Chapter Text
Lavender stared at the mirror Parvati was holding up for her, turning her head from side to side.
“I need a shower,” she said finally, “My hair looks disgusting.”
“Lavender...”
“I’m ok, Parvati, really.” At Parvati’s continued concerned look, she continued. “I’m alive, Parvati. I survived. Scars aren’t going to bother me. If anything, I’m proud of them.”
Parvati smiled, dark eyes glistening with tears.
“Don’t cry!” Lavender said quickly.
“I’m not crying. I’m just proud of you, and you’re alive. And, alright, I’m crying.”
***
Lavender’s mother and father arrived at Hogwarts around noon, about thirty-two hours after the battle ended. Parvati was somewhere else with Padma and their mother, and Lavender was just finishing her lunch.
“Oh, Mum, don’t cry,” Lavender said with a twinge of annoyance. “I’m fine, really. Or at the very least I will be once these are fully healed.”
“But you’ll be scarred forever,” her father said solemnly.
“I know. I just don’t care much. So what if I’ve got scars? I fought Death Eaters, and we won, and I survived being attacked by a werewolf.”
“Besides, I’m sure we can cover the worst of them up with a charm or two and some make-up,” her mum said with a forced cheerfulness and impressive lack of attention to the actual point. Lavender stared at her.
“Mum, I’m not going to hide,” she said.
Her mum looked confused and sad. “It wouldn’t be hard, sweetie, and you were always so beautiful.”
“I’m still beautiful,” Lavender said flatly. “Scars don’t change that.”
They dropped the subject quickly, and after a short while, Lavender needed rest, and her parents left.
Lavender woke up to Madam Pomfrey bustling around by her bedside table. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said briskly, “Supper should be here soon, and you’ve received flowers. I’m not sure the wolfsbane is in good taste, but Mr. Finnigan assured me you would find it amusing.”
Lavender stared at the pretty purple flowers on her bedside table. Wolfsbane. Really, Seamus? She smiled. “I guess he was right.” Then she giggled. Wolfsbane. She was glad someone wasn’t tip-toeing around her. Someone seemed to understand that she was, in fact, alright.
Madam Pomfrey hummed disapprovingly. Lavender guessed that it was more to do with that becoming her default way of dealing with anything to do with Seamus Finnigan, who had generally been the worst patient for the entire school year, and less to do with the wolfsbane.
Lavender continued smiling to herself. Wolfsbane. What an idiot.
***
Susan was arguably the strongest person Hannah knew. She had been unwaveringly kind and brave all year. She never complained about hours of dueling practice or researching hexes (well, she did, but not seriously). Hannah couldn’t think of a single person Susan hadn’t helped or comforted. She had had her moments, of course, when she broke down and cried with the rest of them, but they had been brief and infrequent, and she had wiped away her tears and moved on to help everyone else.
So it was jarring to walk into the dormitory and find Susan sobbing.
“Susan? What’s wrong? What is it? Is it your arm? Are you hurt?”
Susan shook her head. “I...it’s not - it’s everything, Hannah. I-it’s Justin, and - and my arm, and it’s Wayne and Julian and S-Sophie. I lost my arm, but they’re d-dead, and it hurts, but who cares about my stupid arm when everything’s so…”
“I care!” Hannah said loudly. Susan blinked up at her. “Susan, you’re in pain. I know you try to act like the phantom pains and everything don’t bother you, but they do, and that’s...it’s okay to admit it. Pain isn’t comparable. How many times have you told us that it’s okay to cry?”
“But I’m supposed to be strong,” Susan whispered, “I have to be strong for you, for everyone.”
“You are the strongest person I know. But no one can be strong all the time, Susan. And it’s okay to let us - to let me be the strong one now and then. I can be strong for you.”
Susan nodded, face screwed up with pain and wet with tears.
“Do you want to go to the Hospital Wing?” Hannah asked. Susan shook her head.
“I think if I just move around a little, it’ll be okay. Help me up?”
“Of course.”
***
Seamus and Dean hadn’t gone home yet, and Neville was getting worried. True, he hadn’t gone home either, but his Gran was at Hogwarts most days, and besides, Neville had an obligation as leader of Dumbledore’s Army to stay and help as much as he could. Seamus’s mother had appeared at lunchtime the day after the battle, but she had left before dinner, and neither Seamus nor Dean would say anything about why. Neville knew enough about Seamus’s rocky relationship with his parents that he wasn’t surprised. Worried, because he knew that for all the rockiness Seamus loved his mother very dearly, but not surprised. He was surprised by Dean, and concerned enough to pull him aside after breakfast a week after the battle.
“What’s up, Neville?” Dean asked, looking relaxed (as relaxed as anyone did these days) and curious.
“I...well, I was wondering why you haven’t gone home yet,” Neville said, “I mean, I’m glad you’re here, of course, and you don’t have to or anything, but…don’t you want to see your parents and sisters?”
“Well...yeah,” Dean said, tension rising in his shoulders, “I want to see them, but...I don’t know, Neville. I don’t think I’m ready. For them to see me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve...I’ve changed, haven’t I? They might not be...alright with that. Maybe they shouldn’t be.”
“Dean, that’s ridiculous,” Neville said, “They’ve missed you, and they’ll be thrilled to see you, no matter how much you’ve changed.”
“I know,” Dean said, “I mean, I do know, on some level, but, look, I should get back. Lots to do today.”
“You should go home,” Neville said.
“I will, I will, just...not yet.”
***
“I’ll go with you,” Seamus offered, “If you’re worried about facing them alone for some reason, or if you’re worried about leaving me. Or I can stay here. I can manage for a day, Dean. You should see your family. Honestly, I probably should stay here. I think my face would probably scare your sisters. But, I’ll go with you if you want me there.”
“Seamus.” Dean rolled over to face him. “I appreciate it, but that’s not the issue.”
“Well, what is?” Seamus pressed him, “Talk to me, Dean.”
“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly, “I don’t know what it is.”
“Well, I think you should go home and find out. Whatever it is, you need to see your family.”
Dean sighed. “Okay. I’ll go tomorrow. But you’re probably right about your face.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“I’m gone for less than a year and your face turns into a horror story.”
“Ten months!”
“My point stands.”
“Death Eaters taking over Hogwarts!”
“Mhmm. Still stands.”
***
Dean had been standing staring at his own front door for almost ten minutes. It was stupid. He knew he had to knock. There was really nothing to fear either. He would feel worse if he turned away now. He had to knock before someone saw him standing there like a coward.
He could hear voices inside. His whole family was there. Rosa was talking too loudly, as she always did when she was excited about something, which she usually was. He could hear his mother occasionally asking questions, his father (step-father but whatever) laughing at Rosa’s responses. Sally and Martha were having their own conversation, or maybe Dean was just imagining all of it because he knew what his family sounded like sitting around the living room on a Saturday afternoon.
No, that was definitely Rosa’s voice and his father’s laughter. Dean took a deep breath and knocked. His mother’s voice grew closer, and it took all of Dean’s self-control not to apparate away.
The door swung open.
“Dean,” his mother breathed, and his father and sisters abruptly fell silent.
“Hi.”
He didn’t have a chance to say anything else as his mother, in a movement so swift it seemed like it should have been magic, somehow managed to hug him, pull him inside, and close the door behind him all at once.
“Dean!” Sally squealed, and then she collided with his legs and he would have fallen if not for his mother’s arms around him. Two more sets of arms around his waist and his father’s arm around his shoulders later, Dean was sobbing. The excitement wore off quickly as his sisters realized what was happening.
Dean didn’t really process the hushed conversation or anything else going on around him until he and his mother were alone in the living room.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t come back, I meant to, I - I swear I…”
“Shh, it’s alright now, Dean. You’re home. You’re safe.”
But something seemed to have broken when Dean saw his mother, or maybe it had already been breaking. Maybe it had broken a while ago when he left, or when Ted and Dirk died, or when he came back to Hogwarts and found Seamus beaten and the school ruined, and somehow seeing his family and his home again had ripped off the shoddy bandages he had plastered over it, and this was what Dean had been avoiding all along.
He was home. He was safe. He wasn’t sure he knew how to handle that anymore.
***
Recovery was never going to be quick. Morag had known that from the moment she’d seen Kevin after his release from Azkaban. Probably even longer.
But knowing it and experiencing it were two different things, and after two weeks of no change, Morag was worried.
“Shouldn’t he be doing a little better?” she asked her mother, “I mean of course I don’t expect him to just bounce back, but...he’s barely said anything since he got here. He’s still barely eating. There’s no...I feel like he’s not even improving, and then I feel terrible for thinking that.”
Her mother smiled sadly. “It’s going to take time, Morag. A lot of time. And even if you can’t see the change, I think he is doing better.”
“How do you know?”
“He looks for you now.”
“He looks for me?”
“The day you brought him here, he barely reacted to anyone or anything until we were right in front of him. Now he looks up every time you enter the room. Progress can be subtle, but it’s still progress. He’ll get there, sweetheart.”
Morag nodded. “Alright.”
“And how are you?”
“What?”
“Morag, sweetheart, you’ve been working yourself so hard this past week, trying to take care of Kevin. And I’m proud of you, so, so proud of you. But you were in a battle, and you were injured, and friends died. I understand keeping busy, believe me, but it’s okay if you need some looking after too.”
Morag thought about this. “I’m not sure I do,” she said finally, “I’m not...I mean, it’s awful. Everything...my hearing, and Kevin and Jack, Stephen, Anthony, everyone who…. But I’m alright. All things considered, I’m doing alright.”
“Alright then,” her mother said running her fingers through Morag’s short, red hair. “Let me know if that changes, but I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
***
Megan had never been much of a traveler, even for small journeys. She preferred home to anywhere else. But lately, she had been drifting between friends and their homes more often than not, uncharacteristically aimless. By contrast, Sally-Anne had not left her house for two weeks.
“I can sort of see the appeal,” Megan said, glancing around Sally-Anne’s wrecked room.
“No, you can’t.”
“Not really.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Sally-Anne admitted, and Megan sat down next to her on the bed. “Everything’s...Sophie knew what to do, you know? Sophie made the plans, and now without them...I can’t. And the only person I want to talk to about Sophie is Jack, and the only person I want to talk to about Jack is Sophie. And I loved Jack so much, Megan, and I loved Sophie in a different way, but it feels like any time I’m mourning one of them I should feel bad for not mourning the other, and that’s...it’s stupid!”
“It’s not...well, maybe it’s stupid, but you’re not, okay? The two people you loved most in the world are gone, so of course you’re a wreck. But you’ll figure it out.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But if I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”
Megan and Sally-Anne sat in silence for a while. Sally-Anne’s cat, Tabby (Sally-Anne wasn’t the most creative with names), jumped up onto the bed, and Sally-Anne pet her absent-mindedly.
“Where’s Sir Linguine Alfredo III?” Megan asked, the smallest smile on her face, because Sophie had named their cat Sir Linguine Alfredo III, and who could help smiling at that name?
“He’s around here somewhere.”
“He’s staying with you though?”
“Yeah. Sophie’s parents seemed to think it would be best.”
Megan nodded. “He likes you.”
“It’s weird, though. I keep expecting Sophie to come take him back. I think he misses them.”
“Well, of course. But at least he’s got you, yeah?”
“I suppose.”
***
Lucy Runcorn was not a crier, not normally. It took a lot to break through the indifferent mask she had spent so many years perfecting. She didn’t cry when she was first injured. She didn’t cry when Madam Pomfrey told her that despite everything magic had to offer, she might never walk again. Theo showed up, and she didn’t cry when she saw his horrified expression. She didn’t cry when he left.
Theodore returned an hour later, trailing behind Quisilla, and Lucy burst into tears.
“Lucy!” Quisilla was at her side in an instant. “Are you in pain?”
Her accent had gotten thicker after a year in Russia.
“No,” Lucy said, which was a lie, but irrelevant at the moment, “I’m just...I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Quisilla said softly. “I’m so sorry. Theo told me about your legs….”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, “I’m alive, and you’re back. The rest can wait.”