The Price of Freedom

This fanfic is dedicated to my grandfather, who passed away this Independence Day, unexpectedly taken by a heart attack. He was one of the most loving, kind, gentle, patient, caring people I have ever known, and every firework that goes off tonight is being watched by him.

Years ago, when little Harry Potter destroyed the darkest lord in wizarding history and gave the world peace, the world celebrated. They lit off fireworks, and held parties, and toasted to Harry Potter, the “Boy-Who-Lived”. And Remus Lupin watched morosely from the sidelines and wondered if the world had forgotten about the people who had died.

He couldn't forget about the people who lost to Voldemort, no matter how hard he tried. Even now, years and years later, he mourned his only true friends and their deaths. He mourned deaths alone, unable to fully open up to anyone, because no one was as close to him as the people he had lost.

Now, Harry Potter had done it again. He had gone against Voldemort and won, at great personal sacrifice. So Remus sat by Harry's bed, red-eyed, watching the boy as he shallowly breathed in and out. The bandages covering the young man's body revealed just how bad the injuries had been, but Remus didn't want to stop to think about how much Harry must be hurting. He didn't want to think at all, at the moment.

Finally deciding to take a break from his constant watch of Harry, Remus forced himself to stand and shuffle down to the Weasley's kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had insisted that aside from Hogwarts, their home was like Harry's home, so they had taken him there. It was just too big of a risk, letting Harry stay at the school with all of the reparations that had to be made following the battle.

Ronald Weasley sat at the kitchen with his head in his hands, and Remus grimaced in sympathy. He had been close to Harry, but no one had been closer to Harry than Ron and Hermione, and Remus remembered what it was like to lose a best friend. It had been seventeen years, and he still clearly remembered.

Hermione was no where to be seen, and when Remus returned upstairs to Harry's temporary room after trying to eat, he saw that she at some point must have slipped up to see her best friend. Not wanting to disturb the two, he hesitated outside the door of the room to listen to Hermione. She wasn't just crying, she was talking.

“Harry, I know you're really tired, but you can't sleep just yet. I need to at least be able to say goodbye, and there's something I have to tell you. It's something you have to hear, but you have to wake but first. Harry, I need you to wake up!”

Remus was amazed to see that at those words, Harry's green eyes cracked open. In his excitement, he sprang downstairs, and announced to everyone as loud as he could that “Harry's awake! He's alive, and I think he's all right, and HE WOKE UP!!!”

For the next two days, there was a constant flow of people in the house and going into Harry's small room, visiting. Harry told the story of the battle between him and the dark lord, and Hermione and Ron never left his side. November 1^st, to everyone except Harry's great amusement, really had become `Harry Potter Day' or as he liked to call it, `freedom day' or `independence day'.

“We aren't celebrating me,” He'd say, “We're celebrating our freedom. So it shouldn't be named after me.”

“But mate,” Ron would object, always adding in his two cents, “It's because of you that we have that freedom.”

“Not me.” Harry would disagree. “It's because of all of the people that died that we have this freedom. And freedom isn't free. It costs money, and years, and lives.”

Harry's own life wasn't going so great. The healers working on him doubted that he would ever fully recover from his injuries, and his burns continued to cause him pain. His scar, despite the fact that Voldemort was gone, now hurt him worse than ever, and often Harry just wanted to lie down and go to bed. At this point, Ron and Hermione even slept in the same room as Harry, on pull-out cots or in chairs, and spent their every moments with him.

It was because of this closeness that Remus felt uneasy when he saw Ron sitting in the living room, looking bedraggled and tired. His eyes were red, and he absently brushed tears off of his cheeks only to have more tears take their place a moment later.

Panicking, Remus took the steps two at a time, and quickly came to Harry's temporary room, only to hear Hermione speaking softly to Harry. He barely pushed open the door to see her bent over his bed, crying as he gently whipped her tears away with his right hand. He other hand was being clutched tightly by Hermione, who stood by the side of his bed.

“I don't have much longer.” Harry said softly, a note of sadness in his voice. “I'm sorry, but I can't really handle much more.” Remus knew the pain was intense for Harry, and felt a stab of guilt as he ached to demand that Harry stay with them just a little bit longer.

“I know, Harry.” Hermione sobbed, chocking out the words. “I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.” She gasped for breath before saying, “I love you, Harry. That's what I had to tell you, and I should have told you every day that I love you. I love you so much.” Every word seemed to hurt her to say, and it sounded like she had to fight to say them.

“I love you too, Hermione. I love you so much. Never doubt it, because I'll never doubt your love for me.” He drew in a shaky breath, and a tear ran down his face. It was, Remus reflected, the first time he had ever seen Harry cry. He knew, somehow, that it would probably be the last.

“I'm happy that I'll be able to see my parents soon, and Sirius. I'll tell him you said hello, and wait up there for you and Ron. I'm not sad for me, Hermione. I'm sad for all of you.”

Remus knew what Harry meant. If there was one thing he knew about the man, it was that Harry hated seeing others in pain, and would loathe to be the cause of that pain. He felt tears running down his face, and wanted to scream and cry, but instead stood motionless by the door, knowing better than to disturb the moment. Hermione gave Harry a desperate hug that Harry returned fully. On the verge of sobbing, Remus quietly closed the door and slunk down the stairs, too shocked to do anything more. It wasn't that Harry's death was unexpected; his injuries had been tormenting him for a long time now, and his health was rapidly declining. But the horror of the situation had fully wrapped around Remus, and he didn't quite know how to handle the death of another close friend.

When Harry's death was announced to the world the next day, people mourned the death of the boy-who-lived, and Remus mourned for the people left behind. He wondered if the world would ever mourn all of the other deaths of the war, or if the people who had sacrificed for their freedom had been forgotten.

With a bouquet of different, colorful flowers, Remus visited the graves of his long-gone best friends. As he cried, Remus reflected, and realized that as long as someone remembered those lost, they were never really gone. The ones who love us, after all, never really leave us. Upon the realization, Remus smiled.

Smiling with him were Sirius Black, and Harry, Lily and James Potter. With him they cried for the price of freedom.

At the moment, I can't think of the proper words to go with my grief. Somehow, Remus's grief was easier to write about. I couldn't write it from Hermione's point of view because I'm not my Grandma. I just watched from the sides.

A love like theirs is to be admired. A love like that lives forever.

Rest in peace Grandpa-With-The-Beard.

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