Disclaimer: When I started writing Harry Potter fanfiction fifteen years ago, I owned nothing. That's still true.

Chapter one:

On Edge

The dawn of that first day had been extraordinary. Brilliantly golden, the sun shone as though it were trying to wash away years, or even decades, of darkness. For a time, it had been successful. As light streamed through broken windows, gaping holes and narrow fissures alike, the dusty haze of battle summoned forth a dazzling display of crepuscular rays that reached down into the very heart of what remained of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Here in the Great Hall, the sunlight had frolicked and played over the fifty-four broken bodies lined up with such obvious care down the center of the hall, and for the briefest of moments one could be forgiven for thinking that something magical – miraculous – was about to happen.

But though the fingers of the sun caressed the features of the deceased and - if one squinted just so - it looked as though life had been returned to those who had sacrificed everything, Arthur Weasley had known then, as he knew now, that his family was broken and never to be whole again.

The truth of it was seated across the table from him, where his sons Bill and Charlie valiantly attempted to keep a hold of a conversation that neither of them had heard a word of for hours.

The truth of it was pacing behind him, where his son Percy strode endlessly back and forth, his pauses before turning for each return trip growing ever longer as he contemplated a flight from his guilty conscience.

The truth of it was curled up under his arm, where Molly – dearest Mollywobbles – clung tightly round his middle and wept without caring who saw, indeed, without knowing where she was.

The truth of it was taking up residence in the hole in his chest where his heart ought rightly have been.

And the truth of it was kneeling on the floor in the middle of the hall, where his son George held vigil at the head of Fred's – his son Fred's – body.

The warm and vibrant light of morning had, inevitably, yielded to the harsh and sterile light of day, the sort of light that no longer instilled confidence in miracles. The faces of the dead now looked stiff and cold, forever frozen in fear, surprise, anger, hatred or any of a dozen other emotions that seemed at odds with the celebrations happening around them. And so the mood in the Great Hall had changed as the sun continued to rise. As morning progressed, so did the mourning.

Yes, the Weasleys were broken. Just as the Prewetts had been broken. The Longbottoms, the Potters, the Bones. Arthur had known, of course, that it was inevitable. With seven children – seven wonderful willful children – all eager to stand up for what they believed in – to die for a cause that they knew to be just, he supposed he ought to consider himself lucky that it hadn't happened sooner, or – and he shuddered a bit at the thought – more often. But today he did not feel lucky.

Fred is dead.

It didn't even seem a sensible sentence in his head. He knew what each of the words meant individually, but all bunched up together like that it seemed as incomprehensible as why aeroplanes didn't plummet back to the ground.

Fred is dead.

He tried again, looking at the body as the words floated through his head. But still something didn't add up. He watched as sweet stubborn Ginny – his daughter Ginny – hugged George from behind, whispered something in his ear, and then struggled to support his weight as he slumped against her. Arthur had no doubt that she'd manage. If there was one thing of which he was absolutely sure, it was that Ginny was the strongest of his children – forged in the fire of six older brothers and then hardened in the crucible of a Hogwarts that had turned against her and her friends. It seemed likely that before this nightmare was over, they'd all have to lean on her more than should be fair to a sixteen year old.

So young. Too young. But no longer a child, despite what Molly would say. No, Ginny had earned that much at least. He'd have to talk to her about it once everyone was back home. But no – not everyone would be going home, would they?

Fred is dead.

Dead, dead. Dead Fred. Fred is dead.

To his horror, Arthur very nearly chuckled as the words circled around each other in his head. Some macabre children's rhyme. He felt his shoulders jumping up and down, air forced from his lungs against his will. But he'd been wrong. These were sobs, not laughter.

He should know the difference.

Fred had been laughing. Fred had always been laughing. And he'd taught the world to laugh along with him, even if the world was kicking and screaming. It had been Fred and George that had taught Molly how to laugh again after Gideon and Fabian. Fred and George who had taught Ginny to laugh again after her disastrous first year at Hogwarts. Fred and George who taught the world how to keep laughing in the face of a bleak and desperate war.

Who would teach them how to laugh now?

Arthur looked down at Molly – his wife, his partner, his heartbeat – as she continued to sob into his chest, and he felt the tears that had gathered at the tip of his nose drop noiselessly onto her shoulder. He adjusted the arm he had wrapped protectively around her so that he could run his hand through her hair. Even this, normally so radiant and alive, looked dull and faded in the harsh light, as if her tears had leeched all of the colour out of it. And still they came. Unceasingly. A veritable flood that had long ago soaked through his robes and shirt. Soaked right through his skin and was now filling up the hole where his heart had been.

He had to stop this. Had to be strong enough for his sons, for his daughter, for Molly. Strong enough to pull her up and back onto solid ground. Show the same strength that she had just hours earlier, when she had risked everything to protect her family. Arthur felt new tears welling up at the corners of his already damp eyes. They fell easier now, already having had a path laid for them by all those that had come before.

He had nearly lost her.

In a night of terrible moments, that had been the only time he'd felt fear gripping his throat, choking him into inaction, as the only woman he'd ever loved dueled to the death. Selfishly, he had wanted to be angry with her. Angry that she'd been so willing to kill him too. Because that's what would have happened. If she had died, so would he. That was their unspoken agreement, and she knew it. But he couldn't be angry. Not when he would have done – wanted to do – the same thing.

And now the fear was back, pressing down on him, nudging him closer and closer to the precipice his wife had already tumbled over. His tears followed her down, an endless waterfall of grief. And now he was close enough to see over the edge – to the pile of broken Weasleys at the bottom. And now he was teetering at the edge of the abyss.

Fred is dead. Dead, dead. Dead Fred.

Fred is dead. Dead, dead. Dead Fred.

It should have been me.

And he fell.

There was a hand on his shoulder. It seemed a curious thing to have on his shoulder as he cartwheeled into despair. He reached his free hand up shakily, intending to try and brush it off. There was no need for anyone to get dragged down with him. But as soon as his hand touched the one on his shoulder, he found that he was instead scrabbling with his fingers to grab hold of the lifeline he'd been offered. An eternity of fumbling later, and he had a firm hold of it. He gasped for air, not realizing that he'd stopped breathing. The hand holding his gave a gentle squeeze, and Arthur looked back over his shoulder.

"Thank you," he gasped, still trying to catch his breath. Ron stood there with a grim smile on his face. His son Ron.

"All right there, Dad?" The question was quiet. A whisper meant only for him. Worry tugged down at the corners of Ron's eyes, and Arthur knew that this had to be the moment. He'd been given a second chance to be strong for his family. He didn't intend to waste it.

"Better now, I think." He tried to offer Ron a smile of reassurance, but found that he couldn't make his mouth move in the required fashion. One step at a time, he reminded himself. "Where's Hermione?" he asked, in order to give his mouth a task that it was capable of. He hadn't seen the two of them more than an arm's length apart since – sweet Merlin, it had to have been some time before they'd been glued to each other on the dance floor at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Arthur found himself wondering just how much their relationship had progressed while they'd been on the run.

"She-" began Ron, and Arthur could tell that his youngest son was nervous. Probably about me. "She and Harry are up in the Gryffindor common room." He looked almost guilty as he answered, and he glanced at Molly and over at where George and Ginny still sat next to Fred's body. "I'm sorry that we took off like that, there was-"

"No." There was more force behind Arthur's objection than he had intended. He sighed softly before continuing. "There's nothing to apologize for." Ron looked like he wanted to interject, but Arthur pressed on. "Life goes o- no – wrong platitude." He felt Molly shake convulsively up against him. Was it because of what he'd said? Was she still present and listening, or was she off somewhere drowning in grief? "You're here now, and I daresay the three of you have earned the benefit of the doubt. What with you being heroes and all."

"Harry's the hero," countered Ron, automatically. Arthur opened his mouth to insist otherwise, but closed it without speaking. The boy would figure it out on his own quite quickly, he was sure. "I was hoping – we – we were hoping that all of you would come up with us. We've got some food, and – and I think Mum and George and – well, they could use a change of scenery."

And me.

That's what had gone unsaid. What would always remain unsaid, and for that Arthur was grateful. He was also grateful for the suggestion. Ron was quite right, there was no hope of Molly or George improving if they were to continue to sit here. Not with the ultimate reminder lying face up and unblinking just feet away.

"Yes, I suspect that we could all do with some food, and then -" Arthur tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful, "a bit of a kip, I think. Been a long night." He unwound his arm from Molly, and let go of Ron's hand. He prised his wife's from around his middle, and attempted to sit her upright.

"A long day yesterday, too," added Ron. "Broke into Gringotts, rode a dragon -"

"You did what?" Arthur glanced across the table to where Bill and Charlie had spoken at the same time and were now looking at Ron with their mouths agape.

"Well, it turned out being easier to break into Gringotts than it was to get back out again," offered Ron by way of explanation. "But I really shouldn't have said anything," he added sheepishly. Arthur couldn't see him, but was sure his ears had gone red. Bill and Charlie immediately launched into a series of whispered questions that Arthur ignored.

"Molly," he urged softly, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. She had slumped back into him once he had removed his supporting hands from her. A loud groan was the only response he elicited. "Molly," he tried again a bit louder, "we need to move. Do you think you can walk?" Another groan, and Arthur found himself frowning. He pushed her upright again, and signaled for Ron to put his hands on her shoulders to keep her upright while he got up off of the bench seat he'd occupied for what now seemed an eternity.

"I'm sorry guys, I really can't say anymore right now!" Ron was clearly getting exasperated by the barrage of questions from his older brothers, and the color had crept from his ears to his cheeks. "Maybe after I've had a chance to discuss it with Harry and Hermione. We'll need to figure out just what we can share, and – well-" Ron broke off, looking very guilty about something.

"That'll do, thanks." Arthur nudged Ron to the side after stretching his legs, and he placed his hands underneath Molly's arms. He hoisted her out of her seat, dragging her feet indelicately across the bench in the process. She was completely limp. He swung her around so that she was facing the nearest wall. He wanted her looking anywhere but at the line of bodies bisecting the hall, but there was a large stair-step crack running diagonally up through the masonry of the wall to serve as an unneeded reminder of what had happened here.

"Arthur," she moaned, "I can't." He was inclined to agree. The moment that he'd lowered her onto her feet, her knees had buckled and the arms he still had around her took her full weight once more.

"Thankfully, you won't have to," he said, trying to calm his own nerves as much as her own. "I do believe my vows said something about sharing your load." Under more normal circumstances, Arthur was sure that he'd have been swatted for implying that his wife was a load, but she made no complaint as he bent down and repositioned his right arm under the backs of her knees. Ron strode forward quickly with his arms out.

"Here, let me."

"I'm quite capable of carrying my wife, though your sister could probably use a hand with you brother." Arthur hadn't been sure it was true when he'd started to speak, but found that he was indeed able to carry Molly quite easily. He nodded in the direction of where Ginny had gotten up and was attempting to pull a stubbornly protesting George to his feet. Ron hurried over to help.

Arthur turned carefully, making sure his wife's head had clearance from the cracked wall. Percy stood watching them from the end of the Gryffindor table where they'd been sitting, nervously fingering the end of his sleeve. He still looked just as guilty as he had when he'd carried Fred's body into the Great Hall hours before, and Arthur knew that he was blaming himself, unnecessarily, for Fred's death. But he also knew, from years of experience, that trying to absolve Percy of his guilt would only make it worse.

"Come on Percy, let's go have some breakfast." The invitation hung heavily in the air between them, as Percy looked first at a spot just to the right of Arthur's eyes, then down at his feet. Arthur turned towards where his two eldest sons had also stood up, intending to extend the same invitation, but his voice failed him when he saw the look that Charlie was giving Percy.

To this point, there had been little more than a stiff hug between the two of them, as Charlie hadn't been present at the all-too-brief reunion when Percy had surprised everyone by turning up before the battle. He hadn't seen the apologies, the tears, or Fred's hand extended in acceptance. Arthur knew that that had been an integral part of his own, and everyone ease's, forgiveness.

But now, there was a grin playing at the corners of Charlie's mouth, and something that very much looked like respect in his eyes. He nodded slightly, as if trying to convince himself of something.

"Yeah, come on Perce," Charlie said finally, striding to the end of the table and clapping a calloused and blistered hand on Percy's slouched back. Percy looked up with confusion writ large across his face, but slowly it turned into embarrassment as Charlie nodded in Arthur and Molly's direction and whispered something that Arthur couldn't make out.

He had missed something, he was sure of it. And not just the whisper. Percy had done something to win over Charlie – something just outside the range of his vision. Arthur wasn't used to missing much. Between Molly and himself, he liked to think that they were generally much more aware of what was going on in the family than they let on. Well, than he let on anyway. Molly did have a tendency to want to involve herself in just about everything. He looked down at her nestled up against his left shoulder, hoping that she'd perhaps caught what he'd missed, but her eyes were closed.

No, for now at least, he was on his own. The fierce dervish of a woman he loved was buried under a mountain of grief. He could move that mountain, of that he was sure, but it felt as though he was wielding little more than a teaspoon.

Ahead of him, Percy was being shepherded from the Great Hall by Charlie, and George was making his way unsteadily between Ron and Bill, an arm thrown over each's shoulder. Behind his five sons, Ginny was linked arm-in-arm with Fleur – his daughter-in-law Fleur – and they were leaning heavily on each other. Arthur fell in behind the girls, determined not to look back as he passed through the doors to the entrance hall.

Yes, maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought. Maybe they each had a teaspoon and they'd be digging out together.

It had been a very long time since Arthur Weasley had been in the Gryffindor common room, but in its basic layout and amenities it hadn't really changed much. The fire was still as cheerful and inviting as it once had been, the armchairs and couches were every bit as overstuffed and squashy, and he was sure that if you were to push aside that tapestry of the house crest over next to the announcement board you'd find 'Arthur Weasley loves Molly Prewett' scratched into the very stones of the tower. But there were also differences.

He didn't recall there being a gaping hole in the tower wall just to the right of the staircase to the girls' dormitories, for one.

The anti-muggleborn propaganda and a detention schedule as long as his arm stuck to the announcement board also bore silent witness to the fact that the Hogwarts that Ginny had attended this year was a far cry from the one that he had such fond memories of. Other notices tacked onto the board included what appeared to be a wanted poster for Neville Longbottom offering an O in the O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. subject of the informant's choice, a list of banned books that included three accounts of the first war against Voldemort and every Defense Against the Dark Arts book they'd had to buy for the kids, and a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet with leering pictures of the Carrows under the headline 'New Professors' Unique Educational Reforms are Revolutionizing Learning.'

With a sigh, Arthur grabbed the newspaper clipping and gave it a tug, intending to toss it into the fire, but found that it resisted his every effort to remove it from the board. "Permanent sticking charm," Ginny offered unnecessarily from where she was seated next to George on one of the couches nearest the fire. Arthur glanced back at her and saw the hardened look in her eyes - a look that didn't belong on the face of a girl her age, and he found himself wondering how many times she'd found herself on the detention list. Dozens, if he knew his daughter. If she hadn't been pulled out of school over Easter, he was sure that her wanted poster would be up there next to Neville's.

With a swelling pride, he let go of the newsprint, and instead placed a hand on either side of the announcement board's frame. He once again gave a sharp tug, and was gratified when the entire thing came loose from the wall causing him to stumble backwards a step. Unceremoniously, he marched over to the new hole in the wall and tossed the board out of it. He didn't bother watching to see where it landed.

"If you are done wiz ze redecorating, why do you not come sit? You can have my spot." Fleur was seated at the end of a couch and had her arms around Molly, whose head was on the Frenchwoman's shoulder. Bill had deposited her there after Arthur had had to pass her through the portrait hole just minutes before. Arthur had the good sense to realize he was being chided gently by his daughter-in-law, and he hurried over to take her place.

Fleur was absolutely right. His place tonight, and for the foreseeable future, was at his wife's side. No, that wasn't quite right, was it? His place was always at his wife's side - but right now it was imperative that she have him to lean on. While removing her from the Great Hall had stemmed the flow of her tears, Molly was still listless and silent. As he settled his weight into the couch beside her, she sighed sadly and looked up at him as she lowered her head onto his shoulder.

He should say something. He knew her well enough to know that she was looking for some sort of reassurance. But what could he say? What did you tell a mother who had just lost a son? Certainly not that everything would be alright; those words rang hollow even in his head. But something had to be said. As he contemplated whether or not his moment had passed, he realized that the room was silent and looking at him expectantly.

"Mr. Weasley - Mrs. Weasley, I-" it was Harry that had broken the silence. Brave, selfless, shy Harry. His son Harry. "I'm sorry about - about Fred." He was seated by himself in a corner of the common room, a good deal away from where Ron and Hermione were seated tightly together and looking at him worriedly, and Arthur once again felt as though he had missed something.

"I never wanted - I'd hoped - I'm-"

"Harry, you don't have to-" He heard Hermione's whispered attempt to release Harry from finishing his thought, but Harry waved her off.

"I'm grateful," he finally managed to get out. The portion of his face visible beneath the accumulated soot and grime of battle and who-knew-what else seemed to relax at his confession, and he sat up a little straighter. This last, however, only served to highlight just how skinny and frail the boy was. The stirring at Arthur's side told him that Molly had seen this as well.

"You - all of you - have sacrificed so much for me over the years. You've fed me and clothed me, given me a place to stay, willingly put yourselves in danger. I just -" The common room was silent as Harry once again found himself searching for the right words. Arthur glanced around and saw that Hermione was wiping her eyes with her palms as Ron patted her back awkwardly, Percy was trying to blend into the furniture and disappear, and Ginny - well, he wasn't quite sure what to make of Ginny's expression. Beside him, he heard Molly sniffle, and she sat up straighter, removing her head from his shoulder.

"After everything that you've done for me, I - you deserve so much better than this - better than me." There was a sharp intake of breath from assorted Weasleys around the room, and Arthur could feel several pairs of eyes turning to him in anticipation of his rebuke, but he needed them to see what he could feel happening next to him. He caught Ginny's eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly before inclining his head toward Molly. His wife's breathing had sped up, and he knew the explosion would come soon if Harry would just keep saying such silly things. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest in protest, but didn't say anything.

For his part, Harry looked nonplussed by the silence that surrounded him, and Arthur felt the first pangs of guilt at letting him continue to stammer his way through - whatever this was. The boy clearly needed the 'it's not your fault' treatment.

"It just isn't - I don't think it's fair that I'm - I'm still here, and Fred, who - you know - laughter. And Colin and Tonks. And - and Lupin. And all the others." Harry was shifting very uneasily in his seat now, and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of rushing from the room. He had let things go too far, and opened his mouth to stop Harry from going any further.

Smack.

"Arthur Weasley, I'm ashamed of you!" cried Molly as she got shakily to her feet. Arthur rubbed the back of his head which had borne the brunt of his wife's attack, and tried very hard not to smirk. "How could you just sit there and listen as Harry spouted off such nonsense." She was bustling across the gap towards where Harry was still sitting with a rather confused look. "Up," she commanded him. "Up you get." Harry looked imploringly at Ron who just shrugged and wore an apologetic 'I tried to warn you' grin. Looking very much like he wished he'd made a break for it when he had the chance, Harry rose.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm-" But whatever Harry was, it was left unsaid as his words were squeezed out of him by Molly.

"You are my son, same as all the others."

"But-"

"No, don't protest, just listen. From the moment Ron sent me that letter during your first year begging me to knit you a jumper for Christmas because he didn't expect your Aunt and Uncle would get you anything, you've been mine. Ours, rather. I know I'm not the only Weasley to feel this way." Molly unwrapped her arms from around Harry, and placed her hands roughly on his shoulders and gave him a shake.

"And then you have the gall - the absolute gall - to suggest that I am somehow going to think less of you because of what happened last night. As if it were somehow your fault and yours alone that Fred and fifty-some odd others are dead."

"Mrs. Weasley, can I-"

"No, no you can not. You need to hear this, and I'm only going to say it once." Molly took her right hand off of Harry's shoulder and used it to hold his face such that he had no other option but to look at her. "You didn't have a choice in all of this. If anything isn't fair, it's that. You were forced to be 'The Chosen One,' and you had so much taken from you - your parents, your childhood, love and friendship, any expectation of safety - we did what we could to provide you with some semblance of normalcy, but -"

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome Dear, but that's besides the point. You had to be here. Everybody else had a choice to make. I can't speak for anyone else, but I can tell you that I was fighting to ensure my family would have a chance - just a chance - at happiness."

"I was fighting to take Hogwarts back from Snape and the Carrows," offered Ginny hotly. Arthur glanced over at her to find that she was still glaring at him, apparently upset that he'd let the situation escalate to this point.

"I was fighting against the injustices perpetrated by the Ministry against muggle-borns," spat Hermione quietly. Her shining eyes flashed white in the glare of the late morning light streaming in through Gryffindor tower's newest window.

"Thank you, girls." Molly released Harry's face and returned her hand to his shoulder, but didn't shake him further. "No one here died for you Harry. They died in service of their own goals, be that protecting their family or their way of life. We fought with you, not for you. Given that choice again, I'm sure we'd all choose to do the same once more. But thanks to you, we won't have to face that choice."

Arthur watched as Harry stared blankly up into Molly's face, his eyes blinking furiously. "But if I'd just gone sooner, then-" Arthur heard Bill groan from a chair he was now sharing with Fleur, and couldn't help but agree. Harry was every bit as stubborn as - well, as a Weasley.

"It's not your fault," insisted Molly quietly.

"I could have saved more people!"

"It's not your fault. Come on, I need to hear you say it."

"I never meant for any of this to happen!" Tears were shining in Harry's eyes now, and his hands were clenched tightly into fists at his sides. "He wanted me. No one else needed to die."

"It's not your fault."

"Why did I get to come back and no one else?" A tear fell slowly down Harry's cheek as he whispered the question to the room at large. Arthur looked up sharply. Come back? Surely he didn't mean -

"It's not your fault," whispered Molly earnestly, though she too looked shaken by what Harry had just inadvertently implied.

"It was always meant to be me." Their conversation was growing fainter, and Arthur found himself leaning forward and hanging on every word.

"Repeat after me: it's not your fault."

"It should have been me."

"Harry." Silence stretched from second to second as no one dared to breathe.

"It's not my fault?" This was barely a whisper. So soft Arthur thought he might not have heard it at all, but rather read it off of Harry's lips.

"It's not your fault," confirmed Molly, pulling Harry back in for another hug.

"It's not my fault," he repeated, and even though Arthur could still see a shadow of doubt in his eyes, he knew that the message had sunk in.

"And now you need to eat something! You're practically a skeleton!" chided Molly. "I can feel your ribs poking into me every time I hug you. And you as well Hermione," she added, turning towards where Ron was hugging the openly crying young woman and nervously patting her head. "It looks as though a good stiff breeze would do you in. Come, eat."

Molly busied herself with preparing plates of sandwiches and fruit for everyone from the platters set up on the coffee table in front of the fire. Arthur wasn't sure where it had come from, but felt reasonably confident that a house elf had been involved in its delivery. Just one more minor mystery in a year chock full of them. Though at the moment, most of his thoughts were on Harry's whispered acknowledgment that he'd 'come back.' Did that mean there was something or somewhere to come back from? Was Fred there now?

He was lost in thought when he felt the couch sink a bit next to him, and he looked over to see that Molly had rejoined him carrying two plates. She handed one to him with a sigh. "You were using him."

"It was for a good cause," he insisted, grabbing one of the ham sandwiches on his plate and taking a bite. Lots of mustard, just how he liked it.

"Do you have any idea how many good causes that poor boy has been used for in his life? I'd have hoped we could be the ones above all of that." Molly lifted her own sandwich to her mouth and took a small bite.

"I know you're right, Molly, but-"

"And don't you forget it!"

"But," Arthur pressed on, ignoring the bait, "I'm honestly just relieved to see you back from wherever it is you were earlier. You had me a bit scared there for a moment. Thought I'd have to give Harry the talk myself, and you always were much better at this one than I was. I'd have needed another three or four 'it's not your faults.'"

"How long did I have?"

"My mouth was open when you smacked me."

"Yes, well - you always did have more patience than me." Molly leaned over and kissed him briefly on the cheek, and the first real smile Arthur had had the pleasure of feeling spread across his features in days, was mirrored on the face of his better half.

"Are we alright?" he asked, his smile fading. He was feeling guilty about the moment of levity, and he glanced over at George, who was moodily staring into the fire as Ginny valiantly kept up a one-sided conversation beside him.

"Of course not," Molly scoffed, picking her sandwich up again. "But we will be. But if I learned one thing from Gideon and Fabian - from Fred too - it's that laughter is absolutely essential to getting through rough times like this. Gives you hope that there might be a chance things get better. And they will."

"The chance at happiness you were fighting for?"

"Grandkids. Lots of grandkids."

"I think Bill and Fleur are ready," agreed Arthur, glancing at the married couple cuddled together in a chair that was technically too small for them. Not that either of them seemed to notice or mind. "But after that, you may be waiting for a while."

"I am much more comfortable with that today than I was yesterday."

"Everything is going to change, isn't it?"

"Everything already has," Molly whispered sadly. Arthur nodded slowly, thinking about one very large change in particular.

"I might need the 'it's not your fault' conversation at some point." Molly turned to look at him, and he could see, for the briefest of moments, a look of fear in her eyes, but then it was gone - replaced by endless sorrow.

"Only if you agree to do the same for me."

"Fred?" Molly silently stared out into space for nearly a minute, and Arthur was beginning to wonder if he'd have to launch into the talk right here and now.

"Not Fred. Bellatrix." Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that, and Arthur's surprise was betrayed by his audible gasp at the name of the witch his wife had killed just hours earlier. She looked up sharply at his reaction, and he was startled to see that there were once again tears in her eyes.

"Merlin, Mollywobbles, I-"

"Don't call me that. Not today. I killed someone this morning."

"You were protecting your family - bloody hell - she was a monster, Molly!" Arthur's voice was rising now, and he could feel, rather than hear, all the separate conversations in the common room pausing to listen in. Molly looked very much like she wanted to chide him for his language, but she bit her tongue and looked imploringly at her husband. "Fine," he sighed, settling back into the couch and taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"Thank you." Molly looked down at the half eaten sandwich on her plate, then bent forward to put it down on the coffee table in front of them. "I'm not terribly hungry just at the moment."

"You know it's not your fault, right?" Arthur asked gently, hoping that their audience couldn't hear. Molly gave him a wry smile and an eye roll in response. "No one is going to blame you for what you did. In fact, I'd wager you'll be hailed as a-"

"Don't say hero. I'll hex you if you ever so much as insinuate that I'm a hero. Not for that."

"You were trying to protect your family, there is heroism in that." Arthur knew that he was pressing his luck, but he was absolutely sure that if he let this fester in Molly for much longer it would lead to something very ugly down the road.

"Sure," she allowed, and Arthur relaxed his guard slightly, no longer expecting the promised hexing, "but is that really what I was doing?"

"Of course, you-"

"I'm not so sure. I could have done as much with a disarming spell, or a stunner." She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed at her temples before continuing. "Merlin, even Harry brought down You-know-who with expelliarmus. Expelliarmus of all things! But I was angry, Arthur. More angry than - than I can ever remember being. And I - I wanted blood." This last revelation was spoken barely above a whisper, and Arthur shivered slightly, finding himself suddenly chilled in spite of the fire nearby.

"I don't think any less of you for it," he said, trying to pull himself together quickly. It wouldn't do to let Molly see that he was unnerved.

"Of course you don't. But you're not the one I'm going to see in the mirror tomorrow morning when I wake up."

"Of course you will. I'll be right beside you, same as always." There was the wry smile again, though he hadn't earned an eye roll this time.

"You're very sweet Arthur, but that's not what I mean, and you know it. It just - it scares me to know that I'm capable of doing something like that."

"We've all done things that we aren't proud of, Molly. But we can't let them define who we are." He set his own plate on the table next to his wife's, then reached over with both hands to take hers in his. "Because that isn't who you are. The very fact that you're feeling remorse about killing someone who would have slaughtered our entire family and laughed while she did it - you aren't her, and you will never be her."

Molly stared directly up into his eyes for a few moments, and he felt her give his hands a squeeze. Just like with Harry, she didn't look entirely convinced, but Arthur was sure she was in a better place than she had been just minutes before.

"Besides," he added light-heartedly, "you've made my job easier. Can you imagine the look on Ginny's future boyfriend's face when he comes to pick her up for a date and I tell him to have her back by eleven or else I'll turn my wife - slayer of Bellatrix Lestrange - loose on him?"

"You really think Harry would be that scared of me?"

"Harry? Harry Potter? Really? You're putting me on."

"Not at all. I don't know the whole story, but something happened there just before last summer. Ginny was very out of sorts when we picked her up off the Hogwarts Express."

"She seemed fine to me," Arthur grumbled with a scowl. If Harry and Ginny - no, of course they hadn't. But there was no denying that Ginny had been behaving a bit strangely with respect to Harry all morning.

"Oh Arthur, don't be silly. It would be fantastic if they were together! He probably just ended it to keep her safe while he was on the run with Ron and Hermione." Arthur found himself looking carefully at Harry as he sat isolated in his corner. He looked very much alone and thoroughly miserable.

"That - that does seem like something he would do," allowed Arthur begrudgingly.

"You mark my words," Molly paused to yawn before finishing her thought, "inside of two weeks we'll be chasing them out of the pantry with a broom." Arthur groaned, then stifled a yawn of his own. "And you will be happy for them Arthur, do you hear me?

Arthur thought back to his Great Hall resolution to treat Ginny like the adult she'd proven herself to be, of the years of happiness that the universe owed Harry, and of his daughter's anguished scream at the sight of Harry's lifeless body in Hagrid's arms just last night. Yes, Molly was right, there was something there.

"You know what?" he asked sincerely. "I will be happy. They deserve each other."

"And there's the man I love." His wife leaned over and kissed his cheek again, then made to get up off the couch. "Time for that kip, I think."

"Do you need me to carry you up?"

"Arthur, you couldn't carry me up the stairs if you wanted to."

"I'm pretty sure McGonagall removed the enchantment on the stairs to allow the fighters up to the top."

"That's not what I meant. You're just oblivious, aren't you?"

"What are you on about? I carried you all the way up from the Great Hall, didn't I?"

"Only because Percy put a lightening charm on me before you picked me up." Arthur sat silently for a moment, gaping at his wife. "Close your mouth, dear. It's not a good look for you."

"I - I suppose that explains a lot," he stammered as things began to fall into place in his mind. Percy hadn't been fiddling nervously with his sleeve at all, he'd been stashing his wand. And that's why Charlie had warmed to him. "I'm feeling a bit foolish just at the moment," he admitted.

"Sorry to destroy your illusions, dear. But we're not as young as we used to be. Besides, I'm happy just knowing that you did carry me up those stairs to your dorm once before." Arthur felt himself begin to blush, but the guilt was also rising in him. Once again he was on the verge of smiling when by rights, he should be doing anything but.

Was there something wrong with him? Had he not loved Fred as much as he should have? George certainly wasn't smiling.

He was glad when Molly got up off the couch and started to shepherd everyone up the stairs to an open bed. He hoisted himself up out of the couch with far more effort than he remembered being necessary when he was eighteen - were the couches lower to the ground?

At the base of the stairs up to the boys' dormitories there was a hushed and frantic conversation taking place between Ron and Hermione. He watched as he rounded up the plates that his family had used to eat. No sense in leaving more work for some poor house elf.

At first he had thought they were fighting over whether or not Hermione was going to sleep up in the boys' dorms with Ron and Harry, but that didn't seem to fit the body language. It didn't really seem like they were fighting at all, now that he was watching properly. Hermione rose up onto her tiptoes, gave Ron a quick peck, and then turned and sat back down in the common room. Well that was odd.

Arthur gave Ron enough time to scamper up the stairs after Harry, then coming to a decision, sat down in a chair opposite Hermione, who looked startled to see him.

"Not tired?"

"Mr. - Mr. Weasley, I -"

"Didn't know I was still down here?" he ventured. "I hope you're not embarrassed about the kiss, I'm happy for you and Ron." Hermione's cheeks coloured slightly, but she didn't speak. "If you don't mind my saying so, you look absolutely exhausted. I'm sure no one would mind if you went up and slept with the boys."

"Mr. Weasley!" her once slightly rosy cheeks blazed red, and she sounded scandalized. Arthur realized his mistake.

"Sorry. I'm tired too. Didn't mean anything by it, I assure you."

"It's alright. I'm sorry about Fred," she whispered, the colour draining out of her face.

"Thank you." It didn't really seem an appropriate response, but there really wasn't anything else to say, was there? The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment as Arthur pondered why she was still down in the common room. But then it hit him like a well-placed bludger. "You're on guard duty, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, and looked slightly embarrassed. "Old habits die hard, I guess," she said with a shy smile and a glance back at the stairway behind her.

"I don't think the remaining Death Eaters are going to make a play for Harry today without the benefit of having had time to plan an attack. It'll be smart to stay on guard in the future, but I think you've earned a bit of a lie-in."

"Unfortunately, it isn't the Death Eaters I'm worried about," she admitted after a moment's contemplation. Arthur said nothing, but invited her to continue by sitting back into the chair. "I - oh this is silly. There's so much that I feel like I can't talk about yet, but Harry did announce it to the whole world, so -" she glanced quickly around the common room as though ensuring that there was no one else present to overhear their conversation.

"Don't feel obligated to tell me something you think you shouldn't."

"It's not that. Like I said, Harry already let this particular cat out of the bag." She took a deep breath to steel herself, then dove right in. "Harry is the master of the Elder Wand - the Deathstick - and while he is in possession of it, he's much more likely to be attacked by anyone who's looking to obtain it. The thing's history is littered with wizards who were attacked in their sleep after they bragged about having it. So you can see why it was probably unwise to bring it up during his showdown with Vo- Tom Riddle. Not that I blame him of course, he was trying to get under his skin, want he?"

"I have questions." So many questions.

"We're working on a plan to get rid of it. That's really the only answer I can give right now, I'm sorry."

"And you have Ron up there putting some sort of protection on it right now?"

"Well, he'll wait until Harry falls asleep, but yes." She looked over at the stairs nervously. "Maybe I should -" she paused and pushed her weight forward in the chair she was occupying. She stayed poised on the point of getting up for a moment clearly arguing with herself. "No, he'll be fine," she finally said with a shake of her head. She slumped back into the chair.

"That isn't quite everything though, is it?" asked Arthur gently before she'd had a chance to get lost in her own thoughts. Hermione's eyes narrowed questioningly, and she quirked her head slightly to the left.

"I'm not sure I follow, Mr. Weasley."

"You've been treating Harry like he's made of glass all morning. You and Ron are taking it in shifts to never leave him on his own, you won't let him in on your efforts to protect this wand of his, and you were clearly very worried about him as he was sitting over there in the corner by himself." Hermione stared at Arthur as though he had two heads, and he knew that he was pressing too hard. "Look," he began, intending to walk the tension back a bit, "I really don't intend to pry - no - clearly that's not true, as here we sit." He reached up to rub his thinning hair in frustration.

Hermione bit her lip across from him. "You want to know if you're in danger of losing a second son."

And there it was.

"You always were the clever one," Arthur said with a sigh. "Yes, that is the crux of it, I think. Are you down here on watch to make sure that Harry doesn't leave?" Hermione's eyes were over-bright, and she looked away towards the hole in the common room wall. Very slowly, she nodded, then wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"He was gone. The last time we left him alone. I don't - I can't -"

"But he came back?" She snapped her head back around to look at him, but remained silent. "What he said to Molly - 'why did I get to come back?' - does it mean what I think it means?"

"No. Too far, Mr. Weasley. That's not my story to tell," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, and I understand you're looking for some sort of confirmation because of Fred, but that story is Harry's and Harry's alone. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring it up again. With me, with Ron, or especially with Harry. Not right now."

Arthur held up his hands as though in surrender, and felt the tears welling up in his eyes. She was absolutely right. He had gone too far. Too far in search of answers to questions that he hadn't even known he'd had. But she had known. Of course that had been what he was after. Some glimmer of hope that it was possible to see Fred again. She had seen right through him, just like Molly would have.

"Harry and Ron are very lucky to have you. We all are." He got slowly to his feet and walked across the gap to where she sat. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and he was gratified when she didn't flinch or pull away. He hadn't done any lasting harm this morning.

"Were it not for the fact that you've still got parents, I'd be honored to call you my daughter too." Hermione's face scrunched up and she lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. She looked as though she desperately wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

"Thank you for bringing my boys home to me," he said quietly, and he turned and walked up the stairs to find his wife as Hermione sobbed softly behind him.