Shadows
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Note: This is a short story I wrote a while back. My wonderful beta, Tailkinker, read it and said "I guess I like it, but. huh??" Which made me realize that I wrote it with a whole bunch of background info in my head. So what that boils down to is that this story was the inspiration for a much longer one (one that actually explains why people seem so OOC here). I'm working on that longer one and might actually get around to posting it here some day. But for the moment, enjoy being slightly confused by this one.
Yes, it's implied GW/SS. Yes, he's somewhat OOC. Just go with it. (
*^*^*^*^*^*^*
I have always lived in the shadows of other people.
Part of that comes from having 6 older siblings, all brothers. And none of them are exactly small guys. They cast some pretty long shadows. Even mum and dad cast shadows, but I suppose that's just part of being a parent.
At school that didn't change too much, either. Isn't it funny how people can cast shadows even if they're not there? But they're my big brothers, and I can't resent them. Too much.
Then there's Harry. I love him, I really do. We've been dating for two and a half years, and I feel like I've been floating on a cloud the whole time. He's wonderful, sweet, caring. But he's also The Famous Harry Potter. That's one hell of a shadow he casts. I think Ron would understand that. So while I'm with him, I'll never be anything other than "Harry Potter's pretty girlfriend" - even if he doesn't see me that way.
And then there was Hermione. I loved her almost as much as I love Harry, I think. She was my best friend, my sister, my tutor and my biggest rival all rolled into one. She pushed me at academics the way no one else - not even any of the professors - did. Under her tutelage and challenging I accomplished things I never would have otherwise. She always encouraged me, but she was also always one better than me. I never quite matched her grades, I fell just short of her OWLS. The next bench marks were going to be the NEWTS and her final GPA.
And then she died. In the final battle with Voldemort, at the end of her 7th year, she took a curse full on. And it was a curse meant for me. At least her death served a purpose - her actions distracted Voldemort just long enough for Harry, Professor Snape and the headmaster to finish him off.
After the battle I think I just sat there. All I know is that I was replaying her actions over and over again in my mind. I had been trying to sneak up behind Voldemort, to try to bind him or at least distract him, when suddenly he turned on me. I don't know if he knew I was there all along or if something gave me away. But the next thing I knew, there was a curse flying at me, and then Hermione pushing me out of the way. She was dead before she hit the ground. And I kept seeing it over and over and over again. I vaguely remember Harry picking me up, and then I must have passed out.
Her funeral was two days later. It was part Muggle, part Wizard, and held just before dawn. I noticed that there were hills off to the east and I thought it was odd, because that meant the sun would take that much longer to rise. Isn't it strange the things you notice at a time like that?
I hadn't cried for her yet, but no one seemed too worried about that. Everyone was still in something of a state of shock. I guess they all expected the funeral to help with some of that.
The whole staff of Hogwarts was there, and all of my family. Charlie and Bill even managed to come in. She was their "other sister," after all. Many of the students were there also; Hermione had been a popular and respected Head Girl. Her parents were there of course, as well as a number of aunts and uncles and cousins. I had met most of them over the years. They all seemed less uncomfortable than I was expecting, given that they were surrounded by witches and wizards. I suppose the fact that everyone there loved her was enough to overcome those differences.
I stood with Harry and Ron throughout the funeral, and still I could not cry. They did, as did nearly everyone else around me. They began giving me concerned looks, and I was grateful that they could not ask why I didn't cry.
There was no way I could explain it to either of them. They would never understand the guilt I felt. Guilt because she had died instead of me, and guilt because part of me was rejoicing instead of mourning. I wasn't crying because I didn't deserve the release and cleansing that I knew would come with tears. No matter how I tried to push it away, part of my mind was jumping for joy that she was gone because I would finally be out of Hermione's shadow.
Ironic, isn't it, that of all the shadows I have stood in, Hermione's was the hardest for me to take? Even being in the shadow of the most recognized wizard since Merlin was easier for me to deal with than knowing I would always be second best to Hermione. And now she was gone, and I finally had my chance to be Hogwart's best student. The record NEWTS score, and the school's highest ever GPA were now in my grasp, because she never got to finish her final year. All because of a fatal curse that was meant for me.
I was numb for the whole service. I couldn't let anything touch me. First a priest spoke, in a traditional Anglican service. Then the headmaster spoke. Her body was laid out on a pyre, cremation being common to both Muggle and Wizarding traditions. Her parents lit a torch and began the fire with a murmur of "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Then we wizards added our own magical fire to the blaze. No one moved until the fire burned itself out and only ashes remained.
The headmaster then conjured a small whirlwind, which picked up all ashes, took them straight up, and scattered them to the four winds. It was an impressive and moving sight, and I was the only one who had dry eyes. Even Professor Snape had wet marks on his cheeks.
"Before we depart, there is one final thing I must do," Professor Dumbledore announced afterwards. "I have spoken with the staff and with Hermione's parents and they have all agreed to this. Miss Weasley?"
I stepped forward, confused. I had no idea what was going on. The headmaster smiled gently at me and I had to fight back tears.
"Miss Weasley, normally we would wait until summer to inform you of this, but in light of recent circumstances, the staff and I felt it was appropriate to do so early. I am pleased to inform you that you will be Head Girl next year; and, we would like you to consider taking over those duties for the rest of this year. I know Hermione often spoke to you about what she was doing, so you should not have too much to catch up on." He paused, obviously waiting for me to say something.
I was stunned. It felt like I had taken a bludger in the stomach, and the hated tears threatened to overwhelm me. "I-I-Thank you, sir," I managed to gasp out, and then I turned and fled.
I ran as hard and fast as I could, trying to outrun the screaming in my head. Behind me, I heard Harry call out, "Ginny! Wait!" But I just kept running. I couldn't face him, I couldn't face any of them. I didn't deserve this, not after what I had been thinking. It was an insult to her memory to give it to me. I didn't deserve it.
Harry must have started after me, because then I heard another voice, full of authority. "Stop, Mr. Potter! Let her go." The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I was too caught in my own thoughts to place it. I was grateful to whomever it was, though.
I don't know how long I ran, there were huge fields all around the spot where people were gathered. I don't even know which direction I ran. I just ran. I needed to get away from all the people, the expectations, the memories. Eventually I slowed to a walk and then stopped completely, gasping for air. I stood, hugging myself, and staring blankly at the meadow, trying not to cry. I wished I could disappear into nothingness, so that all the pain and guilt and sadness would just go away.
There was the faint swish of grass behind me. It could have been just the wind, or it could have been a person. I didn't particularly care. I had no intention of talking to anyone, possibly ever again. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I started to snap at Harry or Ron that I didn't want to talk and just wanted to be alone. But a quick glance at the hand stopped me. Neither of them had hands like that.
"Other than the obvious, what is wrong, Miss Weasley?" the owner of the hand asked me. His voice was soft and gentle, completely unlike the harsh tones he used in the classroom.
I turned to my Potions Master, but couldn't look him in the face. Instead, I looked down at my hands, and answered. "I don't deserve this, sir. It dishonors Hermione."
"I assure you, you should have no doubt as to your academic qualifications- " he began skeptically.
I shook my head, cutting him off. "No, sir. I don't doubt that. It's that- " I could feel the tears building again - "part of me is happy to have it. I should have been the one to die, not her. But now that she's gone, part of me is actually happy that I won't just be second best anymore. And I hate that." I finished in a rush of words.
I'll never know what possessed me to make such a confession. I had spent the previous two days trying to lock that thought far far away where it would never see the light of day, and here I had just spoken it to a man who had every reason to hate me.
The tears began falling then, and there was nothing I could do to stop them. "Oh, child. Oh, Ginny," my professor breathed and wrapped his arms around me. That one act of caring, from such an unexpected source, was enough to shatter my self control. I lost it.
It should have been awkward, standing there sobbing into the chest of the feared and loathed Professor Snape. But somehow it wasn't. He held me close while I cried out so much pain and sorrow and guilt. I felt safe and protected, it occurred to me for the first time that maybe my life could keep going.
When I finally dared to look up at him, he surprised me again. Caring, concern and sorrow were writ on every line of his face, but there was no trace of the revulsion or even the pity I was expecting.
I opened my mouth to speak, to thank him, before it became uncomfortable. But a long finger lay across my lips, shushing me.
"Just listen for a moment, Ginny," he said softly. It was strange hearing that name from him after six years of being "Miss Weasley," usually in a sneering tone. "The only way you will dishonor Miss Granger's memory is by doubting the choice she made. In another circumstance, perhaps, the outcome would have been different, but she did what she felt she had to do. And it was because of the choice she made that we were able to finally defeat the Dark Lord. She did not deserve to die, but you most certainly deserve to live. So respect the choice that your friend made, even in death."
I nodded. If I thought about it that way, the guilt of being alive was not so much. I realized, too, that there was probably no one in the world who understood that particular form of guilt as well as the man who now stood with his hands on my shoulders. But that only alleviated half the problem.
"As for the other," he continued in the same gentle tone, "you have been given a chance that might not otherwise have existed. There is no shame in accepting what has been handed to you. Do you really think Miss Granger would have wanted you to turn away from things you enjoy so much, just because she was no longer there breaking the path before you? We have known for the last two years that she was going to be Head Girl this year and you would follow her. That was never a question, even to me, loathe as I am to give Gryffindor that sort of run." I had to smile weakly at that, and I knew that was why he said it. "Use some of that fabled Gryffindor courage now, and break the path for yourself. You will never be second best to any one, not even the memory of your remarkable friend, unless you let yourself be."
There really wasn't anything I could say to that. I could feel tears falling down my cheeks again, but they were different this time. No longer tinged with guilt, they were now born out of true grief for the loss of my best friend and for the fact that she wouldn't see me as Head Girl, wouldn't be there to challenge and tease me.
As I cried, Professor Snape gently turned me until I was facing the hills I had seen earlier. The sun was just peaking over a low spot and we were caught directly in one of the beams. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths, letting the warmth of the May morning seep into me and dry my face.
I could do it. I could go on. I knew the guilt would return, that it had only been temporarily expelled; but even that was a victory. This was a chance, a challenge. Not one I ever would have asked for, but I would be a fool to walk away from it now that it was here. I knew that if I repeated that mantra to myself often enough, and perhaps had some outside reinforcement, that I could destroy the guilt permanently.
I sighed in relief and leaned back against the comfortable, protecting bulk behind me. His hands squeeze my shoulders, and we stood, enjoying the warmth of the sun. "You are beautiful when not cast in shadows, Ginny," he murmured above me. I knew I should have been revolted that he would say such a thing, but I wasn't. The comment was so out of character for what I knew of the man, that it could not be anything but genuine. I lay my hands on top of his, so that he would know I was not offended.
"Thank you," I whispered. In that moment, an untold world of possibilities opened up to me. They were not paths I would contemplate tomorrow, the next day or even next year. I still loved Harry, after all, and I was quite happy with him. But I knew if that ever changed, these other paths would be here waiting for me.
I turned around slowly, unsure what to say to my companion. One look at his face, his eyes, and I knew he was seeing all the potential paths as well, although there was also a trace of - regret? wistful remembrance? - I could not be sure.
"You know things cannot change-" he began, and this time there was no question that there was regret in his eyes. I cut him off with a soft smile. "I know," I replied, but then paused to consider something. "But they will, whether we want them to or not." He frowned at me, the first familiar expression from him that I had seen.
"Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, they're all gone now," I explained quietly. "Your shadows have been dispersed as well."
He looked at me for a long while, dark eyes deepening to unfathomable depths. Then he kissed me on the forehead and tucked me under his chin in another embrace. On some levels it was a strictly paternal gesture, but I knew it also held the promise that - if we ever chose to walk this path again - there could be more.
I lost track of time as we stood there, both reluctant to pull away. Finally he sighed. "We should go back, or they will be sending out a lynch mob for me soon." Some of the familiar dry sarcasm was starting to creep back into his voice. I chuckled. "With Professor McGonagall leading the way, no doubt. Let's go then." I held out my hand, and to my surprise, he took it.
We walked back to the gathering hand in hand. I knew it would take weeks to calm Harry down, and longer for Ron, if we were seen, but I didn't particularly care. It felt right, and he was giving me exactly the strength and support I needed then. The point, however, turned out to be moot.
A lone figure met us half way back. "Ah, there you are. You both look better for having gotten out of the shadows, my children," Professor Dumbledore said. The man next to me scowled, but I had to laugh. With my world rapidly rearranging itself around me, the headmaster's continued omniscience was wonderfully comforting. He stepped between us and put an arm around each of us, and the three of us walked back to the gathering together.
I forced myself to smile gently, to ease the concern on everyone's faces. When I saw Harry, I disentangled myself from the headmaster's arm and went over to him.
"You okay, Gin?"
I shrugged slightly. "Not yet, but I will be," I replied honestly. He nodded and wrapped his arms around me, in an odd echo of my earlier position on the other side of the meadow.
Faintly, I heard the professors organizing everyone into pairs for apparation back to Hogsmeade. I turned around to see people vanishing all around us. At last only a few people, mostly professors, remained.
"Some time this year, Mr. Potter." a sneering voice next to us drawled. "Or are you afraid of splinching our newest Head Girl?"
Harry turned and glared at our Potions Master, but I just smiled at him. "We were just about to, sir. Let's go, hon," I said, not looking at my boyfriend.
We apparated back to the gates of the school, back to the known, the familiar, and the paths that lay ahead of us all. But my eyes stayed locked on one of my paths until the last possible moment.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Note: This is a short story I wrote a while back. My wonderful beta, Tailkinker, read it and said "I guess I like it, but. huh??" Which made me realize that I wrote it with a whole bunch of background info in my head. So what that boils down to is that this story was the inspiration for a much longer one (one that actually explains why people seem so OOC here). I'm working on that longer one and might actually get around to posting it here some day. But for the moment, enjoy being slightly confused by this one.
Yes, it's implied GW/SS. Yes, he's somewhat OOC. Just go with it. (
*^*^*^*^*^*^*
I have always lived in the shadows of other people.
Part of that comes from having 6 older siblings, all brothers. And none of them are exactly small guys. They cast some pretty long shadows. Even mum and dad cast shadows, but I suppose that's just part of being a parent.
At school that didn't change too much, either. Isn't it funny how people can cast shadows even if they're not there? But they're my big brothers, and I can't resent them. Too much.
Then there's Harry. I love him, I really do. We've been dating for two and a half years, and I feel like I've been floating on a cloud the whole time. He's wonderful, sweet, caring. But he's also The Famous Harry Potter. That's one hell of a shadow he casts. I think Ron would understand that. So while I'm with him, I'll never be anything other than "Harry Potter's pretty girlfriend" - even if he doesn't see me that way.
And then there was Hermione. I loved her almost as much as I love Harry, I think. She was my best friend, my sister, my tutor and my biggest rival all rolled into one. She pushed me at academics the way no one else - not even any of the professors - did. Under her tutelage and challenging I accomplished things I never would have otherwise. She always encouraged me, but she was also always one better than me. I never quite matched her grades, I fell just short of her OWLS. The next bench marks were going to be the NEWTS and her final GPA.
And then she died. In the final battle with Voldemort, at the end of her 7th year, she took a curse full on. And it was a curse meant for me. At least her death served a purpose - her actions distracted Voldemort just long enough for Harry, Professor Snape and the headmaster to finish him off.
After the battle I think I just sat there. All I know is that I was replaying her actions over and over again in my mind. I had been trying to sneak up behind Voldemort, to try to bind him or at least distract him, when suddenly he turned on me. I don't know if he knew I was there all along or if something gave me away. But the next thing I knew, there was a curse flying at me, and then Hermione pushing me out of the way. She was dead before she hit the ground. And I kept seeing it over and over and over again. I vaguely remember Harry picking me up, and then I must have passed out.
Her funeral was two days later. It was part Muggle, part Wizard, and held just before dawn. I noticed that there were hills off to the east and I thought it was odd, because that meant the sun would take that much longer to rise. Isn't it strange the things you notice at a time like that?
I hadn't cried for her yet, but no one seemed too worried about that. Everyone was still in something of a state of shock. I guess they all expected the funeral to help with some of that.
The whole staff of Hogwarts was there, and all of my family. Charlie and Bill even managed to come in. She was their "other sister," after all. Many of the students were there also; Hermione had been a popular and respected Head Girl. Her parents were there of course, as well as a number of aunts and uncles and cousins. I had met most of them over the years. They all seemed less uncomfortable than I was expecting, given that they were surrounded by witches and wizards. I suppose the fact that everyone there loved her was enough to overcome those differences.
I stood with Harry and Ron throughout the funeral, and still I could not cry. They did, as did nearly everyone else around me. They began giving me concerned looks, and I was grateful that they could not ask why I didn't cry.
There was no way I could explain it to either of them. They would never understand the guilt I felt. Guilt because she had died instead of me, and guilt because part of me was rejoicing instead of mourning. I wasn't crying because I didn't deserve the release and cleansing that I knew would come with tears. No matter how I tried to push it away, part of my mind was jumping for joy that she was gone because I would finally be out of Hermione's shadow.
Ironic, isn't it, that of all the shadows I have stood in, Hermione's was the hardest for me to take? Even being in the shadow of the most recognized wizard since Merlin was easier for me to deal with than knowing I would always be second best to Hermione. And now she was gone, and I finally had my chance to be Hogwart's best student. The record NEWTS score, and the school's highest ever GPA were now in my grasp, because she never got to finish her final year. All because of a fatal curse that was meant for me.
I was numb for the whole service. I couldn't let anything touch me. First a priest spoke, in a traditional Anglican service. Then the headmaster spoke. Her body was laid out on a pyre, cremation being common to both Muggle and Wizarding traditions. Her parents lit a torch and began the fire with a murmur of "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Then we wizards added our own magical fire to the blaze. No one moved until the fire burned itself out and only ashes remained.
The headmaster then conjured a small whirlwind, which picked up all ashes, took them straight up, and scattered them to the four winds. It was an impressive and moving sight, and I was the only one who had dry eyes. Even Professor Snape had wet marks on his cheeks.
"Before we depart, there is one final thing I must do," Professor Dumbledore announced afterwards. "I have spoken with the staff and with Hermione's parents and they have all agreed to this. Miss Weasley?"
I stepped forward, confused. I had no idea what was going on. The headmaster smiled gently at me and I had to fight back tears.
"Miss Weasley, normally we would wait until summer to inform you of this, but in light of recent circumstances, the staff and I felt it was appropriate to do so early. I am pleased to inform you that you will be Head Girl next year; and, we would like you to consider taking over those duties for the rest of this year. I know Hermione often spoke to you about what she was doing, so you should not have too much to catch up on." He paused, obviously waiting for me to say something.
I was stunned. It felt like I had taken a bludger in the stomach, and the hated tears threatened to overwhelm me. "I-I-Thank you, sir," I managed to gasp out, and then I turned and fled.
I ran as hard and fast as I could, trying to outrun the screaming in my head. Behind me, I heard Harry call out, "Ginny! Wait!" But I just kept running. I couldn't face him, I couldn't face any of them. I didn't deserve this, not after what I had been thinking. It was an insult to her memory to give it to me. I didn't deserve it.
Harry must have started after me, because then I heard another voice, full of authority. "Stop, Mr. Potter! Let her go." The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I was too caught in my own thoughts to place it. I was grateful to whomever it was, though.
I don't know how long I ran, there were huge fields all around the spot where people were gathered. I don't even know which direction I ran. I just ran. I needed to get away from all the people, the expectations, the memories. Eventually I slowed to a walk and then stopped completely, gasping for air. I stood, hugging myself, and staring blankly at the meadow, trying not to cry. I wished I could disappear into nothingness, so that all the pain and guilt and sadness would just go away.
There was the faint swish of grass behind me. It could have been just the wind, or it could have been a person. I didn't particularly care. I had no intention of talking to anyone, possibly ever again. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I started to snap at Harry or Ron that I didn't want to talk and just wanted to be alone. But a quick glance at the hand stopped me. Neither of them had hands like that.
"Other than the obvious, what is wrong, Miss Weasley?" the owner of the hand asked me. His voice was soft and gentle, completely unlike the harsh tones he used in the classroom.
I turned to my Potions Master, but couldn't look him in the face. Instead, I looked down at my hands, and answered. "I don't deserve this, sir. It dishonors Hermione."
"I assure you, you should have no doubt as to your academic qualifications- " he began skeptically.
I shook my head, cutting him off. "No, sir. I don't doubt that. It's that- " I could feel the tears building again - "part of me is happy to have it. I should have been the one to die, not her. But now that she's gone, part of me is actually happy that I won't just be second best anymore. And I hate that." I finished in a rush of words.
I'll never know what possessed me to make such a confession. I had spent the previous two days trying to lock that thought far far away where it would never see the light of day, and here I had just spoken it to a man who had every reason to hate me.
The tears began falling then, and there was nothing I could do to stop them. "Oh, child. Oh, Ginny," my professor breathed and wrapped his arms around me. That one act of caring, from such an unexpected source, was enough to shatter my self control. I lost it.
It should have been awkward, standing there sobbing into the chest of the feared and loathed Professor Snape. But somehow it wasn't. He held me close while I cried out so much pain and sorrow and guilt. I felt safe and protected, it occurred to me for the first time that maybe my life could keep going.
When I finally dared to look up at him, he surprised me again. Caring, concern and sorrow were writ on every line of his face, but there was no trace of the revulsion or even the pity I was expecting.
I opened my mouth to speak, to thank him, before it became uncomfortable. But a long finger lay across my lips, shushing me.
"Just listen for a moment, Ginny," he said softly. It was strange hearing that name from him after six years of being "Miss Weasley," usually in a sneering tone. "The only way you will dishonor Miss Granger's memory is by doubting the choice she made. In another circumstance, perhaps, the outcome would have been different, but she did what she felt she had to do. And it was because of the choice she made that we were able to finally defeat the Dark Lord. She did not deserve to die, but you most certainly deserve to live. So respect the choice that your friend made, even in death."
I nodded. If I thought about it that way, the guilt of being alive was not so much. I realized, too, that there was probably no one in the world who understood that particular form of guilt as well as the man who now stood with his hands on my shoulders. But that only alleviated half the problem.
"As for the other," he continued in the same gentle tone, "you have been given a chance that might not otherwise have existed. There is no shame in accepting what has been handed to you. Do you really think Miss Granger would have wanted you to turn away from things you enjoy so much, just because she was no longer there breaking the path before you? We have known for the last two years that she was going to be Head Girl this year and you would follow her. That was never a question, even to me, loathe as I am to give Gryffindor that sort of run." I had to smile weakly at that, and I knew that was why he said it. "Use some of that fabled Gryffindor courage now, and break the path for yourself. You will never be second best to any one, not even the memory of your remarkable friend, unless you let yourself be."
There really wasn't anything I could say to that. I could feel tears falling down my cheeks again, but they were different this time. No longer tinged with guilt, they were now born out of true grief for the loss of my best friend and for the fact that she wouldn't see me as Head Girl, wouldn't be there to challenge and tease me.
As I cried, Professor Snape gently turned me until I was facing the hills I had seen earlier. The sun was just peaking over a low spot and we were caught directly in one of the beams. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths, letting the warmth of the May morning seep into me and dry my face.
I could do it. I could go on. I knew the guilt would return, that it had only been temporarily expelled; but even that was a victory. This was a chance, a challenge. Not one I ever would have asked for, but I would be a fool to walk away from it now that it was here. I knew that if I repeated that mantra to myself often enough, and perhaps had some outside reinforcement, that I could destroy the guilt permanently.
I sighed in relief and leaned back against the comfortable, protecting bulk behind me. His hands squeeze my shoulders, and we stood, enjoying the warmth of the sun. "You are beautiful when not cast in shadows, Ginny," he murmured above me. I knew I should have been revolted that he would say such a thing, but I wasn't. The comment was so out of character for what I knew of the man, that it could not be anything but genuine. I lay my hands on top of his, so that he would know I was not offended.
"Thank you," I whispered. In that moment, an untold world of possibilities opened up to me. They were not paths I would contemplate tomorrow, the next day or even next year. I still loved Harry, after all, and I was quite happy with him. But I knew if that ever changed, these other paths would be here waiting for me.
I turned around slowly, unsure what to say to my companion. One look at his face, his eyes, and I knew he was seeing all the potential paths as well, although there was also a trace of - regret? wistful remembrance? - I could not be sure.
"You know things cannot change-" he began, and this time there was no question that there was regret in his eyes. I cut him off with a soft smile. "I know," I replied, but then paused to consider something. "But they will, whether we want them to or not." He frowned at me, the first familiar expression from him that I had seen.
"Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, they're all gone now," I explained quietly. "Your shadows have been dispersed as well."
He looked at me for a long while, dark eyes deepening to unfathomable depths. Then he kissed me on the forehead and tucked me under his chin in another embrace. On some levels it was a strictly paternal gesture, but I knew it also held the promise that - if we ever chose to walk this path again - there could be more.
I lost track of time as we stood there, both reluctant to pull away. Finally he sighed. "We should go back, or they will be sending out a lynch mob for me soon." Some of the familiar dry sarcasm was starting to creep back into his voice. I chuckled. "With Professor McGonagall leading the way, no doubt. Let's go then." I held out my hand, and to my surprise, he took it.
We walked back to the gathering hand in hand. I knew it would take weeks to calm Harry down, and longer for Ron, if we were seen, but I didn't particularly care. It felt right, and he was giving me exactly the strength and support I needed then. The point, however, turned out to be moot.
A lone figure met us half way back. "Ah, there you are. You both look better for having gotten out of the shadows, my children," Professor Dumbledore said. The man next to me scowled, but I had to laugh. With my world rapidly rearranging itself around me, the headmaster's continued omniscience was wonderfully comforting. He stepped between us and put an arm around each of us, and the three of us walked back to the gathering together.
I forced myself to smile gently, to ease the concern on everyone's faces. When I saw Harry, I disentangled myself from the headmaster's arm and went over to him.
"You okay, Gin?"
I shrugged slightly. "Not yet, but I will be," I replied honestly. He nodded and wrapped his arms around me, in an odd echo of my earlier position on the other side of the meadow.
Faintly, I heard the professors organizing everyone into pairs for apparation back to Hogsmeade. I turned around to see people vanishing all around us. At last only a few people, mostly professors, remained.
"Some time this year, Mr. Potter." a sneering voice next to us drawled. "Or are you afraid of splinching our newest Head Girl?"
Harry turned and glared at our Potions Master, but I just smiled at him. "We were just about to, sir. Let's go, hon," I said, not looking at my boyfriend.
We apparated back to the gates of the school, back to the known, the familiar, and the paths that lay ahead of us all. But my eyes stayed locked on one of my paths until the last possible moment.