Harry woke up in his bed, rolling over to put on his glasses. He felt miserable. Knocking them off the table, he grunted and reached down to pick them up. He regretted waking up. He wanted to be asleep, in darkness, where there was no pain. Facing morning, or rather afternoon, was the worst thing he could think of. Torture. People were dead because of him. People were hurt and in hiding because of him. People he knew, people he didn't, were affected by him. They wanted comfort. They wanted recognition. They wanted help. They wanted things that he could not give to them. How could he give these people what he hasn't had in so long? Did he ever have those things? Under no circumstances would Harry turn them away, like they hadn't been in danger, like they didn't know how he was feeling. That's what upset him the most. That's what was torture to him. Not that they didn't know how he felt, but that they did. He remembered the injured little girl Ginny spoke to, how she wanted to go home and be with her mother. She didn't want to fight anymore. He walked passed them that night, concentrating on what he felt he had to do by ignoring them, in order to give him strength. What had happened to her? What was her history? Is her mother alive? Would she be another person to lose a family member?

Harry got in the shower. He hadn't had one in months. The brief pleasure of simply being clean stalled his thoughts. As he dressed the thoughts came back, as if swinging on a pendulum, and he trudged down the stairs to the common room. Wearily, Harry made his way to the couch, sinking into it. In a few minutes he was completely absorbed in his memories. He didn't notice Hermione coming down from the girls' dormitories.

She sat next to him. Turning to face her, Harry could see that she did not even vaguely mirror him. He saw her as bright, blinding in comparison. She looked…cheerful? Unconsciously, he decided she was pretty. More girls came from the dormitories. As they walked passed them, the girls looked at her funny, as though something was wrong with her. He didn't like it.

"Hi Harry," she said. She didn't bother to hide her enthusiasm.

"Hey," he answered weakly. They stared at each other. "You look nice."

"Thank you." Hermione flipped her hair playfully. Harry blinked. That was unusual. "How are you?" she asked.

"Okay, I guess." Silence.

"Got a good sleep?" She beamed at him. He felt the urge to look away.

"Yeah."

They sat in quiet for another second. During these lapses, Hermione did not lose her brightness.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

"Why? Do I look sick?"

"No, no," he rushed, "Not at all. It's just that you seem…" Harry didn't know how to phrase it properly. "You just seem… very happy."

"Yeah." He kept looking at her. So she doesn't deny it…

"Why?"

"Why?"

Harry felt like she was trying to make him look dumb. "Yes, why? You look so…oblivious to the world. Don't you know what happened yesterday? I mean, people are dead." His voice had cracked as he got increasingly louder. "They died! The castle was attacked and it needs to be fixed! People are injured! It's as if you don't care what happened!"

Hermione's smile lessened but it was not entirely wiped from her face. "Yes, I know Harry." Her calmness enraged him.

"So why are you still smiling? Why do you so look pleased and… and content with the world? Why are you STILL SMILING?!?"

She whispered, so quiet that he made himself sit down. "You really want to know?" He nodded. He already felt bad for yelling. She looked at him and said, "Voldemort is dead."

"Yes, I know he's dead!" he snapped. "At what cost? People's lives!" He was going to continue until she interrupted.

"You know why else I'm happy?"

"What?"

"I love Ron." A blush sprang to her cheeks. "And you know what? He loves me back." Hermione was forced to pause as tears started to well in her eyes. Harry was not expecting this. He felt like Hermione had smashed a brick wall into his gut after diving off a hundred meter cliff. "Do you know how that feels Harry? I wouldn't care if Lavender walked in here right now and started to accuse me of going out with him last year. In fact, I would admit to it because I love him and he knows I love him. And I know he loves me back… Do you know how liberating that is? I don't have to hide anymore. I don't have to hold back, pretend I don't have feelings for him. I don't have to wonder if he likes me, if he loves me, if he thinks about me. Do you know how free that makes me feel? I'm not chained to what everyone thinks anymore. He knows I love him, how I feel about him. I don't care what they think. And I don't have to care anymore because I know how he feels about me." She stopped, as if realizing what she just said. Slowly, she wiped the tears off her face. "That's why I'm happy."

In awe, he looked at her. He never thought about his best friends' relationship that much. He was more concerned about how he would be affected and what would happen if it didn't work out or got ridiculous. He was only mildly aware that they cared for each other more than they showed, and it was not until this year he knew just how much pain they suffered through by not saying anything. Harry stopped to listen as Hermione went on.

"Voldemort is dead," she repeated. "I don't have to worry about where my next meal is, about foraging or catching it. I don't have to worry about people shooting killing curses at me or at my friends and family. I don't have to watch people being tortured or hurt. And you know what else?" She leaned in. "Those people you talked about, the people who died? Somewhere in their hearts, one of the reasons why they fought tonight was so that other people could be happy." Ending her speech she finished with, "I don't have the energy, time, or want to fight it Harry. I'm happy. I really am."

Hermione gazed off into space, focusing on a point somewhere above his shoulder. Harry thought her expression looked fleetingly like Luna's. Regaining composure, she looked over at the boys' staircase, as if she knew at that moment Ron would be descending.

"Morning," he said rather softly.

"Afternoon," chirped Hermione. Ron recoiled at her voice before she even slid off the chair to hug him. Harry lurched as he held in a chuckle. He looked just as confused at Hermione's joy as he felt when she talked to him.

Ron gawked at her. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Her face glowed and her smile radiantly diffused throughout the room. She pecked him on the cheek to which Ron flushed. "Are we going to lunch?" Hermione started to stride over to the portrait hole when Ron grabbed her hand, smirking like only he could, and followed her. He turned his head back at Harry before exiting and half shrugged lightheartedly. Harry grinned. He stood to catch up with the lovebirds. Yes, people died and suffered, but now he was determined to make the best of the day. Walking behind them, he looked at their clasped hands. Perhaps he could patch up his own relationship…

AN: Thanks everyone for waiting! I've been trying to write a long story but it just won't make it from my head to the screen. Plus got sidetracked several times. :) I felt like I needed something to make up for not writing in awhile and I wanted it to be good so I hope you enjoyed reading this one. Review if you want(please?),thanks again, and happy reading!