The air around Harry began to settle at last as the final breath of battle died out completely. It was over. He had won; Voldemort was dead. He had dreamt of this moment since he first met Voldemort 7 years ago in the Forbidden Forest. Since he learned that it was Voldemort responsible for killing his parents. Since he saw the flash of green hit Cedric Diggory, the painful laugh take away his god-father. And yet now, as Voldemort has been dead for hours, all Harry feels is an impenetrable emptiness. All he wants is to curl up into the small cupboard under the staircase at Number 4 Privet Drive, to go home, to a home that was never really home at all. To escape, pretend that none of this has happened. Then, why would he care if Fred Wesley was dead, or Remus or Tonks. What would he care if Snape loved his mother. What would her care if he never knew them in the first place. The pain of the loss he had experienced in this past day, or furthermore in the last 17 years, now seemed to far outweigh the victory of the war.

He fell to his knees, facing the castle which once seemed home to him, now a misshapen grave, and watched from a distance as small figures began to clean up the hopeless disaster that was Hogwarts. He did not try to hide his tears anymore, they fell unashamedly from his cheeks and splattered on the ash covered stone ground. He was taken back to a year ago, when then he also cried openly over the body of Albus Dumbledore. He tried to remember what had gotten him to stand that night, what had given him strength to face another day, to overcome the pain. He tried to recall what, in the face of such horror, had given him hope. He couldn't stand to look at the castle, he dug his face into his worn palms.

Most people believe that when you win, everything is suddenly solved. As if the joy of victory can be somehow felt over the unbearable shattering of every last bit of his heart. Nothing is ever won, for every gain there is a hundred times a loss. Maybe this is how it is supposed to be, this is just another punishment. What was the point now? How was he supposed to go on. It is finished, he completed his goal, everything is done. So why go on? He was alone and hollow. Nothing.

A sharp scream filled the air in a sudden gasp. Harry looked up, reaching for his newly repaired wand before needing to stop himself. There was no fear anymore. No danger to scream of. Perhaps it was a scream of pain from someone who had been injured. Hopefully it was joy. Whatever the source, it came from someone who had been graced with immense luck, Harry knew this because they must have been alive, and that was luck itself. What has his life come to? Is there life anymore at all?

Is this a dream? It had to be a dream. There is no way that this is reality. Something is missing, something has gone. Everything has gone. Everyone. Maybe he should go. Maybe he should run off, live in the forest, live alone. He has already hurt them so much, everyone, he wanted so desperately to remove the trouble from their lives, when he is the trouble. He is the cause, he is the pain. Was? Sirius did it, he remembered. When he was on the run, he went off, lived in the forest. Out of sight. Harry had done it before too, not to long ago at all. He though about what had just happened in the forest, how he had just been in the Forbidden Forest, how he had just died. No, okay not a good idea.

So where was he supposed to go?

Neither can live while the other survives. He understood it now, he could never live. Since he has survived, he can not live. Not truly, not really. Surviving is not living, surviving only means you have the prolonged capability of keeping air in your lungs. Living means loving, means smiling and enjoying each breath you take. He wasn't living, only looking to the future with dread. At least he had a future, even if it was now unwanted. He used to look forward to it, when he called his home a cupboard under the stairs and when he had nothing to be thankful for, he liked to think of freedom and of what that meant for his future.

In truth, he has lost. And what was worse than losing is that everyone else thinks that he has won. They expected him to win, and in their eyes he has, but he knew the truth, he lost completely. There are no winners. Only survivors.

He felt warmth before she even reached him. Harry looked up from his hands, she was walking towards him steadily. Her face was solid. He could tell that she had not cried this entire time, but something in how her lips were drawn tight, told Harry that she very much wanted to. To Harry, it was as if all the world was dark and drowning and she was light, she came from before him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Sometimes surviving is all we need," She reminded him carefully. She knew that she had to be gentle, he might fall apart completely in her arms. But it wasn't he who collapsed. She buried her face into his neck. And as if she had finally reached security, she began to weep.

Harry had seen Ginny cry before, but never like this. It was as if all the hurting she had been holding in for the last year finally became to much. Harry knew she had kept strong, Luna had told him of how she had been so selfless to everyone while he left her. She was a warrior, through and through. She had been strong and she had kept her head up, her guard was powerful, and yet now, as Harry knew, it was her turn to let her walls come tumbling down, it was her turn to not have to be everyone else's strength. He fell back off of his knees and managed to pull her closer to him.

She had lost him once today, that was enough. She had seen him dead at the feet of a murderer. She saw his body limp and himself gone. She lost him, and yet somehow he came back to her again, he aways comes back to her, he always will. It was unclear whether she was crying out of relief that she was finally safe in his arms, or if the day had simply just now taken it's toll on her. All Harry knew was that for the second time in the past day, he felt the overwhelming need to protect her, to punish those who hurt her. And yet, he realized, he had already done that, they were already dead, and the only one left who had hurt her, was him.

Eventually, when her tears were dry, or maybe she had just simply run out, they began to stand. Harry didn't realize, though he must have been kneeling on the ground for a long time, for now his knees cracked and ached when he straightened them out. Together, they turned and began to walk towards the great hall, Ginny slightly behind him, both with their arms somehow still around each-other. The castle creaked with the weight of life, the doors seemed much heavier than Harry could ever remember, the floors echoed more audibly than ever. Harry was nearly convinced that no other life remained in the long, dark corridors, though he was proven wrong upon entering the hall. It was a relief to see that all the lifeless bodies had been removed from the room. Now, only the living remained. This was life now. Harry found Neville leaning against a wall talking to Luna and a woman that Harry recognized immediately. But Harry didn't focus on the woman who saved his life, instead he was captivated by what she was holding in her hands.

"My sister," Narcissca Malfoy cried out, "dead! I didn't, I don't, my poor sister. I loved- the baby, Dora's son, I, she told me to- Harry." Narcissca broke into tears and backed away.

But Ginny seemed in a rush to not let her go too far. She stepped out in-front of Harry and hurried over to the lady now in hysterics, she very easily reached out and grabbed the blue-harried infant from her. Little Teddy, orphaned and yet who Harry vowed would never know a life of war. Luna came forward and explained what had happened. Harry, who didn't look up at his friend but steadied his gaze on his God-son, who looked back up at him from Ginny's cradled arms. He saw so much of Tonks in him, but even more of Remus. He thought of Remus instantly, who just hours before had stood before him, a ghost brought on by the resurrection stone. "Andromeda died," luna said softly, "broken heart we suppose, loss of her husband and daughter. Poor dear. Narcissca went to see her, to reconcile, but she was too late. Her last request was for Mrs. Malfoy to bring Teddy here, to you, Harry." Harry tried to look up to Narcissca to give her his condolences, but he still couldn't look away from Teddy, and from Ginny holding him. So it was Ginny who spoke to comfort the woman, who had just lost both of her sisters, one of which Harry was truly glad to see die.

Moved however, Harry looked up and stared at Mrs. Malfoy and very sincerely said, "thank you." He knew she understood that his thanks goes beyond for her bringing Teddy to him, though he could see the wonder in Ginny's eyes.

Harry looked around the room now, looking to see who had survived, or rather, who had not. He began to wonder about what Dumbledore had said, how he could choose if he wanted to come back. Why did he choose? Why did he want this, he couldn't. Everything, even life, now, was dead. Everyone moved slowly, cautiously. He kept looking, searching for someone.

"Teddy!" Harry heard someone call out in a very heavily french accent, sure enough Fleur was running towards them, well not so much as running but gliding quickly. She had the largest smile on her face, and Harry noticed it looked as if she was about to cry with glee. "Teddy! Mon doux bebe! Permettez-moi de le tenir?" She asked holding out her hands, Ginny handed Teddy over rather reluctantly.

"Potter," Harry heard a sharp voice call behind him. He turned and as he did it took a minute for take in Professor Mcgonagall, who stood behind him notably disheveled and exhausted. "Potter," she said again, "a word?"She motioned for him to come follow her, which he did, though it took a lot of energy to let go of Ginny. He followed her down a long corridor which he knew led to the Headmaster's office. The griffin opened without waiting for a password the two walked swiftly up to the office. Once Dumbledore's ,then Snape's, Harry had spent a lot of time in this office, was it really only seven hours ago when he stood at the pensive here discovering the truth about Severus Snape? And then after that with Ron and Hermione, fixing his wand. Mcgonagall sat in one chair that he had never actually seen anyone use off in a deep corner of the room, and Harry took the other. Professor Mcgonagall drew herself a glass of water out of thin air and relaxed her posture in such a bizarre opposite fashion then she had ever done before.

"Potter," she said though she sounded as though she may fall asleep any moment, "I wanted to fill you in on what has been going on these last hours while you were gone. I first off, I wish to thank you." She looked as if she wanted to say more, wanted to elaborate on her thanks, and yet no words were needed. Harry knew he would be receiving thanks, after all it is he that killed Tom Riddle, he who ended the fight for good, and yet it seemed horribly out of place, as if by giving thanks, they are too thanking him for killing their loved ones, thanks for causing harm. No thanks was necessary. He no more a hero than any other person who fought, especially not more than Ron, Hermione and Neville, who themselves killed parts of Voldemort.

All of a sudden, it occurred to him, he had not seen his best friends since he said that he would meet up with them later, when they were on the bridge, and that was hours ago. "As you may notice the absence of Mrs. Granger and Mr. Weasley, they asked me to tell you that they went to Australia,"Mcgonagall explained making it seem as though she was reading his mind. Of course! Harry thought to himself, Hermione's parents, she can now restore their memories! He was elated with the thought of Hermione being reunited with her mum and dad. Harry nodded, to show he understood.

"You must know Potter, we lost a great amount of people tonight, but please know, they fought willingly and died for good cause, do not blame yourself," she warned. "The bodies have been laid in the dungeons for the time being, and families have been asked to claim their loved ones so that proper burials might be had. The school will reopen next fall, with the option for students to repeat or remake their past year, as no exams will be held this year and as far as we are all concerned, the school year is over. Most students have already made their way home, or are being put up in Hogsmeade for the time being until they can be picked up. Preparations are being made to restore the castle, and clean up the grounds. I wanted to ask you potter," Mcgonagall continued, "what exactly happened tonight?"

So Harry told her everything, about the horcruxes and the hallows, he told her about how he actually did die, may have died. He told her about Snape and the truth behind Dumbledore's death and his will. He told everything and she looked at him, not moving once, not interrupting but simply taking in all the answers she had longed for. When he had finally finished, he took a deep breath and waited for her to respond, and when she did he was alleviated. "Well,"she said sitting back up straightly, "I dare say, you have bravery unmatched." She stood up and gestured towards the door, permitting Harry to leave, but before he did, she patted his shoulder ever so slightly, as if to say "Job well done."

Before leaving the room, Harry looked intently at a portrait hanging above the headmistress' chair. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood iconic in his frame, nodding slowly. Harry knew this was his reaction to what had happened to Harry, it was all Harry needed to hear, he had done it right.

When Harry stepped out of the office, Fred, or was it George, was waiting for him. No, Harry thought, it was not Fred, Fred was dead. "George," Harry ran over to him but the sole Twin didn't look up.

His skin was scorched with pain, it was visible. He spoke, and when he did, it was as if every last vocal chord was strained, his voice was rough and unrecognizable. "C'mon Harry, they're waiting for us at home." Harry grabbed George's arm and they spun in place. Hogwarts morphed into the living room of the burrow, though the mood did not shift at all. Everything was still heavy.

George walked off without a word, Harry knew it wouldn't be right to force him into conversation, and besides he didn't feel up to talking either. Harry looked over his shoulder and found Mrs. Weasley against the far wall, She was struggling to smile at her guest while she opened her arms to greet him. Harry didn't want Mrs. Weasley's hug to end, he felt guilty but she was his mother now, she had always treated him like a son, and after finally being able to see his real mother, and losing her once more, he needed this. He let himself be young in her arms until he heard a shuffling from the kitchen. "Mum?" He heard Ron's voice. Harry ran towards the kitchen and instinctively caught Hermione right as she landed perfectly into his grasp. She wrapped her arms tightly around him. Ron walked past them to his mother, who Harry heard begin to choke up.

To think that only two months ago the pair of them were hiding out in the Forest of Dean. They were safe now, the very idea was inconceivable. "You did it!" Hermione gasped, "It's over."

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley called out, "How are your parents?" Hermione let go of Harry, allowing Ron to greet his friend while Hermione went over to Mrs. Weasley.

"They are great! And their memory is back!" Hermione smiled brightly.

"Yeah, they weren't very happy that it was ever gone," Ron announced. Harry felt a tinge in his stomach. He would never have that. No matter how much he looked to Mrs. Weasley as a mother, she wasn't his. But he couldn't think of lily, because if he did, he would begin to think of James, and Sirius, and Lumpin, and Snape and Dumbledore, and Peter Pettigrew, and thus, Tom Riddle. And if he thought of Riddle, he would think of everyone who died in the past day, everyone who has died because of he-who-must-not-be-named. Harry felt the term was ironic now, calling such a common man, one that mustn't be named. Fear of the name, he reminded himself. Harry wondered quietly if people would start referring to Tom as Voldemort now? Or was it still taboo? The three people around him were still talking, slowly, as if a single word could set off a storm of emotion. Harry didn't care to listen, instead he let his thoughts take him over.

He still couldn't figure out what he was supposed to do now? What was he supposed to go back to school? He couldn't imagine walking in the corridors, let alone sitting in a potions class now. Where was he to live? Number 12 Grimwald Place was not an option, it had too many difficult memories of Sirius, and the order, and RAB. Would the Dursley's be moving back to their prized home now? Perhaps the cupboard was still vacant, Harry trailed off. "Mrs. Weasley," he barely heard Hermione ask, "where is Mr. Weasley, and Ginny?" It was Ginny's name that caught his attention, he would like to know where she was as well.

Mrs. Weasley let go of hermione, who she was still hugging, and walked over to the stove. She took a pan down from the rack above her and began to prepare a meal. "She is at Shell Cottage, Arthur is there with her now."

It was odd news, but Harry at least was glad she was safe, that is all he asked for. Ron nodded his head and started to speak again but hermione cut him off, "Mrs. Weasley, when are they coming home?" Harry's ears perked up again. Why did hermione care? Harry thought it was obvious that she would be home in the morning at the latest, but Mrs. Weasley had a different idea. The women turned to the three of them. Ron who stood next to Harry and Hermione siting in front of them at the table. Her face was horrified, as if something grave was about to happen. He wanted to remind her that nothing more dire could happen, everything was already done. He realized in that moment that this is how it was going to be for a while, looking over your shoulder, flinching at the mere thought of danger.

"Aurthur should be home any minute," she hesitated and then turned away from them again.

"With Ginny?" Hermione egged on.

"Of course with Ginny," Ron answered surely. Hermione knew better, Harry wanted so desperately to think like Ron, but he trusted Hermione, so Mrs. Weasley's answer did throw him too off guard.

"No, Ginny won't be coming-" She took a deep breath, "she won't be coming home for a while."

"Why?" Ron shouted. At the sound of his shout, Mrs. Weasley dropped the glass she was holding, spilling some ingredient all over the floor and stove. She turned to her younger son with a very cross look on her face. She didn't even bother to clean the mess, she walked away, up the stairs.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted standing up and pulling out her wand.

"Why?" Harry mumbled after processing what had happened.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. Ron walked over and sat casually on the crowded counter and hermione went back to the table. Harry remained standing waiting for his answer. After about 10 minutes, it was Ron who spoke.

"Harry, what happened? I mean with Voldemort." His voice was hesitant. Ron and Hermione were used to knowing things, the full truth to every story the daily prophet could only guess about. But this was not something they would know. They didn't need to know, and Harry didn't need to talk about it, not now anyways. Something about this whole situation seemed odd, as if nothing had changed. Him, Ron and Hermione alone after some battle, them asking for the truth, Harry letting them know what no one else would. It was an old routine. But something had changed.

"You don't have to tell us," Hermione told him, she must have known he wasn't going to.

"Why isn't Ginny coming?" He changed the subject back.

"They want her to heal. Honestly, I think they just need her to be away from us, and George. But," Hermione was hesitating now too, "Harry, you didn't see her." Harry wanted to correct her, he had seen Ginny, she had come out to find him, he had seen her cry, he knew she was hurt. "When he, brought out your- your," she paused and looked down in attempts to hide a the tears which have begun streaming down her cheeks, "when you weren't awake, she lost it. I mean, don't get me wrong, we all did, and I hated seeing-," the tears grew heavier.

"Me and Hermione were prepared for that," Ron carried on, "we knew there was always a chance of it. So when it happened, we were able to handle it for the most part, we knew there was more to be done, more Horcruxes to destroy, and ultimately Voldemort. We had a plan and we knew what we had to do."

"But not Ginny," Hermione continued, "she didn't know what exactly was going on. All she knew is that you," she stopped again, "and she broke down." Harry remembered hearing the screams when he was in Hagrid's arms, but he never looked up to see how much destruction was really taking place. "Harry, his advantage was always knowing how to destroy people, how to break them down to absolutely nothing. He knew your weakness, it was us, the people you loved, your heart. Ginny was at the greatest threat because of it."

"But he didn't know about Ginny, Snape-" Harry began, but hermione didn't listen.

"We had always tried to keep Ginny a secret from him, we knew that if he knew about how you two felt about each other, he would kill her. Snape, I assume, knew this too. He may not have liked us, and we know that Voldemort knew about Ron and I but Snape, along with the rest of us, made sure he never knew Ginny as anything more than a girl with a crush."

"And when you-," Ron began but hermione made a grunt, so that he wouldn't say the word. "Well she reacted in a way we all would have expected her too."

"But it would have given her away to Voldemort." Hermione cut him off, "Some people screamed, other's cried, most people didn't know what to do, there was shouting and people were outraged, but Ginny reacted differently than everyone. She started to run to you, but George had to grab her and pull her back, and cover her mouth so Voldemort wouldn't turn his attention to her. But she fought him, trying to break free, and he started to notice, that's why Neville stepped forward, to protect Ginny. She had gotten away from George, she was running and he pushed her down and continued the pursuit for her."

"He would've killed her for sure, as one last means to scare everyone into obeying him. It would be like taking the very last thing you had. He settled for Neville, but of course, it didn't work. Ginny regrouped a little bit, of course, she fought too, in the hall, and-" Harry didn't need to be told further, he knew what happened in the great hall. It felt it too, when he saw the killing curse nearly hit Ginny, when he set off towards her, willing to reveal his own identity to kill Bellatrix. Perhaps Tom Riddle discovered his heart in that moment, that Ginny was more than the girl he once knew to have a crush on Harry. Maybe he put Ginny in the most danger then, maybe Riddle was then able to confirm his thoughts, but it didn't matter if he knew at that point, it was too late. Harry tried to think of how it would've gone if Neville didn't push Ginny down, if it had been her to charge Riddle instead, but he couldn't bring himself to imagine it.

Harry remembered Ginny's breakdown, how she cried when he held her, he knew the pain she felt. But she seems better, after, when they went back inside, when she was holding Teddy. She seemed to have pulled herself back together. There must have been something he missed. Why would she need to stay at the cottage? Were they trying to keep her from him? What good would that do?

"It would be best for her to be here," Harry said simply. And it was true, at least for him. He needed to be with her, she was his rock.

Hermione leaned over the table and kissed the top of his head, "I am going to bed, you both should as well." Hermione went over to Ron and he kissed her on the lips. Harry had to look away. It wasn't fair, that they had each other that Mr. Weasley had Mrs. Weasley. Bill was with Fleur. Why couldn't he have Ginny? He had to stop himself, as if not having his girlfriend to say goodnight to was the greatest of his problems. He stood up and walked up the stairs behind Hermione, Ron promised to follow shortly, he wanted to lock the house up. What for? Harry thought, we already survived.