All Turns To Dust

A/N - This fiction is a branch-off from a one shot I have written called The Masks They Wear, which was inspired by a poem I wrote. This poem called “Breaking Perfection,” is in italics at the beginning of this fiction.

No one ever looks beyond a face
Seeing a smile plastered on like wallpaper
They turn away
Pretending, Ignoring the sight of the mask
Peeling away to reveal eyes crying for help

Hiding behind what people expect them to be
Behind the act, grasping desperately for
Respite as they drown in a Sea of Despair
Fingers clutching, grasping frantically
And still the mind denies what would break Perfection

Secretly wondering if no one notices, if they are alone
When in Reality, another actor struggles inches away
Yet no one reaches out farther than themselves
For that would make Reality unavoidable
Drowning to maintain the greatest Act in Life
To keep up the masks, the illusion of Perfection

When finally a face slips beneath the rising swells
Actors feign surprise as if they know not
The image of a mask peeling away, of crying eyes
As if they themselves do not struggle, do not drown
Or were never Inches away from the fallen's now
Still Fingers

All Turns To Dust

The streets had been cleared of debris, and the corpses were buried. The stench of blood and gore had been swept away by clean rain and the stores were open, bright lights shining with a merriment that few people found after the Last Battle.

Hermione Granger sat in front of the fireplace, facing a laughing picture of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Before Harry had left to hunt for Horcruxes, Ginny and he had been happy. She and Ron had been happy. So much had changed since then.

The War, in its final days of desperation, had become about faking Perfection. Each of the important people in the War held up a mask. Their true selves had only been revealed after the Last Battle, when all the risks were spoken for.

She had held her own mask, one of all-knowing. She had been the person everyone thought they could turn to for a magic word that would change the fates. She had nearly succeeded in doing what everyone expected her to do. She had nearly married Ron, had become the Head Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital, and had turned S.P.E.W. into an actual department at the Ministry.

What she didn't realize back then was that so many other people had held masks as well. Harry had been the Hero, gallant and compassionate. Hermione had thought he would tell her anything but once she read his diary, a gift listed in his will; she had found the real Harry Potter. A man troubled and burdened with the weight of the world, and a man destined to hold this mask. If she could have picked any wizard capable of bearing it, Harry would have been the best.

When their masks fell, Hermione had come to terms with an uncomfortable reality. She did not love Ron - she loved Harry and always would. He was gone forever now. That didn't change the fact that she mourned for a man that she loved with all her heart. Harry had deserved better.

Ron walked down the stairs to find Hermione looking at the picture of Harry and Ginny sitting on the fireplace of the Burrow. He smiled regretfully. He knew what she was thinking about - memories of a past that was lost to them now. Looking at his sister's smiling face, he sighed.

Ginny had saved them all. They had all been so busy pretending to be the people the world expected them to be, they had forgotten that they were losing their souls in the process. Ginny had pretended to be the Angel, a girl innocent to the chaos of the war.

In reality, she had known better than all of them. The love she and Draco Malfoy had held for one another had been carefully hidden, until the day that a Dark curse threatened his life. Ginny had managed for a few weeks, but hadn't been able to live with the thought that this was her fault. She killed herself the evening before Draco died. His eyes had opened at the last moment and with his last breath, he had whispered “Ginny.”

Ginny had left behind a letter, explaining everything. The Chamber of Secrets had tainted his baby sister, his little Ginny. Voldemort - or Tom Riddle, whoever he was - had placed a bit of his soul inside Ginny just in case his plans failed and he did die. This little scrap of soul would eventually overpower Ginny or be passed down to her children until it finally emerged, releasing another horror upon the world.

She had saved the world when she killed herself. Not only because she destroyed the last hidden Horcrux, but because she had shown them all that Perfection was not salvation. In fact, pretending Perfection, would be the thing that destroyed the good in people. People had pretended to be something stronger, something better, than themselves in order to save the hopes of the magical world. They would have died to keep up the masks in order to save the Light from dying while there was still a chance, no matter how slim. Ginny had proven the masks didn't matter, and that neither did Perfection. Her very imperfections had lead to the Order's salvation.

Ron sighed. Everything had changed since then. Draco and Ginny were dead, as were Harry and Voldemort. Hermione had quit a job that he had thought she loved, and now avoided him as though he were the plague. He did not understand how so much could have changed, how so many people could be holding secrets.

He had always been the one that never hid anything. As far as he was concerned, he was an open book. That was fine by him. But all these sudden changes threw him off. He expected everyone to be telling him the truth as well. He now knew that everyone had not been telling him the truth.

His greatest fear was that Hermione would someday tell him that everything they had together had been a lie. In fact, he suspected that now, seeing the way she turned away from him whenever he got close.

He looked at her face, glowing in the firelight, and sighed to himself. Whatever she decided, he knew he would forgive her. He had loved her since he was a little boy, and he would not stop now.

Molly Weasley watched her son and his fiancée from the kitchen, clucking to herself. She wasn't sure what had happened between the two, but it had created a divide. Since the day of Ginny's death, nothing had been the same in this household.

Hermione grew distant, and quit her job as Head Healer. Harry and Ginny were gone. Tears trickled from her eyes as she kneaded cookie dough, but she rubbed them away briskly, leaving streaks of flour on her cheeks. There was nothing to be done about it now, and both Harry and Ginny had made her proud.

Ginny's letter about Voldemort's soul and her love for Draco had come as quite a shock. Molly wished that the two would have told her sooner. She would never keep her baby from happiness, and she learned to respect and love Draco as a son, once he proved that he was trustworthy and loyal. However, they were right to try to protect the Weasley family by keeping their love a secret. She knew that the Death Eaters would come after any perceived weakness of Draco's, because he was a valuable member of the Order. Draco Malfoy had been truly changed by the death of his friend, Blaise Zabini, at the hands of Severus Snape.

Molly clucked to herself again. The memory of Snape's betrayal still stung a bit. Arthur and she had been convinced that he was loyal to Dumbledore, if nothing else. She could barely imagine a former schoolteacher killing someone who had been his student. Blaise had died because he had dared to walk into Snape's private workroom without permission, or so the Order's spies had said.

Draco had cried long and hard in the middle of the night, and Molly had stayed awake listening to his tears. She had longed to go in and comfort him as if he was one of her children, but she had sensed that Draco had his own way of dealing with things, one that had nothing to do with maternal comforting.

In hindsight, she suspected that her only daughter had heard him as well. She also thought that Ginny, unlike herself, had decided to do something about it. She frowned to herself as she put the cookies in the oven. She couldn't blame the girl, really. Ginny had inherited her willfulness from her mother, and Molly couldn't deny doing much more in the name of love.

She sighed again, her hands trembling. She missed her daughter so much. The things Ginny would never get to do: marry, have children, grow old with her love. Molly looked again at the silhouettes of her son and Hermione Granger, and sighed. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, seemingly worlds apart. Ron, the love struck fool, was staring at Hermione, but the girl did not even notice her son's attention. Molly fought away maternal anger. Ron needed to fight his own battles, especially this one.

She sighed, thinking of Arthur's headstone. She hoped those two youth would find the same love that had made a beautiful life for her and Arthur. Oh, how she missed Arthur and her baby!

She shook away the grief briskly. All would be well. After all, today was Christmas Eve.

Remus Lupin stood outside in the garden, at peace with the dark and the silence. The Burrow glowed bright in the night, and Molly Weasley could be heard yelling at Neville Longbottom. Outside was a separate world - one where a loner like him belonged. Everyone he loved eventually left him: James Potter, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and others had all vanished, leaving his existence bare.

Christmas night last year had been a full moon, and he had been so drugged that he had barely heard the words Tonks had said to him. Even now, he wasn't sure whether he had just dreamed of it later, as a sort of way to deal with the grief, or whether she had really said those things to him.

Remus gazed at the Christmas tree, as his vision blurred slightly. The silver wrapping paper on the Christmas presents seemed to melt into the gold ornaments on the tree. For the most part, he felt content. It was a point of regret that this Christmas had been a full moon night, and that he wasn't fully aware of everything. His lips curved into a wolfish smile, revealing fearful canines as a blob of neon pink came floating into view. He and Tonks would have many more Christmases, and he would not be a wolf for all of them.

He felt a soft creak as she sat next to him on the battered sofa, and a feather light touch of lips on his hairy forehead.

“How are you, Remus?” she asked gently.

He nodded, incapable of speech in his state. He was so glad that she had managed to convince him to admit that he loved her. He had been such a fool. After they were (finally) engaged, it had taken him three years to propose. The event that jerked him past the brink was a faded memory. He sighed to himself, the human sound coming out as a rumbling growl in his chest.

Tonks laughed and he continued to reminisce. He had nearly lost her two months ago. When a spell from Lucius Malfoy had hit her, healers did not know what was wrong with her. When she woke from her unconscious state, he had been there. On the spot, he had proposed to her, without even a ring!

They had been married two days later, and this had been the happiest month of his life. For the first time since the Marauders last left Hogwarts, Remus had someone to share Christmas with.

Tonks broke the comforting silence with a quiet voice. “Remus, I am going on a mission for the Order tomorrow.” She didn't stop to see him nod, rushing on, her eyes panicked. “It's supposed to be a secret, but I can't leave you without you knowing. I could - in all likelihood - die doing this. But I must do it, because without the success of this mission, the Order will not survive. Everything you and I have loved and lost for will be ruined.”

She looked down, tears dripped onto his clawed paw. Slowly she took off her wedding ring and left it in his hand.

“I wouldn't want to lose this. If I come back tomorrow, then, forget all this. If I don't, remember me, Remus. I love you.”

He growled, closing his hand against the proffered ring. She had sighed and slipped it back on her finger. The next morning, she left before he woke from the potion's effects. When they didn't return by nightfall, a search party was sent out. Remus himself was too weak from the Wolfsbane potion to go. They found her body and the plans for Voldemort's next evil.

After he found out about her death, Harry Potter had told him that Tonks had completed the mission. She had found out that Voldemort was planning to create a Human Horcrux. Remus had found her wedding ring under a cushion of the sofa.

Remus sighed to himself as he watched the crescent moon rise. Tonks' death had been futilely spent. The human Horcrux was Ginny Weasley, created many years ago when the Chamber of Secrets was reopened. But his love had died thinking she was defending a cause she believed in, that she lived for, and that was enough for him.

Still he missed her. This would have been their second Christmas together. He had wasted so much time, and now they had none left. Looking out at the starry night one last time, he turned back to walk to the bright lights of the Burrow.

Neville Longbottom heard the cries of Mrs. Weasley from here. He smiled to himself softly. His grandmother would have done the same. She had died the night that he had finally killed Lucius Malfoy. He liked to think she would be proud.

He looked up at the pictures of Ginny Weasley. He had watched her fall in love with Draco Malfoy. He had said nothing, hoping and dreaming that if someday Draco were to make a mistake, he could step in. Deep in his heart, he knew that Ginny only had love for one man, and that they would only ever be best friends.

Grandmother had liked Ginny Weasley. Indeed, she had hinted many a time that she would enjoy having grandchildren and that the “Ginny-girl” wasn't a bad choice, no, not at all. Neville smiled again. Augusta Longbottom eventually learned to accept her grandson as her grandson - and keep memories of her son out of the present. Though she had been blunt to the point of hurtfulness, Neville had loved her.

He supposed she would have been proud of her death: defending her house against three Death Eaters and killing them all before dying herself. He had moved on without a second thought, because she would have been disappointed if he did anything else.

She was with his parents, and he was quite sure he had finally made her proud. Those thoughts made him leave the memories where they belonged - in the past. Looking at the rest of his companions, he wanted to sigh. They lived in the past, in a world of tears and regret, because they did not see the future ahead of them.

Well, it was Christmas. Maybe they could start a new chapter after today. Christmas was a time of joy and hope, and he prayed all the people in this house would feel it.

Hearing the cries of Molly Weasley yet again, he ran downstairs to eat.

Molly smiled to herself. Finally, everyone was here. Ron, Hermione, Remus and Neville were all seated around the table. Everyone's plates filled and the household members busied themselves with eating. None of the characteristic conversation from before the War filled the air.

Molly Weasley sneaked a glance at the rest of the table as she sipped from a glass of water. From the expressions on people's faces, you would think it was a funeral, not Christmas Eve. She knew just the trick to fix this mess.

After the table was cleared, she announced, “Everyone, sit down at the fireplace. It is Christmas Eve, after all. I feel we are entitled to spend some time together. Besides, I have just the thing to spend our time.”

Neville looked at Ron and shrugged. They made their way to the living room followed by Remus and Hermione. Molly quickly went to retrieve some things from the attic.

Everyone got up to help her when she came through the hallway, arms full of books. Each person took a few and set them down on the table. Molly merely stood for a moment, catching her breath and then nearly began laughing from the expression on their puzzled faces.

She didn't answer the questions, so clearly written on the group's faces. She merely passed around the books and said, “Open them, and look at them.”

Hermione was the first, curious as always. She opened one, took a look and shut it just as promptly.

She looked at Molly accusingly. “These are photo albums.”

Molly held up her hands in protest. “It will do you good, Hermione. Remembering never hurt a soul.” Hermione looked ready to argue, but Molly held up a hand. “It's Christmas Eve and many things have changed in the past year. By ignoring them, we will not forget them. Christmas is a time of joy. We should remember happy times, and preserve the memories of our friends. Do you really think forgetting about Ginny or Harry or Sirius will help any of you?” She looked around at them all.

Everyone suddenly had their nose buried in a photo album. Ron, his ears red, was carefully avoiding his mother's gaze.

Molly simply sat, waiting for the first reaction, sure that it would come. Sure enough, Neville broke out into a surprised laugh. Everyone turned to stare at him and he blushed.

He stuttered, “It's just that - well…” He showed them the picture. George and Ginny had cake all over their faces. Ginny looked furious, while George merely looked pleased with himself.

Molly stared at the picture, feeling punched in the gut. A smile brightened Hermione's and Remus's faces. Ron's jaw tightened.

Remus said quietly, “I remember that. That was Ginny's seventeenth birthday. We sent the twins to get her cake and they replaced it with a cake that exploded as soon as one blew out the candles. Molly, you must've yelled at those two for ages. You demanded they pay Ginny the price of the cake as an additional birthday present.”

Ron began to smile, remembering the looks on his brothers' faces. He loved seeing his mother yell at someone else. Molly, however, still sat frozen.

No one seemed to notice as they turned back to the albums. She remained lost in her thoughts. Those were her children, dead before herself. The world was twisted in its cruelty. A parent should never remain alive to see the death of a child. Now out of all her sons, only Ron remained.

She remembered Fred's smiling face leaping on her bed on his third Christmas, whispering, “I get presents fore George does, Mum. Merlin says I better than him this year! Tip-toe, quiet!”

George, the day he lost his first tooth, his grin a mile-wide. The first time the boys played in a Gryffindor match. Tears tickled her eyelashes, and she blinked.

Guess she had some accepting to do, as well. She shook her head in self-admonishment and turned back to the pages of her photo album.

Suddenly Hermione said, “Well, look at that. I had forgotten we did that.”

Ron asked, “Did what?” and Hermione laughed.

“Remember the day I punched Malfoy out.”

Ron smiled. “Better than the day he first became the Bouncing Ferret. That was the day -” Ron stopped.

Hermione looked at him curiously. “What?”

Ron blushed and glanced at his mother. “Never mind, tell you later,” he mumbled. “What's the picture about?”

Hermione's cheeks flushed. “Well, we took a picture at Hagrid's house, I think, to commemorate the moment. You and Harry both have huge grins on your faces and I - well, I look quite scared of myself.”

Ron laughed. “I don't know quite what got into you that day, `Mione.”

Hermione knew very well what had gotten into her, but she wasn't about to tell Ron, not when she hadn't even told him that she didn't love him - that she never had. This thought made her somber, and sensing the end of the conversation, Ron turned back to his album.

Molly suddenly gasped. “I can't believe we took a picture of this.” She gestured at Ron. “Ron, look! That's a picture of the day before you went to hunt for Horcruxes.”

Neville added, “Mrs. Weasley, you nearly went with them, you were so worried. If I remember correctly, Bill gave them a package of trail food, and you nearly had an apoplexy.”

Ron teased, “Yeah, Mum. We were carrying around that suitcase full of your food for days. I swear it was like having another person along.”

Molly turned red. “I just thought you boys might get hungry. I worry about you all, you know. I can't help being a mother.” She sniffed.

On impulse, Ron got up and wrapped his arms around his mother, pecking her forehead. “I know, Mum. That's what makes you my mum.”

Mrs. Weasley looked up in shock, her eyes filling with tears. “Thanks, Ron, dear.”

Ron turned red and quickly backed away. “Now don't go all mushy on me, mum. It was just a hug.”

Molly dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Of course, dear. I'm sorry.”

Hermione winked at Ron, the first eye contact she had made with him in days. “You just melt in the water, eh, Ron? Funny how tears can be so contagious.”

Neville and Remus broke out laughing and Ron hunched behind his photo album.

“Women!” burst the muttered voice from behind the cover. This only caused another peal of laughter to burst through the rafters.

A few minutes passed in the glowing firelight, everyone at ease with each other at last. Even Ron and Hermione seemed content to forget about the conflict of emotions and relax for a while. Molly decided it was time to put those two together. It was high time they figured things out between them.

“Hermione, dear, will you go make us some hot chocolate?” she said sweetly. Hermione nodded and left for the kitchen. Molly looked pointedly at her son.

Ron got the hint. “Oh, Mum, I can help with that,” he said hurriedly as he jumped up to follow her.

Molly smiled and leaned back into her chair. Picking up the photo album once more, she settled in for a long wait. Paging through the memories, she sighed. There was so much happiness in the past; the world could use some of it now. They could use some of it now.

She paused. Maybe they could create some of their own happiness. People were gone that should have been here, but that did not mean joy was impossible. They could not start life over again, but they could change the ending. Molly Weasley was determined that this family would have a happy ending.

Hermione watched the hot chocolate boil in the pot, and Ron watched her.

Abruptly she said, “That was nice.”

Ron, taken by surprise, said, “What?”

Hermione said, still looking at the brown liquid, “That was nice, looking at memories and talking about the past. It made me feel happy again.”

Ron said with amusement, “Yes. It made me laugh. I still can't believe you punched Draco. We all have changed so much since then.”

Hermione turned to him and looked him in the eye. “You stopped talking when we were discussing that. What were you going to say?”

Ron smiled slightly and blushed a bit. “It was the first day I thought of you as a girl. It's strange, I know, because hitting is stereotypically a “manly” act…but before then, you were always able to hold the rules above your feelings. That was the first day I saw that you lost control of your temper. It gave me something to connect to with you.”

Hermione smiled, and then stopped. “Ron, I have to tell you something.”

Ron ignored her. “You see, you and Harry clicked from the very beginning. You two understood each other after the Sorcerer's Stone. Something went on after I got knocked out at that chess game that changed your relationship with him.”

Hermione protested, the hot chocolate forgotten, “No! You and he were both my best friends.” She smiled. “Like brothers.”

Ron shook his head stubbornly. “I didn't say he meant more to you. Just that he meant something to you in a different way.”

Hermione smiled again. “Not back then. It was always you, then. I mean, I had a crush on Harry, sure. That was because he was the hero that saved the world. But back then, it was always you.”

Ron asked, his voice strained, “Back then? Just then?” Hermione saw the pain in his eyes and turned back to the hot chocolate. This had to be done.

“Yes.”

Ron felt an extreme rush of release. “Since when? When did it change for you?”

Hermione looked at him hesitantly. “I don't know. I was so caught up in being the person with all the answers during the War, that I lost myself. After the War, after Ginny died and showed us all that we did not have to be anything more than ourselves to be enough, I found that the feelings for you had disappeared. I - I don't know, Ron.” Her voice grew really quiet. “I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I do love you, Ron…but I -”

Ron couldn't bear to hear it. “I know, Hermione. I understand this and I forgive you. It's all right for feelings to change. I'll be okay, as long as you don't rub it in my face for a while.” He laughed tiredly. “I had suspected since you quit as Healer. It's not a shock, not really. Just understand that I will always love you, because I have since I was a little boy. I won't do anything about it, but if you ever can move on, I'm waiting.”

Tears filled Hermione's eyes, matching the glistening of Ron's. She whispered, “Can I - can I hug you, Ron?”

Looking at her softly, he said, “Yeah. Have I ever been able to refuse?”

Trembling, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the warm woolen sweater he was wearing. He tucked her head under his chin and shut his eyes, reveling in the feeling of holding her after so long.

Suddenly he realized she was shaking and that his shirt was wet underneath his sweater. He pulled away to meet her eyes.

“Are you okay, love?” She winced, and he pulled back even further.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, forcing him back, and smiled shakily. “It' s just that we've been together for so long, and I do love you, Ron, I do.” She paused, the said fervently, “I would do anything not to hurt you, but I can't change this. I've already hurt so many people.”

He chucked her under the chin with his fingers playfully and pulled away from her embrace. “It's okay, Hermione. It's better than pretending to feel something you don't. Remember Lavender Brown and me back in sixth year?”

Hermione laughed, and then looked at the stove. The hot chocolate had boiled over.

She said regretfully, “Oh no. I'll have to make a new pot.”

Ron smiled. “We'll need that time to catch up, don't you think?” Her radiant smile nearly made the pain in his heart fade. He would do what she needed, because he loved her. That was all there was to it.

When Ron and Hermione came back with the hot chocolate, they were smiling. Molly noticed Hermione had taken her engagement ring off, and she sighed to herself. She supposed it was understandable, but she was really looking forward to her last child getting married soon. After all, she did want grandchildren!

Lupin suddenly said in a stunned voice, “My god. I remember this night. Molly, you went to James' and Lily's wedding?”

Molly said in shock, “Why yes. I think we did, matter of fact!”

Lupin looked at the picture as if seeing ghosts. Neville looked at it and his face turned pale.

Neville said quietly, “It's Remus, James, Wormtail and Sirius the night of James' wedding, I think. They have their arms around each other.” Lupin didn't even hear him.

Molly said quietly to Remus, “Remus? Peter Pettigrew is dead.”

Lupin snapped, “It doesn't matter. I - he killed James the night Harry lived and Tonks, the night of her mission - and there, I have my arm around him. I treated the slime like a friend!”

Molly cried, “So did the man that he murdered! So did James, Remus! You never knew; it wasn't your fault.”

Lupin looked at her with deadened eyes, “I thought Sirius would betray us…I toasted Peter Pettigrew every time I cursed Sirius's name.”

Molly cried, “As did we all, Remus! We never knew!”

Remus hissed, “Ignorance is not an excuse.”

Molly said quietly, “How will it avenge your loved ones? How will hating Peter Pettigrew avenge them? It will not. Tonks and James will have to watch you waste away, shrunken by your own hate. Through your hatred of him, you will hurt Tonks more than Peter ever hurt her. You must forgive him, Remus. You are the only one who can. Do it to save yourself if not for him.”

Remus asked painfully, “How can I forgive the monster that killed a man he called a friend? How can I forgive a man who took all the people I loved away from me. He killed Tonks and James, and cost me thirteen years with Sirius. He caused Harry to grow up parentless, and caused Dumbledore endless worry. How can I forgive all that, Molly, when I cannot even forgive myself for letting him get away that night underneath the Whomping Willow?”

Molly protested, “You were a wolf that night!”

“Exactly,” Remus interrupted. “Because I am a werewolf, I let Peter get away. Because I am a werewolf, I could not tell Tonks goodbye. Because I am a werewolf, I could not stay to teach Harry and become his mentor. Because I am a werewolf, I lied to Dumbledore at Hogwarts.”

Molly said quietly, “Remus, you must forgive him. Otherwise, you will die tainted by your hatred, and that will make you evil. For Tonks, for James, for them all, you must forgive.”

Remus's eyes gradually returned to their normal intensity and his features relaxed. “For them all.”

Molly nodded slowly, and the photo albums were opened once more.

A door knock interrupted the memories, and Hermione Granger opened the door to reveal a battered Narcissa Malfoy.

The group's jaws collectively dropped in shock. Draco had told them about his regrets. His biggest regret about changing sides was that he had not been able to bring his mother with him. He had never been sure whether Narcissa believed in the Dark Lord or in Harry Potter, but it hadn't mattered to him.

Now Draco was dead, and his last connection to the Death Eaters stood before them.

The woman said quietly, “My son told me about you all. He said that if I ever needed help, I could come to you because I could trust you. Will you help me?”

The group looked at one another, and came to silent agreement. This was for Draco.

Neville asked politely, “May I take your bags?”

By looking at the past, they were able to leave it behind and embrace the future. As they welcomed in the mother of an old enemy from the cold, the Christmas sunrise slipped up over the horizon. The morning birds welcomed in the Christmas day, and so did the hearts of these people…this family.

They had each other. That was enough, and a new ending had begun. Old feelings faded to dust. The tears dried and the grudges were erased. Through the chaos of the Last Battle and its aftermath, only the love of these people - this family - withstood the storm.

-->