All good things must come to an end.

But, then again, so must all bad things.

Bellatrix died saving her daughter’s life. Hermione had only known her for five months, and it was hard for the fifteen year old. She would never again get to fall asleep knowing that her mother was alive. But, like Lily Snape had once done for Harry, Bellatrix had died for Hermione: out of sheer love.

Love that made all the difference.

Once everyone realized that Dumbledore was the man who was evil, yet he wasn’t actually Dumbledore at all, they were all shocked. Who could they trust?

Neville Longbottom had cast the final spell that would cause James Potter to lose concentration and, by default, die at the hands of Harry and Hermione. It had all been prophesized long ago.

Then there was Dumbledore. The man was trapped in a stasis ball that was found on Harry’s person when Severus gently undressed his son that night so that he could clean him and put him in pajamas. No doubt the boy would be embarrassed if he ever realized it, but Severus refused to allow him to sleep in his own filth, and after all of the magic he had just used, Severus knew that any extra use of spells on his person could cause his body to become agitated.

And, it was something that Severus just needed to do because it was his son, and he had nearly lost the boy before his very eyes.

The entire time, Severus cried. His son had been so close to death.

At the same time, Severus thanked Merlin that his child was alive. Hopefully he would wake up soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days later, Hermione woke up. Beside her was her family: Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco. One bed over, Harry was still unconscious, Severus and Rosemerta still sitting beside him, though Poppy Pomfrey had continuously made all five people leave and sleep and walk around.

She had done this because she knew that there was nothing physically wrong with the two teenagers. Or, rather, nothing wrong that she had not been able to fix quickly after all was said and done.

Harry’s ankle had been broken. He would probably always have some issues with it during cold weather because he had done so much on it before it had been healed. But, overall, that was the worst of his cuts and bruises.

Hermione had had a concussion and a long scratch across her left arm that had needed several spells and potions in order to close up. A small, light scar now remained to remind her of the war she had fought alongside her beloved so valiantly.

Hermione moved her hands first. Narcissa’s left hand had been holding lightly onto Hermione’s right, and as she began to wake up she tightened her hand as much as possible. It was to make sure that she was alive. That she could feel something, anything.

But, even in her hazy mind, she recognized those fingers.

“Mum?” she mumbled in her foggy mind.

All she heard was a stifled sob.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry began to wake not long after Hermione. He had never felt so incredibly tired in his entire life. Somehow though, he knew that the war was over. It sent a sudden spark of adrenaline through him as he opened his eyes and sat up.

He was looking. Looking for his Dad. His Mum. His Hermione. Everyone.

“Son, calm down. You have been unconscious for over two days and you may be…”

Severus didn’t have time to say anything else, as before Harry realized he was dizzy he vomited all over the floor and Severus’ shoes.

Harry’s eyes grew big.

“Bloody hell where did that come from?” He asked as he laid back down, nausea encompassing his entire body to the point that he thought he might throw up again if his world didn’t stop spinning soon.

“Harrison! Your language. And, if you would have listened to me, you wouldn’t have just sicked up all over yourself and my shoes!” Severus hissed at him.

“Severus Snape! Stop lecturing my baby! He is ill!” Rosemerta came around the curtain that was surrounding the bed. She waved her wand and cleaned her husband’s shoes and the floor. She didn’t clean off Harry, too afraid that he was still sensitive to magic. Instead she walked over to his bed and grabbed each of the four corners of the blanket and lifted it off of her son.

“Sit up a bit and lift your arms.” She told him. Harry’s eyes once again widened and he shook his head.

“I am not letting you take my shirt off! I am fifteen!” Harry said, looking over at Severus with pleading eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me, Son. I am not allowed to lecture you. You are on your own with this one. You might as well let her take your shirt. She can’t magic it off of you because you are still sensitive to magic. So is Hermione. We have used very little magic around either of you. It is why you are both curtained off from everyone else. There are also wards around your curtains to keep all extra magic out of here. That spell your mother just used for cleaning up was about the extent of the magic we are allowed to use around you right now, but even that mild can’t be cast on you right now. Now, let your mother help you. Be thankful she wasn’t the one to bathe you after the battle. It would have served you right for how badly you scared us!” Severus told him.

Harry glared at Severus and then gaped at him.

“Who gave me a bath? You shoulda just used magic!” Harry said, ashamed that anyone had had to bathe him after the battle. They could have left him dirty. He was a guy. Guys were supposed to be dirty sometimes.

“Who…” Harry blushed.

Severus finally decided to relieve the child of his fear.

“I did, Harry. I allowed no one else in the room when I cleaned you up. It was something…something I had to do for you.”

Harry looked at Severus. He looked deep into his father’s eyes and saw something he had never seen before.

Fear. That was when Harry realized that his dad had been afraid. He had been afraid that he was going to lose him, and when he didn’t, he had to do the only thing he could.

And Harry was okay with that.

Harry nodded slightly, “Well, that’s okay then.” He smiled up at Severus.

In return, Severus grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

Rosemerta looked at the two and smiled. She was so relieved that her two boys had not been killed. It would be hard for her to ever let them out of her sight again.

“Okay, Son, arms up.”

Harry, who had just realized something major about his father, obediently lifted his arms for his mother. Because he had just realized something about her too.

While Harry had run head first into danger, just like he always did, his parents had nearly lost their son. They had to do all they could for him; they had to take care of him because two days ago they hadn’t been able too.

He wondered how long it would be before his mum allowed his dad to lecture him. He wondered how long it would be before Severus passed the ‘I am grateful my son is alive’ to ‘I can’t believe my moronic son ran straight into war’ to ‘you are grounded for the rest of your life.’

Harry laid back for several moments after Rose eased his shirt off and then left to take the dirty blanket and top and find clean replacements.

Out of nowhere, a tear slipped down his cheek.

“Dad…how many did we lose?” Harry whispered. His hand had found its way back into Severus’ and he was holding it tightly.

Severus looked at Harry intensely for several moments.

“In war, there shall always be death, Harry.”

Harry felt another tear slide down his cheek.

“How many? How many students?”

Severus sighed. This was one thing that Severus knew he would have to answer sooner or later. He wanted it to be later so much.

“Collin Creevey. Both Patil twins. Daphne Greengrass. Cho Chang. Vincent Crabbe. Andrew Kirke. Septima Vector. Charity Burbage. Justin Finch-Fletchly.” Severus whispered, “There were many others on the other side…”

“Whose side was Sirius on?” Severus almost didn’t hear him.

“Ours. He thought that James Potter was dead. As soon as he discovered that Potter was actually Dumbledore, he had a panic attack. The man truly does care for you. But he is also a man who has been betrayed many times in his life. Remus is with him. It will take a while for Sirius to be able to function properly in society. Once he is doing better, however, you may invite him to our home for dinner. I do not, though, want you alone with him right now. He has a long way to go to get over the last fourteen years.”

Harry nodded. Right now, he didn’t want to see anyone extra.

“Is Hermione awake yet?” Harry asked. Severus had been wondering why the boy hadn’t yet asked about her.

Harry looked at him, almost reading his mind, “I can feel her. I can feel distress, but she is very much alive and well.”

Severus nodded. It made sense. After everything they had just been through, their bond was changing, maturing.

“Did anyone else of importance die?”

“No one that you would know, Harry. Most of the other deaths were followers of Potter. Most of them thought he was Dumbledore. At least that is what those who we captured had told us.”

“I wasn’t able to save everyone, Dad.”

Severus stared at the boy in front of him, a surge of anger running through his body. Not at Harry, but at himself, at Potter, at anyone who had ever wronged his child.

“You were not supposed to save anyone, Harry. If there is one regret that I have, it is that I was not able to protect you from the harshness of the world. I wish that your mother and I would have taken you away and not put you through this. We could have hidden you away.”

Harry shook his head slightly.

“No, Dad. It had to happen. We all knew that it would one day. But it is over now.”

Severus looked at his child but said nothing more. These were questions that would never be answered to everyone’s satisfaction. It was an impossibility. War was not cut and dry, or black

and white.

It was all grey and not every question could have an answer.

“Dad, I need to use the loo.”

Severus nodded and stood up. It would possibly take them several minutes to get the bathroom, so they needed to head that way immediately.

“Okay, Son. We are going to take this slow and easy. If you feel sick, stop.”

Harry nodded, and then with the help of Severus, stood up on shaky legs.

“I don’t have a shirt on, Dad.”

“I am sure that we will be able to beat the young ladies off of you if necessary.” Severus deadpanned.

“Dad!” Harry whined, his pale face flushing red.

Severus laughed lightly, a deep baritone of a laugh that rumbled through his chest as he helped Harry stand for several moments before they moved.

Together, father and son walked towards the loo, Severus holding onto Harry’s upper arm in case he started to fall.

“It’s all going to be different now, isn’t it, Dad?” Harry whispered. He could tell that the Infirmary, which had somehow made it through the battle intact, was packed with injured people.

“Is that really your son, Severus? Is it really Harry?”

Severus froze when he heard the voice.

Harry’s breathing picked up. He knew that voice. He knew that there was no way he could be hurt.

But what he knew, and what he felt were two different things.

Harry turned his head around to look behind him.

There stood Albus Dumbledore, in the flesh.

Sweat rolled down the boy’s face. His heart sped up. He felt himself reaching for his wand despite the fact that it was not there, and he knew that it wasn’t.

Harry suddenly realized that he didn’t need his wand. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he turned towards the man.

“Petrficus Totalus!”

The spell flew from the palm of Harry’s hand, and Albus Dumbledore fell to the floor. Madam Pomfrey came running towards the ruckus, and looked around.

She had told that blasted man to stay in the room she had given him to use. She had had a feeling that something like this would happen.

Harry, his father’s hand still on his upper hand, began to fall. Severus realized quickly that he was not going to be able to keep Harry’s dead weight from the floor, so quickly fell with him, allowing Harry to fall into his lap.

Harry’s back was to his father’s chest, and Severus had his arms wrapped around Harry, rocking slightly back and forth.

“Never be afraid to fall,” he whispered into Harry’s ear, “I will always be here to catch you.”

With that, Harry burst into tears and fell slack against his father.

He had finally given up, and simply wanted to be taken care of. He hoped his Dad and Mum could make everything all better now.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Several hours passed before Hermione was able to fully wake up. She opened her eyes and saw Narcissa sitting on the edge of her bed, gently caressing Hermione’s hand.

“Mum?” Hermione whispered, bringing her free hand up to rub her eyes. Narcissa stopped rubbing her hand and tried to stop another sob from escaping her lips.

It was the second time that Hermione had woke up and asked for Bellatrix.

Narcissa sniffed. She couldn’t cry. Not again. She had been crying off and on for two days. She and Andromeda had decided to let Lucius take care of the funeral arrangements. Andromeda sat with Hermione when Narcissa was made to take a break, and other times she spent with her own daughter. Tonks was fine, but the battle had been harsh to everyone.

“Mum, don’t cry.” Hermione rasped out. Her voice thick and rough from not being used for two days.

Narcissa stopped and looked at Hermione. She was worried about her niece. Obviously the child was still confused from her head injury. She must be suffering more than Madam Pomfrey had thought.

“Mione, Love, it’s Aunt Cissy.” Narcissa whispered.

Hermione looked at her like she was nuts.

“I know who you are! Bloody hell! I didn’t hit my head that hard!” Hermione said. Narcissa’s eyebrows raised up into her hairline.

“Hermione, Bellatrix…she…she isn’t with us.”

Again, Hermione looked at the woman as if she had two heads. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye, and then slid straight down her cheek. Narcissa reached towards Hermione and started to brush the tear away with her fingers.

Hermione grabbed her hand and held it to her cheek. Hermione leaned into that open hand and closed her eyes.

She kept them closed as she spoke.

“I know that she is dead. She told me, not long before Harry, Draco, and I ran off, that she could never be my mother. Not the mother she wanted to be. She said…” tears began falling more steadily down her cheeks, but she never opened her eyes and never dropped Cissy’s hand, “She said that you had always been my mum. And I’ve thought about it…It’s like Harry and Aunt Rose. Harry says that he loves his mum Lily because he knows that she loved him, but he loves Aunt Rose because she is his mum…not his mother…but the woman who has cared for him through sickness, and trouble, and stayed up at night for him. It’s when I realized…I realized that you have always been my Mum…I called you Aunt Cissy because I thought one day, that if my mother came back, you would just get rid of me. I know now though…I know what I have always known, something that my mother made me realize. You are my mum, you have been with me, and loved me, cared for me, sat with me during sickness and heartache. You’re my Mum.”

With the last word, Hermione opened her eyes and stared straight into the eyes of her Mum…eyes that were filled with tears. Tears of joy, sorrow, and happiness.

Neither said anything, but Narcissa moved closer to Hermione and wrapped her arms around the girl.

Hermione latched onto her and somehow worked herself onto the older woman’s lap and let her tears fall.

Tears of joy, sorrow, and happiness. How could lines be so skewed, yet so clear?

“I love you, Hermione, more than you will ever know.”

Hermione merely held her mum tighter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The funerals were over and they were going home. Hermione and Harry had only been allowed to go to the funeral of Bellatrix. It was held after everyone else’s.

It had been a sad affair, but everyone knew that they could not dwell on it. The woman had died a hero’s death protecting her daughter.

Harry, Hermione, and Draco were ready to go home. They had not been home in over a week, since they had run off and started a battle that would go down in history. They were fifteen years old. They were changed, though. In some ways they were older, in other ways they were younger than ever.

They were no longer sleeping through the night. Many nights all three of them would wake drenched in sweat, tears falling down their faces, and screams leaving their throats.

They could no longer focus on other people. For the first time in their lives, there was no war

waiting for them to fight, to finish.

Their parents were worried. Rosemerta and Narcissa had even gone to talk to Molly Weasley several days before to see how the family was holding up with the betrayal of their son Percy, hoping to compare notes for ideas to help all their children. It had surprised them both to realize that the family had long suspected it. It turned out the Percy had even known that Albus Dumbledore was actually James Potter.

It had also surprised Narcissa and Rosemerta that all of the Weasley children were sleeping through the night.

After talking to the Longbottoms, they learned that Neville was also not having any trouble adjusting to life after war.

Not for the first time, the Malfoys and Snapes wondered if it was their own fault that their children had been put through hell. Was it their fault that they were having nightmares? Was it their fault that the three fifteen year olds had felt they had to fight a war, even though they had told them time and time again that it was not only their battle to fight.

They didn’t know. They doubted they would ever know. But, what happened in the future was something that they could only hope to ensure, and they were going to make sure that everything that happened now were the things that should have been happening all along.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Severus asked. Harry was in an outfit Rosemerta had brought him from home. He was so ready to be home.

“Yea, Dad. I am ready to go home.” He said, walking away from the window he had been staring out of, watching various people working on the reconstruction of the lawns. It was one of the last places that needed to be put back together.

Harry walked over to his father, who draped his arm over Harry’s shoulder when he got close enough. Together, the two walked to the group waiting for them: Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, Hermione, and Rosemerta.

The group looked tentatively at the duo, but light smiles were covering each face.

“It is going to be all different now, isn’t it, Dad?” Harry asked as they walked.

“I would imagine so, Son. But not all change is bad. This will be a good change. We no longer have to hide who we are. This will be a good change.”

“What if I am never the same? What if it’s all changed me for the bad?” Severus could tell that Harry was genuinely worried about it.

“Then your family will be there to help. We will pick you up and hold you upright if needed.”

“Are you sure, Dad? Do you promise that you’ll pick me up if I fall, no matter how many times?”

Severus stopped and looked at his son.

“Always.”

Harry nodded at that.

“That’s okay then.” Harry said, and then started walking with his father again.

They walked towards their family.

Together, the family went home. They went to where they belonged.

For the first time ever, they walked through the doors of the Manor and felt safe.

Safe.

It would be a concept they all had to get used to; however, none of them felt it would be too terribly hard.