Dear readers,

Like I promised I wrote a sequel to this story. It is called "The Final Breeze 2". I added a small part of the beginning of the fic here, but to read the whole chapter you have to go to the real story on my account!


Chapter 1 – Depressions

"They should be happy, Alastor." Poppy shifted closer to Alastor and hid her tears-stained face in his broad chest. The fireplace crackled and the warmth from it heated her skin, but her insides were cold with worry. Depression threatened to overwhelm her lately, and she fought hard to remain sane for the sake of the two men she called her sons.

"They need time, Poppy. Everything will be fine," Alastor said, tired. He felt years older than he had felt while they were still fighting Voldemort. He did not believe his own words, but he tried to be strong for his wife. Every day he saw her becoming more desperate, and he feared she would one day break from all the worrying and sorrow.

Poppy tightened her grip on Alastor's robes and buried her face more forcefully into his chest, trying to suppress the sobs that were already escaping her.

Sighing, Alastor drew Poppy in an even tighter embrace. They needed that kind of contact; it made them feel that they really were not alone. Throughout the day, they tried to be optimistic and cheerful, but they gave in to their stress during the evenings.

"Maybe we should just risk it and make our journey," Alastor suggested uncertainly.

"Severus isn't ready for traveling, Alastor. We both know it. If it wasn't for Harry, he wouldn't even be here." The last words almost did not make it out of her mouth because the lump in her throat became more prominent the more she thought about their current situation.

"Don't say that, Poppy. He will get used to it." Alastor fought against his own tears. He had to be strong. When he broke down, they all would be lost.

"No, he won't. He doesn't see the slow progress of healing as something positive, and soon Harry will fall deep into depression when he isn't able to help him any longer." Poppy sat up again and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Voldemort is dead, and we all survived, but we aren't the family we wanted to be." With that, Poppy stood up and left to seek the loneliness of their bedroom. She knew Alastor wouldn't come to bed soon, and so she would have enough time to cry herself to sleep without worrying him more than she already did.

When Poppy had left the room, Alastor rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands. Moments later, tears were leaking through his fingers and silent sobs shook his body.