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The girl pattered on across the fields, dodging the holes left by spell blasts just a few minutes before. All around lay bodies, some groaning, some still and quiet as the grave...which, she reflected, was where they would shortly be headed. She didn't stop, didn't care. All her concentration was focused on a single place, a place still faintly lit by the pearly glow of complex spells that had ended suddenly with a blaze of green light.

Finally she reached the unimpressive piece of bare ground that she had been aiming for, and stopped. Gazing about her, she relived the scenes that she had witnessed only a short time ago, the reason that she had rushed over to this unprepossessing patch of earth.

Flashback

Waiting, watching your back, ducking from the spells sent zipping your way with the sound of death in their wake, sending them back as quickly as possible and sometimes that wasn't quickly enough. Pushing your hair out of your eyes, and in a brief lull surveying the area. Trying to work out which of your acquaintances are still alive. Which of your friends.

McGonagall. Dead.

Lupin. Dead.

Snape. Dead.

Your breath begins to catch as you notice more familiar faces lying in the rubble.

Neville. Dead.

Seamus. Dead.

Dean. Dead.

Lavender. Dead.

Harry...

No, Harry isn't dead. Harry is fighting, desperately trying to win past Dolohov and Goyle, but you know he can't last for long. And so you run, run as you've never run before and hope never to have to run again, run to his aid and, unnoticed, stun Goyle, allowing Harry to gather himself and defeat Dolohov. He grins at you, and, for a second, everything's OK. There is no war. Then reality snaps back in, and he's off once more.

You turn back, and suddenly there's a Death Eater in front of you, looming like a black-clad shadow, and you can't run, because your foot's trapped under someone's dead weight, and all you can do is watch as he raises his wand, high, high, and...

And stops. Stops, staring at a sight high on the hill. Instinctively you turn round and your breathing falters.

High above, a shaft of golden light has pierced the sky, and though it is a hundred metres distant, for some awful reason you can see and hear everything as though it were occurring next to you.

It's Harry, and Voldemort, and instinctively you know that this is the end, that this is where it will all be decided. Harry raises his wand, and Voldemort laughs.

'Give it up, Harry. You should know by now – you can't defeat me. No one can. I've been to death and back, Harry. I've got your blood – that won't save you. There's nothing you can do, no way to save your pathetic little world. It's over. You've lost.'

And you think, yes, it's true, we're lost. And then Harry speaks, and the world falls silent to listen.

'Voldemort. You're right. I can't kill you per se, not with a spell, not with Avada Kedavra. But you see, there's one other option. You said yourself, my blood flows through your veins. And there, you see, is my option. Goodbye, Voldemort. I've won.'

And though everyone around you sounds confused, for a split second you know what he'll do.

Harry points his wand to his scar, and shouts.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

The world explodes into light, and the only sound is Voldemort's scream.

End Flashback

The girl, fighting sobs at the sight of so much destruction, called out.

'Harry?'

She did not expect a reply. How could there be one? And yet, she hoped, she hoped...

'Gin?'

A faint shout, but there none the less, and she sprinted across to the body lying on the ground a few feet away.

Harry's face was beautiful.

'Hey, Gin.'

'Harry...you're alive! How...why...no, don't answer that, you need to save your strength, we'll get Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, they were still alive when I saw them last...'

He held up a hand, cutting her off.

'Gin, there's no need. I'm hurt, Gin, hurt badly, and I'm not coming off this field. But then, I didn't expect to. I planned this, Ginny, I knew this was my only chance. It doesn't matter. We won. That's Voldemort's body over there. He's gone. And I'm going too, back to where I should have been for the last eighteen years. And a little pain is worth that.'

His breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps, and she held him close to her and cried.

He lifted his hand with a final effort, and touched her face. She looked for the final time into those eyes, lit for the last time with life. He smiled.

'Goodbye, Ginny. I love you.'

And the girl was left alone, clasping the dead body of an eighteen-year-old boy to herself.

When they found her, she was still crying.