It was just them. Them against the world.
Everyone had died. Everyone they loved had fallen at the hands of the evil Lord. They were the only ones left.
The Order was gone, a distant memory at this point. It had been devastated by the war, suffering the highest casualties on the one bloody day.
Just thinking now of that day, she sighed. The length of the list of our dead was matched only by the length of the list of theirs.
After the great fight many were gone. The Order was in tatters. The few who remained tried to be brave. They tried to convince themselves it would be OK, that there was hope.
They were picked off in ones and pairs until only the two of them remained.
She looked over at his sleeping form. His hair was tending toward scruffy. He really needs to remember to go to the barber without my instruction she thought with a scoff.
He merely snorted in reply and rolled over.
Her attention returned to the photograph in her hands. She kept it hidden away, only bringing it out when she knew she wouldn't be interrupted.
He had come in on her one time, deep in thought, the photograph in her hands. He was by her side by the time she realized he had entered the room. She tried to cover it quickly, but he had already seen it's subject. She readied herself for an argument, setting her jaw and mentally preparing a counter argument. Instead he opened his mouth and immediately closed it again.
After a moment he spoke, "You... you know how I feel about that. We need to be careful. If the wrong people found that picture we could be in a lot of trouble."
He took the picture from her hands gently. She was worried he would tear it or crumple it in his hand.
Instead he sat next to her and fell silent, drifting into his own memories. She wanted to say something, she needed to talk about it, about these people. But she sat in silence.
After a few minutes he shook his head slightly and returned the photograph. He looked in her eyes and she knew. She knew there would be no talking. There would be no release of the pain they both carried. Not now.
She accepted the photograph and accepted that this was something she could never share with him again.
She looked over at him as he stirred slightly.
He wont wake, she thought. He gave a little stretch and went back to his gentle snore.
They had made love earlier; he would sleep through the night. It was the only time his nightmares did not awaken him. She was grateful for this one thing she could do to bring him comfort.
She turned back to the picture. Their familiar faces smiled and a few waved at her. They had no way of knowing what horrors the future held.
There, on the left, were Remus and Tonks. They had just been married a few months before the photo was taken. She remembered feeling as though she would be lucky to find someone to love her the way they loved each other. Tonks stood slightly ahead of Remus, his hands on her swollen belly, a look of pride on his face. She smiled remembering when they finally shared the news. Even old Moody grunted a congratulations and mustered a smile.
She frowned. They died in each other's arms, she thought.He tried to protect her but it was no use in the end. They simply stepped over his body and killed her just the same. They killed three people that night, she was only a few weeks from delivery and their child died with them, never knowing life. They were found only a few hours later, laying together on the floor, appearing at first to be in an odd embrace.
At least they wouldn't have to witness the bloodshed on that night.
She felt a cool breeze across her face and realized she was crying. She sniffed and wiped her tears as she walked over and gently closed the window.
Returning to the bed she rejoined her thoughts.
Neville. Sweet Neville. He gave a goofy, toothy smile and a half-wave from the back of the pack.
He fought so bravely.
He was a peaceful soul by nature. He never wanted more than to tend his beloved plants and live his life.
Another innocent person sucked into this stupid war. Another person lost for no reason.
He had changed drastically from the mousy, shy boy in their early years, to the type of man you wanted at your side when trouble found you.
He took out several Death Eaters before one Unforgivable found it's mark. She shuddered slightly, remembering his face, on it a shocked look with an odd red glow, as the curse hit him. He dropped at her feet, an empty look in his eyes.
That one was meant for me.
They were hurling curse after curse at the retreating members of the Order. The entire room was glowing with bursts of red and green.
I had to stumble. I had to stumble and he had to see it. I told him to go on, but he couldn't leave me. That's when the Avada Kedavra hit him. That's when I realized just how much my world had changed.
Her shoulders had started shaking as silent sobs swept through her body. She doubted she would ever overcome the guilt.
She felt him stir next to her. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she realized it was past two o'clock in the morning. She wiped her face as best she could and tucked the photograph into the book by the clock.
I'll have to return another time, friends.
She slid down in the bed, pulling up the covers. He snaked an arm around her waist in his sleep pulling her closer against him.
She rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, and fell into a dreamless sleep.