AN: Hello. I do believe this is the first Harry Potter fanfiction I've written since the 7th book came out. But I've been getting back into Harry Potter stuff lately, and then was inspired by a photo on deviantart. (I'd give you the link, but I don't remember it. It was by Dinaitus, though, I remember that.) And then, voila. This came out.

This takes place pretty much almost right after the final battle. I was thinking about it, and there were kind of a lot of things that Harry would have to think through, you know?

Oh, and I know I never give the "she" in my story a name. I did that on purpose. It's because that way you can take it as Ginny or Hermione or whoever you want really, whatever you prefer.

So...yes. Enjoy!

"Harry?"

He looked over at the sound of her voice, catching her eyes briefly before turning back to stare at nothing again. There he was, then. The Great Harry Potter. Figures that he had just saved the wizarding world and rather than celebrating, he was sitting out here, alone. With a statue.

She waited for a few moments, wondering if she should attempt a conversation, or just leave him alone and go back to enjoying the party. Well, if by "enjoying" you meant watching everyone pretending everything was alright, even though it wasn't. Sure, Voldemort may be dead, but...so were a lot of other people. And she knew that people were sad about that, and that the party was even a way for some of them to cope and/or forget. Maybe she was the strange one, but it just didn't feel right to greive that way.

"I won't bite, you know."

His voice startled her slightly; she hadn't been expecting him to speak without her speaking first. He had turned his head to look at her again. His eyes were…hollow. They didn't seem to hold that usual sparkle she had come to know and love.

"I mean…you can come closer."

She did as he suggested, taking a few steps towards him, and he looked away again. She was almost…afraid. This wasn't the Harry she knew. With his dead eyes and apathetic tone, something was amiss. Something—something was bothering him, that was it. But what? While yes, people had died, surely he didn't blame himself for them, did he? Surely he knew better than that. Perhaps he was concerned about something else?

She knew better than to force the answer from him, so rather than do so, she found herself nestling down on the floor next to the plinth he was sitting on. It put her at a disconcerting, distorting angle to him, but she resolved to just not look at him for the most part. After all, he seemed pretty resolved to do the same.

There was sound—music, some bursts of laughter—from the party she had just left at the top of the staircase at the end of the hall, but the two of them made no sounds other than breathing. They sat like this for a while. How long exactly, she couldn't be sure, but she knew that her butt was going slightly numb from sitting on stone for so long.

As she was contemplating moving to adjust her position, he spoke, freezing her. "It's really over, isn't it?"

She knitted her brow in thought, wondering where this could lead, before simply replying, "Yes."

"So…what do I do now?"

This question was even more confusing. "…What do you mean?"

"I mean…" He sighed. "I walked into that forest prepared to die. And…I didn't."

With that, she got slightly angry. "Are you saying you should've?" How dare he think that?

"No. Not really. I mean…no. I know it's a good thing I didn't die. I know that. There were—are too many people to live for. I know. I just…I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"Again…what do you mean?"

"I mean—" He sighed again, this time more frustrated. "I don't know what to do now that Voldemort is dead! How—what do I do? I spent almost twelve months preparing for that, for the battle, the confrontation, but—I never planned for the after, you know? I guess—maybe I assumed it was going to be him winning that battle, or something—"

"You know you don't believe that," she interrupted.

"What if I did? I don't really know what I believe!"

She didn't respond, not feeling she had deserved his harsh tone.

He knew why she was silent. "Sorry."

She was silent again, and he took this as an acceptance of his apology—which it was.

"I just—my point is, I never planned for an after. Now that there truly is one, I don't know what to do with it."

She shrugged. "You live. The best way you can."

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke next, she thought he sounded more like a child than she had ever heard. "And what way is that?"

Again, she shrugged, having never htought about it. "I'm not sure, really. I mean, it's…it's probably different for everyone." She paused, as thoughts of what the best way for her would be. Most of her thoughts turned to families, and starting her own.

She hadn't quite realized that they'd been quiet for a while until he startled her again. "I have a child," he said, as if this was a brand new thought, even to him.

The thought stopped her heart, as the worst kinds of conclusions ran through her mind. He had gotten someone pregnant? Who? When? "What?"

"Teddy."

Her heart restarted and she sucked in the breath she hadn't quite realized she'd been holding. Of course. Teddy.

"I am his godfather. I—I'm supposed to take care him now, aren't I?"

She shrugged again. "I suppose so."

"How am I supposed to take care of a child? I don't even really know how to take care of myself. I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself. I mean, I need to get a job, don't I? What can I do with only six years of Hogwarts experience?"

"You'll figure out something with Teddy. You always figure out something. And I'm sure his grandmother wouldn't mind helping." She shook her head as she addressed his last probem. "And I think you might get a free pass for your seventh year for defeating one of the darkest wizards of all time. But, you know that silly Ministry…"

He chuckled, but it was weak. He was apparently thinking about something else. Something more. The same something that had been bothering him. She couldn't be sure.

"The Ministry is going to have to be reformed. We're going to need a new Minister. A new Atrium. A new everything."

She nodded. "Yes. There's a lot left to rebuild." As with all wars, there was darkness and destruction. The castle, even, had yet to be repaired. "But…" She smiled softly. "That's what you do in the after. You repair." Even after the darkest of nights there was eventually a dawn, wasn't there?

She could feel him looking down at her, so she looked up. He was reciprocating the smile. She was almost surprised at the pleased feeling it gave her.

A loud burst of drunken song broke their gaze, as they both looked in the direction she had come from.

"I should go back, shouldn't I?" he asked.

She shrugged. "If you want."

He looked back down. "Will you come back with me?"

She smiled at such an innocent question, and it felt odd on her face. She hadn't realized how long it'd been since she had actually smiled. "Of course."

Smiling something that was a ghost of his old smile, he deftly slid of the plinth and offered a hand to help her up. She took it, and with an ease she hadn't remembered him having before, he pulled her to her feet.

She liked his hands. A lot of people took them for granted, but not her. They weren't extra-large or weird and bony or anything like that—they were about as perfect as hands could be. Even with those bitten nails.

She suddenly realized that they were still holding hands as they walked down the corridor. She wasn't sure when or how this happened, but thought it might be a bit odd if they walked in holding hands. They didn't want to look like they were doing anything suspicious, did they?

She slackened the automatic grip her hand had performed on his, intending to pull away, but as she slackened, he gripped tighter. She almost wanted to ask why, but realized she didn't really care. After all, he had nice hands.

"This is nice," he said suddenly.

"What?" What was nice? Holding hands? Talking? Partying? The war?

"This," he said again, but this time he squeezed her hand, and this time she understood what he had meant. "Talking to you. Being with you. It's—it's always nice."

Her face grew warm, and she knew she was blushing. And then she realized she not only understood, but felt the same way. "I know," she replied, squeezing back and hoping that conveyed her thoughts.

He smiled, and as they walked into the better lighting, she thought she may have seen that old sparkle in his eye.

There he was again. Good; they needed him. She needed him. She didn't like to admit it, because, you know, everyone seemed to need him.

As if to reiterate that point, they arrived where the party's noise was loudest: the doorway. The bright light shining made her squint a bit; as she raised her spare hand to shield her eyes, suddenly he was being pulled from her grasp by dozens of hands, with dozens of voices cheering his name.

He turned and smiled back at her, still only a ghost, or maybe now a memory of the smile she loved. Then he held his hand out to her again, and, taking it, she stepped into the light.

AN: So...yeah. There it is. If you want to know who "she" was in my mind, PM or review and I'll tell you. Other than that, I hope you liked it!