A/N: Well. Hello there. First fic in five years! Pretty exciting for me, not going to lie. I'm a little rusty, but hopefully this is alright just the same.

Read and review, loo-hoos!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Rest of It

The last of the funerals was held two weeks after the final battle. It was Lavender Brown's. The crowd was thick; Lavender had proven the hat's sorting decision in her final year at Hogwarts, and the delay in her funeral had caused the depressingly hopeful rumor that she had in fact survived Greyback's attack to circulate thinly in the mournful air of all the funerals that came before hers. If she had indeed survived, this would have curved a smile into the very corners of her lips. She was, after all, quite prone to gossip.

Unfortunately, her funeral's delay was in fact caused by the unerringly loyal Parvati Patil's desperate-and futile-efforts to avoid a closed casket ceremony. But no matter the glamour charm, the concealing charm, and even a rather desperate Polyjuice potion which she had borrowed from Snape's destroyed storeroom and placed a hair from Lavender's brush used before the battle…Lavender Brown was not to have an open casket ceremony.

Ginny thought that, all in all, Lavender wouldn't have minded her casket open. For all her vanity and selfishness, the vibrant girl had shirked nearly all of it that final year and had truly taken to the role of protector when the Carrows went after the younger students. She would have worn her scars with pride and-Ginny concealed a rueful smile-not a small amount of glee. The gossip would have been particularly interesting to hear whenever she would have walked into a crowded room, and most of it would probably not have been nearly as interesting as the true story. Ginny could not imagine how Lavender would have possibly been able to embellish it, but she did not doubt the girls' ability to do so.

But a funeral was for those left behind, not those who were dead, and no one wanted any more reminders of the brutality of Fenrir Greyback.

A hush fell over the gathered souls in the small church outside Lavender's parents' town, as her family had just entered through a side door and made their way slowly to the front pew. The noise hadn't been great to begin with-they were all seasoned funeral-goers now, and as this was the last, it was also the most difficult in some ways. There could be no more hiding behind ceremony and tact. The emotional survival shield they had all wielded over the past weeks would be buried with Lavender, and now they would have to face their grief head on.

The feat seemed almost larger than the battle itself had been. At least they could see the battle coming, and thus could see an end, good or bad. This…this ache…Ginny wasn't sure it would ever end, not completely.

She took a deep breath quietly through her nose, and slipped her hand into Ron's, standing beside her. Hermione cried quietly on Ron's other side, as she had done at all the previous funerals. Ron was running a hand absently over Hermione's back, and when Ginny slipped her palm into his other hand, she felt cool metal touch it. Ron squeezed her hand tightly for a moment, and she saw a tear slide out of his right eye. She nearly let one fall from her own eye when she realized what he clutched between their palms.

"Good on you, Ron," she whispered as the ceremony began. He stared straight ahead.

The old priest's voice droned soothingly at the front of the church, and Ginny shivered as she felt a draft sift through the aisle next to her. She saw the priest incline his head slightly in acknowledgment towards the back of the church as he continued on, and the rest of the funeral-goers did not need to turn round to know who had arrived.

Ginny felt Harry Potter slip into the space next to her. He was always late to the funerals. Hermione said it was because he refused to miss a single one, and therefore it was nearly impossible for him to leave one in time to make the next. In fact, she even suspected he had persuaded McGonagall to let him use the old time-turner Hermione had used in fourth year so that he could get the job done. Ginny would not have put it past him, but thought it more likely that he struggled to enter each church for the guilt that gnawed at him every time. There had been no other funerals but Lavender's that day, and when she arrived she swore she caught a glimpse of a black-cloaked figure at the edge of the cemetery as she had made her way inside.

She could smell the cold rain on his traveling cloak as he shifted in a sigh beside her. She closed her eyes and, beneath Parvati's shuddering sobs and Hermione's quiet sniffles, slipped her other hand into his.

His hand was cold. Nearly lifeless, she thought, and though her heart hammered at the stiff way he held it and did not respond-this touch was the only there had been since the day of the battle itself-she did not let go for the entire ceremony. Nor after, as they made their way to the front to comfort Parvati and give their condolences to Lavender's parents. She did not let go as Ron gently laid the necklace saying "My Sweetheart" across the top of Lavender's shiny black coffin, nor as Harry quietly stuttered his way through what sounded like a condolence but was meant as an apology to her parents. She didn't let go as they made their way outside, and up the hill to the Disapparition point.

And then, finally, as she was just about to finally relinquish Harry's cold hand and Apparate back to the Burrow, she felt the tiniest of squeezes from him. She let out a breath before looking back and meeting Harry's eyes, so green behind his rain-flecked glasses, so tormented, and she knew.

The beast of grief was finally upon them, and it was time to light the first flames of the first candles that would slowly light their way through the gloom of mourning.

"Alright then, Harry," she said, tugging on his hand to pull him closer. She grasped his arms firmly. Technically, she hadn't passed her Apparition test yet, as there had been no Ministry endorsed course the past year at Hogwarts, but she'd had to distract herself with something at her Aunt Muriel's, and so she'd taught herself. She closed her eyes and concentrated, and then twirling in Harry's arms, Apparated them back to the safety of the Burrow's kitchen.

The rain pittered against the kitchen windows as Ginny set the kettle on for tea. Harry sat at a chair at the table behind her, absently twirling a stale biscuit between his fingers. The house was overflowing with food from would-be comforters in the wake of Fred's death. Ginny had slowly been siphoning it off to various homeless shelters, knowing that in the face of taking away the necessity of mothering her remaining children, Molly would fall to pieces. She knew her mother needed the bustle, and so she tried to take most of the well-intentioned food away before Molly even knew it was there. The biscuits had escaped her clutches, however, and Molly had stared at them with tormented eyes for 20 minutes that morning before making her way upstairs for a nap.

Ginny knew she would be looking through the photo albums again. Her mother never really slept these days.

The kettle sounded, breaking Harry from his reverie, and the cookie split in half as it tumbled to its side on the table. He stared at it before shaking his head and vanishing it with a flick of his wand.

Ginny set a cup in front of him and levitated the kettle to the table.

"So," she said as the hot water poured over his tea. "Still take it with one sugar?"

He made a sound that Ginny took as an affirmative, and she plopped a sugar cube into his cup for him before leaning back to take a sip from her own chipped mug.

"This is a monumental moment, you know," she said casually, looking at him through the steam. He looked up inquisitively. "The last time you spoke to me you said, 'Ginny, you have to come back!' At the battle. I didn't, by the way. You probably figured that out already."

The smallest of grins tugged at the right corner of his mouth as he nodded.

"Well, whatever you say now is the first thing you will have said to me directly in two weeks, and that last one hardly counted since it was the first thing you'd said to me in nearly a year, and you were pretty stressed out at the time."

She thought for a moment, wrinkling her nose.

"And before that, the last thing you said was that you were breaking up with me. To keep me safe. Which, by the way, was a completely idiotic idea and didn't really work. So really none of it has been very…constructive? Is that the word? Anyway, now you get to say something else. What will it be?"

She was smiling at him. Harry looked a little terrified at the stream of words that had just come out of her mouth. He cleared his throat.

Nothing, but the sound of the rain in the kitchen.

Ginny sighed and set her cup down. "Harry," she said. "Look at me."

Slowly, he raised his head and met her eyes. She smiled encouragingly.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered. His voice seemed thin with disuse. He hadn't talked to much of anyone since the battle. Not even Ron and Hermione.

Ginny's smile slowly faded as she stared at him in confusion.

"Pardon?" she asked, not moving a muscle.

He cleared his throat again and said a little more strongly, "Happy Birthday."

Ginny continued to stare at him. "I know you've been gone a long time, Harry…but it's not my birthday."

He shook his head.

"Oh no, no that's…I meant…Well, it's the last thing you said to me. Happy Birthday. Well…'Happy Birthday, Harry,' actually, but it feels weird saying my own name like that."

Ginny stared at him, wide-eyed, over her cooling tea.

"You…" she swallowed. "You…Harry, I just gave you a golden opportunity on a silver platter! To say something really monumental and romantic after a long and completely excruciating time of silence!"

Harry smiled slightly, "Golden opportunity on a silver platter, eh? That's a lot of precious metals."

"Precious…" Ginny set her cup on the table slowly. "Harry, you are really not good with words, you know that?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I know."

Ginny rolled her eyes as Harry fiddled with the crumbs that escaped from his previous Vanishing spell. She drummed her fingers on the table.

"Let's try again," she announced. Harry looked up at her and opened his mouth.

"No!" she said quickly, and lunged over the table to press her fingers against his lips. His glasses were upset in the process, and he looked cross-eyed at the hand she had against his mouth.

"The next words," Ginny iterated, "that come out of your mouth," she slowly sat back and retracted her hand with her, "are going to count as the first real words you have said to me in a year. Alright?"

She barely breathed as she looked at him expectantly. He stared at her wide-eyed as he straightened his glasses.

She waved a hand toward him. "Go on!" she encouraged.

Harry opened his mouth, seemed to think about it for a moment, and then closed it again. He frowned, thinking hard, and opened his mouth again.

Once more, he closed it back. Finally, his shoulders slumped as he exhaled and stared at the table top in front of him.

"I am so, so sorry, Gin," he whispered.

His words filtered through the cloudy light that sifted through the rain-splattered window of the kitchen. They seemed to hit Ginny's face with the force of a train. She rocked back physically as she felt them lift tears into her eyes and tendrils of uncontrollable magic wind through her body, before there was a sudden crack, and Harry started as his tea spread across the table top and his teacup fell into pieces before him.

"I knew you were going to say that!" Harry's eyes widened as he looked up and saw Ginny rearing her arm back with her own cup in it. He ducked with the instinct of the past year's constant danger, and Ginny's cup flew over his head and smashed against the wall behind him. He stared at the tea splattering down the wall and slowly turned to look at the red-headed girl sitting across from him.

"Holy shit, Gin," he said quietly, with something that sounded a little like awe.

"Don't you dare apologize to me, Harry Potter!"

"But…but Gin I-"

"No! You do not come back here after a year spent doing God knows what God knows where going through God knows how much and apologize to me for saving all of our lives!"

Harry gaped at the girl in front of him, now heaving great gulps of air in and out as she shook in fury.

"Ginny, I don't think-"

"You aren't even capable of thinking, you bloody idiot!" Harry was torn between looking mildly offended and completely terrified. "Right now, I think your brain must have seeped out of your ears. You're sorry. You're sorry!? I suppose you think you are apologizing for leaving me? Or for Fred's death? Or for dating me in the first place so I ended up a target for the Carrows?"

A dark look crossed over Harry face. "A target? You were a target for the Carrows because of me? But that's why I broke up with you in the first place!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think no one was smart of enough to figure out why you did that, hm?"

Harry gaped, completely flabbergasted. Ginny sighed.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty here, Harry. It wasn't your fault."

Harry choked. "Not my fault!? They targeted you because of me!"

"Right. Because I had absolutely no choice in the matter of dating you-"

"I could have just…just ignored you, and-"

"-and had no idea that you were the Chosen One-"

"-and…well, granted, I think it would have been hard to ignore that kiss after the Quidditch match, and I know I couldn't have-"

"-and this is all not to mention the fact that I was antagonizing them anyways, and it's not like I could have-"

"-just pretended not to love you!" They finished together.

Harry and Ginny stared at each other over the table, breathing heavily. They stayed that way for a while before Ginny slowly nodded.

"Well. I'm glad we agree on that point, at least."

Harry shakily nodded his head before sinking into his chair and putting his head in his hands.

"I can't just pretend like none of it was my fault, Gin."

Ginny sank into her own seat. She looked at Harry, slumped in his chair. His breaths were coming in deliberate, even sighs, as if he was trying to control himself from crying. She bit her lip, and then, nodding, decided to speak.

"Harry, take off your shirt."

Harry's head shaped up so fast he nearly whacked it against the wall behind him. "Wh-what?" He gaped at her.

"Take off your shirt."

"Why!?"

Ginny took a deep breath for patience. "Just do it, Harry."

"But…but…"

"Harry Potter, take off your shirt right now or I swear to Merlin I will Bat-Bogey you into next week!"

Harry's jaw, if possible, dropped even further.

"Bad time?"

Harry and Ginny both whipped their heads around to stare at George, who was leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen with eyebrows raised.

"Go away, George," Ginny demanded.

"I don't know," George said. He unfolded himself from the doorframe and reached for the kettle sitting on the table. "This seems more entertaining than sitting in my room staring at Fred's empty bed."

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath. Harry seemed to recover himself and let out a sad sigh.

"George," he said. "I am so sorry about Fre-"

But he couldn't finish, because George had stuffed a canary cream into his mouth as he spoke. In a flash of feathers, he was transformed into…nothing. He still stood in the kitchen, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth full of pastry. He slowly cracked one eye open, then the other, and felt his own chest to assure himself he was still just Harry.

Ginny looked at him as she addressed George. "Defective batch?" she questioned.

Harry chewed the last of his canary cream and swallowed, grinning smugly at George. He opened his mouth.

"Nice try, you berk," he said. Except the only thing that came from his mouth was a high pitched chirping noise.

George grinned evilly.

"New batch Freddie was working on before he decided to up and croak on me," he announced. Ginny hid a giggle behind her hand. Harry glared at George. He rolled his eyes.

"You would think the Chosen One would have a more intimidating glare, wouldn't you, little sis?"

Ginny nodded and continued to giggle. Harry chirped menacingly at George. George looked at him contemplatively.

"Harry," he said. "Fred wouldn't blame you for his death, and neither do I. We knew what we were getting into when we joined the Order, and we knew it might mean we would die. Don't apologize for something that you had no control over, because it takes away Fred's free will, and that takes honor away from his death."

Harry stared at him before hanging his head. Slowly, he nodded. Ginny laid a hand gently on her brother's arm.

"George…" she said. "How are you able to…you're taking Fred's death better than I am, and you were his twin!"

George snorted. "I still am his twin," he said. "And I'm not taking it well at all. I don't sleep, I stare at his empty bed all day, and I try not to speak because I'm always expecting him to…"

"Finish your sentences," Harry said. But it came out as a chirp. He sighed exasperatedly and gestured to his throat. George grinned.

"I'll fix it when I'm sure you're not going to say anything else stupid," he announced. He turned back to his sister. "I'm not taking it well, Gin," he said softly. "But I know I dishonor my brother's memory if I don't continue what we started together. It's the only thing that gets me through each day."

He waved his wand to warm the kettle back up, repaired Harry's broken teacup, and poured himself a cuppa.

"That's enough serious stuff for one day. Chosen One," he addressed Harry. "Just wave your wand and say finite incantantem and you'll go back to normal."

Harry did as he was told. And promptly turned fully into a canary. He bristled his feathers and let out an indignant chirp.

"And that," George announced. "Is my addition to Fred's last invention."

George and Ginny held on to each other as they laughed until, finally, George wiped tears from his eyes and tossed a blue candy onto the table in front of canary-Harry.

"Eat that," he said. "It really will reverse it."

Canary-Harry looked at the candy dubiously. George shrugged, picked his tea back up, and made his way from the kitchen.

"You'll just have to trust me on this one, eh?" he said, and disappeared up the stairs.

Ginny was silent as she watched canary-Harry stare dubiously at the candy until finally he let out a little bird sigh, hopped over to it, and pecked it up quickly.

Human Harry toppled off the table as he turned back into himself.

"Oof!" he said as he landed on his back. He adjusted his glasses and rubbed the back of his head as he emerged sheepishly from beneath the table.

"Merlin," he said. "I really think it may be your brother that kills me, now Voldemort's gone," he said to Ginny.

"Mm," she said. "Probably."

Harry clambered up and gingerly sat back in his seat. He looked up to Ginny, who still hadn't sat down. She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"You think just because you briefly got turned into a canary I'm going to forget that you haven't taken your shirt off like I asked?"

Harry groaned. "Gin," he complained, slowly feeling heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks.

"Do it, Harry."

"I really don't think-"

"Harry."

Harry sighed before scooting his chair back. He muttered under his breath as he slid his cloak over his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt. He gave Ginny one last embarrassed, dubious look before shrugging the shirt from his torso. He looked away as a flush travelled across his chest and up his neck.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered, advancing toward him. He clenched his eyes closed. "I knew you had done something like this."

She was sitting beside him now, leaning towards him as she reached out and, with one small finger, traced the lightning bolt scar now resting dead center upon Harry's chest. Harry's jaw clenched as all the breath seemed to leave his body.

"You…" she seemed to be struggling between screaming and crying. "You died," her voice broke on the word. "You died, Harry! To save us. To save me," she ended quietly.

Harry's hand flew to the back of his neck, and he rubbed it uncomfortably. "Look, Gin, I didn't have much of a ch-"

"Don't you brush this off, Harry! You can't pretend like you didn't have a choice. Everyone has a choice."

Harry was getting agitated now. "Everyone except me, you mean. Bloody prophecies. I swear if I ever see Trelawney again I am running in the opposite direction," he muttered.

Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh really? Seems to me the prophecy only told us that you existed, and had the power to vanquish Tom. If you decided to do so. Which you did."

Harry was quickly buttoning his shirt back up and muttering darkly to himself. "It wasn't really like I kept stopping to think about it. He was after me. All the time. I just…reacted."

"Reactions are a choice, too."

Harry snorted. He still wouldn't look at her as he finished the last buttons on his shirt. "Hardly."

Ginny narrowed her eyes in a glare. "Oh really?" she questioned darkly. Harry cut his eyes her way.

Slowly, she stood up and began unbuttoning her own shirt. Harry's eyes widened in panic and he threw a terror-stricken look towards the doorway to the kitchen.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. He lunged forward to stop her hands from continuing. This put his hands over hers right below her breasts, and he pulled back as if scalded before flapping his hands at her. "What are you doing!?"

Harry was looking at her with more fear and panic than he probably had when he stared death in the face to save the entire Wizarding World.

"Showing you my reactions over this past year, which apparently weren't my choice," she said angrily, and ripped her shirt from her shoulders.

Harry gaped for a moment before slowly reaching a hand out towards her. "Ginny," his whisper was strangled. "Ginny, what happened?"

There, beneath her plain grey cotton bra, were a line of scars traveling neatly down her sides. They were each about half an inch in length, thick and red. On the right, they marched down to the line of her skirt, and on the left they stopped just shy of it. They were methodical, and deep, and Ginny wore them not with pride, but determination.

"Amycus Carrow," she said simply. Harry's shaking hand reached her skin, and she did not flinch as his fingers travelled slowly over each bump carved there by Amycus' short, burning wand.

"He gave me a new one each time I stood up for one of the younger kids. Or one of the half-bloods or muggle-borns. Or anyone, really," she shrugged. "He never went into detail about what he was marking, or what would happen when he ran out of room, but I thought it was pretty obvious."

Harry's eyes snapped to hers. She wore that same hard, blazing look he usually so admired. "No, Ginny," he whispered in horror. She held his gaze.

"I'm sure you can see," she said. "That he was almost out of room."

"Why, Ginny? Why didn't you…-"

"Stop?" she finished for him. "Why didn't I accept that what he had planned was horrible and dirty, and that what I was doing wasn't worth it?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Because it was. It was worth it. He Crucio'd them. First years. Some to within an inch of their lives. He repeatedly slashed Neville's cheeks for refusing to agree with his teachings, and he chained younger students to the walls of the dungeon until they agreed to torture their fellow students for punishment. People stopped standing up to him, I think some of them even started to believe him, and I couldn't watch it happen. I had a choice, Harry. And I'm proud of the one I made."

Silence reigned in the little kitchen. Slowly, Ginny shrugged her shirt back over her shoulders and buttoned it up.

"I am, too."

Ginny froze, and looked up at Harry. His eyes met hers, and they were fierce in their meaning.

"I am proud of your choice, too," he repeated. He was holding her by the shoulders now, tightly, as he stared into her eyes. He took a deep breath. "I really, really wish you hadn't had to make it in the first place, and if I could have…" he seemed to struggle for a moment. "But I couldn't. And you did. So I'm proud."

Ginny nodded shortly, and didn't break eye contact with him as she lifted a hand slowly and placed her palm over the center of his chest.

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "For this." She indicated the hand over his scar with her eyes.

"Ginny, I didn't-"

"Harry," she said firmly, pressing more firmly into his chest. "Thank you."

He closed his mouth and swallowed.

"Say you're welcome, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Only if you let me thank you as well."

Ginny blinked. "Thank me? For what?"

Harry swallowed. "You…you, uh…well, when Voldemort, you know…killed me," Harry grimaced. "Well, you were the last thing I thought of. It's why I…why I had the courage to face him." He swallowed again. "And, you know…the rest of it."

Ginny stared at him.

"The way you talk about saving the world, Harry," she said slowly. "Is truly astounding. The rest of it? Are you serious?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. Ginny laughed.

"The rest of it? Harry, the rest of it involved you dying, coming back to life, dueling the most powerful Dark Wizard in our time, and then saving the world with a bloody Disarming spell! The rest of it? God, Harry!"

She laughed again. Harry grinned ruefully and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "The rest of it."

They grinned at one another for a bit before Ginny's eyes softened.

"You're welcome, Harry."

He smiled.

"So are you, Ginny."

She nodded, and turned away. She waved her wand at the tea kettle. It floated back over to the stove as she Summoned a couple more chipped cups to her and placed them on the table.

"Well," she said. "I guess it's time to get through the rest of it. What do you think?"

Harry sat at his chair and fiddled with the rim of his teacup.

"You're not going to like most of the things I tell you," he said.

She took the kettle from the stove and poured Harry's tea. She plopped a sugar cube in it, sloshed a bit of cream into her own cup, and sat down. She lifted her mug towards Harry in a cheers, and met his eyes.

"Neither are you," she said, and lifted an eyebrow as she took a sip of her tea.

Harry chuckled. "Alright, then," he said, and clinked his cup against Ginny's before leaning back, and beginning to speak.

And as the rain pattered against the window and the tea cooled, Harry and Ginny went through the rest of it.

A/N: I have no idea how Harry or Ginny really take their tea, and my HP book is elsewhere at the moment, so I may not be entirely accurate on their last words to each other, but I think I'm pretty close. And it isn't really the point anyways.

Review? Thanks, loo-hoos!