And... this story is now complete! Yes, it's short; but really, it was supposed to be. Anyone who wants to use this as a jump-off for a longer fic or ficlet is more than welcome.

Away with us he's coming,

the solemn-eyed;

he'll hear no more the lowing

of the calves on the warm hill-side,

nor the kettle on the hob

sing peace into his breast,

nor see the brown mice bob

round and round the oatmeal chest.

Flames licked at the blue sky, dancing up from the flaming pyre. The single, solitary observer did not move.

Long and long the years had been since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and they had left their scars. A white line across his neck betokened an attempted hostage situation; the leaning pressure on his right leg had come from too many curses. Slowly spreading red marred his white robes - yet the deepest wounds were visible in his eyes. Those green eyes had been lively once and joyful. Now they stared, dull, at the burning ashes of his two best friends. There were no tears.

The tears had all been shed at the funeral pyre of his love, two years before.

There would be no more deaths, he knew. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Albus, almost all of the DA... all had died in a worthy cause, and it was because of them and their sacrifices that Voldemort was dead and his Death Eaters with him. But the loss did not leave.

Time passed, and the fire began to die out. Dusk came, and embers were all that remained of the blaze. Still, he did not move.

Deliberately light footsteps approached.

"I thought you'd be here."

He didn't turn his head. His voice rasped. "Where else could I be?"

"If Pomfrey were here, she'd want you in bed."

"If she were here."

Madam Pomfrey had died just a few months past, a casualty of an attack on her most frequent patient. But she knew that as well as he did. He waited for her to go on.

"They're celebrating, inside. Molly is there, and Bill and Fleur and the twins. The Headmistress is worried for you out here."

He didn't respond to that. The only potentially dark creature left near the school was standing with him.

There was a pregnant pause. "She wouldn't want this for you."

Finally, he turned to look at the woman next to him. She'd suffered in the war, losing first Neville and then Charlie before being Turned. There was a reason she had not stood with him when the pyre was lit that afternoon.

"She's gone. So are Ron and 'Mione."

"Not forever."

He emitted a dry laugh. "Surely you're not suggesting suicide?"

"No."

"What, then?"

There was a silence, then - "You've heard the whispering behind the veil."

"Yes."

"I hear it more clearly, now. They're still there. They're waiting. But they don't want you to die to them."

"I'll never stop remembering."

She sighed, and a wisp of blonde hair blew into her face. "You're already dying. You've despaired of life. I can taste it." She peered at him with large, luminous eyes. "And I can see it."

"What of it?"

"You've met the faeries."

He blinked. That had been years ago. He had not seen them since, and he'd never shared the experience. "How...?"

"I've seen them, visited them. They've asked me, too, but I still have Daddy to think of."

"He doesn't care that you've been Turned?"

"Of course not." She laughed, and her dangling earrings swung wildly. "Why would he? He loves me."

The Dursley family would never have looked past such a thing. Of course, now that lack of caring had killed them. The wards had failed when Voldemort attacked. Vernon and Dudley were dead. Petunia would never leave St. Mungo's.

His thoughts wandered. His godfather would have supported him, but he was dead, as was Remus Lupin. Albus would have cared for him, but he'd died three years ago to save his life. Ginny's love would have been supportive - she'd held him up in so many ways - but a year ago she'd been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. That was a blood price Harry had been glad to collect. And Ron and Hermione, his friends for so many years, had fallen today at Voldemort's hands. Who would hold him now?

As if she was reading his mind - and as a vampire, she might have been - she interjected. "You should go with them."

"Will they come again?" They'd come to him and been refused twice over, and he dimly remembered another time. Why would they come after that?

"They've been waiting for years." She regarded him solemnly as the first of the embers flickered and died. "They'll come."

His first year, he had not thought them real. His fifth, the Prophecy had been hanging over his head. "My task is finished."

"Yes."

It was a revelation. He'd fulfilled the prophecy, and now he could do anything he wished.

"The Headmistress and the Weasleys will miss you, but they have lives to rebuild."

"What about you?" She also had lost everything, and he wanted to know. Would she be all right?

"When Daddy dies, I'll come." It was a promise.

The two stood there, watching, until at last there was only one flickering jewel left. Then she pecked him on the cheek and put her arms around him, just holding him. He held her back. Both of them were alone and in need of comfort. She whispered to him. "Go," she said. "Go. They'll heal you."

"I will," he murmured back, and she released him.

"Be well, Harry."

"Be well, Luna."

Silently, now, she vanished towards the castle and the celebrants within.

The stars had come out as they were standing, and the brightest of them shone down upon the lone ember. It danced in the gentle light. Harry gazed up at them, remembering that night after Sirius' death and the stars that had shone then. He'd wanted to leave, then; but had been held back by the desire to save his friends. He sighed. His efforts had been in vain, and his friends had died regardless. Now he was alone, all alone. And then, as they did now, the stars had seemed to urge him on.

The ember flickered and died.

The stars danced brighter, and notes flickered on the edge of hearing. Harry closed his eyes, listening to the melody that had followed him for so many years. When he opened them again, the faeries were ringed about him. They needed neither to speak to him nor to sing, not this time. He'd heard their call, and there was nothing left to hold him.

He lifted his hands. They were caught up by a myriad of smaller ones. Harry stepped forward. This time, he wouldn't be turning back.

-

For he comes, the human child,

to the waters and the wild

with a faery, hand in hand,

from a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

-

Finis

Review responses!

ivan the terrable, thanks for showing up. I think it is, too; I did a search for similar stories, but couldn't find any.

You think so, LassyD? So do my sibs. But there are four chapters to this story, not three...

-laughs- So you want an update, Heiress-To-The-Dark-Throne? As ordered, milady!

-shudders- Well, sis, I don't believe I'd like that. Are you sure that Gaurwen is really your name? You seem a bit too vicious and insubordinate for a wolf cub... Anyway, the chapter.

Arrina, the stars are gorgeous. As for leaving... we'll see!

Faerie Fighter, you came back! -cheers- But by the way, ten days is NOT a long wait. Ten months is. I've had that done to me before, so I speak from experience. The grieving was a huge part of that chapter, yes. Thank you for refraining from plot-spoilage!

Thanks, Stephalopolis. It's actually now finished.

Well? Come on, review!