Tom Riddle hits the floor with mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. The leader has died, the war has ended.

Yet Cundrie couldn't feel joy in her heart. How can she when she just lost Fred? Just a moment of reunion, a moment of lies, is it too selfish to ask for more? Is it too selfish to ask for a week of lies, a month of lies, a year, a decade, forever maybe? Cundrie said no more as she staggered inside the castle, ignoring all the other dead bodies that are laid in the Great Hall. She had to go now or she'll risk being seen by the other Weasleys.

W... there he is. Fred, looking so peaceful that if Cundrie didn't know better, they'd say he's asleep. Wake up, Fred. The war's over. Cundrie sat down on the floor next to him, tears welling up their eyes and they can't hold them up anymore as they let them out. Is it possible to grieve over someone they practically don't know? Three years of absence is a lot, yet they feel so much at loss. Maybe because they know him the least is the reason why they felt the most at loss.

Wake up, Fred. The war's over.

Molly needs you.

Arthur needs you.

Bill needs you.

Charlie needs you.

Ron needs you.

Ginny needs you.

Cundrie needs you?

Would you like to meet your niece?

Would they let him, if he said 'yes'?

The broken rubbles of Hogwarts slowly start to come back up to its supposed places, a phenomenon that shocks Cundrie to the core. What wand could be that strong, to fix a damn broken castle would logically take a lot of people? Nonetheless, the castle seemed to fix itself. For a moment, she can see the future. Students will learn about this day lazily in History class, some will fall asleep whilst learning, tragically unaware of how horrible this war had been. The lives it had taken.

Cundrie can't let that happen.

The Weasley family soon appeared, but Cundrie can't think of herself as one of them. She's not been, for three years she's not been. And she still isn't part of them. She considered herself to be part of her own family, with her daughter and Marcus and Penelope. Not them. Once upon a time, Oliver had been part of her family as well. Now, she doesn't know. She doesn't know. An enemy of Marcus' is not a family of hers.

"Fred was so destroyed after you left, you know." A voice startled Cundrie and they had to face behind to see that it's George, who also sits next to them. Cundrie rushed to leave but George held their hand, forcing them to stay. "After the first night and after Christmas. He regretted what he said, he told me he wished he can turn back time to make you feel more loved."

"Don't lie for him-" Cundrie shook their head, gripping on George's hand that's on theirs.

"You're his sister too, Cundrie," George stated, cutting Cundrie off. "He regretted ever denying that fact. He told me that if you were still here, he would've proudly admitted that you're his sister. He would've apologised profusely for implying that you're not, that night. When we read your undesirable poster and the explanation, he was so scared for your safety. And I too."

"I need to go," Cundrie said, her voice going steely. George tightened his grip on Cundrie, damn weak hands. "Let me go, George Fabian Weasley!"

"Don't go, Cundrie!" George insists. Cundrie dug her nails on his hands instead. "Why? Why do you have to go?! I just lost a brother, I don't want to lose a sister! Why?!"

"George, just let her go," Ron begged.

"I don't want to be with you!" Cundrie pulls their hands off George's grip, stumbling and crashing to Bill but pushed themself up like he's a virus. Cundrie tried to leave but was blocked by Bill, who only now Cundrie notices his evident scars on his face that resembles claw marks. "Let me go, William!"

"Beel, let her goo," Cundrie turned to see a tall woman looking so beautiful with her soft silvery blonde hair down to her waist, a woman she recognises as Fleur Delacour, or Fleur Weasley, if Cundrie remembers right from reading the Prophet. Why would anyone take the Weasley name willingly, Cundrie cringed, she'd be Cundrie Clearwater in a heartbeat.

Or Cundrie Wood.

"Cundrie, are you sure we can't talk?" Arthur asked. "Bill, let her go. Cundrie, are you sure we can't talk? It doesn't have to be today if you're not ready."

"I'll let you know," Cundrie decided, still not facing Arthur.

"Just go to the Burrow, ok, Sweetheart? You're always welcome," Molly invited. Cundrie stopped, hearing what she called them. A nickname Cundrie misses hearing the most. Not saying anything else, Cundrie immediately left the 'W' bodies.

As they walked away, they saw Oliver in the corner of their eyes, carrying the body of a young brunet with Neville. Cundrie remembered the boy, Colin Creevey. He was in Ginny's year and was her close mate if they remember right. Cundrie hurriedly left the scene again, not wanting to be seen by Oliver. Why should they entertain xem? They don't need xem, they don't want xem. They have a girlfriend, she's all they want.

Cundrie knows what to do.

"Dri!" Penelope excitedly exclaimed as Cundrie hugged Penelope from behind, swaying side to side. Penelope turned to face her, standing on her toes to kiss Cundrie's lips, which Cundrie's kissed back. She glanced back at Oliver who is now staring at the couple, and Cundrie encircled her hands around Penelope's waist, intensifying the kiss. They slowly pulled apart, remembering where they are. Cundrie held Penelope's hand, intertwining her fingers with her own, caressing her face with another hand.

"Let's go back and pack, Love."