Nothing will ever be the same again.
Harry had thought he would be exhausted. He thought that, after all the pain, he would fall to the floor and maybe wake up later in the Hospital Wing to see his friend's happy faces smiling down at him. He had been wrong, however. He wasn't tired at all, but elevated and relieved and shocked.
Voldemort was dead. Harry had done it.
Harry turned to face his friends. He was just in time to see the joy blossoming on their faces, like a beautiful sunrise. "It's over," he breathed. The whole world seemed to sigh, and sudden shouts and cheers travelled over the nation.
Voldemort was dead, and nobody else from their side was.
Draco's face was pale, his mouth slightly open, and eyes wide. A friend now, despite everything. Draco had come to Hermione, crying, begging for her forgiveness. She'd given it to him, eyes full of pity when he told her that she was the only one that could save him now. She had saved him, shown him the light, introduced him again to her own friends like they'd never met before; they hadn't, not really. It was amazing how much Draco and Harry had had in common.
The main thing being they both were in love with Hermione.
And it was hard. Draco received everything he ever wanted from Hermione except her, herself. She didn't love him. With tears, she told him that being her friend would have to do. Before, perhaps, he wouldn't have been able to accept not getting everything he wanted. Not now, though, it had taken him a while but now all he wanted was for her to be happy.
Ron didn't love her. They'd tried, for all of seventh year, to be a couple. It didn't work. It could never have worked. It would never work. They were only friends, and sometimes not even that. They were too different, and sometimes too similar. A complete clash of colours.
Ginny loved Harry, though. There was no doubt about that. Their relationship in sixth year had been, to him, a good time. A memory to cherish, but never repeat. It had been fun. He'd returned, after destroying all the Horcruxes, to find her still pining, still waiting, for him. But he'd been completely different after that – mature, older than his age, serious and determined – and her silly little tales and opinions just wouldn't do for him anymore.
Hermione and he hadn't even kissed properly, even though the revelation of shared feelings had begun such a long time ago, so subtly it just happened over a period of time, not in any particular incident. He'd been scared that he'd lose her or she would lose him. Fear had held them both back. He'd hoped that, if anything ever happened to him, she would be able to settle with Draco and be happy. All that mattered to him, all which had ever mattered to him, was that she be happy.
She was happy. The happiness on her face was beautiful, and he couldn't help but feel his own matching happiness bubbling up inside of himself. With one step forward, he took her chin in his hand and pulled her face gently towards him. Her lips were smiling, her eyes on his, and everything seemed peaceful. In the natural order of things, he kissed her.
Two eyes couldn't quite look, and instead met each other's in united sadness. That was the first time the possibility of Ginny and Draco met anybody's minds. They would marry only a year later.
Ron watched his two best friends, and was proud.
And Hermione and Harry were happy. Just as they'd always known, deep down, that they would be. Happy. Together.
Rain began to lash down on them, and any remaining trace of sadness was washed away in the downpour.
Just a little piece. Review? Please?
