Neville's hand, intertwined with mine under the table, is cold like the bones we have tried to mend. Madam Pomfrey is much better at healing than we are but with so many people wounded – or worse (but I will not think about the worse, not yet) – we had to do our best.

We. I squeeze his hand, and he smiles wanly. We have become one, an inseparable unit, feeling and knowing each other from the inside out, no words necessary. We aren't perfect – hardly, even less so today with the fallen surrounding us and the castle crumbling and everything seeming now quite worth it even after all that has been won in the last twenty-four hours. But we are together, and that is what keeps us from falling apart.

Activity continues around us, but an eerie sort of quiet permeates the castle. Everyone can feel it, and it's as if for the first time in months we have the same heart. Caught in limbo between grief and triumph, the urge to laugh and the overwhelming need to cry. Nobody knows what to do, so we settle on the edges of both.

I take a moment and isolate myself from the us, try to fully take in the boy – no, man; he is no longer a child, that is plain – sitting on the bench beside me. Neville Longbottom, the boy who could never quite fit in. Dust and blood still covers his hands, clings to his sweater; he is covered in bruises and his hair is the longest it's ever been. I look at the sword gleaming on the table in front of him, the tired but defiant expression on his usually gentle façade, and remember what I heard not too long ago. If what they say is true, he – Neville, my Neville – could have been the Boy Who Lived. He could have been the one to bring about the destruction of the most dangerous creature wizardkind has ever known. The one to die. I grasp him even more tightly, and he removes his gaze from the High Table and focuses on me.

"Hannah," he says softly, "it's okay. It's over now, it's all over."

"No, it's not. You know that. There's so much to be done." He nods. It's true. I don't think it will be over, fully over, for a very long time. Perhaps years. But after a minute, I add, "But you're right. It's okay."

"Yes."

We sit in silence for a moment more. Then he breaks the silence, and there is something strange in his voice that I can't quite place. I would say it was nervousness, but that can't be right – he is Neville and I am Hannah.

"What happens now? With – us, I mean. What's next?"

I think about this before I answer. "I don't know. It will be different. No more fear."

"Will we be the same?" Now I'm sure, he is nervous. And I am a little bit, too. It seems that we can't entirely escape from our sky, awkward selves, despite everything.

"I…I don't know. I want to be."

He nods. "I do too. Except – except not the same, you know? Never mind. I…maybe different is good. Sometimes."

I look at him. He seems embarrassed, and I don't understand what he means. A small part of me starts to panic, though I try to push it away.

I don't know what I would be without him. He has saved me from the world, from myself, and without him I may fall back into the despair and feelings of inadequacy that have plagued me all my life. And surely, he feels the same about me? To an extent, at least. We have helped each other through this year and into our best selves. What are we when there is not that?

"If…if you need some time alone, I'll…" I don't know. Hide? Run away?

Neville looks at me quickly, and in the second his eyes meet mine I feel as if something piercing has gone straight through my heart. Or stomach, I can't tell. "Hannah, of course not. That's not what I meant. No."

I look down, ashamed of this foolish thought but thankful. "But what do you mean? How is different good?" Security is good. I don't like changes. I am a scared little girl and I do not like feeling out of control.

"I just…what I was trying to say…" He shakes his head. "Hannah, I want to be by your side for the rest of my life. I want to grow back with you. I don't want to ever lose you and I don't want to leave and I just want us to be okay, really okay. Because I know that we can do anything and everything as long as we have each other, and that is the most important thing for me right now. So I don't want to change us, but I want us to change. For the better. That probably doesn't make any sense, but I know that you know what I mean."

In answer, I kiss him. And it's as if we have never kissed before – although we have, several times, in sadness and loneliness and rare moments of joy. But this one is different, and I think it's the best.

We pull each other closer, and it doesn't matter that we are sitting on a wooden bench with a table in front of us and people surrounding us on all sides. Energy seems to radiate from my mouth to my toes, and it's like I can almost feel myself healing already, growing back as he says, a weather-battered flower finally rising from the dirt into something with real beauty. And when I thought we were as close as two humans could be, physically and emotionally, I feel myself being bound even more tightly to the essence of him, my Neville. We are two hearts beating as one and it is the most incredible and hopeful thing I have ever experienced. And I'm sure that he feels it too.

Finally after what could have been seconds or minutes or days, but which I am sure was eternity, we break apart, hands still entwined, breath coming fast, eyes meeting, the first smiles in months coming to our faces. It seems insane and rather indecent that our happiness has finally come amidst so much suffering, but who are we to object? I'm sure that the people who died fighting so valiantly for Hogwarts, for this castle and also this world, would be smiling too if they could see us and understand us in this moment.

I tuck myself back under his arms, wrapping mine around my knees, and give him a look that means I love you. And I say "You're right. Change can be good. And it certainly makes things more interesting."