Marooned - Fred Weasley

Chapter 84: Aftermath

They were all covered in mud and blood. Dirt incrusted in the cuts and the creases of their faces, in their hair. Their clothes. They needed to help around, tend to those who were still wounded, trying to fray a way through the fallen bricks.

The best they could do were old House jumpers that were lying around, and the sad fact was as few as the jumpers were, the remaining fighters were about the same number. They all got a change of clothes.

Sarah was browsing among the wounded, helping out Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers who'd worked restlessly until now. She had stopped and crouched down next to Hannah Abbot, a Hogwarts student. They had been mere acquaintances, not in the same year, also not in the same house, Hannah had been Hufflepuff. But Sarah indulged her while she rambled about how close she came to dying. People needed to externalize their feelings after such great despair.

And what was actually happening was that Sarah wasn't mentally present, she was focused on tending to the open wound on Hannah's leg but kept smiling to herself whenever she remembered she was back, alive and breathing, a new door opening up to her on so many possibilities. The most beautiful one of them all was a future with Fred. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders and what she deemed before as frightening and unclear was now bright and inviting.

She glanced over her shoulder several times at him, grateful he was too involved in a conversation with Percy and George to realize. These were her moments, there was something so awe-provoking about him, standing tall between his brothers, making peace with Percy after so many years, his red hair disheveled, and sticking up like he'd pulled on it in great sorrow. Or maybe Sarah had when she kissed him earlier and he hadn't put it back in place for that exact reason.

"Do you need any help?" a voice pulled her out of her reminiscing, Hermione had knelt down next to her.

"I'm almost done with Hannah, but you need some help, though," Sarah gestured furtively at her forehead where Hermione had a deep cut. She used the corner of a piece of clean cloth to wipe away the blood from her hand and moved her wand into a circular motion. A bowl of lukewarm water appeared next to them and Sarah nudged it toward Hermione with her foot, "Try to wipe off the dirt, I'll apply the Dittany right after."

Hermione nodded and thanked her before grabbing the bowl and a white piece of cloth from the cart set out for this exact purpose for the Healers or people tending to themselves.

"I can do it."

Sarah's eyes went wide when she realized Ron had spoken, she turned to witness what only added to her shock: Hermione letting him take the cloth, dip it in water and proceeded to gently wipe away the mud from her face, while using his other hand to keep her head from moving. They looked so at ease, no bickering, no embarrassment, although a small smile was drawn on both their mouths and their cheeks a light shade of pink. Although, considering the fact Ron was ginger, his face and the tip of his ears had turned crimson.

Sarah tried to get back to her patient, but kept eyeing them. Until Hermione felt somehow the whirlwind of questions going around in Sarah's mind and she opened her eyes to smile shyly after glancing at Ron. "I'll tell you later," Hermione promised and returned to her position, facing Ron with her eyes closed.

People were shaking hands with Harry, grateful to him for taking them on and across the battlefield, to victory. Every handshake seemed to receive a bittersweet smile from Harry. Of course it did, he couldn't help but feel all the lives lost tonight were on him. Voldemort had made him his ultimate goal. Sarah could only hope in time he will find the strength to forgive himself, everyone else in this vast room didn't blame him for any of it.

After dispatching from an older man, Harry made his way toward McGonagall, who was helping Madam Pomfrey brew strong tea and coffee to distribute it as people recovered. There was a second of confusion, people scrutinized while wondering what could Harry Potter want from his Professor? And it had only lasted a second, a short-lived unspoken scrap of time that only the two understood, until Harry held out his own hand respectfully, "Thank you for everything, Professor."