Our Boys


It's been hard since the day our boys were taken from us. We're on the way to King's cross right now, to pick them up at last.

Molly's driving, her face is expressionless. Arthur disappeared at the beginning of the war. It's been hard for her since then, but she' moved on, for our sake.

I've lived with the Weasley's ever since our seventh year was cut short. I lean my head against the window, and think of the day our boys were taken away from us.


Harry and Ginny were happily playing chess by the fire, and I was bugging Ron to do his homework, when McGonagall came in, a grim look on her face. All the seventh years grouped in front of her immediately. It was our job to break any sad news to the younger children during the war. Ginny, who had taken her owls a year early so that she could be with us in our grade, leans against Harry. She hates this. McGonagall looks so grim, and she begins to speak. "Boys, pack your things, and say goodbye to the girls. Every man in their seventh year of school must join the fight against Voldemort." There are gasps from us, and we all begin to talk furiously at the same time.

McGonagall raises a hand. "I don't know anything. I was just told to tell you. You are expected in the entrance hall in an hour." She turned and walked out of the common room, shoulders slumped in defeat. Harry and Ron turn to us, faces drawn.

I stood there, not knowing what to say. Around us, all our other friends are hugging and crying. I feel a tear crawl down my cheek. Ron steps up to me, and hugs me. I see Harry do the same with Ginny. Ginny and I help Harry and Ron pack their things, and walk them to the entrance hall. Ron kissed me good-bye, and I hugged Harry. Harry kisses Ginny good-bye. They promise to get in touch with us as soon as possible. I pull all four of us into a hug, knowing this may be the last time we're all together. After saying our good-bye, our boys are led away.


Back in the present, I realize we have pulled into the station. The three of us walk silently to Platform 9 and three quarters, where there train is arriving. The station is mostly empty, it being a Sunday.

This should be a wonderful day, full of joy, but we lost happiness in this war. Voldemort surrendered, after having his Death Eaters turn on him. He was executed.

It's funny how we segregate ourselves from muggles. This war was just like any of their wars, albeit we used magic instead of machinery.

The train must have pulled in by now. We have to wait for them to come out. I see many other girls from our seventh year at Hogwarts. We don't talk much. We weren't allowed to contact our boys any time during the war. We don't know who survived. We can just pray.

First, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and the other former Slytherin boys walk out into the main platform. Their former Slytherin female counterparts rush to greet them, crying out in anguish. Draco walks over to us. He extends a hand to me, and I shake it. Words are no longer necessary. He nods at me, and returns to his friends.

Friends. So long since I have thought that. Thinking that brought back painful memories.

More boys filter out onto the platform. The Slytherins have left, so there is room. I recognize them as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. As they finally reunite with their friends, their family, they nod at us. We all nod back, me giving them the smallest of smiles.

Now only the Gryffindor girls remain. Neville, Seamus, and Dean step out onto the Platform. We rush to them, hugging them. But where are Harry and Ron. I ask Dean, and he tells me they should be out quickly.

Ginny and I step away from those boys. We watch the barrier, Molly at our backs, waiting for them to come out.

As they finally stepped through the platform, I understood why they took so long. Harry's leg is twisted badly, and is in a magical cast. Ron is supporting him, and they are toting their luggage. Ron has a scar down the side of his face. The three of us run to them, Molly bringing up the rear, and we engage in a group hug. Tears roll down my face. They are ok.


Back at the Burrow, Ron and Harry tell us what happen. Ron got his scar during an air raid, falling from his broom stick. Harry's leg got wounded during the last day with Voldemort, helping the former Death Eaters get the Dark Lord to surrender.


Ginny won't let Harry out of her sight. They are sitting together now; talking quietly, Ginny's head on his shoulder, his arm around her back.

I'm here in the window seat, in Ron's lap, his arms around me. We don't speak much, just content to be together again. Me and Ginny are finally safe, in the arms of our boys.


Author's Note: I wrote this to get through a short bout of writers block. I feel rather peaceful now that I'm posting it. I hope you enjoyed that. It won't be any longer than this.