Disclaimer: Obviously I'm not J.K. Although I would love to live in a castle...

Author's Notes: I was going to wait till I had a couple chapters before posting this, but I just couldn't wait! I'm going to try to keep it as canonical as possible, except for two things: the final battle did not happen the way it did in DH (which should be obvious after this chapter) and there are no Deathly Hallows-- partly because they don't work for this story and partly because I really didn't like them.

PROLOGUE

I could imagine how this must have looked to those people at the bottom of the big hill on the grounds of Hogwarts. Sore, bruised, cut up. Both sides were run ragged; tired of the fight.

They probably would have taken any opportunity to break from the all night battle. That giant flash of green was just that opportunity. I could practically see it. A wave of face after face turning to discover who had won. To see if they could finally lower their wands or if they needed to run. Only to see the silhouette of two figures outlined across the backdrop of the rising morning sun. One prone, the other hunched over, yet still standing. Me.

I won. After all that time, all those battles, the deaths… it was finally over. Voldemort was dead. I looked down at the man that plagued my life for so many years, the man that most still feared to name. He didn't look so fearsome now. He looked… peaceful. Shivers ran down my spine at the thought.

I turned to look down the hill and saw every head turned my way. I searched the sea of faces, looking for that one, but I was too far away to make out any of them. I slowly started to stumble my way towards the waiting fighters. There was an intense silence that almost hurt my ears after the constant battle cries and explosions and shouted spells. It felt like the end, and the beginning. Everything looked sharper to my eyes… but also somewhat blurry or swimmy in a way I can't explain.

As I got closer to the crowd, urgent whispers started to erupt like a swarm of bees as they realized who it was lurching towards them. The remaining Death Eaters dropped their wands. They knew they wouldn't last much longer with their master gone.

I thought there would be cheering. I thought that the second he fell the celebration would start. There would be celebrating later, but not now. No one had the heart for it. We were too battle weary. All the death was too much, even though most of them were Death Eaters.

When I reached the crowd, they parted like the red sea to let me through. Some gave me small nods, others a blank stare. I tried to focus on the faces. I wanted to remember them all for the rest of my life, but I couldn't consentrate. I couldn't distinguish one from another.

A figure broke from the lines of people and started towards me. A red haired figure. Ron.

I expected a small smile, for him to clap me on the back with a "Well done, mate." But none of that happened. He looked… stricken.

My first thought immediately went to Hermione. She and Ron had so recently expressed their feelings for each other, I couldn't think of anything else that would make him seem so lost. To have lost someone to soon after finally… my heart tightened at the thought.

But no. There was Hermione, a few yards back, crying on Neville's shoulder. She was scratched, bruised, bleeding, but still very much alive.

Neville looked a mess, too. He had a giant cut on his forehead that reached to his left eyebrow, his lip was split open, and he was holding his right arm in a way that made me think it must be broken. But again, he was alive.

It was at that moment that Ron reached me. He had been limping pretty bad, definitely favoring his left side, and I'm almost positive his nose was broken. But what really caught my attention, what I couldn't look away from, was his eyes.

They were so haunted. I had never seen Ron, my goofy, food obsessed, slightly jealous best mate Ron, look at me with so much pain. Not even when his dad got bitten by Nagini, or when Percy left the family, or when Dumbledore died. The only time I had ever seen him look anywhere close to how devastated he was then was at the end of our second year, when we thought the heir of Slytherin had-

"No!" I whispered in a voice raspy from yelling spells. No. It couldn't be true. It can't have happened. Ginny couldn't be…

I looked imploringly at Ron, silently begging him with my eyes to tell me I was wrong. To tell me anything. Anyone but her.

Ron seemed to be crumpling before my eyes. Any small hold he had, shattered with my one word. Tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees. I stood there, stunned for a moment.

"No!" My voice was surer now. I rushed past Ron to where Neville and Hermione clung feebly to each other. They saw me race towards them and Hermione broke free from Neville to meet me, tears leaving tracks in the grime on her cheeks.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," she tried to comfort me. I wouldn't listen, I refused to believe. I brushed past her without a word. As I approached Neville, he started to speak to me.

"She was surrounded by about eight Death Eaters, Harry. I tried to get to her, I did!" he explained, almost as an apology. "She was holding her own. Four of them were down by the time I was close enough to hear the spells cast." I passed him as he said, "It was Malfoy, Harry. Lucius Malfoy."

This made me pause for a moment. My stomach dropped to my feet. But no. It couldn't be true. I knew when I saw her everything would be okay. Yes she would be hurt, but she would be alive like Ron and Neville and Hermione. She would be okay.

Unsurprisingly, it was her hair that I saw first. Her soft, vibrant, beautiful red hair. Her ponytail splayed to the right of her face. I was captivated by her hair, I had always been captivated by her hair. I couldn't look away from it for a moment, even though it was a mess of dirt and grass. I wouldn't… I was afraid to. But I had to, I had to know.

Her soft lips were parted slightly, as if in surprise. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose, down the side of her face, to the grassy earth beneath her. Her forehead was relaxed, with just one lock of hair falling across it. The dusting of freckles across her creamy cheeks was muted by the smudges of battle.

Her eyes. I had been avoiding her eyes. I knew that the second I saw them I would know. And I did. They were open and glassy. People are supposed to look peaceful or asleep. Don't they always say that people look like they're sleeping when…

She didn't look like she was sleeping. She looked… gone. She always had an air of being really alive, like she was always ready for anything. Like the world was waiting for her to start. Like the sun shone through her smile. She could do anything. She was a vibrant ball of energy. Not anymore.

I don't remember falling to the ground. Or grabbing her hand.

"No… no… no…" I didn't realize I was muttering until I had to stop to kiss her fingers. I rocked back and forth as I pulled as much of her as I could into my lap, cradling her head. I paid no attention to my friends or the hundreds of weary fighters watching my every move.

She was so beautiful. Even in death, even after an all night battle, she was beautiful. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed her for so long. I never saw her beauty. So much time I missed. If I had known… if I had known how little time she would have, how much would I have done differently? We could have had years together. And I let her go. After Dumbledore's funeral I pushed her away. If I had known…

So much would be different.

I wanted to close her eyes, but I still couldn't look too deeply at them. Those eyes were always so passionate. So filled with humor and joy. I would have even preferred sadness and pain over this blank, glossy stare. I needed to close her eyes.

I looked down and was stuck. Those chocolate brown eyes held me, I couldn't move. I felt rage, hate, love, longing. I felt too much. I felt like I would explode.

I was shaking. I only knew when a lock of hair fell in front of her eyes. My world was shaking. My vision blurred around the edges and focused. All I saw was chocolate brown.

I hurt. My whole body started hurting, starting with an ache in my chest. Then it spread to every inch of my body, turning sharper and hotter with every second. Soon I was burning, burning with the power of it.

I don't know how I did, but I was certain I was dying. That I would not be here for much longer. Maybe it was because I knew I'd rather die than live the life I had at that moment. It shouldn't be that way. Everything should be different!

Everything started getting brighter. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. With that light, the pain got worse, till I was just a ball of fire. A ball of fire that had eyes, eyes that were connected to hers. The grass around us started to char. It all became too much. Everything was too much. The battle, the death, the pain. All too much. I felt it. Every molecule of my being was dissolving and changing into something different. Something of pure power. Everything was white light.

"NO!" And I exploded.

And everything was black.

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