What Happened After That?

The Not So Cosy Get-Together.

So here they all were in the sitting room of the Burrow and all the seventeen years of Harry's existence had brought them so far was the tragic deaths of Lily, James, Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape, Scrimgeour, Mad-Eye, Lupin, Tonks, her father, Colin Creevey, Fred and many others. But finally- at long, long, last You Know Who was over, He Who Must Not Be Named was gone, Voldemort was dead.

The living room of the Burrow was not as small as it is often thought too be; it was rather a reasonable size but after the procession of bloodstained warriors had marched in after the Battle of Hogwarts it was slightly starting to resemble the inside of a matchbox. There were injured and wounded people all over the place; nobody had failed to receive an injury or three. They were arranged in the following manner; Harry and Ginny were seated at one end of the large sofa, with a watery-eyed Arthur Weasley in between them and Fleur who was awwkardly perching at the other end not knowing where to look, and also on the verge of tears. Hermione, holding a bawling Teddy Lupin and trying to pacify him (and failing), was sitting on a tiny armchair, while Ron, Bill and Charlie sat on hard wooden chairs beside her, staring out into nothingness and occassionally a sad glance would flicker over their faces at the sight of poor Mrs Weasley, bustling about and trying to blame herself for Fred's death, although Harry had already tried o explain to her that it was indeed his fault, but her mentality was that anything bad that happens to a son is a mother's fault. But the worst sight of all was George- he looked as dead as Fred, and on the verge of suicide.

Mrs Weasley enetered once again and finally it was Harry who spoke, two short words, "I'm sorry." And then Mrs Weasley burst into tears.