A/N: A reminder that I posted twice today, so if the last thing you remember reading is the trio finding the last Horcrux, please go back to chapter 14, The Final Battle, and read from there. :)
Three months, four days, fifteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and…sixteen seconds.
My internal clock doesn't exist anymore, but it doesn't take long to do the math – the day Voldemort fell is one for the history books, after all.
"Hey, Hermione." I lean against the doorframe and smile softly at my best friend. Harry sits alone at the table in the basement kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the remnants of dinner still scattered about the scrubbed wooden tabletop. I've just come back down from helping Ginny to her room – the youngest Weasley was hit with an unknown hex during the final battle that drains her energy much more quickly than usual, so she needs frequent rest. Unfortunately, post-war operations are moving at a snail's pace, with everything from funeral arrangements to trials hitting unexpected snags left, right, and center. Finding the cure to an irritating but non-lethal curse isn't high on anyone's priorities list, especially not when so many people still need urgent and/or lasting medical treatment. Harry and I have been working on it in what little spare time we have, but even we're bogged down with all sorts of other things, and essentially inventing a countercurse from scratch takes time. We'll get there eventually, I know we will, but for now, Ginny leads a much quieter life.
"Ginny alright?" Harry asks as if reading my thoughts.
"She's just fine," I reply, dropping into the chair next to his and giving his hand a squeeze. Echoes of the Order of the Phoenix linger with us as always, but they're not nearly as painful as the many empty chairs at headquarters. Quite a few people still stay there, as they have nowhere else to go, but Harry and I left for Grimmauld Place as soon as it was deemed safe. Ginny stays here more often than not, and Ron comes around a fair bit as well. The rest of the Weasleys are still at headquarters – Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Percy are so heavily involved with the post-war reconstruction that they'd just have to travel to London daily anyway, and in any case, Mrs. Weasley isn't ready for the family to go its separate ways just yet, not after losing George. Ginny and Ron had to put up one hell of a fight to be able to stay with us, ultimately arguing that staying in the overcrowded headquarters wasn't giving them the space they needed to process their grief in their own ways. Their mother finally relented, but her two youngest children are still expected to turn up at headquarters for dinner several times a week.
These last three months have been…hectic, to say the least. Not the same sort of hectic as during the war, but hectic all the same. I lost track of how many funerals I attended in the weeks following the final battle as we said our goodbyes to so many friends and family members. Many survivors required immediate medical attention, and I don't think anyone walked away without a permanent souvenir of all we faced. As promised, the aftermath of my encounter with Sectumsempra left a series of scars crisscrossing my back, although thanks to Draco's handiwork, they're smooth and pale as opposed to jagged and raised. McGonagall lost half her left leg and now wears a prosthetic (though she's as formidable as ever), and several people were hit with a curse that has so far left them unable to do much more than first-year-level magic. And then there's the emotional scarring, which is almost worse – we've all seen (and done) things that no one should ever have to see or do, and I suspect those nightmares will haunt us for the rest of our lives.
"Ready for tomorrow?" Harry asks, bringing my thoughts back to the present. I groan.
"No," I mutter. Tomorrow is the latest episode in the ongoing drama that is Draco Malfoy's trial, which is easily the messiest trial anyone has ever witnessed. Not that any of the trials have been straightforward so far – even deciding what was a punishable offence took ages; if we'd gone strictly by the letter of the law, nearly every GHRS member would've gone straight to Azkaban alongside the Death Eaters – but Draco's has been especially muddy. He committed countless terrible atrocities in the name of Voldemort, and yet he played a huge role in us winning the war. Sorting everything out has been a hot mess, and even though Harry and I have been arguing vehemently in his favor, we suspect it's going to be a while before he's finally sentenced.
"Where's Ron?" I ask, eager to change the subject. I've got all my notes ready for tomorrow, of course, I'm just brain fried.
"Out with Pansy," Harry replies, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. I feel myself smile in turn.
"Who would've thought, eh? But they're sweet together."
It took Ron a little while to come around to the idea that his beloved Colette was actually Pansy Parkinson, but he finally surprised us all when he took off the blinders and gave himself a chance to get to know her for real. They're taking it slow – this is only the third or fourth time they've gone out alone together – but anyone with eyes can see that they're clearly quite taken with each other. My own relationship with Pansy has improved rather a lot as well – we've had tea a few times at the house in Kensington, and though I doubt we'll ever be best friends, we get along well enough. She's thanked me approximately seventeen thousand times for saving Draco's life, (and no, I'm not counting), and she's closely following our involvement with his trial as well.
I look back at Harry and smile softly once more. There's still so much to do. It'll likely be years before Britain – both the Wizarding and Muggle sides – are back to anything resembling 'normal', and my friends and I will probably be involved in every second, in one way or another. This war has changed our lives, irrevocably and forever. But three months, four days, fifteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and ten seconds ago, we got a second lease on life. We've been living free of Voldemort for three months, four days, fifteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifteen seconds – and though I won't be keeping close tabs on it, that's a count I'd like to continue for many years to come.
A/N: And that's a wrap. Thank you to everyone who has read this little story, and especial thanks to Analena for her kind reviews on every chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it. Until next time! :)
