With a jolt, Harry Potter woke up from a nightmare drowning in green light. Before, when he was a child, he often saw mismatched pieces of things he was not sure were memories or figments of his overactive imagination, but now—now Harry knew every flash in his mind was real. Every bit of it had been collected in the journey to take down Voldemort. Every bit of it had cost Harry a piece of his soul, too. Even if everyone looked him in the eye, grabbed his hand, and reassured him none of it was his fault, he knew that it was.

He rolled onto his back, trying to feed his lungs mouthfuls of air. For the last couple of days at the Burrow, he had been dreaming of Fred. In every nightmare, Harry chased him down, urging him to come back with him, urging him to return to his family, but Fred would laugh and wave, saying things like I can see them from here, Harry or we'll meet again, Harry. All of us. This time, however, the person that appeared behind the green light was Remus Lupin.

Harry was standing just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest again, the Resurrection Stone in his hand. He knew his parents and Sirius were around him, but his emerald eyes locked in on Remus. Harry felt the guilt stirring in his chest, gaining momentum, becoming hurricanes of destruction when he said, Remus, your son...

The war had created orphans again.

Harry felt the same hurricanes threatening to form, but the door of Percy's old room opened, distracting him. He was reaching for his glasses to identify the blur of red hair that had come in to wake him when his cheeks were slapped by two tiny hands.

"Someone's here to wake up their godfather," said Ginny when she came in to focus, smiling down as a young Teddy Lupin bounced on Harry's chest, smacking him on the face again with a burst of loud, happy laughter.

For a second, Harry could not feel anything but the guilt, the grief, and the rage the war had left him with, but one look into Teddy's silver eyes reminded him of all the good things he had still. He put his arms around the baby, pulling him up and pressing a whiskered kiss on his chubby left cheek.

"Come to help Gin and me pick out our wedding things, Ted?"

Teddy laughed again, reaching for Harry's glasses.

"Andromeda just got here," Ginny said, still smiling as she looked at the scene. Bliss flooded her chest; of course, she had had daydreams about this, about Harry and a baby, back when she was young and naive, a hopeless romantic who had yet known of war and Dark Lords, but this wave of joy wasn't for herself, but for Harry.

She knew about his nightmares, even if he did not share all of them with her. She knew that the war had taken so much from everyone, but not quite like it had done for Harry. She knew she would love him always, but there were pieces of himself that needed to heal in a way she could not help.

It started with little Teddy.

"I've not slept in, have I?" asked Harry as he stood, the boy now on his hip. "Your mum's going to kill me. Again."

As Ginny kissed him and Harry smiled against her lips, Teddy tried to force them apart with his hands. They laughed at his reaction, knowing well enough Ron might have had a little influence there.

"Yeah, Mum's still quite cross with us," said Ginny, as they started making their way out of the bedroom, "about letting her know about our wedding date literally days before it's meant to happen."

Harry knew by the smirk on her face that she was not at all remorseful for the tornado Mrs. Weasley was going to cause throughout the Burrow from here to New Year's Day.

When they reached the bottom landing, Teddy attempting to answer all the questions Ginny asked him about his morning, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Tonks having a cup of tea, both talking loudly about the lack of consideration Harry and Ginny showed by announcing their wedding so late.

"No matter, no matter," Mrs. Weasley said, her wrist flicking like she was waving off her frustration. "We can put together something quite lovely, don't you think, Andy? Even if it is so last minute."

"I can marry in my nightgown," said Ginny when the last bit of her mother's sentence was directed at her. "Oh! Harry, you still have your Quidditch uniform? We can just get married in that. We'll have the old team serve as groomsmen and bridesmaids. You can give Oliver Wood a Floo Call and he could officiate the ceremony."

Harry did not dare comment on that—especially not when Mrs. Weasley was narrowing brown eyes at them. Instead, he cleared his throat and approached Andromeda. At the sight of his grandmother, Teddy climbed off Harry for her lap.

"Thanks for agreeing to come along," he told her.

"Of course, Harry," Andromeda said with a smile she shared with Ginny, too. "I'm rather touched you even asked for my help getting the ring."

"You're our family. Your opinion matters to us," Ginny said, finding the words Harry was struggling with. He blinked at her, eyes glittering with gratitude. "Besides, we need someone else to help us reason with Mum. If it'd be up to her, we would be doing something so grand, the Daily Prophet will be able to see it from over the hill. Next thing we know, they'll be owling with a bigger offer for exclusive pictures of the wedding than Witch Weekly."

"You should consider it," came a yawning voice behind Ginny. She rolled her eyes as she looked behind her shoulder; Ron had climbed down the stairs, his long, red hair sticking up in ways that rivaled Harry's tamed hair days. He wiped the dried drool at the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his Chudley Cannons shirt. "Pansy said Witch Weekly owled her, too. Apparently, they're offering fifteen thousand galleons just for a picture of us at the altar."

Ginny started to frown at her brother, but turned to the others, too. "I don't understand how they found about who we got sorted with. The Ministry didn't leak out the couples, did they?"

"Kingsley wouldn't do that to us," Harry said, opening his arms up again as Teddy now thought it would be fun again to climb over him. "And only the Wizengamot knew who was sorted together before the law was publically announced."

"My money's on Rita Skeeter," said Ron. "I bet fifteen thousand galleons on it."

"You're not considering actually selling pictures of your wedding, right?" asked Ginny.

Ron shrugged, yawning again as he made his way further into the living room. He stole a biscuit from the tray Mrs. Weasley had laid out before sitting next to her. "Not for fifteen thousand, no," he said with a laugh. "Pans reckons we could get fifty thousand by agreeing to an interview, too."

"Yes, well, you and Miss Parkinson have enough time to think on it," said Mrs. Weasley as she fussed over her son's hair. When she pulled on a strand, Harry could see her already making a note to give him a proper haircut. "You will also be wise to get started on your own wedding plans, Ronald. Every shop across Britain will be flooded with wedding activity now that the law is out."

Reaching for another biscuit, Ron said with a smirk of his own, "Yes, Mum. Pans and me wouldn't stress you out like Ginny and Harry have."

Harry did not bother to stifle a laugh when Ginny made Ron bite his tongue when her nonverbal made his biscuit crumble to dust over his chin.

"Are we taking Teddy back to your place, Andromeda?" asked Harry as his godson bit down on his tongue too, copying the grimace Ron had made when he'd done it.

"Actually, that's why I'm here early. The babysitter canceled on me last minute. I was hoping Ron would watch over Teddy while we browse through Diagon Alley."

"No—"

"That's not a good idea, Andy—"

"I wouldn't trust him—"

Ron rolled his eyes at the interjections made by his sister, mother, and best friend. Still, with the same apprehension they had at Andromeda's suggestion, he said, "I'm not the babysitting type, actually. Mum made me watch Ginny once and I gambled her to the gnomes."

"I was nine," Ginny added with a sneer. "There's no telling what he would do to a baby."

"We can manage, I'm sure," said Mrs. Weasley just as Teddy burst with laughter again, this time fiddling with the watch on Harry's wrist.

Ginny knew the moment she thought about her next words that she should swallow them down, bury them deep in the pit of her stomach where they would not create an uneasy tension among her family, but she still said: "We can try Hermione."

As it was to be expected, a silence loomed over the living room. Mrs. Weasley went back to fussing over Ron's hair, but her brother was staring at her like she had just sprouted another head. Rarely was a frown on Harry's face ever caused by Ginny's own actions or words, but now it was.

"Is there something wrong with Hermione?" Andromeda asked, breaking past the tension.

Ginny took a deep breath, looking at the woman straight in the eyes. "Hermione is marrying Draco Malfoy."

"That's not the issue, Gin—"

"It is," snorted Ron.

"Didn't you tell Hermione it was okay if she fancied Malfoy?"

"It's not the whole issue," Harry interrupted the siblings, clinging on to his godson more tightly than before. "Ginny, you're suggesting for us to send Teddy to Malfoy Manor. Where Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are."

Rarely was a frown on Ginny's face ever caused by Harry's own actions or words, but now it was. "You personally sought freedom for Narcissa Malfoy, Harry. You knew she was innocent, enough to have her re-enter society. "

"Yes, but she—"

"Why would you do so if you didn't think she was capable of redemption?" demanded Ginny. "Why would you think I'd even make the suggestion if I didn't think Teddy would be safe? I care about him as much as you do."

"I wasn't saying you didn't—"

"It's not up to either of you," hissed Mrs. Weasley, nudging over to Andromeda, where she sat with her hands folded across her lap, eyes masked and protected from every emotion flying over the living room. "Andy, it's your choice, dear. We, of course, understand your...history with your sister and her family."

Something almost broke across Andromeda's gaze. Maybe it had to be that she had not heard anyone refer to herself and Narcissa as sisters in a lifetime. Maybe it was the haunting memory of having to bury her daughter who had just borne a son because she fought in a war caused by men like Narcissa's husband. Maybe it was the grief she had felt when they buried Remus, a gentle, intelligent man who had been shunned for something he was a victim of, something Narcissa's values taught her to hate and deem not human enough.

Or maybe it was the ache Andromeda felt in her bones at the fading, distant memory of three sisters laying near the hearth of their home, sharing sweets and daydreams about the easy future that was yet to come.

"I trust Hermione Granger with my life," Andromeda found herself murmuring, looking from Mrs. Weasley to Harry. She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. "And you do too, Harry."

His life, thought Harry, was not as precious as Teddy's. But yes, he did trust Hermione with the few things he had that were important.

Beta the house-elf was not used to flickers of light in Malfoy Manor. Sure, she tended to every candle in the grand home, making sure every one was lit in the main areas of the house, even parting the curtains of these specific rooms to welcome the scraps of sunlight the English skies had to offer.

Miss Hermione Granger was a different source of light, however.

Beta saw it the moment the young miss appeared in her pretty, emerald dress, casting nervous glances at every corner of the ancient, wonderful, terrible manor. Although the Malfoys' house-elves prided themselves in their ability to keep every nook and cranny spotless, Beta could hardly blame the miss for being torn between disdain and apprehension at what she saw. Ever since Master Lucius' Dark Lord had turned the manor into a Death Eater meeting point, the house was never the same.

A darkness lingered. No matter how much Beta and the other house-elves scrubbed, it would not come out. Just like the blood He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his other Death Eaters had left behind.

Beta knew her place as a house-elf, of course. She was a good one. A proper one. Not like poor, lost Dobby who sought affection and placed his loyalty on Harry Potter. Her duty was to the Malfoys', but more so to her young Master Draco. Beta had been keeping an eye on the young master since Beta's own mother had passed; she had seen him grow into a playful, happy baby to what Master Lucius needed him to be. Master Draco had replaced his curiosity for his father's ideals. When Master Lucius' Dark Lord came back, Beta's heart broke knowing young Master Draco would be given to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because Master Lucius tittered between his hatred of those not of pure blood and his family loyalty.

What remained of her young master was the real tragedy.

Beta was scared Master Draco would never get the opportunity to escape the life his parents had created through their own mistakes. She had seen him walking at night, crying at the memories left carved into the walls of his once-proud home. He chased echoes, shadows of all the poor souls that crossed these halls; he begged them to take his heart, his soul—all the shriveled pieces that were left so they might find a peace he did not deserve.

He deserved it. Beta knew, with time, her young Master Draco did deserve to leave a darkness that was not wholly his to carry.

Then he came back from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for his Christmas holidays and Beta knew something was different with the young master. It was not until Miss Granger had walked through the doors of Malfoy Manor that Beta knew what it was.

Even if Master Draco and Miss Granger did not know what it was themselves.

Beta had seen the same apprehension Miss Granger had come in with resurfacing as Beta and Master Draco showed her to the guest bedroom in his wing of the manor.

"You don't have to stay, Granger," Master Draco had whispered to his young miss. "You can use the Floo and leave. My mother won't know."

"I'm fine," Miss Granger had assured, although Beta could see her smile did not reach her eyes. Not until she turned away from the grand, plush bed with a fine, embroidered comforter to look at Beta's young master. There had been a moment of silence, something sweet the likes of Malfoy Manor had never seen. "We can have breakfast hidden in that old tree house of yours."

Young Master Draco had bid his young miss a good night with a kiss on her cheek. The moment the door closed behind him, the worry came back on Miss Granger's face. Beta watched it for a few minutes before the miss had remembered the house-elf was there. Young Miss so kindly, so respectfully, wished Beta a good night before Beta could offer her services to whatever she might need.

Now, carefully, Beta came into the guest bedroom, a letter in her hand addressed to the young miss. She was not too surprised to see the same frown creased between the young miss' brows even in her sleep.

"Miss," the house-elf whispered as she came to the edge of the bed, using her large fingertip to tap on her cheek. "Miss Granger?"

"Ginny," groaned the young miss, wrinkling her nose at the disturbance. "Not now. Go away."

Beta tapped her face again. "Miss Granger."

"Ginny, please just let me sleep in—" The instant Hermione opened her eyes, she let out a frightened yelp at the sight of the house-elf. Her body had pulled itself into a seated position, too, her hands going for her wand tucked safely under the plump, comfortable pillow.

"Good morning, Miss." At Beta's big smile and big, happy purple eyes, Hermione tried to find a pleasant smile of her own to reciprocate with. "Sorry to wake you so early, Miss Granger, but a noisy owl came delivering a letter for you."

Finally having caught her breath, Hermione did genuinely find a smile to give to Beta. "Thank you. And I'm sorry if I startled you, I...I forgot I was here."

Beta almost told the young miss that Master Draco had not forgotten she was here. Just as Miss Granger had paced for hours before giving in to sleep, Master Draco had done the same. He had even woken up earlier than his usual time, walking down to the kitchens to ask the house-elves if they could prepare a nice breakfast for his guest.

"I recognize that writing," Hermione said, pointing to the letter in Beta's long, thin fingers. "I expect Ginny couldn't wait until I returned to the Burrow for full details about my proper introduction to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

Beta handed her the letter and Hermione opened it immediately:

"Oh, Ginny," groaned Hermione as she scanned the letter once more. Her heart was back to picking up its pace. She, of course, had no qualms in looking after sweet Teddy Lupin, but Hermione was not currently in a place she necessarily wanted to be. Although she had enjoyed walking under the moonlight with Draco, his house was still something she had nightmares about. It was not his fault—not this, not what Bellatrix had done to her, but it still had happened.

Still, she knew what she was doing when she agreed to stay. Mrs. Malfoy had practically spelled it out for her the night before when it was just the two of them pretending to be marveling over her garden; Mrs. Malfoy had asked Hermione to forgive Draco's mistakes so they had a chance of working out as a marital unit. Hermione knew that by agreeing to stay, she, too, was inviting herself to become a member of the Malfoy family.

Maybe that thought is what propelled Hermione into saying, "Beta, can you show me to the Floo, please?"

If she was asked for the opportunity to look at the Malfoy family with something other than mistrust, then Hermione could also demand them to accept the parts of her that were composed by more than the Weasleys. She was pieces of Harry Potter, just as she was made up of the people who had belonged to The Order of the Phoenix.

"This way, Miss," Beta said, taking Hermione's hand and leading her through the double doors that extended to the rest of the guest bedroom. For a moment, as Hermione made a note to tell Draco that this was a flat, not a room, her eyes got lost at the beauty within the walls, but soon forced her concentration on the fireplace.