This is the first fanfiction that I have actually published on here, and I've never really written a one-shot before. So please be kind :) reviews would be greatly appreciated.
I don't own Harry Potter.
She opened her eyes and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 1 Am. She'd only closed her eyes an hour ago. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever feel the same again. Ever sleep again. Ever think or breathe and be happy like she had before.
She got up; shivering as she pulled on a jumper over her pyjamas, then stood contemplating her surroundings for a few seconds. All she wanted was the dull ache of everything that loomed to go away. She closed her tired eyes for a few seconds and then made her way out of the room and slowly along the dark hallway. She could hardly remember what life had been before, for now she was conscious of every sound, every movement she made. Every second lasted a million hours. She was supposed to be the smartest witch of her age. But how could that be possible when she had let herself fall into this quicksand? She climbed the stairs, acutely aware of where she was going and knowing all the same that she would never make it there.
It had been a week since the war ended. It may as well have been a year. She felt as though life was passing her by, everyone else trying to carry on, trying to keep it together; and her in her own little bubble. Unable to even pretend that this was okay. Unable to cry and yet unable to laugh. Smile. Feel. There was just one thing; one thing she knew could bring her out, one thing to keep her going and knowing that one day things might be... like before. And that thing was behind the door she now stood outside. This boy – man – whom she now knew she loved. But she wouldn't go in. Because he was the last thing that kept her going. Her only happy thought, her only comfort. And she knew she couldn't do without him.
Something was different about tonight. The way fatigue and pain was taking over every inch of her body. She lowered herself to sit against the wall as she fought against the tears she felt coming. A strip of moonlight rested across her bare leg, and fresh scars glittered there as though purposefully reminding her. Reminding her that she survived and so many others fought to the death. And then she realised what she'd become. After all the courageous things they had done. Everyone who had saved her life, over and over, dead or alive. And she had repaid them by showing no bravery. She knew what she had to do, and it would have been selfish and foolish to continue to sit at the top of the stairs mourning. She knew she had everything to lose and nothing to be scared of. Everything was okay. And it was the first time she'd realised it. And her tired eyes opened properly and she looked at the moonlight, and she knew she was going to be okay. Because that's what they'd fought for. And she'd have to continue to fight, for she had survived and she owed it to those who had not.
She got up from where she sat and reached for the door handle, calm spreading through her. She entered the room and heard muffled breathing. And then her body was moving of its own accord and she pulled back the sheets on his bed just enough for her to get in beside him. His breathing calmed her still, and when he turned over and stared at her through red, tear-filled eyes, she just stared back.
"Everything is going to be okay." She said softly. He leaned forwards and kissed her. It didn't last for more than a second, but it more than confirmed to her what she had just told him. He leaned close to her and she stared as tears escaped from beneath his closed eyes. She wiped his tears away and held onto him, breathing him in. They lay holding each other until morning, and though neither spoke both knew that the other was awake. She knew she would never forget it, this moment. She was alive.