Title: The End of the Beginning

Chapter Number: One

Author: Saitaina

Email: saitaina@frontiernet.net

Pairing(s): (Full List) Harry/Draco *past*, Seamus/Lucius, Draco/Neville, Percy/Neville, Seamus/Dean, Hermione/Susan Bones, with hints of: Seamus/Percy, Neville/Tom

Category: Angst, Dark

Rating: HARD R (just slightly under NC-17 in most cases)

Archive: Schnoogle, FF.N, anywhere who asks Links: http://www.schnoogle.com/authorLinks/Saitaina/The_End_of_the_Beginning

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited
to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark
infringement is intended.

Summary: Neville is the wizarding world's new hero, but is he ready to face those that betrayed him?

Chapter Summary: The end of a war and the start of a new life?

Author's notes: Since this is the begining I shall tell you a few things. This is not a happy fic. The Second War has ended but heavy prices have been paid. There is death, heartache, sex, violence, and many changed people here. These are not the characters you know well. I never intended to make something that would make you feel good. I write in shades of reality. There are OC's in here, but they DO have a purpose. No one is a Mary/Gary Sue because they can't be. Perfection has no place in my world. If you wish to continue on I can promise you a ride that will tear at your emotions, it may not be the most well written fic, but at it's center is a reality that you might like. I hope you enjoy the ride. This fic explores the characters with the plot being background music, it is there, but first I must take you into the lives of our stars before I can tell the full story.

Warnings: Death, sex, violence, murder, Original Characters, war, multiple and confusing pairings, bad language


The End of the Begining
by Saitaina
***

Chapter One: An Ending...and a Beginning

"What does 'Savior of the World' do, when he's saved the world?"
-"Shades of Grey", Shadowphoenix

Neville stood on the hill, staring out over the thick black smoke of thousands of bonfires. Wizards everywhere danced and rejoiced, the final defeat of the Dark Lord. Families gathered, friends embraced, and lovers kissed, sharing in the joy of the freedom of their world. Neville looked down at the wooden box in his hand, the last resting place of the spirit, the soul of Tom Riddle. The parchment that had given the words that sucked the very essence of Voldemort from his body had fallen away, crumpled and forgotten, no longer important in the scheme of life.

He shook his head and headed back down the hill towards the main gathering of tents and wizards, self conscious as strangers embraced him and shook his hand. He almost felt relieved as he passed Draco and received just a nod, the blond man far too busy to stop and congratulate the new hero.

Neville paused by one campfire, watching the gathered family mourn the loss of their child, their pain a near visible cloud around them. He lowered his head and said a silent prayer for the lost soul with them before moving on, noticing many families in mourning. So many lives lost this night. Many unknown to him, but also many he cared for. The Boy Who Lived, no longer did so. Instead Harry Potter lay amid the mass of bodies that the Resistance had gathered, waiting to be buried. Ron was somewhere among those bodies, along with most of his fellow Gryffindors. Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could also be seen, their robes torn and stained with the blood of war. He closed his eyes tightly as he passed the wall of bodies, wishing he didn't constantly see their faces imprinted onto his lids.

He opened his eyes only when the sounds of the Resistance workers faded from his hearing and took in the sight that greeted him. Green smoke hung heavy here, marks of past battles that had raged for weeks. The camp was mostly deserted, the Death Eaters that still lived having fled as soon as they saw their master perish. Only a scant handful of people remained. Prisoners, families of those that died, children abandoned by both mother and father, left to wander around amid the chaos that was left in their trail. He paused next to a silk tent that had once housed Voldemort himself and struggled against the emotions that suddenly overwhelmed him, gripping the main pole for support. Here, somewhere in the darkness lay the body of his hero, his idol. Here amid the green smoke that held everybody's fears lay the body of Percy Weasley.

*
Percy. A simple name, sweet and light. A name that rolled off you're tongue like chocolate. Too simple a name for such a complex man. Percy Weasley had spend his life trying to be perfect. And when the realization came that he couldn't be, that he'd never be...well saying he snapped didn't quite cover it. Lost his mind was more apt to describe what occurred.

Neville still remembered the day the owl came. A small, simple looking owl, no real distinguishing features, had landed in front of him, a small piece of parchment tied to his leg. He had taken the letter with shaky hands, confusion coursing through him as he read the words. One sentence, one line, no explanation and thousands of questions. 'I've gone to join You-Know-Who,' it had read. Simple, plain and yet that one sentence had changed his life forever. Or would it have just changed his life for this night...who knows.

He was torn out of his thoughts by the sound of crying. Neville followed the harsh sobs, wondering who was left on the Dark Side to make such a sound. These weren't the cries of a child who had lost their parents, nor were they the sound of a spouse whom had lost the love of their life. These were the anguished cries of a soul that had done something terribly wrong and just realized it.

He walked around the tent he had been standing next to and saw them. One boy and a girl huddled together. Not far from them lay the body of their friend, his face barely recognizable with all the injuries. The girl was crying, no, sobbing into the chest of the boy who held her. Crying to cleanse her soul of what she had done. He knelt next to them, putting a hand on Crabbe's shoulder. Crabbe looked up, tears staining his own face. They stared at each other for a long moment before Crabbe shifted, allowing the other boy to take Pansy from him. Neville stood, the girl tucked safely into his arms. He stared at Crabbe for a moment before offering as much a hand he could to the bigger boy whom accepted it, pulling himself up. Crabbe then slung his best friend's body over his shoulder and the group slowly made their way out of the darkness of the camp, into the light of thebonfires. People stared as their hero carried one of the enemies to his tent, but a handful understood. Sometimes it wasn't a choice of Right or Wrong you were allowed to make, but a choice of when you died.

*

Draco waited for them inside the tent, still nursing a broken leg, but more then ready to help those that had been his friend. As he took Pansy from the man carrying her, he looked at him, unsure of whether to ask.

"Go on Malfoy, ask your question," he said, laying the wooden box on a table before sitting back on the cot that had served him well these weeks.

"D...did you find him?"

"No. But I know he's out there, I watched him fall."

"Mr. Weasley wants you to take care of the burial, said you would have had a better idea of what he wanted."

Neville nodded, closing his eyes. "Tomorrow I will look again, be sure Albus knows we found three more students, and that they're not to be arrested.

Draco nodded, pulling a blanket up around the younger man. Draco sighed softly, watching him fall asleep, Neville's hard expression melting into the familiar youthful face. He turned to see to his former friends, ignoring the questions in their eyes, though he knew he couldn't ignore them much longer.

As it happened, he was more right then he knew, for no more had he thought the thought then Crabbe found his voice. "You're working for them."

Pansy hit him weakly, indicating he had topped his record of stupidest comments.

"Yes," Draco said simply, splinting Pansy's leg.

"Why?"

Draco paused in his work, looking up at him. "Because they offered me something my father and Lord Voldemort couldn't."

"What's that?"

"My life."

That silenced Crabbe. He knew what Draco had meant by that. He had seen so many die in this war, many that had no place in it to begin with.

"What will they do with us now?" Pansy asked softly, voicing the concerns that had been on many of the found Slytherin's minds that night.

"You will stay here in camp while the Resistance clears out the lingering threats and then we will all return to our lives."

"What?! They can't...they wouldn't...they should imprison us or kill us or something..."

"Do you wish that much for death?"

Pansy lowered her head. "We hurt so many...killed some..."

"And none of us did it by choice. We were born into this war, we did not have the luxury of choosing sides."

Pansy grew silent, mulling over Draco's words. In the silence that enveloped them they could hear the sounds of celebration and mourning outside. If given the choice, would they have fought the good fight? Or would they have still been where they were, carrying the Dark Mark for their master. Maybe it was better that they had never had the choice, maybe it was easier to live life, not knowing the answer to that question.

*

Lucius blinked and pulled his scarf tighter around his face, trying to shield himself from the cold wind that burned his eyes. He glanced around, the last few remaining Death Eaters gathered around him, their brooms wavering a bit, giving voice to their exhaustion.

Peter shifted uneasily in his seat, his beady eyes casting about the group before settling back on Lucius. He was once more a wizard lost. His ally, the one he thought would never fall, was gone, and now he was left behind once more, left to try to fend for himself. Peter didn't like fending for himself. He liked having stronger, more powerful 'friends' to look out for him, even if it meant licking their boots and playing the humble servant.

Lucius' cold grey eyes resting on Peter for a long moment before he shook his head. Lucius wasn't one to trust others, especially not some sniveling, conniving worm who lived only to find the next big bad bully on the block. You never knew when that person would stab you in the back, as James Potter had found out.

"Our Master is dead!" Lucius called out, his voice carrying on the wind. A few of the Death Eaters made mumbled comments, some cursing the Resistance, some more worried mumbles of what to do now, and there was at least one comment about trying to rescue the box.

Lucius shook his head at all of this. "Our Master is gone, there is nothing we can do for him now, but we can do for us." The Death Eaters looked at him, confused, wondering where he was going with this.

Lucius grinned at them. "We are small, but we are still powerful, we shall prepare, and soon, soon not even those pathetic fools can stop us from fulfilling our Master's glorious plan. Our cause is not yet lost, this is just a moment of respite, a time to recharge and refuel before we squash their pathetic attempts to defy us under our heel."

The last few Death Eaters cheered, too stupid and tired to see the folly of only five taking on multitudes. Lucius looked over his new soldiers with a critical eye. He would not fail where Voldemort had. He would be the new leader of a new order. He would succeed.

*

Remus knelt on the dark floor of the purple tent, running his fingers oh so lightly over the leg in front of his before shaking his head and picking up bandages, wrapping them carefully around Dumbledore's leg, carefully tying off the ends, watching as blood stained the white cloth. "You should see Pomfrey for this, sir," he said, looking up into the older man's face.

Dumbledore waved his concern away. "She has enough to deal with, as do the medi-wizards from St. Mungo's," he said, trying. "I will not burden them with a simple cut."

Remus snorted. "Simple cut he says, when I could have swore I saw bone and muscle."

Dumbledore just smiled, finally rising and making his way to his bed, collapsing gratefully onto it. "I will get it checked out later," he mumbled into his pillow before turning his head, looking at Remus. "Why are you not out there, celebrating with the rest of the people?"

"I'm not sure it's right...to celebrate. We did that before and look what it got us."

"Our celebrations did not bring him back Remus, a bit of joy is to be expected. He is truly gone this time."

"Yes, but it doesn't bring back those we lost does it?"

"No, and we will grieve for them. For Lily and James, for Sirius and Harry, for everyone we have lost both now and before. But right now, enjoy the freedom we have fought for. Be happy tonight Remus, that's what they would have wanted," Snape said from the doorway, running a hand over his bald head.

Remus turned too look at him, before looking down at the sleeping Dumbledore, placing a gentle kiss on the older man's cheek. "I have to watch over him, his wound..."

"Go, get drunk, howl at the moon, whatever you werewolves do," Snape said, ushering the former professor out of the tent. "Just do something."

Remus looked at Snape before embracing him tightly. "Don't die on me Snape," he whispered. "I can't stand to lose any more people, even an enemy."

Snape laughed and kissed Remus' cheek. "I don't have plans to die any time soon Lupin," he said before going to Dumbledore's side.

Remus shook his head and left the tent, letting the sounds of celebration wash over him.

*

Percy crawled out of his tent, gasping, choking on the smoke that crowded the air. The Resistance had set fire to the Death Eater camp, not caring who may lay inside the tents, still living. Percy had been unconscious for a time but now he was crawling for his life, trying to escape before the fires consumed him as they had Nott. His hand convulsed around his wand, snapping it and he collapsed on the earth, darkness eating at his vision.

As he gave into the darkness, into death, he could have swore he saw a blonde boy staring down at him, lips moving soundlessly. "Neville," he whispered softly, reaching out, trying to embrace the boy. His hand fell aside as he passed out.

Draco brushed a lock of red hair from Percy's face, running a finger through the soot on the older man's cheek. "I have no clue what he sees in you," Draco whispered softly before standing and levitating Percy, heading back to the medical tents, pausing to smack him into a few tent poles before continuing on his way.

*

Snape stood at the window of Dumbledore's tent, watching the celebrations outside, wrapping his arms around his chest, huddled in his robes. He had never imagined he would be back here, fighting. He was too weak, too sick to imagine himself here.

Cancer. It was a word that invoked the same fear in the wizarding world that it did in the Muggle world. And Snape was cursed with it. In the middle of the war, he found a new battle to fight, one that would keep him on the sidelines of St. Mungo's for months to come. Snape was so lost in his thoughts of his own, personal battle that he didn't hear the shuffling behind him, didn't notice the Headmaster had awakened until Albus put a hand on his shoulder. Snape looked up, blinking away the tears that had come to his eyes, looking at the blurry image of the Headmaster. "You should be resting,"

"And you should still be in a hospital bed," Dumbledore said wearily, squeezing Snape's shoulder before taking a seat in his favorite squashy armchair. "Neither of us ever does what we should."

Snape gave a small smile and sat at Dumbledore's feet, leaning back against the legs behind him, resting his head on Dumbledore's lap. Dumbledore placed a shaky hand on Snape's bald head, sighing softly. "I miss your hair..you had beautiful hair," he said softly.

Snape smiled sadly, memories of the loss of his hair flickering through his mind. "It'll grow back."

Dumbledore nodded, glancing to the window, to the destruction outside. "It'll all grow back," he said softly, closing his eyes, weariness taking him again.

*

Harry ran a hand gently over his former face before turning to look at the crowd of surviving witches and wizards, watching them getting drunk on the victory they held. "It's not over..." he whispered.


END