The End
By Miss Aldridge
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. JKR is the one who is now richer than the Queen.
Author's notes: ficlet, inspired by a friend on our HP Society messageboard. She said: "Maybe Harry will turn around and say 'I love you' to voldy then his head will explode, tehe." I took it a little differently.
Dedicated, as ever, to the Cardiff Uni HP Society. And to dragonbat, who always gives me such lovely reviews. Someday I'll return the favour.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Exhausted by the battle, neither Harry nor Voldemort could stay upright after the last barrage of curses they had hurled at each other. Wands clattered to the floor from nerveless hands, useless against each other in any rate.
Voldemort, leaning a hand against the wall, made his way, step by weary step, towards Harry. His eyes never left the boy, staring with red intensity. They practically spat hatred as a fire spits sparks, red hot and vicious. His hands were raised, fingers curling in a throat-squeezing gesture.
Harry half-knelt where he was, watching and waiting. This was the time that the last seven years had been leading up to. This was what his lessons had all been for, what Dumbledore had trained him for. In effect, what his mother had died for.
Voldemort's hands came close enough to brush Harry's hair, and Harry ducked backwards, grabbing a handful of the Dark Lord's robes. Voldemort stumbled, falling to his knees beside Harry on the cold stone. His mouth opened to hiss a curse but nothing came out as Harry's arm wrapped around his body drawing them close together.
And Harry knew, in that moment, exactly what could bring this self-styled Dark Lord down. He knew exactly what could make all of Voldemort's deeds and acts useless to the Dark Wizard.
Pulling him closer, Harry pressed a kiss on Voldemort's forehead.
"I forgive you," he whispered.
And it was all over.