2 May 1998—Great Hall
Harry stumbled out of Gryffindor Tower, still a little groggy; he could have slept longer, he knew, but he didn't want to. Immediately, the portraits around him began to clap and cheer, and Harry gave them a half-hearted smile, hurrying down the corridor to the stairs. He passed several people who looked half-awake, still battle-worn, and he felt a rush of guilt for having gone to sleep when he knew others had started rebuilding the castle.
He made his way through the remains of the entrance hall—the light pouring in from the ruined ceiling told him that it was midday. Could it be? Just six hours ago, perhaps? Six hours since it had all ended. How was it possible? Twenty-four hours ago, he had been on the back of a dragon, the most wanted man in the country, and now here he stood, gazing into the Great Hall.
It was partially destroyed as well, but was serving, once again, as a makeshift infirmary. Harry immediately began to take a mental tally of people. He had seen Ron and Hermione sleeping in an armchair in Gryffindor Tower. They were safe. Kingsley had said his goodbyes before breakfast so that he might report to the Ministry. Harry sighed inwardly; he had wondered for a moment where Remus and Tonks were, and his stomach had wrenched painfully when he remembered.
Harry saw Mr. Weasley hurrying between two of the long tables, carrying a medical kit; he looked older than Harry had ever seen him, and very tired. He did not notice Harry, whose stomach gave another painful clench at the thought of Fred. He wondered whether Mrs. Weasley had stayed up as well; he looked around the hall, but did not see her.
Slightly worried, Harry glanced around for other faces he recognized. People passed him, clapping him on the back and saying words of greeting, which he acknowledged.
Professor Flitwick was helping Michael Corner sit up on a table, offering him a goblet of water. Michael looked as though he had only just woken up. His face was covered in bruises, and there was a deep wound above his ear, which looked partially healed. Harry nodded at him, and Michael smiled.
Professor Vector and Professor Sinistra were sitting with Professor Slughorn. They were all sober-faced and sad-looking, but Slughorn tried to give Harry a smile as he passed. Harry nodded. Professor Sprout had been hit by a truly horrible curse sometime during the latter half of the battle; she had been taken to St. Mungo's in the very first wave of transports, barely alive.
"Harry," said a soft voice from his left. Harry looked around and saw Lavender Brown lying on the Hufflepuff table. The right side of her face and neck was marred by two long gashes, and her arm was covered in bloodied bandages. Harry's stomach dropped; Greyback had really hurt her.
"Hi, Lavender," he said, coming closer. She smiled a little dazedly.
"I'm glad I got to see you," she told him earnestly. "They're taking me to St. Mungo's in the next Apparition."
Gently, Harry touched her uninjured hand, genuinely sorry for the pain he knew she must be in. "Thank you," Harry told her. "For everything. You were amazing out there, I saw."
Lavender smiled and winced. "You weren't half bad yourself, from what I heard."
Harry smiled back slightly. "Hey, you haven't seen Ginny anywhere, have you?"
Lavender's unobscured eye rested on him with a knowing look. "She was just here, checking on me." Gingerly, she lifted her left arm to point. "Try further down, she might be with Professor McGonagall."
"Thank you," Harry said again. He patted her hand gently. "Get some rest—I'll see you later."
"Later," Lavender repeated.
Harry nodded and set off down the table. There were not many people in the Hall. Members of the Order and Dumbledore's Army were scattered about, tending to a few wounded who remained, presumably because they were stable enough to wait for transport to St. Mungo's, like Lavender. Harry knew that others still were upstairs, sleeping, like Ron and Hermione.
Then he saw a flash of tomato-red ahead of him, and Harry broke into a trot. Ginny was standing over Professor McGonagall, who was seated on one of the long benches. Her robes were dusty and torn, her hair falling in pieces from its knot. Ginny was frowning at a spellbook, with instructions on how to repair broken bones open to her, and had her wand pointed at Professor McGonagall's right shoulder. There was a dark bruise on that same side of her neck, visible just beneath the collar of her robes.
"Exactly, exactly," Professor McGonagall was saying, holding her shoulder and nodding, as if she were merely helping Ginny with a piece of particularly difficult homework. Harry wondered how long she had gone without telling anyone she was wounded; she was terribly pale.
Harry stood a few feet away, watching as Ginny tapped Professor McGonagall's shoulder and muttered the incantation. A soft blue light glowed for a moment, outlining McGonagall's arm, and then faded. The bruise was much fainter now.
"Ah," said Professor McGonagall, sighing and closing her eyes. She flexed her arm gently, wincing only a bit. "Thank you, Miss Weasley, you did very well. Oh," she said in surprise as she looked up. She gave Harry a small, thin-lipped smile around Ginny's arm, and Ginny spun.
"Harry," she said, and Harry heard so much emotion in her voice that he wanted to pull her into his arms right then.
"I believe I'm feeling much better," said Professor McGonagall, getting a little stiffly to her feet and massaging her neck. "Thank you very much, Miss Weasley." And without waiting for an answer, she swept off down the table, leaving Harry and Ginny alone for the first time in—well, months.
"I—er," Harry mumbled. What did he say to her? She had just lost her brother, her friends, and survived the longest night in wizarding history. Months of watching her dot on the Marauder's Map, wondering how she was, where she was, what she was doing, and Harry had nothing to say to her.
"The Healers will be back soon," Ginny said quietly. "They'll take Firenze and Lavender, and a few others, and that'll be everybody. They've been taking people every hour, apparently London's a bit mad right now. You don't need the hospital, do you?" she asked suddenly, worried.
"No," Harry said quickly. "I'm fine. I—I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have left you all on your own—"
"Don't be stupid," Ginny told him gently. "No one blames you. We haven't even started on rebuilding, it's just been a lot of looking after the injured. We—er, we made a…a list of…people." Her voice faded on the last word, and Harry knew she meant people who had died. People who had died fighting with him.
Harry nodded, his throat dry. "How's—"
"Mum's gone up to Gryffindor Tower to rest," Ginny said, knowing what he was asking. She looked away, and Harry felt the same urge to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. "She's…well, she'll be okay," Ginny said, wiping a hand under her nose. "Dad's looking after her."
Harry stared down at the stone floor, guilt and shame building inside him. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he said.
"Sorry?" Ginny asked. Harry looked up, startled at her rather sharp tone. "Sorry you just ended this war? Sorry that millions of people are safe now? That Death Eaters are finally being locked away, that You-Know-Who is finally dead?"
Harry stared, but Ginny pressed on.
"We lost a lot, Harry," she said, stepping closer, and in her tear-filled brown eyes Harry could see Remus, Tonks, and most clearly, Fred. "But we won. And I don't think that that is anything to be sorry about at all."
Harry gazed at her, completely lost for words.
"Harry?" Ginny whispered, taking a step closer. Harry looked into her eyes, which were now spilling over with tears. The sight gave Harry a sick feeling. Ginny did not cry, she never cried.
"I love you," she said. It was so simple, yet fell so oddly on his ears, that Harry was not sure he had heard her say it. His mouth fell open, and Ginny took both of his hands in her own, looking at him.
"Yeah," Harry said softly, as realization crashed over him. "I—I love you too."
It was the most wonderful moment of Harry's life. Amid everything awful, and painful, and the sorrow of the last horrible night, Harry was starting to smile. Ginny gave a little sob, and Harry felt his own eyes water, and they leapt into each other's arms, ignorant of any onlookers.
Harry and Ginny clung to one another tightly as the sun shone brightly through the enchanted ceiling, illuminating a brilliant blue sky.
*Sigh*
Somehow, writing this was so cathartic. Haven't you ever just desperately wanted to hug somebody? Damn it, how do I keep falling in love with these two, over and over and over?
On another note, I wrote the wedding today. It's 3500 words, so just brace yourselves. It will be our finale (Chapter 35), and the next chapters to come are: (30) "Hermione," (31) "O.W.L.s," (32) "Godparents," (33) I NEED A SUGGESTION!, (34) "First Kiss," and (35) "Wedding" (a.k.a. Magic). So, if there's something you've been dying to see, I decided today that I wanted to include "Magic" with "Wedding," and I need a new chapter 34. I'm going to ask that you don't say anything from Deathly Hallows; I've got some plans for that book that I don't want to mess with (I've already kind of done that). For those of you who read Honestly, Ronald, you know I did that kind of..."tying it all together" piece. Would you want something like that? (It's the second-to-last chapter in HR, for reference, if you really want a say in this but don't want to read that behemoth).
All right, that's enough out of me. Go enjoy your day knowing that there's a little more love in the world.
Lucy
