Harry had made the trip down to Dumbledore's gravesite on the far side of the lake on his own. He hadn't wanted to advertise the fact that he was going to hide the most powerful wand in the world right there on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was better if everyone thought he was simply taking a moment to himself before leaving the grounds.

It was simple enough to open Dumbledore's stone slab since it had already been broken open by Voldemort. Harry, however, after no sleep in the last day, did not find it quite so easy to replace the wand within Dumbledore's year-long dead hands. There was the simple fact that Dumbledore simply appeared to only be sleeping—could a spell have been placed so that he wouldn't decompose? But no, Dumbledore would have never wanted something like that. It was just chance that he appeared this way.

Harry slowly placed one foot into the stone grave. It was just deep enough that Harry couldn't reach his old headmaster by simply leaning over. With trembling hands, Harry slid the wand into the small gap under Dumbledore's hands and then heaved his leg out of the grave again.

Harry's old wand seemed to sing to him within his pocket once he released the more powerful one. Harry hardly noticed as he magically repaired and then replaced the stone slab overtop Dumbledore's body. Unthinking, he felt his lips incant spells to conceal the wand only—they were spells that he'd only ever heard Hermione whisper while living in the woods during the autumn and winter.

Once finished, Harry's legs would no longer support him. He sat down on the grass with his back to Dumbledore's grave and gazed out at the lake. White light bounced off of the tiny waves as a mermaid swam up to the surface, gazed at Harry's unblinking face and then swam back down into the green-muddy water again.

Harry was alive.

And it was over.

He remembered the figures of Tonks and Lupin lying on the floor of the Great Hall, their hands barely touching, and wondered if they were still there. He needed to take care of his father's last best friend—his father's Hermione. Lay him to rest. And find out where Lupin's child—Harry's godson—was.

Should he adopt their child? Harry was only seventeen, after all. Though, how many seventeen-year-olds had been through what Harry had? Hopefully he was a tad more mature at this point than he would have been otherwise.

He realized that hiding the Elder Wand wouldn't be his last step after the battle. Maybe he'd never be done with this battle. Not really.

As Harry heaved himself to his feet from the small strip of land by the lake, he heard something (or someone) stir just within the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Harry couldn't muster enough energy to even turn his head to the sound.

Though, he laughed to himself at the thought of being attacked and possibly dying from anything on these grounds now. Not now. It'd be absurd.

He reminded himself he'd have to die someday. Immediately, he thought of how, after turning the Ressurection Stone, James had appeared to him the way Harry had thought he had when he'd first conjured a Patronus…

Ron entered through the Fat Lady's portrait hole having just passed Ginny on the stairs. Hermione was sitting alone on the couch before the fireplace. There was a book in her hands. Ron fought back the tears that threatened to fall at the sight of her there. It was almost too good to be true.

Taking a deep breath, he walked to her and sat down next to her. In the corner of the room, McGonagall was speaking quietly to Colin Creevey's little brother. Ron tried not to watch as a woman, who must have been Colin's mother, came in and spoke to McGonagall, gave her a hug, and then took her surviving son's hand and half-dragged him from the room as the boy stared dumbly at the floor.

McGonagall turned and saw that Ron was looking at him. She glanced at Hermione and smiled at the sight of her reading and looked back at Ron and smiled at him as well. He felt himself smiling back at her. She strode purposefully away to the opposite corner. Seamus and Dean were there. He hadn't noticed them there until now. The two stood and followed McGonagall from the room.

Glancing around, Ron was surprised to find that he and Hermione were now alone. He saw Hermione's hand resting next to him and he grabbed it and held it in his own.

Her fingers were cold. "Alright there?" he asked her.

"Mm hm," she said without looking up from her book. Sitting up from his slouch, Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek. He watched her profile as she smiled down at her book and he couldn't help but smile too.

He kissed her cheek again and let himself laugh at her smile.

Then, she turned and kissed him. It was just as passionate as after she'd killed the horcrux in the chamber and when she'd dropped the basilisk fangs when he'd mentioned the house elves.

But now, there was no battle to finish fighting. There was only the two of them in the Gryffindor Common Room.

She pushed him back on the couch, grinning coyly at him. And she kissed him again. Her hair was even wilder than it normally was. It was like a bushy curtain around them.

But suddenly, she was gone. Standing next to him. Someone had come in, he realized belatedly. Ron hurried to his feet and stood in front of her.

It was Dean.

"Forgot this," he said, as he hurried over to the table he'd been sitting at. He picked up a brown jacket that was slung on the back of a chair. Smirking at them, Ron smirked back as Dean hurried from the room. They were alone again.

"We can't have that happen again," Hermione said, glancing down at the couch and then quickly to Ron and away again.

"Can't we?" he said. He pulled her toward himself and he was surprised when she let him kiss her. He threaded his hand into her hair, holding her as they kissed.

"We need to be more careful," she said against his lips. She took his hand and pulled him to the portrait hole.

"Where are we going?" he asked her quietly as they hurried down the steps to the sixth floor.

"Somewhere else." They hurried past a broom closet but then Hermione stopped suddenly. "Perfect," she said and pulling her wand from her pocket, she silently unlocked the door and pulled him inside. He shut the door behind himself. He desperately hoped there weren't any spiders.

The mid-morning sun was bright over the grounds. The air was warm and smelled like the end of school. Harry gazed toward the Whomping Willow and wondered what Lupin would have said to being buried nearby the thing. It'd been planted for him, after all. But then Harry realized that Lupin was probably glad to leave at least that tree behind.

He could ask Mrs. Weasley what to do. But Mrs. Weasley needed to bury Fred… Harry felt himself shake his head at himself.

How had he reached the Great Hall so quickly? It was as though his feet carried him to where they thought the dead bodies were without even meaning to do so. But of course—the dead were no longer there. Where'd they go? He hadn't thought about it in the midst of battle while defeating Voldemort but he was thinking about it now. He had no idea where they could have been taken.

"Harry," said a familiar voice. He turned and saw her red hair first. Then her bright brown eyes. And then down the rest of her.

"Ginny," Harry said, seeming to exhale her name. He pulled her into his arms without thinking about it. Or had she hugged him first? Her hair smelled good even though she was grimy with dirt.

"Are you alright?" he asked almost as a reflex.

"Yes. You'd disappeared again. Hermione said you'd gone up to the Headmaster's Office, but then I crossed paths with Ron and he said you were going to go somewhere on a walk and he wasn't sure where. He said he thought maybe the grounds somewhere—" And then Ginny did something he'd never imagined her capable of: she started crying. Really sobbing. He held her tighter, unsure what to say. He wished he could sob like that. It probably would make him feel better.

"I'm here now," he managed to say. After a minute, she calmed down enough to let go of him and step back.

"Sorry," she said wiping her eyes. Harry tried to smile at her but wasn't sure that he managed to. Fred had died, after all. It was terrible to think, but Harry was only relieved that the Weasleys had only lost one child.

Harry realized it then: the whole stupid reason he'd half-heartedly broken things off with Ginny, the whole thing… it was okay now. No more trying to be noble in case he died.

"I'm not dead." He didn't mean to say it out loud.

"Yeah," she said, and actually smiled and laughed at him, "I know." He wanted to kiss her but he wasn't sure if he should. After all, thinking back, she had always been the one starting everything. Instead, they simply stared at one another for a few seconds before she spoke again, "Erm, look. I know you don't really have anywhere… Mum said it'd be alright if you stay with us until you figure out what you want to do."

Harry hadn't even thought about it. He was homeless. Well, except for Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He'd have to get rid of that little trick Dumbledore-ghost first if he ever wanted to go back there. Hopefully Hermione would help him with that.

"Yes, I'd love to," Harry said. He promised himself he'd pay rent. That is, if Gringott's was still open after his stunt with the dragon. Maybe they'd used his money to repair the place? He added that to the growing mental list of problems he'd have to face in the coming weeks.

"Great," she said, smiling at him again. She reached out and took his hand in hers and led her back out of the Great Hall. He realized they were headed toward Gryffindor Tower.

"Do you need to pack?" he asked her. He liked the feeling of her hand in his but at the same time, it felt foreign and like something forbidden still.

"Nope," she said simply.

"Oh."

"Kreacher brought some food up."

"Oh," Harry said again. His stomach seemed to wake up when she said this. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten anything. With Dumbledore's brother in Hogsmead? Had he actually eaten anything then? It seemed like such a long time ago. He'd intended to eat after he slept but he still hadn't gotten around to it.

Ron grabbed her and pulled her to himself. He didn't realize it, but he actually forgot all about the possibility of spiders. She kissed him.

He was very, very nervous suddenly. He tried to hide it by kissing her harder, but that only made Hermione grab hold of him with a firmer grip. She was really kissing him, and he returned her kisses the best that he could… the little breathy sounds she was making were so distracting—but in a good way… Honestly, everything was amazing until sparks flew from her wand and caught his sleeve on fire.

"Oh! Aguamenti!" she shouted and doused the fire out. "Ah, sorry Ron!" She waved her wand in a complicated way and dried him off.

"Thanks," Ron said. He couldn't help but laugh. Her worried look, he could see in the low light of the closet, had turned into a faint smile. "Would you mind putting that thing away now?"

"Yes," she said, shoving it into her pocket, "of course." They stepped toward each other at the same time and kissed. It was a little awkward now, but Ron didn't care. He'd kiss Hermione all day if he could.

"Ron, ouch. You're stepping on my foot," Hermione said quietly.

"Oh, sorry," he said, stepping back. His heel bumped into the wall. He tried not to notice the crunch (bug or spider?) under his foot.

"It's alright," she said. She pulled him down roughly and kissed him again. But the height difference between them was painful. Ron's upper back ached after about ten seconds of leaning this way.

"Come here," he said and lifted her up. She tried to wrap her legs around him but the closet was too small. She started laughing again.

"This seemed like a better idea than it was," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah," he said, glad that she was laughing. "Maybe we could go up to the Common Room again?"

"Yes, alright," she said and he set her back down. He wouldn't let her drop his hand though. Maybe if they got up there before Harry did, they could make use of Ron's old school bed. A thousand fantasies he'd had over the last few years—ever since the Yule Ball in fourth year—flashed through Ron's mind then.

He turned and kissed her quickly as they walked. She responded immediately to the kiss. They had to stop there in the hall before Ron was the one to pull away.

"Come on," he said, reluctantly when he heard footsteps at the opposite end of the hall. Hermione made a frustrated little noise in the back of her throat which did more to turn Ron on than any of her kisses. He took her hand and led her back toward the Common Room.

When the Fat Lady let them in without a password, Harry was expecting to see a room full of people, but it was surprisingly empty.

"Where is everyone?" he wondered aloud.

"Mom and Dad and everyone are at the Burrow already—except Ron and Hermione of course. Ron said they'd be here and would wait for you. I was sure they'd be here… maybe they went to the kitchens? But most other people went home already too. There's a lot—of things to plan… and a fair number of people to lock up in Azkaban."

"Right." Azkaban—another thing to add to the mental list.

Ginny was leading him up to his old dormitory. He listened to their footsteps echo against the stone steps. The only time he'd been here when it was this empty was during holidays.

When they entered the dormitory, Harry could smell the tray before he saw it. It was laden with tea sandwiches and two bowls of hot stew. And treacle tart and pumpkin juice.

"Have you eaten?" he asked her.

"Nope. Was too busy looking for you." She grabbed a sandwich and took a bite. Harry watched her eat for a minute before he picked up a sandwich too. Even dirty, she was cute when she ate.

"What?" she asked, noticing that he was staring at her. Harry didn't normally like tuna salad but he was hungry enough that it tasted good.

"Nothing," he said, smiling with his mouth closed. Suddenly, the door burst open. Ginny caught the tray as Harry jumped up, wand out before he realized that he'd moved. It was Ron coming in through the door though, dragging Hermione behind him.

"Oh," Ron said, glancing between Harry and Ginny.

"Oh, we were just looking for the two of you," Hermione said, though her face was crimson.

"Want a sandwich?" Harry asked, lowering his wand and sitting back down. Ron grabbed one as Harry finished his little sandwich off and picked up one of the bowls of stew. Hermione didn't move from where she stood, but simply crossed her arms over her chest and looked to the floor. Harry noticed that Ginny was trying not to laugh. But as he caught her eye, she couldn't contain it anymore. She swallowed and then, as she laughed hard enough that tears came from her eyes, Harry couldn't help but laugh as well.

"Honestly, we really were looking for you," Hermione said, "I don't see what's so funny." She plucked a sandwich from the tray and took a small bite from the corner without looking at anyone.

Hermione's parents—there was another thing for the mental list. How many things was that to remember now? Harry thought that he ought to actually make a written list.

The four ate in a companionable silence—he and Ginny on what used to be his bed, and Hermione and Ron on the bed that used to be Ron's. As Harry gazed from Ginny to Ron and to Hermione, he noticed that they all seemed to be deep in thought. He wished he could just wave his holly and phoenix wand and take their concern away, but he didn't know of such a charm.

Once Harry finished his bowl of stew, and Ginny finished hers, and Ron finished off the sandwiches, Harry offered his treacle tart around. As the tray was finished off, he tried to stifle his yawn but Hermione noticed at once.

"Come on, I think we all need to get some rest. Especially Harry." Hermione left the room without checking to see if anyone was following her.

"I'm just going to—," Ron said and hurried after Hermione.

"I can't sleep like this," Ginny said. "I need a bath."

Harry automatically imagined her in the bath.

"Want directions to the Prefect's bathroom?" Harry asked, moving the tray to an empty bed. Magically, it disappeared when he let go of it. He wasn't surprised.

"Actually, I don't need directions," Ginny said, smirking at him. "I was made prefect at the start of the school year. You were busy, I wouldn't expect you to know—"

"Sorry. I guess I have a lot to catch up on."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to that," she said and winked at him.

"Don't fall asleep in the bath."

"I'll try not to," she said, and seemed to wait for Harry to speak again. When he didn't say anything else, she said, "Well, see you later Harry." Then, she stood and started toward the door. He wanted to tell her to wait, and some part of him wanted to invite himself along to her bath, but he was just too tired. And if he had been honest with himself, he would have realized that he hadn't really spoken to her in a year.

And yet, she still felt like home to him. There was just something so familiar about her in a way that Ron and Hermione never could be for him. Last year, she'd been a sort of haven of happiness for him. She'd been something separate. Something secret in his heart that he'd held onto in the worst hours in the last year or so. He'd worried about her, sure, but the fact that she was still alive—that someday if he'd live through all this he'd be able to come back to her—had been one of the biggest things that he daren't allow himself to realize that he'd held onto in his heart.

With one last glance over her shoulder, Ginny shut the door behind herself. Harry didn't realize he'd been smiling until after she left and wondered if she thought he was strange for seeming happy right now.

But no, she understood. She'd been smiling too, after all.

Within minutes, Harry fell fast asleep on top of the still-made bed.