It wasn't easy. It was far from it. They couldn't heal overnight, nor in a few weeks. It took years for everyone to rebuild, resettle, and try to forget the horrors of the past, and even then they would be plagued by the occasional nightmare and fits of grief. And it was expected. But they were never alone, for had they not fought with friends and family, united against a common foe? And so they would remain united, because without each other they would fester and rot in the dark recesses of their lonely minds, never able to overcome the pain they had endured. Only by remaining together could they spot those few rays of sunshine that would lead to their slow recovery.
At first everyone had been lost in the joy of it all. Voldemort was dead, gone for good; there were no doubts this time. The Chosen One had saved them. But the joy didn't last forever. The Chosen One hadn't saved all of them. So then came the waves and waves of sadness. But everyone knew they couldn't continue this self-torture; they had a future to create, a world to re-shape. So they began the building.
They started with Hogwarts, for that was the one place that, for everyone, represented home. They could forget their pain because they had a family, right there in front of them, working with them to recover their losses. During this time, the Ministry slowly fought to recover as well. Kingsley was elected Minister of Magic, Death Eaters were being caught all over the world as they tried to escape. Most of them were sent to Azkaban, for life, but the new regime made sure to give them all fair trials. The Malfoys were the exception. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided to attend that trial, for they had yet to thank Narcissa. Harry looked at them all differently now; there was still disgust, but now he also observed pity, and even a little pride. He felt proud of the Malfoys for staying together. They did not fight their arrest, nor did they try to lie their way out of whatever crimes they had committed, for they had learned humility. But mostly, Harry felt proud that even these vile creatures knew a thing called love. They loved one another, they fought to stay together, and they had defied everything they believed in for the sake of that love. There was hope.
So with a word from Harry, the Malfoys were sentenced only one year in Azkaban and three years of community service. And their wealth was confiscated. As much as Harry had grown to understand them, he still felt a little twinge of glee when he heard about that last little punishment. The Malfoys had lost their glory, and they would be forced to live with that shame for the rest of their lives. But at least they were being given a chance to redeem themselves.
And so they continued the work. It was grueling and tiring, but they lost themselves in it to avoid thinking about the war. Once the re-building was over, Hermione went back to complete her final year of education. Ron and Harry didn't bother, but instead began Auror training. It was the only thing that Harry could do that gave him a sense of purpose. After years of focusing on how to defeat Voldemort, he had been left with a gnawing emptiness after the war was over. What was life about anymore? What would he have to continue to fight for? And so he took up Auror training; fighting for the safety of the people he loved was all he knew.
And they all continued their lives until the day came when they could wake up and not have to force themselves to forget about the past. The past had happened, and it had been horrible, but they had overcome it. They had fought and they had won. All was well.
But Harry knew that it wasn't over for good. Yes, Voldemort was dead and nobody would ever have to live in fear of that name again. But although he had been the first to explore and exploit an area of magic that had never been touched before, who was to say he would be the last? Because evil was never truly vanquished. It lurked around the corners, waiting to strike again when least expected. It preyed upon weak souls who turned to it when all else seemed lost to them, and a new dark wizard could be born from it at any time. Harry would never have control over that, because however much love and courage there was in the world, there would always be some amount of hate and fear.
Even now, with Voldemort dead, there remained the threat of the Hallows being discovered. As much as he had tried to hide traces of both the wand and the stone, couldn't a determined man uncover the secret Harry had tried so hard to keep? He would not be naive enough to let down his guard. If the long years of war and turmoil had had any detrimental effect on him, it was this- his inability to live without fear. It was hardly surprising. He had lost so many friends, mentors, loved ones; how could he walk away from that unscathed? No, they had not lost their lives for nothing. They had fought for love, and so for as long as Harry lived, he would also continue to fight. He would always be on guard. He would always remain watchful. Always.
