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The End of the Begining	By : VisageWriters Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1531 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author email: Saitaina@wizzards.net
Category: angst
Keywords: Neville, last war, Voldemort, Draco, Percy
Rating: R
Spoilers: GoF
Summary: After the last war against Voldemort, Neville is the world's new hero, but is he ready to face those that betrayed him?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Neville stood on the bodies of his foes, staring out over the thick black smoke of thousands of bonfires. Wizards everywhere danced and rejoiced in the final defeat of the Dark Lord. As he headed down the hill he was greeted by many with a slap on the back, a vigorous handshake, or in the case of Draco Malfoy, a nod well done.
He paused by one campfire, watching the gathered family mourn the loss of their child. He said a silent prayer for the lost soul with them before moving on, noticing many families in morning. So many lives lost this night. Many unknown to him, but also many he cared for. The Boy Who Lived, no longer did so. Instead Harry Potter lay amid the mass of bodies that the resistance had gathered, waiting to be buried. Ron was somewhere among those bodies, along with most of his fellow Gryffindors. Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could also be seen, their robes torn and stained with the blood of war. He closed his eyes tightly as he passed the wall of bodies, wishing he didn't constantly see their faces imprinted onto his lids.
He opened his eyes only when the sounds of the Resistance workers faded from his hearing and took in the sight that greeted him. Green smoke hung heavy here, marks of past battles that had raged for weeks. The camp was mostly deserted, the Death Eaters that still lived having fled as soon as they saw their master perish. Only a scant handful of people remained. Prisoners, families of those that died, children abandoned by both mother and father, left to wander around amid the chaos that was left in their trail. He paused next to a silk tent that had once housed Voldemort himself and struggled against emotions that suddenly overwhelmed him. Here, somewhere in the darkness lay the body of his hero, his idol. Here amid the green smoke that held everybody's fears lay the body of Percy Weasley.
*****
Neville still remembered the day the owl came. A small, simple looking owl, no real distinguishing features, had landed in front of him, a small piece of parchment tied to his leg. He had taken the letter with shaky hands, confusion coursing through him as he read the words. One sentence, one line, no explanation and thousands of questions. 'I've gone to join You-Know-Who,' it had read. Simple, plain and yet that one sentence had changed his life forever. Or would it have just changed his life for this night...who knows.
He was torn out of his thoughts by the sound of crying. Neville followed the harsh sobs, wondering who was left on the Dark Side to make such a sound. These weren't the cries of a child who had lost their parents, nor were they the sound of a spouse whom had lost the love of their life. These were the anguished cries of a soul that had done something terribly wrong and just realized it.
He walked around the tent he had been standing next to and saw them. One boy and a girl huddled together. Not far from them lay the body of their friend, his face barley recognizable with all the injuries. The girl was crying, no, sobbing into the chest of the boy who held her. Crying to cleanse her soul of what she had done. He knelt next to them, putting a hand on Crabbe's shoulder. Crabbe looked up, tears staining his own face. They stared at each other for a long moment before Crabbe shifted, allowing the other boy to take Pansy from him. Neville stood, the girl tucked safely into his arms. He stared at Crabbe for a moment before offering as much a hand he could to the bigger boy whom accepted it, pulling himself up. Crabbe then slung his best friend's body over his shoulder and the group slowly made their way out of the darkness of the camp, into the light of the bonfires. People stared as their hero carried one of the enemies to his tent, but a handful understood. Sometimes it wasn't a choice of Right or Wrong you were allowed to make, but a choice of when you died.
Draco waited for them inside the tent, still nursing a broken leg, but more then ready to help those that had been his friend. As he took Pansy from the man carrying her, he looked at him, unsure of weather to ask.
"Go on Malfoy, ask your question," he said, laying back on the cot that had served him well these weeks.
"D...did you find him?"
"No. But I know he's out there, I wed hed him fall."
"Mr. Weasley wants you to take care of the burial, said you would have had a better idea of what he wanted."
Neville nodded, closing his eyes. "Tomorrow I will look again, be sure Albus knows we found three more students, and that they’re not to be arrested."
Draco nodded, pulling a blanket up around the younger man. Draco sighed softly, watching him fall asleep, his hard expression melting into the familiar youthful face. He turned to see to his former friends, ignoring the questions in their eyes, though he knew he couldn't ignore them much longer.
As it happened, he was more right then he knew, for no more had he thought the thought then Crabbe found his voice. "You're working for them."
Pansy hit him weakly, indicating he had topped his record of stupidest comments.
"Yes," Draco said simply, splinting Pansy's leg.
"Why?"
Draco paused in his work, looking up at the large man. "Because they offered me something my father and Lord Voldemort couldn't."
"What's that?"
"My life."
That silenced Crabbe. He knew what Draco had meant by that. He had seen so many die in this war, many that had no place in it to begin with.
"What will they do with us now?" Pansy asked softly, voicing the concerns that had been on many of the found Slytherin's minds that night.
"You will stay here in camp while the Resistance clears out the lingering threats and then we will all return to our lives."
"What?! They can't...they wouldn't...they should imprison us or kill us or something..."
"Do you wish that much for death?"
Pansy lowered her head. "We hurt so many...killed some..."
"And none of us did it by choice. We were born into this war, we did not have the luxury of choosing sides."
Pansy grew silent, mulling over Draco's words. In the silence that enveloped them they could hear the sounds of celebration and morning outside. If given the choice, would they have fought the good fight? Or would they have still been where they were, carrying the Dark Mark for their master. Maybe it was better that they had never had the choice, maybe it was easier to live life, not knowing the answer to that question.
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The End of the Begining