A/N: Written in Response to Mugglenet Fan Fiction's Winter Snows Challenge Two: Ending of a New Beginning.

Six men and women spend Christmas together in a small house, on a small hill. They are their own family—or they would be, if only they could put the past behind them, and live as the dead would want them. The war changed them. Many had died, many had been saved, but they lived on in spite of everything…

I hope you enjoy this short Post-War creation of mine!

We Live On

A One-Shot by suckr4romance of Hufflepuff House

Three months.

Three months had passed since the culmination of the Final Battle. Three months had passed since the One and the Dark Lord had dueled for the last time. Three months had passed since the fate of the entire world had been decided. Three months had passed since the demise of Lord Voldemort.

Three months.

Three months ago, the world rejoiced at his downfall. Three months ago, the One had saved them all from complete destruction—from death. Three months ago, Ginny never would have thought she would be right here, right now, and safe ever again.

It was Christmas Eve at Godric's Hollow, a far corner of the wizarding community of Britain. The six of them were there—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and herself. Everyone was seated around the blazing fire, quite content.

At least, that was how the group would appear to the untrained eye. No, Ginny knew, they were each reflecting on a different aspect of the out come of the war. She could see it in their eyes, all of them.

Harry, she could tell, was thinking about the fact he was now a murderer. It might have seemed strange to anyone else, but Ginny knew Harry well enough to understand his way of thinking. He had done the world a favor—the hugest of favors. And he had done the right thing. But how right was it, if it meant death? He had watched so many members of the Dark and Light sides die… Wormtail died at the hand of Kingsley Shacklebolt; Severus Snape, who had previously returned to the Order's service, fought with Lucius Malfoy and the result…was fatal. Harry was a broken man, but his wounds could heal over the course of time. Ginny would give anything to make him whole again.

Ron was pondering all those he had lost in the battle with Voldemort and his followers. Though it had been beyond his control, Ron couldn't help but feel responsible for the deaths. If he had only…well, what could he have done? Remus Lupin put up the most courageous fight against Fenrir Greyback that fateful day—he truly was a Gryffindor. Ron watched helplessly as it happened, and comforted Nymphadora Tonks as she cried in agony after also witnessing the death of her one true love. …And then, his father—oh, his father! He lost his father in an Inferi attack weeks before the Final Battle. Ginny could identify with Ron. Arthur Weasley had been her father, too.

Hermione was concerned above all else—concerned for her dearest friends, concerned for her sworn enemies… Although her enemies had been in the wrong, they too experienced heartache with the deaths of their families and friends. She wasn't so detached as to not understand the powerful emotions they were suffering. Most of all, Hermione felt Ron's pain at the loss of his father as she nestled against him. Ginny's heart lurched with longing. Oh, if only Harry would allow her to do the same to him!

Luna sat, gazing into the flames. Perhaps she was as she looked—content. Ginny never could tell with Luna, never could decipher her unorthodox ways, not in all the years of knowing her. Luna lost her own father nearly one year prior to the battle. The pain wasn't as fresh as that of others, but it still existed just the same.

Neville was reflecting on his unbelievable fortune. Only he could have been the One in Harry's stead, and no one else. Yet Lord Voldemort chose Harry, and not him. to think that he might have bourn the cross so destined for Harry—the thought encompassed him, and he shivered uncomfortably. While he had mentally lost his parents by way of Voldemort's followers, he still had his Gran Longbottom through all that had happened.

Ginny hated this unquiet silence—they needed to move on, the lot of them! It was hard to let go, she knew better than anybody. But to lament wordlessly what might have been, and getting nowhere? It was completely pointless to sit here, mourning in front of the fire.

"So," Ginny began, in hope of rousing her friends from their state of wakeful slumber. "Why don't we exchange gifts now?" She gestured to the Christmas tree in the far corner of the room, under which vibrantly-wrapped presents were waiting to be opened.

Harry took off his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his shirt. He sighed. "Maybe later, Ginny," he told her.

"It's not the right time," Ron agreed with his friend solemnly, his eyes never shifting from the fireplace.

"Not the right time?" Ginny echoed incredulously, causing her brother to jump, as well as the other occupants of the room.

"Yes," Ron replied sharply. "We'll do it later."

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head of fiery red. "Not later—now!"

"Don't be childish!" Ron snapped.

"So I'm being childish. You know what, Ron? I think it's childish to sulk on Christmas Eve, and not talk about your feelings. And besides," Ginny added, "I hardly think any one of us could be called a child after all we've lived through."

"Then what do we do?" he wanted to know.

"We live on, no matter what," Luna joined in. "It might hurt to continue with life after they're all gone, but nothing changes that we're here, and living."

"Yes!" Ginny persisted with a new burst of enthusiasm at Luna's encouragement. "Ron, you still have Hermione, you still have most of your family, you still have your best friends, and you still have me! Some of us don't have any real family left"—Ginny cast a sidelong look at Harry, who, though appearing to still be focusing on cleaning his eyeglasses, must have been listening, for he smiled wistfully—"but that doesn't mean we can't be our own family.

"If we give up on life," considered Ginny, "we give up on all we've fought for—what they fought for. Didn't we fight to rid the world of evil, so that there would be a chance for life of others?"

"It's true," Hermione said with a sniff. "We did."

"The ghosts of our dark past are haunting us, and we must cast them out!" Ginny exclaimed passionately. "If we forget why Dad, Lupin, Snape, Mr. Lovegood, Dumbledore, Sirius—all of them!—died, for what is right, then they have gone in vain!"

"They wouldn't want us to even have this conversation," Neville spoke up. "There shouldn't be a need for it."

Harry, who had been silent for quite some time now, rose and walked over to the Christmas tree. He picked up a parcel of red wrapping addressed to him.

"Well," he said, turning to his companions with tear-stained cheeks. "Let's not talk about it anymore."

Ginny stood herself and strode over to Harry, placing her arms around him in a warm embrace. "Yes, let's not."

And so the friends exchanged Christmas presents, not know what the future would bring. They lived on in spite of their fears, in spite of their heartache, in spite of everything—all because they knew, now, that the happenings of three months before were anything but futile.

A/N: If you are interested, I am writing two other fics, a Book Seven fic called "In Nomine Amoris," and a Ron/Hermione fic called "If Things Were Different." I have also written a one-shot called "Never," and two pre Half-Blood Prince fics.

Please review!

Love,

Christine