The sun was just starting to sink behind the horizon, and from his second story view, Harry Potter was able to watch it and the deep oranges and purples the sun created as it sank. Its last light was mingling with autumn leaves on tree branches that were just a stone's throw away from the window.
The house where he sat was in the northern part of England, in a secluded bit of countryside that hardly anyone ever went through, which had been part of its appeal in the first place. There were old, sturdy trees surrounding the house, and behind the house's left side, several hundred feet off, was a large lake that seemed to be covered in gold leaflets as the sun set.
He sat in a rather large armchair in a drawing room, with an empty fire pit behind him and books and other odds and ends that had value to him lined the few shelves. This was his own private space in a house full of rooms: a place where he could sit in peace for a while and think.
As always, there was much to think about, and Harry briefly wondered if he would ever have nothing to worry over. Maybe that's life, he thought to himself. Certainly his seven years at Hogwarts, which had just ended at the beginning of the now dying summer, had given him proof enough for that.
Not that he didn't have things to be grateful for; at the end of his final term he had at last rid the world of Voldemort, which had caused a great weight to be lifted off of his shoulders. No more terrifying dreams, no more quests and adventures that put himself and his friends in more danger than they ever could have imagined, and no more worry that time was slipping away to stop the world from plunging into darkness.
Well, almost no more.
Many of the Death Eaters had disappeared when Voldemort had been destroyed, and the Ministry and Wizarding governments were so busy try to re-establish order to a system that was nearly fractured in the war, that the attempts to locate and capture these remaining Death Eaters were minimal at best.
And now rumors were being whispered that someone was trying to unite them, organize those who survived the war, and maybe even strike again. No clear information had been given on the validity of these claims, nor who the one could be, so they were largely ignored by the Ministry, but Harry had a feeling that the situation was going to have to be dealt with eventually. And despite his desire to lead a quiet life now that the war was over, he had a sinking feeling he'd have some part to play in that.
Things weren't all bad, though, and he switched his thoughts to something a little more cheerful. Point of fact, he started thinking about the best part of his life: Hermione.
That they had ended up together was still a source of surprise for him, but one for which he was extremely grateful. Of course, she had always been there for him from their first year, and had been key in practically everything he had done, but that she had been harbouring feelings of love for him was something he'd never imagined. In some small part of him that he had kept tucked away, he had always had feelings for her, but with what seemed like the inevitability of her and Ron getting together, he had kept them hidden.
It was during their seventh year that things began to change. The three of them spent almost all of their time hunting down the Horcruxes and dealing with Voldemort, that they barely had time for any personal life, yet Harry noticed Ron and Hermione drifting apart. It wasn't that they weren't friends anymore, but it was almost like some connection between them was just being lost. He initially just wrote it off to the amount of time and energy that they were putting into their work, but then he and Hermione started to get closer and closer, and he began -- in secret -- to hope.
And then all it took was one look at her face, as he lay recovering in the hospital bed after the battle with Voldemort, to know that there was more than just friendship in her eyes. When she was finally allowed to see him after a day or two in recovery, and she, without hesitation or embarrassment, walked straight over to him, laid down next to him and he wrapped his arms around her, he knew that nothing would be the same.
Nothing was the same, but in the best possible way. They were at last able to speak freely to each other, and he was shocked to learn she'd had feelings for him for years as well. He momentarily cursed all that wasted time, but he was so grateful to be with her now, that he didn't care. She was there with him every day he was in the hospital, and with her help, he weakly walked out when he was released. The following weeks, the first of the summer, were some of the best weeks of his life: nothing but being outside, the feeling of her hand in his, tender kisses and days that he wished would never end.
Of course, there was one thing that they had to take care of right away, but one that they were both nervous about: telling Ron. There had been no doubt, right from the start, that it was the right thing to do. Ron was their best friend, and especially given his history with Hermione, it was something that had to be done.
They had waited a few weeks, until everything had settled down, and then told him together. He was shocked, to say the least, and he admitted he was going to need some time to get used to the idea, but overall Harry thought that he handled it very well. Yet every now and then Harry caught a look in his eye that said pretty clearly he was not over it yet. Whenever he saw it, Harry just reminded himself that it was to be expected.
Of course, the fact that Ron was living with them despite this was a pretty strong testament to how much Ron values both his and Hermione's friendship. He also figured that Ron's decision was helped by the fact that the whole of Dumbledore's Army was living in one place. Here, in the house where he sat.
Claer Anned.
According to Hermione, that was Welsh for Shining House, a name Harry thought was fitting, due to the ever shining waters of the lake behind them. It was in the weeks following the war that Harry first began to think about getting a place to live. Now that things were settled, there was no need to go back to the Dursleys, and he didn't really want to live in London, but wanted somewhere a bit more remote. That's when Lupin mentioned an old house in the north of England he had seen for sale, and Harry had gone to see it alone one day, and decided it was perfect.
He bought the house, and with the help of many of the Order members, like Tonks, Lupin, McGonagal and some of the DA, he not only turned the run-down two-story house into a brand-new looking building, but they also enchanted it, so it had more rooms on the top level than it appeared to.
As they were getting ready to move everybody in, Hermione had asked him why he wanted the DA to remain together, and Harry had to think about if for a while before he was able to give an answer. After all, Voldemort was gone, so the need to have this force seemed to be over, but something about the camaraderie that had been created among the group, especially during that last year, gave Harry such feeling of family that he didn't want to let it go.
Apparently he wasn't the only one, either, for more people than he thought moved into the house, and thanks to the spells, everyone got their own room. In addition to Hermione and Ron, Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus had all moved in, as well as nearly thirty others. Even Ginny stopped in from time to time, but she never stayed long. She had taken to Harry and Hermione pretty badly, and they didn't see her that often. Still, the hustle and bustle of all the people in the house, doing chores, working on spells, coming and going, gave Harry a sense of home that he thought he'd never find outside of Hogwarts. Everyone seemed to love Claer, as they called it, and Harry was happy to have them all.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud CRACK and Harry turned in his seat to find Severus Snape standing behind him, a faint smirk on his lips.
"Enjoying the view, are we?"
"Good evening, Snape," he said, enjoying the twinge on the former professor's face when he addressed him so.
That Snape would be free to come and go as he pleased was something that no one would have ever expected at the end of their sixth year, but it had been revealed in a letter that Dumbledore himself had left, that Snape had been acting on Dumbledore's orders. Not wishes, not hopes, but orders. Faced with such evidence, Snape had been cleared of the charges, and had virtually disappeared since. Except, for some strange reason, during the war he would suddenly appear give Harry some advice or news about the enemy's movements.
Harry initially didn't want to listen to a word he said, still considering Snape the cause of Dumbledore's death, but when Snape's information proved to be reliable time and time again, Harry was forced to admit the man had his uses, even if Harry didn't like him.
"So, Potter, how are things in your little Camelot going?"
Harry rolled his eyes, and stood up to face him. "Things are fine, Snape. I appreciate your concern," he said, dripping with sarcasm.
"Very good. Nice to see you're keeping your house in order," Snape replied, with a knowing look that made Harry uncomfortable.
"Are you hear to discuss domestic affairs, or is there something you want?" Harry asked, growing tired of this already.
"Patience was never your strong suit, was it? Well, since you asked, I've got word that the Death Eaters are going to be meeting tonight."
Harry suddenly felt very excited. "They are! When? Where?"
"The time, I am not so certain of, but the location is at the Malfoy Mansion."
The Malfoy Mansion, Harry thought. Well, I suppose that's as good a place as any for them to meet.
Harry was aware of Snape watching him, and he asked, "How did you get this information, Snape?"
"I never betrayed you in the war, Potter. Why start now? If you're worried about a trap, why would I have helped you in the war and then turn you over afterwards?"
Harry was about to frame a response when footsteps could be heard heading towards the door. With a flick of his wand, Snape Disapparated just as the door opened and Hermione entered.
"Who were you talking to, Harry?" she asked as she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.
"Snape," he answered, and she pulled back, a questioning look on her face. She was the only one in the house who knew about Snape, but she was a bit more trusting of him than Harry was.
"What did he say?"
"The Death Eaters are meeting tonight at the Malfoy Mansion. He didn't know when, but I think it's worth looking into."
Hermione was silent in thought for a moment, before nodding and said. "We'll leave in the hour. I'll get a small group together and we'll…"
"Hermione, would you consider staying? I just think that it would be safer; we don't know what we're walking into here."
She smiled up at him and said, "That's exactly why you need me." Then she leaned in and kissed him and said, "And no, I won't consider staying. I'm coming along, Harry."
He nodded in resignation, squeezed her hand and watched as she left the room. He knew she hated how protective he was of her now, but he couldn't help it; he'd finally found someone who filled the hole in him that his parent's had left, and he wasn't about to lose her, especially now that the war was over.
With one last look at the disappearing sun, he headed to his room to prepare for the journey.
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