Harry didn't lower his wand until he was sure it was over, until he was sure Voldemort wasn't going to get up. He had barely even registered the words coming from his mouth before they were out, but he had to make sure. He felt strange now. Off. Something was wrong. Missing. He couldn't tell, but he didn't feel like himself. He hadn't since he'd woken up in the forest.

The air around him was silent. The occasional dust cloud moved through, but besides that, the Wizarding World was holding its breath. Harry stepped closer to the body, swallowing hard in case it hadn't worked. What if Voldemort was just faking? What if his intent hadn't been right and it wasn't over?

He looked down to see Voldemort's red eyes staring back at him, and he jumped back for a split second before he realized they were lifeless and quickly fading. He was dead. He'd done it. Harry barely had time to tap him with the toe of his shoe to triple check before tears were streaming down his face with relief. Seven years of hell because of this man and he was gone. Finished. And there was his dead body so they could bury it or burn it or whatever they wanted to do with it and there was no more of his soul left to come back. Harry's scar would never hurt again. The visions would be gone. Hermione wouldn't have to deal with a boyfriend who had a piece of a villain's soul inhabiting him.

Hermione.

That's what was missing - he couldn't feel her anymore. He quickly wiped his eyes and readjusted his glasses as he turned to look back towards the castle. It felt like a million eyes were watching him. Waiting. But he was only looking for two. He wanted to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and spin her around and kiss her until she couldn't breathe, but his feet seemed to move in slow motion even when he spotted her. She was crying, and he could tell it wasn't with relief.

He pocketed the Elder Wand, and it seemed that people began to understand that it really was over as he moved further and further from the body. Harry sank to his knees in front of her, relieved to see her face, even as dirty and bloody as it was. Though she seemed a little reluctant to look at him, it didn't stop her from wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself into his chest. Hugging her felt so good, so different from the last hug they'd shared before he went into the forest. He'd saved her. They were both alive. They were safe.

She was gripping him like a lifeline, sobbing into his chest as he held her, and he never wanted to let go. Ron knelt down beside them too, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders and pulling them in as much as he could. Harry could feel eyes on them still, but he didn't care in this moment. His best friends were safe and the war was over.

"Dementors!" someone called out, and it pulled them back like a slap to the face. They weren't done. He quickly turned his head and saw maybe a dozen of the creatures moving towards them. It was relieving that it wasn't a lot, but when Harry tried to stand, his legs nearly gave out from exhaustion. Once he'd stopped moving, his body was begging him to stay down. On his knees, he pulled out his wand, but the only thing that came out of the tip of it were puffs of silvery-blue smoke. He tried and tried, looking to Hermione and Ron for help.

But Hermione couldn't produce anything, either. Her hands were shaky, her energy was shot, and her emotions were all over the place. She couldn't focus on anything at all, much less a happy memory. Everyone quickly began to catch on, and soon, there was a half-circle in front of the three of them, then a chorus of "Expecto Patonum!" that created at least the light that could drive the Dementors away.

Once they were all gone, it was Molly and Arthur who placed steady hands on their shoulders to help them up. "Come on. Let's get you three somewhere quiet."

Hermione clung to Arthur, who nearly had to pick her up to get her on her feet, but eventually, they were all standing and shuffling into the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall was waiting with a pair of badges.

She hugged the trio tightly, which was strange, but welcome. "I'm so, so proud of you three and I'm so glad you're safe and alive..." she whispered into each of their ears. "I know you're going to protest, but I'm not going to let you. I'm afraid as Head of House, I'm going to insist you take these." The Head Girl and Head Boy badges were extended in front of them. "We can arrange for another bed to be brought into the boys' room, but I've just checked and that part of the castle doesn't have too much damage. These rooms are safe, ward protected. Nothing can get in that you don't want."

"Professor," Hermione protested in a whisper, but she didn't have the energy to say much more.

"Miss Granger… please. Just for tonight, at least. The rest of us will start cleaning up, and Madam Pomfrey will deliver some Dreamless Sleep Potion so you can sleep soundly. You're priorities right now."

Harry looked down at the Elder Wand in his hand. It was his. He had two of the three Deathly Hallows, and if he searched hard enough through the forest, he'd find the Resurrection Stone again, too. He'd be invincible. Of course, he didn't want that. He hadn't wanted any of this.

"Professor, I… I think I need to be with my family tonight, if that's all right," Ron muttered, shifting his weight a little. Molly hugged him again tightly.

"Of course. Well, Miss Granger, Potter, these are for you, then. There's a private bathroom and everything you'll need to be comfortable. Do you know how to get there?" Hermione nodded. "These badges will act as the password. Of course, you'll still have access to the Gryffindor common room as well."

Hermione began walking immediately, and Harry turned to Ron. "You sure you don't want to stay here tonight?"

"Positive. I'm surprised you do."

"I… don't have anywhere else to go. Grimmauld Place will still be under watch for a while, I'm sure."

"You could come with me-"

"No offense, Ron, but I don't think that would be a good idea. I mean, you all need to… need to be together right now. I don't want to intrude on that. I'll be fine. I'm sure… Hermione and I have some… talking to do anyway."

"Yeah, right. I'll uh, I'll owl you, I guess."

Harry nodded. "Try to get some rest."

"You too."

Molly hugged Harry tightly, kissing his cheek. "You're welcome at the house any time, Harry. You know that. You and Hermione both."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you. I'll let her know since… she doesn't really have anywhere to go, either."

Harry hugged Ron before leaving to trot off after Hermione, who hadn't traveled far and had been waiting for him - she obviously remembered he wouldn't know where to go. "Hermione, thanks. For… waiting for me, you know."

"You're welcome."

She still seemed tense, even when he moved to take her hand, holding it tightly, but her fingers instinctually curled around his. "Do you want to… talk?"

"Not really, Harry. Please."

Harry frowned, but didn't push. He knew she was tired. The murmur of students and staff grew quieter as they headed away from it, towards Gryffindor Tower and past the Fat Lady's portrait to the back of the castle, a mid-way point between all the common rooms, ignoring the crumbling walls and putting out small fires on the way to a portrait that housed a weary-looking wizard in pale grey robes who was wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"Oh, look at you," he grinned. "What are you doing here? Is it all over?"

"Yes," Harry answered quickly.

"Thank Merlin. Come in, come in."

The portrait swung open and Harry gestured for Hermione to enter first while he followed behind, half ready to catch her if she didn't make the step up. The inside of this room made Harry almost forget that a war had gone on. The sitting area was much smaller than the Gryffindor common room was, with just a large table with two chairs slid underneath and a couch stationed next to a small fireplace, but it was decorated with just as much care and warmth - burgundy tapestries lined the wall along with a small bookshelf and a window to the outside.

Hermione immediately moved to the window to pull the curtain across. She didn't want to see the outside. She barely wanted to see the inside, but here they were. There were two doors, each with their name on it to signify their own personal dorms. Hermione looked between the doors for a few seconds.

"Do you think we'll be able to share?" Harry asked softly, sliding off his jacket and draping it over his arm.

"I don't know," Hermione whispered.

"Well, McGonagall knows about our bond, so maybe she adjusted it so-"

"Our bond's gone, Harry." She turned to look at him, and he couldn't read the expression on her face, but her eyes were brimming with tears again. "It's gone."

It was strange, standing there and looking at her, not knowing how she was thinking or feeling after months of being able to, but it hadn't affected how he felt about Hermione at all. He could tell, though, there was something she was keeping from him; the space and silence between them was awkward now where it hadn't been before.

So Harry stepped forward, placing a hand on Hermione's cheek and kissing her softly. Something about kissing her even felt emptier, but still good. Maybe it was him, or maybe it was her, but he could fix it. They could fix it. Dirt, sweat, and blood be damned. It was their own anyway.

The only way he could describe his actions was desperate. He wasn't sure what exactly he was desperate for, but all his brain could focus on was the fact that kissing Hermione was making him feel something. Some semblance of happiness and normalcy he hadn't felt in a year. He dropped his jacket and his hands were on her shoulders in a second, pushing her jean jacket onto the floor and starting on her zipper of her other one. How could she think this many layers would be a good idea, he would never know, but he wanted all of them off as quickly as possible.

Once Hermione's brain seemed to catch up with what Harry was doing, she was pushing his shirt up under his arms and over his head. He shuddered as her fingers moved over his chest and stomach, goosebumps prickling his skin. This felt like the first time in a way, like she couldn't believe he was really there in front of her. Maybe she couldn't, but it wasn't enough. He leaned in and attached his lips to her neck, licking and sucking in an attempt to convey his urgency until a moan met his ear. Her skin was tangy with dust, sweat, and maybe adrenaline pheremones, but he could tell she was still hesitant.

"Harry," she whispered into his hair, pushing him away a little, and when he pulled away he could tell her eyes were wide and her chest was flushed as a bruise slowly colored her neck where his mouth had been. He didn't want to stop - as soon as they broke contact, that awful feeling came back.

"Please, Hermione." He'd never begged her before, but he couldn't keep the words from leaving his mouth just as quietly as hers. "Please. I just… I need to…"

"I know, I know," she answered. "Just… we should probably… shower."

"We?"

Hermione swallowed, looking down at Harry's lips. "Yes."

By the time they got to the bathroom, a trail of wrinkled, dirty, bloody clothes littered the floor, and they were left in their underwear, shivering as their feet touched cold tile. The sight of a separate tub and walk-in shower took their breaths away - everything just looked so pristine. There were only two wall lamps that cast dim shadows so they could see, but it wasn't too bright. The walls were the same burgundy as the walls in the common room, minus the pictures in favor of gold fixtures and sculptures in the shapes of lions and phoenixes.

"Shower or tub?"

"Shower," Hermione answered. "Cleaner."

That's what they needed - to get clean. Clean from the battle, clean from their fear, clean from Voldemort's involvement in their relationship. The thought still made him want to throw up, but throwing up would be very unsexy, and he couldn't afford that. Hermione was already taking the rest of her clothes off and moving towards the shower to start it; Harry took a few seconds to enjoy the view before shedding his underwear and following close behind. It was crazy how clean Hermione had been under her clothes, a stark contrast where the dirt stopped and clear skin began. She wasn't moving as quickly as he was used to her moving, and it probably would be a good idea for them to take a hot bath at some point just to relax the muscles he knew were going to be sore.

There was plenty of room for both of them in the shower, enough for them to stand comfortably next to each other, but they didn't. Harry watched as Hermione's shoulders relaxed a little under the water, closing her eyes and letting the dirt wash over her face. The cuts burned with the heat, but she didn't seem to care. She was just glad to almost be rid of them. He watched the grime and blood slide down the drain, taking the last few hours with it.

She squeezed a little extra water out of her hair, then opened her eyes to look at him. There was still a hint of nervousness as she muttered, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Harry's glasses toppled to the tile - he could fix them later. He stepped into the shower and Hermione scooted over so he could get under the water. As soon as he was rinsed off, Hermione's lips were on his as she pinned him to the wall. The small cuts on their lips opened again and the metallic taste of blood barely registered in their mouths. They didn't care. She hadn't taken initiative like this in a while, but he wasn't complaining. The more passionate they were, the stronger their bond was, so maybe if they were passionate here, they'd get it back. Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines; he let out a sharp gasp as her fingers deftly wrapped around him, quickly stroking him to full hardness.

Finally, finally, he was feeling good. The more she touched him, the more skin contact he had, the more his brain had something good to focus on. The shower was drowning out the darkness, and he pulled Hermione back in for a firey kiss. Her fingers curled into his hair, helping break up the grime and making it a little looser, a little messier, just how she liked it. He kissed her until she was moaning and panting along with him, which didn't take long, then stroked his fingers down her arm until it was at her wrist, gripping it loosely and stopping her movements to push her arm to the side. She pulled away to look up at him, wondering why he stopped her.

"My turn." Hermione moaned as both of Harry's hands cupped her ass, squeezing it and pulling her body flush against his. The fire between them licked back up their skin, radiating from where his dick pressed against her stomach. A moan of his name left her lips as she rocked her hips against him, desperate for friction.

This was entirely new for them - the shower in the tent was way too small for anything like this, and they never felt truly alone at Shell Cottage, especially in the bathroom, when they feared it would be too close to exhibitionism in the middle of the house with everyone able to listen in. But here, silenced, warded, and uninterrupted, the impetuosity was easy. Instinctive. Visceral. He wasn't about to deny her.

His hand snaked between their bodies and his fingers effortlessly found her clit, rubbing it deliberately and kissing down her jaw. Her cry echoed off the tile around his head, which urged him further, to move his fingers faster, needing to push her over the edge. He just needed to hear her louder than the sounds of Unforgivable curses being shouted from all around him, directed at him, toppling like cotton from his own mouth.

"Harry," she moaned when he realized his fingers had stopped. "I don't… want time to think right now."

"Sorry," he whispered, picking up the pace again to drive a whine from her lips. Her nails dug into his shoulders and moved her hips forward; she was getting impatient. He wanted to make her come again and again, but as exhausted as they already were, he knew she probably only had one in her before she'd fall asleep.

He slid two fingers into her slowly, and she almost collapsed against him with relief. She clenched around him as he kissed her again, down her neck, over her shoulder, nipping at her collarbone and not even caring about the water getting into his eyes. His name came out as breathy moans that he returned against her skin, sucking hickeys anywhere he could in hopes of distracting her from anything else that hurt. Her hands moved down his back and over his hips before she wrapped her fingers around him again, making him let out a whine of his own.

"Fuck, Hermione." His fingers picked up the pace, curling a little, and Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"Harry…" she began, then swallowed her words before deciding they needed to be said anyway. "Harry, fuck me. Please."

She didn't say it often, mostly because she didn't have to - Harry had gotten pretty good at reading what she wanted - but it made all the more impact when she did. His hips stuttered as he bucked into her hand, desperate for movement. They both were. He pulled his fingers out of her and she gasped at the loss, but he ignored it, grabbing her hips instead and trying to figure out the best way to line things up.

Hermione seemed to have other plans, though. Something else new to put in their books - she turned around, pressing her hands against the wall and grinding back against him. He wasn't sure if she was just trying to give them new experiences that could just be for them , without Voldemort involved, but this… this was spectacular. He didn't have to crouch down too much to easily slide into her, and as soon as he did, her nails were digging into his wrist.

"Oh my God," she whispered at the new angle, already panting.

"Are you okay?" He wasn't about to move until he knew. Was this too much?

"Very, very okay. It's just… a lot. Different." Harry groaned as he felt her clench around him. "Don't make me say it again."

He didn't. He started a little slow, just to let her adjust, and he noticed that the angle felt different for him, too. She was a little tighter from clenching, but she almost seemed more sensitive with every movement. He pressed himself behind her, one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around to squeeze her breast. His thumb moved over her nipple in opposite time with his thrusts, and every snap of his hips forced a loud cry from her throat. It was just what he needed, exactly what he wanted to focus on. She didn't want to have time to think, and he didn't either.

Harry knew she wasn't going to last too terribly long, but he couldn't stop. There were only a couple times at Shell Cottage where they'd gotten to be so unabashed like this between not wanting to be too obvious and not being confident enough in their silencing spells to be as loud as they really wanted, but here, neither of them really gave a damn if anyone heard them outside these walls.

Here, there was no Voldemort, there was no war, they weren't on the run. They were Head Boy and Head Girl, sneaking into the shower when they should be in bed. Or maybe they'd been teasing each other all day with longing looks and flirtatious smiles and they couldn't take it anymore.

"Harry, you really should be studying," she'd say, looking down at her own notes even though she noticed Harry out of the corner of her eye. Maybe they were in the library, Harry sitting at the table across from her, tapping his foot against hers every once in a while and occasionally daring to drag the toe of his shoe up her calf. She'd pretend she didn't care, but Harry would watch as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She'd blame it on the wooden chairs with no cushion.

"I am studying."

"Something other than me." She'd smirk even though she was trying to tell him off.

"You know, a better place to study might be in our dorm. I always can focus a little more in there," Harry would mutter, hooking his ankle against hers.

"Oh, yes, because the library is way too loud to concentrate."

"Actually, I think it's a little too quiet."

Hermione would quickly close her book, pry her foot away from Harry's, and get up without another word as she headed straight back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Harder."

She said that she wanted to watch him play Quidditch again, wearing his name on her chest. Maybe she would sneak down to the locker rooms after a game.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" He liked to be the last to shower for various reasons, but mostly it was because he liked the quiet. All the other guys were so loud after a game, boosted from excitement and adrenaline, especially if they won, and sometimes the echoes were too much for him. He'd wait until everyone else was almost done before heading in himself, depositing his robes into the bin to be washed and stashing his broom in his locker. It hadn't taken Hermione long to catch onto the fact that he came back from games later than the others.

"Just checking on you. Everyone was heading up to the common room and I was waiting to congratulate you."

Harry loved seeing Hermione after winter Quidditch games when her hair was all windblown in every direction, pink cheeks that matched the tip of her nose. Her scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck, but she never pulled it up over her face to keep it warm because she said she couldn't cheer for him if it was covering her mouth.

"Congratulate me?" Harry chuckled. "We lost. And you know you're not supposed to be in here…"

"Harry Potter, since when do you care about the rules more than I do?"

"Since I became your boyfriend, I suppose. You've rubbed off on me."

"I'll say," she smirked. "Plus, it wasn't your fault that you lost. I'll blame Holly. She's the newest, right? I'm sure she was a little nervous."

"Hey, she did great."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course she did, Harry. I'm just teasing. You were all great, as always. Ravenclaw was just better today, that's all. Don't beat yourself up over it, okay?" She grabbed a small fistful of his shirt and pulled him in for a soft kiss. "I'll see you back in the common room?"

"You could stay if you want."

"Harry, you know I'm not one for public indecency," Hermione grinned.

"What about private indecency?"

"Guess you'll have to find out."

No matter what his imagination could come up with, they'd end up here in this position, with Hermione's moans echoing through the bathroom as Harry brought them both to the edge with long, hard, steady thrusts, holding her hips just lightly enough so he wouldn't give her any more bruises.

"Just like that, Harry…"

He kissed her neck again, anywhere he could, gently in contrast with the rest of his body. She had always seemed to like that - the way that he could give her both at the same time. Maybe it was because they were so used to being quiet paired with the fact that they were trying to fuck the pain out of each other, but whatever he was doing was working.

Harry leaned forward to kiss behind her ear, burying his face into her skin. "Come for me, Hermione." Her nails unsuccessfully gripped the tile on the wall, slipping against it as her knees almost gave out from the force of her orgasm. He almost slipped himself, but managed to hold her up while bracing a hand on the wall as well. She was clenching so hard around him, pulling him in further, that he was only half a second behind, shooting everything he had into her until he was spent.

They washed their hair and bodies silently and quickly, with hazy eyes and tired hands desperate for sleep, and when they were done, Hermione wrapped her towel around herself and picked up their clothes off the floor. She set them in a neat pile and pulled a set of pajamas out of her beaded bag for each of them.

"Hermione," Harry said carefully as he pulled on a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants, "what's wrong?"

She'd been silent since they left the shower, barely even looking at him again, like everything that they'd just done had been intended to not leave the bathroom. Once the high had worn off, everything did feel strained again, and he didn't want whatever this energy was to last very long. Hermione just shook her head.

"Hermione," he repeated, "we've been honest with each other, right?"

"Have we?" Harry was silent, and it was answer enough. "That's what I thought."

"Is that what you're upset about right now? You feel like I broke your trust." The words sounded foreign, like they weren't even a couple. She didn't have that glow she usually did. He knew it was because of the war, and it would take it a while to come back, but he hated it. He hated that he'd done this to her. To them.

"You…" She sat down on the couch, wiping her eyes before she started crying. "You killed someone, Harry."

"I killed Voldemort. "

"I know. And I know it's stupid for me to be upset about that, but hearing those words come from your mouth… it made me sick. Just… just knowing that you... you meant it."

"Of course I meant it," Harry snapped. "He killed me , Hermione. Or at least he thought he did."

"Oh, I know he did. I felt it, Harry."

"You felt it…?"

"It felt like someone was trying to rip my heart out. Ron had to Stupefy me just so that I'd stop screaming. I felt like I was never going to be whole again." He crossed the room to sit down on the couch next to her, but she turned away.

"Hermione, can you please look at me?"

"Let me finish speaking. I can't… say any of this while I'm looking at you. Somehow… whatever you did… you told me to trust you. You promised me you'd be okay and you kept that promise. And of course I was so happy to believe it when you rolled out of Hagrid's arms. And then… I helped you. I did what I could to save you and the snake was about to get Ron and I and Neville killed it and I was so happy because I thought I could help you and then you just… hearing those words come out of your mouth made me feel like you'd died all over again."

Harry took a deep breath. "I had to, Hermione. I had to make sure he was dead. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to hurt you. Just… after hearing what he did to us… to our entire relationship… it felt like he ruined it. I'd been thinking about it for a while, what I would do. How I would kill him. It was my last resort, Hermione. I hope you know that. I just felt empty when I came back. I… I still do."

"I can tell," she whispered. "That's what I…" Hermione swallowed, playing with a piece of lint on the couch. "I don't like it."

"That's why you won't look at me."

"There's just something missing. And I know-"

"I died!"

She finally turned to him with a huff. "I know you died, Harry! God, I'm going to stop talking if you're just going to dismiss everything I'm trying to say! I'm trying to get through this, okay? If you don't want me to be bloody honest with you and talk things out, then don't even bother sleeping with me tonight."

"I just don't want you to tell me that you never want to look at me again!"

"I never said that! You're not listening to me!"

"I am listening, Hermione! Clearly you're the one who's not listening because you're upset that I made sure a Dark Lord was dead so that we could have a decent life. I saved the whole fucking Wizarding World and you're so concerned about how I did it that you don't even care about how it affected me?! You don't care that my last thoughts were of you? How much I was going to miss you? How much I knew it would kill you for me to be gone?"

"Oh, don't you dare try to make this about me, Harry. Don't you blame me for what you did. Don't act like it's my fault you had to kill him. You didn't use that spell to protect me, Harry. You used it to… to make a show of it." She looked down at her lap again, which Harry knew was a tell - she didn't mean it, but she hadn't known what else to say and she wanted to make him feel bad.

"Make a show of it?" Harry huffed. "I suppose that's why I whispered it, isn't it? You think I wanted anyone else to hear? I'm not proud of it, Hermione. You've got to realize that."

"I don't know anymore, Harry. You didn't look like you weren't proud."

"Because I killed the Dark Lord. I killed the man who's been after me for seven fucking years. The one who's threatened all of us for years. I fulfilled the Prophecy. I'm the Chosen One, Hermione! And as much as I hate titles like that, I knew what I had to do!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes, which made Harry's blood boil. He hated when she rolled her eyes at him, and she knew that. It was so disrespectful, like she didn't believe him. And she always believed him. She was doing this just to be petty. Just to pick a fight. That wasn't what they needed at all right now, but Harry quickly decided that if she was so insistent on sleeping alone for the night, she should be able to.

Harry took a deep breath before standing up from the couch. "I'm going to bed." For the second time that night, he left her crying without looking back as he walked through the door to his room.