A/N:

Just a little something that popped into my head. Something like this may have been done before, but here's my take on it! Hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: All characters and the Harry Potter World belong to JKR.

When the Day is Over

Shacklebolt's lynx had just announced the following words:

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

And then they came. First one, then more. There was madness, chaos, people Disapparating left, right and centre.

But her eyes only sought him out.

He was in disguise, thank Merlin, but would he be safe? Then she saw Hermione grab his hand, saw them find Ron and Disapparate away for, Merlin forbid, ever.

She was still on the dance floor, Lee Jordan's arms still around her waist, probably tighter, to reassure both her as well as his own self. She'd thought dancing with Lee would be enough to make Harry jealous. Enough to make Harry stay. She wondered if he'd even noticed.

Nobody was injured badly. Everybody was safe. That was what her father's Patronus was told to inform Harry. I'll wait here for you, she wanted to add. The Patronus was gone.

The Death Eaters grilled them, again and again, the same old question.

"Where is Harry?"

I wish I knew myself, she wanted to scream; he's in my heart, she wanted to whisper. But she could only shake her head, holding back the tears she'd refused to shed for him, holding back the nightmares she knew would visit her that night.

When the Death Eaters left, putting the Burrow under surveillance, she sat in bed eating the cake she and Hermione had prepared for Harry. She spat it out, wondering how she could have been so careless as to replace the sugar with salt, never knowing it was the taste of her tears. Then her lips forgot the cake and remembered the taste of their last kiss. The taste of the goodbye she'd wanted to say to him one last time. She looked at the stars from her window and whispered to the walls, "Don't come back just yet, Harry. Go where you must, save the day like you always do. And when the day is over, I'll be here, waiting for you. Like I always do."

The letter welcoming her back to Hogwarts no longer carried the name of the man she'd admired for as long as she could remember. It was his name, the traitor's name. He was going to be Headmaster now. She would have to look at him, at the man who killed, no, murdered Dumbledore. Would she be able to look at him? Was he able to look at himself, knowing what he'd done?

She put her things away, preparing for another year at Hogwarts.

"Do you have everything you need, dear?" her lovely mother asked, trying to hide the redness in her eyes, proof of the memories of her son that had come to haunt her again. She watched her mother sniff, trying to pretend this was just another year. Like what she needed with her wasn't Harry. Like Harry was still here. Like Voldemort wasn't out there. She remembered the Taboo. She would not even think his name now. Because if saying his name out loud would cause Voldemort to appear before her, thinking it would have him in her head.

And she already knew what it was like to have Vol— You-Know-Who in her head.

She got on the train. She wondered if Neville and Luna were there. She wondered if Death Eaters were on the train. She wondered if Hogwarts would be safe again. If she would be safe again.

She felt a chill in the air. Saw the windows freeze. Her lungs were ice. The Dementors were there. And then she saw him. And herself. They were in the Common Room again. She had just won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. And she'd just won Harry for herself. His lips were on hers, and the pain hit her. She felt it first in her feet, then her hands, then her head, then her eyes.

Make it stop, she whispered, the memory that had given her such joy giving her only trauma now that he was gone, her worst memory, dug up so carelessly by the Dementor who only wanted to see her suffer. Who only wanted her soul. Somewhere, someone cast a Patronus, and the Dementor floated away.

No, she whispered. Come back, she murmured. You can Kiss me, she cried. She would take all that pain again, a hundred times over, if it meant seeing Harry again, if only in her head.

The pain in her eyes could still be felt. Then finally, she pretended her left hand was his, and held it in her right. And she wept. Thin air had to pretend it was Harry, holding her in its embrace. And she had to pretend thin air was enough.

Even though she could barely breathe.

A/N:

Let me know what you think in the reviews below! I'd love it if you followed and favourited me :) If you like my writing you can check out a full length story I'm working on, called The Bonds We Choose; you'll find it on my profile. Thanks for reading this!