Summary: The next great adventure … is life.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, settings, or anything else mentioned in this work of fiction. Everything within the Harry Potter universe belong solely to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.
Harry stood silently beside Dumbledore's tomb. The white marble that had recently been two large halves, now stood proudly before him, with no evidence that it had ever been disturbed. Professor McGonagall had repaired it beautifully once Harry had returned the Elder Wand to its rightful owner. Interring the Wand had been something Harry had wanted to do with Ron and Hermione as the last act of their year-long journey together, but McGonagall had been adamant that the three of them see Madam Pomfrey immediately and return to Gryffindor tower to get some much needed rest. Harry had been the loudest to protest, and McGonagall had only agreed to let him go on the condition that she go with him and that he go straight to the hospital wing when they were finished.
But now he stood alone with the early morning sun warming his back. Professor McGonagall had returned to the castle not long ago, giving Harry as much time as he needed, and Harry was grateful for it. He hadn't been able to properly pay his respects to Dumbledore at the funeral. But now, Harry felt awkward standing there. There had never been time for him to take for himself until now. There had always been some evil to fight, some life to save before time ran out, and now time had unfolded itself in front of him with no end in sight.
And now that Harry had all the time in the world, it seemed, he had no idea what to do with it. He looked at the white marble tomb and remembered what Dumbledore had always said about death being the next great adventure, and Harry had been prepared for it, had even welcomed it, as he had walked into the forest to face Voldemort and his own death, because that was just how it had to be. But Dumbledore had never mentioned just how much of an adventure life could be and Harry had never thought of it. Until now. And the possibilities and opportunities that were now laid before him excited, overwhelmed, and terrified him all at once. And Dumbledore wasn't there to help him sort it all out, and that scared him even more. And then, from somewhere in the back of his memory, he remembered Dumbledore reminding him that the ones he loved would never really be gone, as long as Harry carried their memories on.
Harry stepped forward and placed his hand flat against the cool surface of the tomb and closed his eyes. It still scared him to not have Dumbledore there beside him, but he also realized that he'd been clinging to the childish belief that Dumbledore would never leave, because even in the times when he had disappeared to somewhere else, he had always come back, and Harry hadn't been prepared for his loss, or the way it had happened, but in Snape's memories he had come to understand why it had happened the way it had, and now understood that while the man had left, the memory had not, and Dumbledore's presence would always be felt throughout the halls and corridors of Hogwarts.
It was a testament, Harry knew, of just how much he had grown up in the last year. Somewhere along the way, the little boy who had once been so impressionable and naïve had grown into a man who had come face to face with evil and had persevered to defeat the worst of it, and still knew that there would be others like Tom Riddle, fascinated with the power they held over people and the way the Dark Arts allowed them to keep that control. And Dumbledore had given the boy the knowledge and tools that only the man would truly be able to use on his journey.
"Thank you," Harry whispered, and there was a sense of finality in what he said, as it encompassed everything Dumbledore had done, to keep him protected and still allow him to fight what needed to be fought. He opened his eyes as his hand fell back to his side. The sun shone brightly upon the tomb as Harry was finally filled with the closure he needed to take the next step forward on his next great adventure. And that adventure, he knew, would only be taken with one person.
Harry turned from Dumbledore's tomb and started back up the sloping grounds to the castle. He was tempted to wander around and take in all the grounds had to offer, but decided it could wait. He had time now, time he hadn't had before, and maybe Ginny could be persuaded to join him after he had properly rested.
He made sure to stop by the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey fussed over him and treated his various cuts and bruises, but she didn't try to hold him in the wing. She released him back to Gryffindor tower and he wandered through the castle, surveying the damage from the battle, and soon found himself standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. He mumbled the password that Professor McGonagall had given him out on the grounds and climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.
He hadn't known what he had really expected to find – a deserted common room? – but being knocked backwards by someone hadn't been it. Ginny's arms were around him and her lips were on his, and despite the fierceness of her kiss, Harry managed to find his footing without tumbling backwards out of the portrait hole, and wrapped his arms fully around her. She was his and he was hers, and his hand slid into her long fiery hair as she balled his shirt in her fingers, and Harry's mind flashed on those endless nights with the Marauder's Map, and at Shell Cottage, knowing that Ginny was at her Aunt Muriel's, and that she was closer than she had been, yet still so far away, but she was safe, and that is what had truly mattered. And Harry knew that his decision to separate until the war was over had been right, even though it hadn't been easy. He had Ginny now, and that was all he would ever need.
Ginny parted from him breathlessly and Harry saw in her eyes a blazing fire of anger and hurt and relief and sadness, and while he knew the reasons for the sadness and relief, he couldn't quite put his finger on the anger or the hurt. What had he done that would cause her to be angry with him?
"Ginny …" he started cautiously, and tried to lean back as Ginny's fists began pounding at his arms.
"If Ron hadn't taken my wand, I would hex you!" she shouted as the sides of her fists began making contact with his chest. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but managed nothing more than a couple of "Ow!"s before Ginny carried on. "What do you think you were playing at, Harry? Pretending to be dead like that!"
"Ginny … ow!" Harry yelled as he tried to catch Ginny's swinging hands, not only to put a stop to the relentless abuse from her fists, but also to give himself time to explain.
"It was incredibly selfish of you! First I'd lost Fred, and then you … and … and …" Ginny paused and took a breath as the assault of her fists on his chest slowed and finally ceased, and Harry took advantage of the fact and pulled her back into his arms where he held her tightly against him.
"I had to, Ginny. It was the only way." he said quietly into her hair. "I didn't want to, but I had to."
He felt Ginny relax against him and knew that her resolve to be angry with him was quickly crumbling. "I saw you. On the grounds, when I was going into the forest. I wanted you to know I was there, and where I was going, and what I had to do, and there was so much I wanted to tell you, Ginny, but I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to go into the forest. I wouldn't have been able to do what I needed to do."
Ginny lifted her head away from Harry's shoulder and looked up at him, her deep brown eyes moist with unshed tears. Harry's eyes locked onto hers and for a moment neither spoke as they took each other in, and Harry was quite certain that she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment with her hair out of place and small cuts and scrapes in various places on her forehead, cheeks, and jaw.
"You don't know how scared I was, when I lost Fred, and thought I had lost you." Ginny whispered, swiping roughly at a lone tear that defied her internal protests and fell onto her cheek.
Harry's arms tightened around her again as she let her head fall back against his chest, her body trembling against his with quiet sobs. Ginny had never been an overly weepy person, but even she couldn't always keep it locked inside. Harry rocked her slowly from side to side, combing his fingers slowly through her hair.
"You don't have to be scared anymore, Gin. It's all over." he said softly with his lips pressed lightly against her forehead. "It's all just a memory now."