Disclaimer: Don't look at me! It wasn't my decision to kill Hedwig, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, etc.! I'm not making any money here, either.

Alright, so I had to write a flashback scene! I just felt it was necessary to set the stage for things that will happen later. I hope you enjoy it – it is rather long!

Harry was finally able to retreat to his familiar bed somewhere around 7:00 am that morning. But a meeting had been called for 2:00 pm sharp, and when Harry finally opened his eyes, his watch read 1:30 pm. He groaned and turned his face into the pillow, trying to shut out the light of the sun. Pain surged through his muscles at the simple motion, and he gasped.

"Harry! You okay?" came a concerned voice, muffled by the ringing in Harry's ears.

"Umph," he replied, slowly turning over again. "I feel awful."

Ron's crooked smile greeted him. "What'd you expect, mate? You did die after all…" Harry cautiously flexed his fingers – they were stiff, and slightly sore, but otherwise alright. He made circles with his wrists, grimacing as they made small popping sounds. Then he stretched his arms out from his sides, letting out a small yelp before clutching at a particularly painful area below his left collarbone. With a shock he realized the pain was focused directly over his heart – where Voldemort had hit him with the killing curse. He smiled weakly up at Ron, trying to assuage his friend's fears.

"I don't remember it hurting so much last time," he joked.

"Right…" Ron said, rolling his eyes. He helped Harry to a comfortable sitting position, and stared at him for a moment, shuffling his feet.

"I'm fine." Harry answered his unspoken question. "It's not like I'm gonna drop dead in the next few seconds, Ron." His best friend nodded, but Harry could tell he was not completely convinced.

"D'you want me to go get Madam Pomfrey? Just to let her look you over?" Harry bit his lip. He had vehemently refused all medical attention last night; there were plenty of people who needed it more. But by now the triage was likely complete, and the seriously injured would be well on their way to St. Mungo's. He raised his right hand to his neck, rubbing the sore muscles there as he considered Ron's offer. Only when he tried to sigh in defeat – and felt a lancing agony race across his chest – did he nod his agreement. "Be right back," Ron said, his red hair disappearing quickly out of sight. Harry focused on breathing slowly in and out as he checked for other injuries.

He had numerous cuts and scrapes on his face, neck, and arms – probably from any number of narrowly missed hexes. Hitting the forest floor face-first hadn't helped much either, but at least his nose wasn't broken. He hadn't gone very far in his search when another redhead flew breathlessly into the room. Harry smiled until he saw the blazing expression on Ginny's face. She came and sat next to him in bed and grasped his hand. Hers seemed cold.

"I caught Ron in the common room, and he said something about going to get Madam Pomfrey – that you were hurt!"

"I'm fine – really," he added at her doubtful look. "Just a bit sore." Her brow furrowed.

"That's all?" she asked tentatively. Harry nodded his assurance and realized that he did seem to be breathing easier since Ginny had arrived. He watched as her face flashed with relief for a small moment – but nothing could have prepared him for the dead, glazed look that settled in her eyes. Her hand became limp in his, and Harry felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Ginny…?" But he never had time to finish as the school nurse came bustling in with Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall in tow. Both of the older women looked exhausted, and Harry immediately felt guilty for calling them here. Madam Pomfrey shooed Ginny gently from the bed as she began to check Harry for injuries. The worst thing she found (to Harry's intense relief) was a large purple bruise that trailed across his chest. She pulled a ready jar of essence of dittany from her robes that Harry began to apply as she continued her search. She came across some older injuries – places where Voldemort's snake had bitten him, the badly healed patch of skin that Hermione had inadvertently blasted off when she used a severing charm to dislodge the Horcrux locket after their visit to Godric's Hollow, half-healed burns from the Gemino and Flagrante Curses on the treasure in Bellatrix's Gringotts vault, and a host of other scrapes and bruises from the fight and the forest. With a look of disgust, she took the small jar of soothing cream from Harry's hand and replaced it with a vial of purple potion.

"You'll need more than essence of dittany to take care of all of this," she said kindly. "It's a wonder you were able to sleep. Anyone else would have spent the entire time writhing in pain."

"I guess I'm used to it," Harry replied quietly.

"You certainly have been in the hospital wing more often than any other student I can remember. Dumbledore warned me that might happen…"

"Huh?" Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh, yes. When you first arrived at Hogwarts, he told me to be prepared. You were the Boy Who Lived, but You-Know-Who was still a real threat. I was to be ready for anything, at any time."

Harry simply gaped at her. He hadn't expected this.

"What?" she responded as something in her seemed to burst. She began to cry. "Did you think I usually woke up in the middle of the night to treat a child who was left unconscious after fighting off You-Know-Who's disembodied spirit? That I was used to filling beds with petrified students? Re-growing bones? Checking someone over for side-effects of a healed Basilisk bite? Healing damage left by the Whomping Willow? Hearing a student cry out in terror from nightmares of You-Know-Who's return? Healing half a dozen children that have been attacked by Death Eaters? Retrieving the Headmaster's dead body? Following orders to hide in a broom closet during a fight, only to treat hundreds of victims in a few hours and see the dead lining the Great Hall?" Her small form collapsed into sobs at this point and she slumped against Harry's pillow. Professor McGonagall put her hands on the woman's shoulders and helped her to stand, but Madam Pomfrey merely sagged against her, still weeping. Only when McGonagall attempted to lead her from the room did the nurse turn and look at Harry again – the sorrow not quite as evident in her eyes now. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, and Harry nodded his understanding. The war had been difficult for everyone, and he had a feeling this was just the beginning of what would probably become a tsunami of emotional outpouring. If the early morning hours after Riddle's defeat had been any indication, Harry would be highly sought after the next few weeks by those wanting to offer congratulations, receive condolences, or otherwise express the release that the Dark Lord's death had brought to the world. Without thinking, Harry popped the cork from the small potion bottle she had given him and drank it all in one gulp. A soothing numbness began to spread through his veins, and he relaxed against his headboard.

A deep silence had captured the occupants of the room. Ron was the first one willing to break it. He gestured to the door with a pointed look at Hermione and Ginny. "The meeting's gonna start soon. Harry needs to get dressed." Ginny swept wordlessly from the room, and Harry felt himself frown at her vacant expression. Hermione reached down to squeeze his hand before turning to Ron. Her face flushed red as she kissed him on the cheek before practically running out the door. "Hermione!" Ron called after her, and for a moment Harry was worried they were going to start snogging again. But Ron – just as red as Hermione – mumbled, "Your bag… Harry's clothes."

"Oh, sorry" she responded, shyly handing the beaded bag to him. He caught her hand and held it tightly for a moment, staring into her eyes. Harry looked up at the ceiling and cleared his throat, causing his two best friends to snap out of their reverie. Hermione's voice shook a little as she said to them both, "See you at the meeting." She hurried away, and Ron closed the door softly behind her.

Harry couldn't stop the knowing smile he threw in Ron's direction. "So, how're things going with Hermione?" Ron's face broke into a goofy grin as he sat on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Well, it hasn't been that long since we…"

"Tried to snog each other senseless while in the middle of a war?" Harry finished. Ron gave him a warning glance that was empty of any real malice, and shrugged.

"We haven't really been able to talk, or anything." He looked glum, as if every second away from Hermione was a second wasted. Harry decided that now was the best time to bring up Ginny – while Ron was already distracted.

"Uh, speaking of talking," he began as he stood slowly. Changing turned out to be a more painful activity than Harry would have imagined, so he took his time, trying to hide his winces. "Now that it's over… I'm planning to ask Ginny out again."

"Hmm… What?" Harry grimaced as he realized his best friend wasn't quite as preoccupied as he would have hoped. He held both hands up in a peaceful gesture, but Ron didn't let him continue. "I don't know that that's such a brilliant idea, mate. With everything that happened last night… with Fred –" he choked, unable to add the word "dying", and Harry placed a hand on his shoulder, fighting the lump that had risen in his own throat.

"How's George doing?" he asked tentatively, and Ron shrugged turning his head away. Harry dutifully ignored the tears that were now trailing down his best friend's face.

"He seems… empty – keeps looking around like he's searching for something." Ron brushed an arm across his face, and Harry – busy pulling a shirt over his head – pretended not to notice.

"How're you doing?" he asked instead as he sat on the bed to tie his trainers.

"It's strange," Ron began, his gaze unfocused, "but I'm happy and sad – all at the same time. When I think about Fred –" His voice broke again, and he took a deep breath, swallowing hard. "But then I realize that You-Know-Who is finally dead, and I can't help but feel happy." As if to demonstrate this, his face broke into a smile. After a moment, he even began to laugh. "Look at me," he said, wiping away a few lingering tears. "Who cries and laughs at the same time?"

"It's been known to happen," Harry replied, allowing himself a small chuckle. He pulled Ron into a brief hug before grabbing his wand. "We'll all get through this… together." Ron nodded, and the two friends walked from the room. With a pang, Harry realized he hadn't received Ron's blessing concerning Ginny, but there was plenty of time for that, he decided.

xXx

The Great Hall had been cleared during the early morning hours – the bodies that had not already been claimed by relatives were moved to a temporary structure that had been erected outside the main gate. Most were corpses of Death Eaters, and Harry found himself wondering what would be done with Tom Riddle's body. He shook his head in an attempt to focus as Kingsley opened the meeting. He had taken a seat with Ron and Hermione in the middle of the crowd, so as not to be conspicuous, though he found himself wishing he knew where Ginny was.

"Under normal circumstances, only members of the Order of the Phoenix would be in attendance here; but after witnessing their bravery firsthand, it was decided to include the remaining Professors at Hogwarts – though most were already in the Order, those members of an organization calling itself Dumbledore's Army, and the general student population of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." There was a loud roar of applause, led by the students, before Kingsley quieted them all again with a gaze. "Our first order of business is a rather solemn one. A moment's silence for those valiant souls who lost their lives in the defeat of Voldemort." A few people gasped at Kingsley's use of the Dark Lord's name and looked around frantically – as if expecting more Death Eaters to attack any moment. When nothing happened, all occupants of the room bowed their heads in silence; each remembering someone who was lost. Harry realized that he did not yet know the names of those who had died for him – but Kingsley took care of that, as well. When the minute had passed, he raised a piece of parchment. "A list of those who fell at the Battle of Hogwarts will be posted by the doors for perusal after the meeting. The Ministry of Magic is already working to design a fitting monument to the fallen. It will reside here on school grounds, next to Professor Dumbledore's tomb." Harry wondered if Snape's name was written on the list, and determined that – if absent – it would be added.

"Now, to our second order of business. On behalf of the Wizarding World and the Ministry of Magic, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to Harry Potter for his defeat of the Dark Lord." Another round of applause broke out, and Harry felt his cheeks flush as he stared at the floor. There was a squeaking of chairs as the room's occupants came to their feet and turned to him. Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall were two of quite a few adults who began to cry, while some of the younger students whistled through their fingers. When Harry found the strength to look up, there were tears in his eyes. It made their faces blurry, for which he was grateful. Once everyone was seated, Kingsley addressed the topic about which Harry was the most curious.

"Our third item of business involves the disposal of the bodies belonging to the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. I will open the floor for suggestions." Murmurs swept through those assembled. Neville raised a hand and stood when recognized by the interim Minister.

"I think they deserve proper graves and a funeral." He looked around as he spoke. "They would never have done the same for us, but we can't let their hatred or their actions influence our decision to do the right thing." Harry found himself standing as he applauded softly; something which was picked up by the others. It died down quickly as they turned to look at him. With a nod from Kingsley, he began.

"I'm sure there has been much discussion and speculation on the topic of Tom Riddle's body." Harry saw a few of the students look at each other in confusion. "Lord Voldemort began his lonely life in an orphanage. Hogwarts was the only place he ever felt truly at home." A few of the adults gasped, but Harry held up a hand. "I am not suggesting he be given a final resting place here, but with his family – where he should have led a long and peaceful life. We have the opportunity to give him some of that peace in death. Let him be buried in the grave of his father and grandfather. History should never forget the actions of Lord Voldemort, but his name need not last forever. He should be known by the name his tragic mother gave him; Tom Marvolo Riddle." He sat – ignoring the puzzled, pondering, and gaping faces before him. Neville nodded his support before resuming his own seat.

"Two courageous and heartfelt suggestions," Kingsley murmured. We will put it to a vote. All those in favor of a proper burial for the Death Eaters and Voldemort, please raise your hand." Hands went up all around him and dropped again at the Minister's nod. "Any opposed?" No one moved. "Very well. The vote is unanimous in the affirmative. The Ministry will begin preparations for the funerals at once, and a suitable wizard graveyard will be found to house the bodies of the Death Eaters.

"Our last point of order for this meeting involves the immediate future of Hogwarts. It is the wish of the Ministry that Minerva McGonagall be given the post of Headmistress, if she will accept it." McGonagall nodded, and received a round of polite applause. "I have already spoken to Headmistress McGonagall, and it has been decided that the remaining students will be sent home immediately so the castle may be rebuilt for the start of next term. Those students who were deemed unfit to attend this year – or for other reasons, chose not to do so –" he looked briefly at Harry "– will be given the opportunity to complete their education starting in September. In addition, those students who were scheduled to graduate may return for the first few months of class, at which time they will be allowed to take their N.E.W.T.S. The Hogwarts Express will be arriving at 10:00 am tomorrow to take the students home." The room's occupants nodded their approval once more. "Very well then. Unless there are any further matters that need to be discussed, this meeting is adjourned."

Harry rushed forward to catch the attention of Kingsley and McGonagall as people began to leave the Hall. So many of them seemed to be in his path – nodding thanks to him or patting him on the back (which made him wince, but no one seemed to notice) – that Harry began to wonder if they weren't purposely taking this route to the exit. The room was certainly large enough for them to go around him. He watched as the Minister and Headmistress walked toward the staff exit, deep in conversation. Knowing they wouldn't hear him if he called out, he grasped his newly repaired wand and mentally formed the incantation Hermione had taught him months ago – though he had yet to try it. A silver stag burst from the end of his wand and trotted toward the retreating pair, cutting off their progress. Harry heard his own voice echo faintly back to him. "Wait," it said simply. Both adults turned, seeking his face in the crowd. Hermione stood five feet away, gaping at him. Luckily the patronus had had another effect – it cleared a path for him through the students, teachers, and Order members who were yet before him. He had made it a few feet before they started to close in again, but they were interrupted this time by Kingsley.

"It appears Mr. Potter requires a word with me." His voice boomed through the large room. "Please… let him pass." With a grateful look at the Minister, Harry rushed up to the Head Table, with Ron and Hermione following. "I didn't think it would be possible Harry," Kingsley said with a smile, "But I believe you are even more famous and admired now than you were before." He noticed the chagrin on Harry's face. "I will have to see what I can do to get the Wizarding World to grant you the peace you so rightfully deserve. Now, what can I do for you?" Harry thought for a moment of how best to tell them of Snape's true nature. He supposed – like himself – that they might need proof. He turned to McGonagall.

"Can we talk in your office, Profess– I mean, Headmistress?"

McGonagall blinked, as though she were unused to the term. Perhaps she wasn't. But she nodded, and motioned for the Minister, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to follow as she walked out the staff door. Harry turned back one last time to see his Patronus bow it's stately head to him before vanishing in a whiff of pale smoke. It was then that he saw Ginny, sitting alone and silent in a seat at the far end of the Hall. He waved and called out for her to join them, but she did not hear or see him, and Harry felt worry squeeze his heart as he closed the door – resolving to find her again as soon as he could.

xXx

Five hours later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had finished their report of the year's events. Headmistress McGonagall sat back in her chair, her hand over her heart, and tears streaming down her face.

"So you mean to say that Severus…"

"Was Dumbledore's man, through and through," Harry finished for her, an unexpected sense of pride welling up in his chest for his old Potions teacher.

"And Snape's story – how did you come to know it?" Kingsley asked, ever the voice of reason.

"Snape gave me his memories as he lay dying," Harry replied, gesturing over his shoulder. "They are all in the Penseive, should you need to look."

"I believe you, Harry," Kingsley said, leaning forward. He passed a hand over his face. "It is just… unexpected." Harry nodded, and Kingsley abruptly stood and offered his hand. "It seems I owe you my life, Harry. Without your willing sacrifice, I would likely be one of the number mourned today. I could not understand how so many of Voldemort's curses seemed to brush right past me as we dueled." He shook his head before turning back to McGonagall. "Minerva, if you'll excuse me, I do have a great amount of work waiting at the Ministry." He looked sad for a moment. "There is a rather large mess that needs cleaning up." The Headmistress nodded her understanding, and gestured to the fire before them.

"Please, feel free."

"Thank you," was Kingsley's reply. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "And thanks to you, as well. I don't think everyone realizes just how important your roll in this victory was. I shall have to see what I can do to reverse such terrible ignorance." He laughed at Ron and Hermione's stunned expressions, and a moment later he was gone.

A sniff brought their attention back to McGonagall who conjured herself a handkerchief before waving at the three friends. "I believe dinner may well be drawing to a close. Why don't you go down to the Great Hall; I will join you there shortly." Not a second after Harry closed the door to her office, there was a loud honking, and all three had to stifle their laughter at hearing McGonagall blow her nose.

As the stone staircase began to descend, Harry looked over at Ron. "I think I'm going to find Ginny." His best friend looked over at him, his eyes narrow. "She didn't look well this morning. I just want to make sure everything is alright." Ron's face softened as they reached the bottom.

"Okay. We'll save you a place, but I can't promise that there will be any food left – I'm starving." Hermione reached over to slap his arm, but Ron merely grasped her hand and held it as they continued walking. Harry just shook his head as he watched their progress down the hall. For a while he roamed the halls, somehow knowing that Ginny would not have gone down to dinner. He fought the urge to smack himself on the forehead as he remembered the Marauder's Map, which waited in his dorm.

He rushed upstairs, pausing for a moment to throw on one of his school robes – the evening air had turned chilly. By the time he made it to the Owlry, the stars had come out. He found her, staring mutely out the window – her body shaking with veiled sobs. Harry walked slowly to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He wasn't prepared for her to gasp and claw at the stone wall before her. Panic ran through him, and he didn't realize her predicament until it was nearly too late. He managed to catch her around the waist as she collapsed, and quickly scooped her into his arms as he walked to the nearest bench. Harry held her tightly to him as his pounding heart began to calm. But Ginny's sobs became more pronounced, and she turned her face into his chest, screaming. He rocked her gently back and forth as he stroked her hair. He didn't know how long she cried; he was just glad he had been there to find her.

When she became still – her breathing deep and even in sleep – Harry lifted her once more in his arms and carried her down to the Gryffindor common room. He tried to stretch her out on one of the couches, but her hands would not surrender their iron grasp on his robes. So he settled himself into one of the spacious arm chairs next to the fire, and pillowed her head on his shoulder. The potion Madam Pomfrey had given him was wearing off, and the weight of her against his chest aggravated his bruise, but he would not let go of her – would not leave her alone tonight.

Or ever, he silently promised himself. Not if I can help it.

I think this is officially the longest chapter I have ever posted here! For any of my stories! I hope you enjoyed it. :-) The end is Harry's point of view of something that happens in my story about Ginny called The Distance.