As Luna distracted those surrounding him, the boy who lived slipped on his invisibility cloak and headed to the entrance hall to explain what truly had happened that night, or at least as much as he could get through, to the two people who had stuck by him through everything. The two who loved each other, the two who loved Harry, the two he was eternally grateful for, and the two he knew he could not live without. They were his best friends, and it meant more than he could ever express that they had wanted to come with him on this, his most dangerous, most crucial, and most epic of journeys. The one that he had hoped, beyond all else, to be his last such adventure.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked through the rubble of the corridors and the missing chunks of stone strewn on the floor as Harry gave a short, general explanation of what had happened that night, leaving out many of the details. The two people, a tall boy with brilliant red hair and a brunette wearing a worried expression, who stood on either side of Harry did not press the issue, knowing he had experienced a brutally difficult and terrifying day.
His head hurt too much from the losses he had endured and the battle he had fought to go into details now, and he was glad they understood his position. The appalling image of the mutilated bodies of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks was firmly stuck in his mind, and the awful lack of life and desperate absence of any human spirit in their empty eyes echoed through his thoughts. The three teenagers strode on in silence reflecting on various memories from the last few hours, but the truth of Voldemort's downfall was not vital now, there was something else they must attend to. They arrived at the headmaster's office and, with the stone gargoyle's permission, made there way up the spiral staircase.
In the midst of the cheering of the portraits of the many past headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts, Harry spoke to Dumbledore's portrait about the two pieces of the Deathly Hallows he must part with. He felt no great pain in the end of his possession of the elder wand, after all he did not want the power-hungry nature it dictated in its owners and knew that as legendary a magical artifact as it was, it could never replace the wand that had chosen him on his eleventh birthday. He also understood it was for the best that he had left the resurrection stone in some unknown part of the forest, he did not wish to bring back his mother and father, or Sirius, or Lupin, just to live a half life where they would never truly feel the comforts and joys of living.
In the pride emanating from his old Headmaster at hearing his decisions, Harry felt that he had finally completed his task. A responsibility that had forced him to feel pain greater than he had ever imagined, as well as become the single most important, if not most skilled, wizard to ever live, had been lifted. His was a legacy that would last through out the ages, not because he was a cruel and vicious tyrant, but because even after he had lost so many who were close to him, the power of love still held strong in his heart, and in his veins.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the framed smiling faces behind, leaving Dumbledore's office and walking on, eventually finding them selves in the entrance hall once more. Harry knew, even as he tried to deny them this right, that his friends deserved to know the full, or at least most, of the story of the defeat of Voldemort, a tale they were so much a part of.
He proceeded to explain what had occurred in the forbidden forest just a few hours ago, even though it felt like a lifetime longer. He merely gave them the general idea of his conversation with Dumbledore, not wanting to see their shocked and disgusted expressions at his description of that ugly, hideously maimed baby. But this time, he did tell them about the scene he had witnessed in the pensieve, how he had discovered that he, himself, was a horcrux. He grimaced as Hermione gasped and gave a small shriek of horror and Ron looked Harry hard in the eyes. He even, painfully, told them how he had watched as Snape, the traitor, the one he loathed above all others, he who had killed Harry's mentor, revealed himself to be the greatest hero of their age.
"He died looking into my mother's eyes...looking into mine" Harry finished off his retelling, experiencing an unexpected, sudden rush of emotion "He died…and he still loved her." he whispered, his voice cracking.
Hermione's face, so jubilant just a few moments before, turned deathly pale, and a single, isolated tear made it way down her cheek, clearing a path in the dust and grime that had settled on her skin. Ron had a blazing look in his eyes, not dissimilar to one his sister often wore, his stare penetrating, but he looked beyond Hermione, past Harry, and far away from his dead brother and friends. Harry thought Ron must be lost in the past just as he was, remembering every moment they had doubted Snape's allegiance to their cause or thought Dumbledore a fool for trusting him.
"He was on our side after all…and I always thought" but Hermione stopped herself their, her voice too becoming sharply higher.
Ron gave a start at this, as if waking from a long reverie, and glimpsing Hermione's tear streaked features he wiped the liquid away with his thumb, while cradling her visage in his palm. She too seemed to come out of some sort of deep trance and tears that had been on the brink of falling finally spilled freely and quickly down her cheeks and nose. Ron took her in his arms, burying her face in his shoulder while she wept for all they had been through, for all those who had died heroes, and for the childhood these three friends never had the luxury of living.
Ron sank his long nose into her hair and spoke words of comfort, and though they were directed towards the girl he embraced, Harry knew that they were meant for him as well.
"He died, yes, Snape died, and so did Fred…" Ron gulped as one sparkling drop of water slid off his formidable nose and on to Hermione's bushy head of hair, "Fred, and Lupin…and Tonks. And so many…so many others. And we will miss them, damn it we will, but they died for a reason." At this the lanky red head shook with the effort it took to stop the tears that he knew would eventually fall, "He's gone Hermione, Vol…Voldemort's gone, really this time. Harry made sure of that." Ron stopped and as he gazed into his best friend's eyes, each saw respect in the stare of the other. From Harry for the rare eloquence and tact that Ron was showing, and from Ron for the bravery and humility that Harry had displayed that night. Ron looked away from his friend and down to the sobbing young woman who he clung to, and resumed his calming words, "But even though we lost them for a cause, we'll never forget who died tonight, and we will honor them, and, damn it, we'll never forget what they fought for…and, and how bravely they fought for it." he finished fiercely, lacking the emotional restraint to continue.
Harry opened his mouth to respond to his friend's serious and heartfelt words, which were such a rarity, but closed it quickly. Instead he simply squeezed Ron's shoulder since Ron now seemed to have exhausted his powers to speak, content just to stroke Hermione's curly chestnut hair. Harry gave her a small smile before leaving them in their silent, tearful embrace.
The boy with the lightning bolt scar draped the invisibility cloak back over his tall, thin frame and made his way back into the great hall. He did not bother to step lightly because he knew the noises of the festivities encircling him would drown out the soft sound of his converses tapping the floor of the dining hall. He glanced back to see Ron still holding Hermione tightly, but their grief seemed out of place in the exuberant atmosphere of the crowded room.
All around him people celebrated the defeat of the most powerful, and most terrible, dark wizard of all time. All these people cheered for something they knew nothing about. Something that had cost so many lives, torn so many families apart, and had brought, Harry thought with a sad smile, so many friends together in mourning. It was a day to rejoice, to be sure, but also one to understand the true implications of that prophecy made sixteen years ago, and what it had meant for, not just wizards, but mankind.
But the teenager with the messy black hair that stood out at an odd angle in the back of his head did not shout out in glee, he instead scanned the rambunctious crowd for just one face, and he found her by her mother's side at the Gryffindor table. She was slouched against Charlie, and he too seemed less than cheerful. Harry quickly advanced on where the Weasleys sat together in noiseless distress. He glanced around at the redheaded occupants of this stretch of the table and was not surprised to be met by not one joyful expression.
He wished he did not know why. George sat, slumped over the table looking forlorn and miserable, but more than anything, completely alone. He was surrounded by people, and all the same, the death of his twin had hit George harder than any of the others, as Harry knew it would. In the pit of his stomach there was a growing sense of guilt. He had been there; he had watched Fred get killed by a Death Eater. Watched Percy scream out with agony at the sudden death of the brother he had so recently reconciled with. It was small comfort to Harry that he, himself, had finished off the murderer's master that same night, because he knew that nothing could bring Fred back to life. And yet, Harry had no idea what to say to George to comfort him about the loss of his best friend, fellow prankster, and above all else, twin brother.
He stared in anguish for another moment at the pained young man with the vivid orange hair sitting before him and then turned his attention to the younger girl wearing an impassive expression.
"Ginny," Harry whispered as she jumped at the sound "It's just me…will you come talk?"
There was a pleading in his voice that he had not expected to be there, but she simply shrugged and shifted her head to where she assumed him to be, "alright."
She excused herself from the silent gathering and stepped out from the table, "In the entrance hall." Harry said in a low voice, "out there."
Ginny nodded and tossed her long, sleek red hair out of her face and strode out of the dining hall quickly. Harry trotted along at her heels and when the two teenagers, only one visible, exited the hall the boy shrugged off his invisibility cloak and paced nervously up and down in front of the girl, not knowing how to begin a conversation that was suddenly so important to him. Now that the fighting was over, he was just a seventeen year old boy again, a normal teenager with normal priorities.
She finally reached out a hand and stopped him, and he looked up at her, not really seeing her at all, and hesitated, then stated awkwardly, "Ron and Hermione must have gone up to the common room." At Ginny's slightly perplexed look he clarified, "They were here a minute ago."
"Oh, yeah I guess" she replied, though her voice lacked its usual strong quality. But when Harry finally gathered the courage to look her straight in the face it was the slightly defeated and the diminished blazing in her eyes that really worried him.
Throwing all caution to the wind, the taller figure put his arms around the slighter one, and pulled her close. He could not bear to see a look so desperate in her eyes. Harry felt her stand rigid against him for a moment, in shock, then finally relax and grip him back, just as hard. He felt wetness on his shirt and in looking down saw tears falling, thick and fast, from Ginny's streaming eyes on to his chest.
He held her tighter and, finally, he felt he could speak to her as he had before all of this began, "I'm sorry about Fred Ginny, I'm…I'm just so sorry."
He wished he had something better to say to the trembling person who he clutched so firmly.
She held him fast, "I am too." She spoke, her voice shaking and slightly muffled by his body, "And about Tonks…" choking back a sob she continued, "...and Lupin. I just can't believe it Harry. The war's over, you ended it. I always knew you would, I just wish I had been there with you, to help…I wanted to stand by you."
She gave him a tiny, watery smile before burying her face in his now sopping wet, navy blue t-shirt once more. Harry put his thumb under her chin and tilted her head back to look him in the eyes.
"I know you did." He said, using his left hand to wipe away the tears gleaming on her face, distorting her beautiful, pale complexion. "I know you did," he added fervently and somewhat desperately at her renewed crying. "But I couldn't let you Gin, you know I couldn't. I couldn't lose you…" he paused "I've missed you Ginny, more than you'll believe" and with this he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
The tears rapidly ceased to flow down Ginny's face as she saw Harry Potter, the man who had defeated Lord Voldemort, blush crimson at the thought of what he had just done.
Slowly a grin spread across her face, as he only got redder, "I was thinking, see, well Ginny, I thought maybe, since the war is over and all, maybe we could be together again" he nearly shouted the last phrase, it burst out in a near incoherent rush.
Harry went an even deeper shade of scarlet and tried to continue, "Well, I mean, I understand if you don't, I mean look what's happened, and Fred, and oh, I just wish…" but he never got to finish, as in answer the girl of his dreams stood on tiptoe, flung her slender arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips.
"I've missed you too, Harry. So bloody much." She added as an afterthought as the boy of her dreams laughed quietly and took her in his arms again, pecked her on the cheek, and whispered in her ear, "It will be alright now, I promise, its over, we'll get through it together…" He pulled away to look her in the face "…all of us together, Ron and Hermione too. We'll take care of each other." and as he slipped back into her sweet embrace, added silently, so that she could barely hear, "and I'm never letting go of you again. Never."