man and didn’t remember her ever mentioning his retirement. Even Hermione looked confused and began questioning the other professors. It was then that James realized Lupin was not at the head table.
“He is running late this evening and apologizes for his absence, but he will be here in the morning to explain the situation better. I know he is an asset to this school and will be missed by everyone at this institution, but his replacement is, well, equally adept and I can only assure you that you will enjoy his teaching as much as Professor Lupin’s.”
More whispering echoed about, obvious questions and confusions flittering through everyone’s head. Even the professors at the head table were talking amongst themselves, looking bewildered and a bit shocked. McGonagall, however, continued undisturbed.
“Well, I’m famished. Let the feast begin!”
Suddenly brilliant collections off food filled the tables from all around and James stared it down, assessing his choices. After a minute of deliberation he dove into a plate of deliciously-scented treacle tart. It was his favorite.
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Ginny giggled a bit as she folded the note back and tucked it neatly back in the envelope. Hermione had managed to capture the evening perfectly and Ginny felt a peace swell over her as she thought about James moving into his new room, his large four-poster bed beckoning his name after a potions exam while his fellow Gryffindors laughed and exchanged Snape horror stories.
“I was so worried…” she giggled again thinking about her precocious son, “but he’s really going to be okay,” she spoke aloud.
She walked towards the kitchen and set the envelope on the counter as she noticed her plates still unwashed from this morning. With a gentle reaction she walked towards the sink and began to fill it with water, the sound running calmly through her ears. She didn’t bother starting the magic brushes this time; she simply let the warm water spill over her cold hands, the soap rising within the porcelain bowl, covering the dishes and submerging her hands.
The more she thought about James, the less confused she felt. As she scrubbed a few forks clean she felt strangely clear-minded, oddly light and happy. Only moments before she had felt like the entire world was on her shoulders, every pain and burden towering over her, yet now, after reading a letter describing something rather uplifting, she felt free and powerful, peaceful, calm, hopeful.
I’ve spent so many years carrying this burden, feeling angry, feeling depressed…but everything is going to be all right, she thought spiritedly.
Suddenly, she stopped brushing the plate in her hand and stared towards the window, the wind howling, the tree outside scraping against it.
“Wait, everything is going to be all right? I can be all right…?” She said in a deep breath.
An explosion of revelation enveloped her body and she felt a new love sweep across her lips.
Harry is back, he’s here, he’s alive! She exclaimed in her mind.
“Harry’s freaking alive!” Ginny dropped the plate into the water, fear taking place of the momentary joy. “And I sent him away!!!!”
Her eyes widened and her heart began to race.
“What have I done?”
Ginny quickly wiped her hands on the nearest towel, pulled her wand back into the pocket of her jeans and headed for the burrow, her every, desperate hope that Harry was still there.
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A/N: I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this up, and I hope it's a satisfying chapter! I wanted to put a bit about James in there, can't forget about him, he's important! Hope you like, PLEASE review! You guys are great, thanks!