"Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what he loves." - Blaise Pascal

His eyes take in that much familiar face, as well known as his own to him, he thinks but dismisses the thought in the next breathe as his eyes take in her; watching her in a way never seen before as the rays of the rising sun on her beautiful face, help him see with more clarity than ever before... making him truly comprehend for the first time in his life just how poor an eyesight he truly has had all along.

They'd just won the war a couple of hours ago and sleep was deluding him despite being tired like never before. His mind skittering through the memories of the day - of the things he had seen, heard and felt since the battle commenced and even worse, once it was all over. Voices echoing in his head - of the curses he had thrown himself and the ones thrown at him and others. Hearing the blasts that destroyed so much of Hogwarts, a place he had come to think of as his true first home. He can still hear the arrogance of Voldemort still in some part of his head moments before he was annihilated. He's afraid he'd never forget the sight of Lavender mauled by Fenrir laying dead there... worse of all he can never forget the sight of the Weasley family gathered around Fred mourning his loss, Molly's wails breaking something within him.

The weirdest part of all though is how it's the words uttered to him in the softest of voices, dripping with desperation, loyalty, and the pain of a heart breaking into a million pieces that ring above them all in his head, words he can't just seem to let go off.

"I'll go with you."

He had always known, that if there ever came a time he'd willingly take a bullet for any of his two best friends and had no doubts that they'd do the same for him... why was it then that these words refused to leave his head?

What was it about them that continued to haunt him? Why wouldn't they just leave his head? His eyes take in his best friend now - standing in front of him - her clothes still carrying the remnants of the battle, much as his - dirt, soot and the worst of all blood - so much blood.

He had left the Great Hall, or whatever was left of it to come looking for her, when his weary eyes hadn't been able to find any sleep despite his best attempts to submit to Morpheus for all eternity, in-spite of his exhaustion and all he could do was think of her.

He had seen these eyes as they'd all but plead with him to walk besides him to his death, had been distraught when he hadn't said anything and just walked away from her, feeling so many things at the time - unaware that he would once again be able to glance at this beloved face, unable to comprehend what was happening to him, so many feelings, so many thoughts coursing across him only for one to hold true above all - his then certain knowledge that he had to walk to surrender himself to Voldemort, to his eventual death.

He hadn't known he'd survive then... and in the moments since he did he hadn't been able to find a moment's respite to think things over much. It was only when night had fallen, when all that those around him had wanted either to grieve or sleep or get away that he had had a chance to find an abandoned corner, behind the staff table at the Great Hall that his poor battered body had found some solace in a quiet spot where he had sat undisturbed for a long time. With his eyes closed and his back to the wall, his legs aching from the exertion that he had found a little solace.

Only to find a humorless laugh escape his lips as he realized his curse - today it was his mind that wouldn't allow his poor body the rest it clearly sought and had earned, just like his fate wouldn't let him catch a bloody break.

It was in one of those moments where his body seemed to be cursing his mind, where he was once again at a war - this time with himself - that the first recollection of her words had struck him. How easily did she volunteer to walk to her death, all for him... with him and a shiver had coursed down his spine that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

He had thought that was the worst of it - when his mind had to go there - in the moments when everyone had thought him dead and he lay there in Hagrid's strong arms, his gentle half-giant friend cradling him with so much care even as his sobs wracked his body for him. He recalled Neville's bravery clearly as he recalled Voldemort and his cronies celebrating. He remembered Ginny crying aloud as well as Molly.

What ranked above them all was the sight that had greeted his eyes as the first thing that happened to come across them as soon as he opened them - her face, ashen and pale, as she stood there taking him in, looking like death warmed over her... silent in her grief and yet willing to follow him, in his assumed fate, at a moment's notice.

It was that moment he had chosen to strike back. It was then that he had revealed that he had survived Voldemort's killing curse, yet again.

In that brief window of time, he hadn't had a chance to consider just why had he picked that moment and not a second sooner to turn the tide - not when he clearly saw Neville standing up for him, Voldemort mocking his friends, teachers and those gathered around them; not even when he heard Ginny and Molly Weasley's anguished sobs for him.

He hadn't even interrupted Voldemort embracing Draco, whose face was a mixture of incredulity, horror and shock all in one, a sight he had never imagined he'd see on that particular face at least.

But it had been Hermione, the look of determination and resolve forming on her face, just as she had closed her eyes, ready to succumb to her fate that had triggered him to act.

He was too tired to comprehend what his mind was trying to tell him, what had his heart thundering when Luna had come across.

"I see the wrackspurts are about to leave you finally Harry. They definitely got tired of being around for so long."

Shaking his head even as a weary smile crossed across his face he looked up at her, only Luna could be so... Luna...he had nothing to say, nor even the braincells to follow her line of thought though at that moment. But he could never know what he would say to Luna ever, not really and so he muttered the first words that came to his confused mind.

"Good for them Luna."

"Clearly Harry, they've been nesting in your head for years now. They never stay so long as they did with you."

"Well I hope they have a pleasant journey to whatever their next destination is and that they enjoy their time there. I don't think the inside of my head would have been the most pleasant of places for them these past many years."

"Oh but it was and it wasn't." He had just looked at Luna then and she hadn't disappointed when she expanded on that explanation next.

"You see they infest boys in their teens more than they do anyone or anything else. They like to savor the myriad of thoughts across their heads."

For some reason her words have a laugh bursting from his lips.

"Don't tell Hermione that Luna, she'd never believe that boys are capable of having thoughts, as in, in the plural, especially teenage boys let alone there being a myriad of them and above all them being anything that can be described as savory."

"Oh but they do Harry and Hermione will believe me, don't worry."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

He can't help but play along, raising an eyebrow at his friend as he asks her this question, delighting in this exchange of the nonsensical and unbelievable after the day, the weeks, months, hell, the years he has had now. A part of him thinks he deserves a break, a good laughter at least after everything.

"Oh it's easy Harry, wrackspurts feast on thoughts, and just like we have a variety of flavors in our foods so do our thoughts. There's spicy for angry; sour for jealousy, sweet for happiness and so on and so forth. But their clear favorites are naughty thoughts, where but in the heads of teenage boys would they find the best of their meals? Hermione would understand that instantly."

He sits there, his body aching, his wide eyes taking in the innocent and completely nonchalant look on Luna's face, a part of his tired brain wondering if she's taking the mickey out of him.. even as a blush colors his cheeks as they heat up, and have an indescribable desire to twitch, feeling scrutinized under that silver gaze. A part of him screams at him, he has just defeated a dark lord and yet... yet he's being flustered by this harmless girl's words... words that aren't even in any manner offensive, only facts delivered in her soft voice, without an inflection of judgement or disgust as if she were discussing the weather with him. And it is this that makes him feel absolutely stupid and silly, Luna is making a general statement that's a universal truth about teenage boys and yet, something about this surreal conversation makes him want to burrow in a hole in the earth and never crawl out of there. Which given that he just faced death and came back makes him feel absolutely mortified and touched in the head, not entirely a feeling he enjoys.

Unaware of the earthquake sized tremors that she's causing in his head, or perhaps aware of the same Luna goes on though as if this is a normal conversation between them that occurs frequently.

"Won't you ask me what's making them leave you Harry?"

"What?" He croaks out the word afraid of her answer, even as he wants to run away at the same time and is aware his body is now being petty as it refuses to cooperate with his mind; as a sort of revenge for not letting him fall asleep earlier.

"Above all the wrackspurts require confusion to thrive... they'll be back again at some point in your head you see but now that your mind is clearing off the biggest obstacles in your path.. they need to move out for you're on your way to knowing what exactly you want."

"Huh? Well... I... I think yeah, without snake head hunting me it would be nice to see what a peaceful life is like and perhaps an actual bed in the near future would be the best thing in the world."

"Is that what you were thinking about right now?"

"Well a part of me yeah."

"Hmm... but that's not why they're leaving your head Harry. They only leave when they find confusion clearing away from your head. Who was it that your thoughts were focused on as I found you and what were you thinking? It's alright if you don't want to tell me, I can understand that it's personal. But you should follow your instincts and go about them, follow your heart Harry and I'm sure you'll get what you want and the whackspurts will go away for now... they'll return of course, we all can't stay clearheaded all the time after all, but they wouldn't ever be around in these numbers as they're now ever again. Goodbye Harry."

And with that she had left, leaving him with a little headache and words to ponder on. He rigorously shook his head to clear his mind and it had him thinking about seeking out Hermione and wondering if she still had some pain relief potions in that bag of hers and his mind had staggered as he let out a loud breath.

He had been thinking about Hermione just before Luna had found him. Her words to him as well as her silence when she thought him dead.

It came to him like a bludger across his chest - the realization that took his breath away... Hermione loved him.

She hadn't once abandoned him, she spent months starving and hunted without ever losing faith in him, she suffered torture to protect him and today, TWICE, she had been willing to face death, once besides him and once, when she thought him gone... Memories of years rushed past his head in a span of a few minutes and he felt the wind knocked out of him.

A memory stood out in his head, from a few months ago... of a day where they found the world dripped in joy and celebrations around them when he had felt the most acute spasm of grief, sadness and pain engulfing his heart as he stood staring at his parents's graves for the first time in his life.

She'd stood beside him that day, and now, instead of focusing on the horror that befell them later, of the anger that clouded his mind whenever he thought of the day owing to the loss of his wand, he focused on the memories that mattered, that weren't tainted with hate and anger and revulsion. He focused on the feeling of finally having a chance to look at his parents's resting place, he focused on her right beside him, holding his hand and placing her head on his shoulder after placing a wreath on his parents's graves.

But most of all, he focused on the feeling of how right it had felt to have her besides him.

The thought that he should have introduced her to his parents, told them all about her and how wonderful she is and how lucky he feels to have her by his side every day, as they face the worst of odds and her presence fills him with courage and hope that he can win this... with her by her side, nothing is impossible, halts his mind to a standstill like no other.

Hell, she had all but orphaned herself, wiping away the memories of her parents, to not only keep them safe but to stay by his side.

Running a hand over his mouth, he closes his eyes even as his head rests on the wall behind him and his heart races in his chest like never before as it hits him - he owes so much to Hermione, his survival, their victory...

For the first time in his mind there's no doubt that when he goes back to visit his parents what he'd say and more importantly who would he want there besides him.

It comes as a shock to his system that he can never envision anyone else there with him not that day and certainly not one in the future. Ron's his best mate, his first friend ever and while he'd not mind someday Ron standing beside him paying respects to his parents, it's not the same as having Hermione there with him.

He'd been thinking of Ginny so much during his sixth year and even whenever he could during those months on the run in the tent, watching her name over a map... and yet he can't envision her being with him as he introduces her to his parents, holding his hand, keeping her silence to let him pour his heart out to them once he goes to see them now that this is all over.

In his mind's eye he can only imagine Hermione in that place - holding his hand as they sit down so he might talk to his parents and unload on them years of grief and longing for them.

No, he can't see Ginny or Cho there besides him, girls he had dated, which oddly enough clears his mind of just what he had felt for them or to be more accurate could have never felt for them.

And yet, judging by the same parameters he has no doubt that the only one who he has to have there by his side is Hermione, the one who belongs there more than anybody else in this world.

Mind cleared, a deep breathe taken, he opens his eyes and slowly standing up he scans the numbers across him and finds her nowhere.

Another encounter happens with Luna and she simply smiles at him before replying in her usual serene manner.

"I find the Black Lake to be very soothing at this time Harry, I think you should go there. Hermione headed over just a little while ago."

Smiling at his friend he thanks her, moving out of the place, trying to be as silent as possible as his aching legs slowly take him across the grounds, killing him a little with each step and yet he can't wait to get to his destination.

He finds her at the edge of the lake, looking across the horizon, standing all alone in the silence and can't help but feel the rush of affection overcoming him.

The sound of his foot stepping over a twig, snapping it in the process alerts her to his presence and on instinct she turns around, facing him, her wand aiming at his head; before her eyes take him in and her mouth opens in an O, surprise etched across her features momentarily before she blushes and lowers her wand, color rising in her cheeks as she looks at him and gives him a small smile.

"Sorry Harry you startled me. So... what are you doing here?"

She asks him, her eyes moving over his face. He has so many things running around his head at the moment that he blurts out the first words that come naturally to him.

"You are in love with me."

He says calmly, his voice so soft she doubts she'd have heard him if he hadn't been standing so close to her, those green eyes of his boring into her, searching the depths of her very heart and soul.

Her breathe stutters as her eyes widen and her mind freezes in response to those words she hadn't thought she'd ever hear, not from him at least.

The panic in her chest increasing as she gulps, standing in silence in front of the boy she has loved for years, knowing her feelings will never be returned, her hopes are in vain and hoping he never discovers the depth of her feelings lest she lose his friendship too, all that she has of him, all that is allowed to her; only to stand in front of him, here today, years after her heart became his, not even a whole day after he vanquished his worst enemy, making her feel like she finally achieved her biggest accomplishment - his safety... to have her deepest secret out and so casually thrown in her face.

"Harry..."

She never gets a chance to get another word across before he's leaning towards her, his hands on her waist pulling her in, his lips on hers even as her brain fails to grasp what is happening.

Even before she has a chance to get her already jumbled up thoughts straight in her head, Harry looks at her with an expression she never saw across his face, as if she were something unreal and precious. His eyes, those green ambers that have haunted so many of her dreams, settle on her as if she was the most beautiful sight in the world for him, leaving her speechless when he smiles at her, his hands leaving her waist making her want to pull them over her body again as she already misses their warmth, their presence when his hands cup her face.

Looking into her eyes, Harry utters the words she had never expected from him, yet again, that fill her very being with a joy unlike any she has even felt before.

"I love you Hermione."

And his lips captured hers once again, this time as her limp arms cooperate and move over him, hands running across his back and into his unruly black hair; molding her body to his oh so completely as her tongue runs across his lips, gaining access to his mouth and her first taste of him.