Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The use of its characters, locations, and universe in general are merely a lend (thus the name fanfiction). I only own the plotline.

A.N.: Yes, I admit I was inspired by a certain (and rather famous) motion picture. I wonder if you'll pick it up with the reading. In my heart and mind, this was written as a Harry/Hermione romance. However, one can look at it from another angle, a completely platonic one, or a sister-brother type of relationship. No matter which point of view you choose to take, I hope you can enjoy it!

The scenes in italic are flash-backs. And I hope the change of speech doesn't confuse anyone.

He saved me

"So much has changed."

Indeed, that is true. This was said as I walked down the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place I'd always consider home, no matter where I'd stand in life. Early mornings have always made me rather pensive and philosophic. Especially on Sundays, when most students chose to sleep in and the castle is quiet except for the few early-risers.

"Good morning, Professor Granger."

"Good morning, Ms. Kingston. Up so early to study, I believe?"

"Of course." The Ravenclaw fifth-year replied rather proudly as we entered the Great Hall.

"Do make sure you enjoy yourself sometimes." How I wished I'd had more fun in my days as a student here. I don't regret my love for studying, but sometimes I wonder if I missed too much while at my library marathons, as Ron and Harry used to say.

"Oh I do, ma'am. I'm just preparing for O.W.L.s. There's only four months left." She departed with a smile towards her House table.

Yes, much has changed, but some things are forever. Many years have passed, but Hogwarts would always remain Hogwarts, and so would its students. The world outside has had its drastic changes (for better or worse), but young witches and wizards could always rely on this institution for at least seven years of their education and growing up.

I chose to sit down on Gryffindor table, my old House, instead of on the Head Table, in my proper seat. I know some of the staff consider it odd, as do most of the students, but I have my reasons. For the past month, I've been very reminiscent of the past. For I am now the last living member of the ancient Order of the Phoenix.

It was in a cold, clear January morning that Luna Lovegood Longbottom gave her last breath on earth. She had been my last friend from the old days, my last link to the past. Her death would forever leave a hole in my heart, but at same time, it was such a relief when it came.

The queer and memorable blonde had reached old age with a lucid mind (well, as lucid as she had ever been, at least), however her body couldn't make it so healthily, especially after Neville left us. She died at 114 years old after suffering for years with a form of magical cancer. The disease, evolved from its Muggle counterpart, was still incurable, even with magic and over a century of studies and research.

"Good morning, Gamma." I look up to find the worried and rather condescending eyes of my great-granddaughter. "Are you quite all right?"

"I'm fine, Henrietta." Mandatory school policy dictates she should call me Professor or Headmistress, but the old affectionate name rolls naturally out of her mouth whenever she sees me alone. "Please, join me at breakfast. People keep sending me these weird looks, and I imagine it's because I'm alone."

"They're doing that because you're at the students' table, Gamma." She said good-naturedly, sitting down opposite myself. Sweet, lovely Henrietta. She knows what I'm feeling, she sees the grief in my eyes. And yet, she chooses not to speak. She silently keeps me company, and distracts me from my darkened thoughts. Thoughts that go back so many years in time.


They were alone, and it was one of the rare occasions they had a peaceful moment for themselves amongst planning for the upcoming battle and hunting the final Horcruxes.

"Do you think we'll make it?" In her heart, she knew she shouldn't be asking this question. It was not something she wanted him to worry about, especially now. But that same heart felt the need to be comforted, even if by feeble and sweetly false words.

"You will." His answer came resolutely, self-assured and resigned. He spoke softly and yet his voice conveyed such promise that she felt her spirit lift, if only a little.

"What about you?" She questioned just as softly, feeling slightly childish.

"It doesn't matter. As long as you live, I'll be fine." He was so calm as he said it. Truth be told, it scared her a little.

"Harry…" She whispered despairingly.

"Hermione?" His tone was still light, and just barely questioning.

"You shouldn't say things like that." She shuddered even as she said this.

"It's the truth. I don't have many chances at living, anyway. But I'll make sure you do." His words made more chills run down her spine.

"I don't want to live without you!" She cried this with conviction. She felt so sure at that moment that her heart would stop if his ever did.

"You have to be ready because that might be the case." He was telling her this so gently, so calmly, and so logically. She couldn't pinpoint when they'd traded places. She was supposed to be comforting him, as she'd always done.

"What would I do?" With this, a desperate note attached itself to her voice.

He seemed to take a deep breath as he thought it over for a moment. "You'll live." He said at last. "You'll finish school, take your N.E.W.T.s and pass with O in all the subjects. You'll become an Auror or a Healer, or anything you want. You'll carry on with S.P.E.W. You'll teach at Hogwarts, because I know that's your dream. And you're going to get married, and have many children, and several grandchildren that'll love you just as I do." She could hear in his voice how he'd imagined it all, and it pained her deeply to think he might not be there to see it all.

"I couldn't make it… I wouldn't be able." She whispered, feeling as though an iron hand was closing itself around her heart at the very thought of it.

"Of course you would. You're stronger than you think, Hermione." His tone was such an obvious one, she knew he really trusted and had an enormous amount of confidence in her. "And you have to promise me you will."

"What?"

"In case I die, you'll live. You have to do that. I don't want my death to be in vain."

"It wouldn't. And you're not dying. You're going to live, and we'll be together, always. You won't get rid of me that easily."

"Promise me." He repeated, this time his voice a little stronger.

"I'll always be with you."

"Not that! And yes, I know you'll always be with me, just as I'll always be with you. All of you. Promise me. Hermione." Her name was said with a pleading tone that simply broke her heart right then and there.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said with as steady a voice as she could muster. "I promise, Harry. I won't give up. Ever." And she felt she'd meant every word.

"You'll stay alive?"

"I'll stay alive."

"Good. Because if there's any chance I'm living, you'd better too." His tone reversed itself to a lighter one. One she was more accustomed to.

"Silly." She felt herself smile beside herself. "Now let's talk of something else, this is too morbid. It's not healthy."

"Sure. Let's talk of something else, then." And he never once argued that she had been the one to start the rather morbid conversation.

As time passes by, many more students make their way for breakfast at the Great Hall, and Henrietta's colleagues join us at the table. Most of them maintain a respectable distance from us both, allowing us some relative amount of privacy that is very rare nowadays. At least for me it is.

As my own mind runs on its own through different times than the present, some of the most studious boys and girls start discussing their coming tests and the subjects they have yet to cover and study. I wasn't surprised when they started discussing the famous Second War. It was in the school syllabus after all.

"Professor Granger, ma'am, do you mind if I ask you a question? I realize it's breakfast and surely you don't want to be pestered with such matters, but I was just wondering—"

"Please, ask away Ms. Grey."

"Professor, why did you keep your maiden name?" Unfortunately for Ms. Grey – and myself, actually – her colleague Mr. Thomas interposed this question before she had even opened her mouth. Of course, he received a well-put elbow in his ribcage. "Ow! Don't hit me, Veronica! I was only asking! She can choose not to answer me at all, and even give me a detention or something."

"You are correct, Mr. Thomas," I said with an indulgent smile – most of them saw it reflected in Henrietta's face – but I continued before any interruptions cold be made, "however, that would not be the wisest course of action. To answer you simply, it was so I'd never forget my origins." To my immense delight, I noticed he understood it perfectly, as he sheepishly ran a hand through his hair and blushed slightly at my answer.

"I'm sorry for that, Professor," Ms. Grey hurried to say. "What I meant to ask before I was so rudely interrupted," and here she shot a glare at Mr. Thomas, "was… well, Professor Young told us that you are one of the last living combatants of the Second War of the 1990s, and that you were actually in the Last Battle, and I was wondering what could you tell us about… Harry Potter?"

I can't say I wasn't expecting this particular question. After all, I have been thinking about him myself, unbeknown to my dear students.


The time had come. The battle was raging, curses crossing the air and turning the dark night a rainbow of colours. Red, pink, yellow, blue, and green. Green, green, green.

"Harry! Oh my God, Harry!" She'd found him, finally, in the middle of that chaos.

"No, let me go!" He wrenched himself free from her tight grip.

"You're bleeding, for Christ's sake! We have to take care of that!" She reached for him again, but once more wasn't able to hold him.

His green eyes met hers unwaveringly. "I have to kill that bastard."

"Harry!" She cried, unsure of why; it was a plea. She knew the time had come, she knew he had to do it; they had planned it for nearly an entire year.

"Hermione, you promised me you would let me go and do what I have to do. You promised!" His was also a plea. And he was in such despair for having to even ask this, that she only felt ashamed he did.

"Okay, then…" She faltered, for she did not know what else to say. She felt the need to say something, to make him stay, and yet she knew she shouldn't.

"And you also promised me you'd stay alive." He kept her firm gaze, and put both his hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly so she'd understand his message.

"I can't let you go in there alone!" She cried furiously. Furious with what their lives had come to, with what he had to do, and what she'd have to watch him do.

"You have to." He said again in all that calm, logical tone.

"Harry…" She knew. She understood. Though she didn't want to.

"You're not losing me. Ever. That can't happen." His eyes were so bright. So bright in the darkest night…

"Harry…"

"I have to go." And so he did.

"And I love you…" She whispered as she watched him walk away.

For many years now, every now and then someone comes to me asking for more information about the Second War, and specifically the Saviour of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One.

After the Last Battle and the demise of the most-feared Dark Lord of the century, the remaining members and combatants of the Order of the Phoenix made a vow never to dwell in fame consequent of the battles we fought. So many lives had been lost so we could finally reach some peace, it would be disrespectful to their memories if we did otherwise. And fame had never been something Harry had ever wanted. Not in life. Not in death.

Because Harry Potter died the same night as Lord Voldemort.

"He was a true hero."

When asked about Harry, that was the only answer I'd ever give, make it to reporters, historians, or even friends and family members who hadn't been there. From my lips, those were the only words that I'd utter concerning him.

And that was the answer I gave Ms. Grey, Mr. Thomas, my own granddaughter Henrietta and their colleagues. It was the most absolute truth. He had been a hero in life. He had died an absolute hero.


She dreaded what she'd find there, but her legs never slowed down. She had to find him. She had to, now that it was over.

"Hermione…" His voice was so weak. He was so weak…

"Harry!" She nearly fell by his side, holding him for dear life.

"I did it. I did it…" He had a pained yet soft smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, that bastard's dead. Finally!" She felt herself crying. Crying because it was over, crying for what it had taken so they could get there, and crying for what it was still to come.

"Yeah…" His voice faltered, and he coughed violently. "It's getting dark and cold…" His eyelids began to droop.

"No, no, no." She said desperately. "Harry, hang on! Help's on the way, the others are coming, the Order is here. You have to make it!"

"It's no use…" For that moment, he seemed oddly lucid. And his eyes sparkled so much. "I'm going back… To my parents, Sirius, Dumbledore…"

"Harry, no! Stay with me!" Her heart was pounding loudly. Tears were blurring her vision, but she could still see the soft smile he had on his features.

"You'll be fine… Ron will take care of you… I know he will…" He said that with such conviction, such clarity, it astounded her.

"You can't leave me here!" She cried. Selfishly. Desperately. In vain.

"You'll be fine… Tell Ron I'm sorry for everything, and ask Ginny to forgive me… Tell them I love them…" He was getting cold. Oh my God, so cold.

"Harry!…" Her own sobs stopped her from saying anything else.

"I love you… always."

"He was a true hero."

These young adults met my proclamation with something like awe and wonder. Most of them had guessed that would have been my answer, I believe. However, I think that the recent events made me realize. I was the last person who knew the whole truth. Surely, there existed a fair amount of books concerning the topic, but none of them was completely accurate (and I knew it, as I'd read them all).

And so I felt compelled to elaborate. For the first time in my life, I'd be discussing it with those who had not been part of that. Young people who had no idea how much different their lives could've been, and only knew of war in what they saw in books and others forms of fiction.

"He was a true hero. Even as we were eleven-years-old and I owed him my life because he'd saved me from a mountain troll. As we grew up I'd own him for so many other times, from the threats of a Basilisk to a hundred Dementors, Giants and centaurs, Death Eaters and Voldemort." Here I rejoiced for a moment for none of them shuddered or reacted in any other way before the oh-so-feared name.

"He had this immense responsibility on his shoulders, such a burden that no one should ever have to bear, especially as we were only teenagers. And yet he'd never wish it upon anyone else, and neither would he try to run from it. He'd meet the challenges head on and do his very best. He gave us hope. He was the man who brought back the Light."

I see their surprised expressions and glances they trade amongst themselves, and I smile. For I know I could spend the entire day, or rather the entire month telling them in every excruciating detail every part of the life we shared together for seven years, and they'd still only have an inkling of this man, what he did, who he was, and how much he changed the world, even if at the time we were not even aware of it.

"And I tell you more." Their faces turned back to mine, anxious for what I have to say. "I loved Harry Potter. I loved him as a person, as a friend, as a brother. And as a man."

I gave them one last knowing smile and got up, leaving the Great Hall and some very baffled students. I reached the double doors and found myself walking through the grounds of Hogwarts in this rather chilling morning. I didn't fully register it though, and continued to finger my long white hair absentmindedly. My mind was once more wandering on its own.

So much had changed.

Yes, Harry had been right after all. I kept my promise to him and lived. I worked as an Auror immediately after the war (once I took my N.E.W.T.s), and for many years I was a Healer at St. Mungo's before Minerva called me to teach here. And even afterwards, when I assumed the post of Headmistress, I still managed to maintain S.P.E.W. alive, with the help of my friends and family.

And Ron did take care of me, as I took care of him. Some would have called it destiny, but I say the war changed us all, and Ron and I learned to depend on one another, leaving aside all our petty fights and differences. He was my loving husband till he left me ten years ago, just after our first great-great-grandchild was born into the family.

And Ginny did forgive Harry for leaving her. Eventually. His loss was much for her to bear for so long, but we all knew she'd overcome her grief and live again. If anything, she would do it for him.

I'm not certain, however, that he'd have appreciated the irony that she became Mrs. Draco Malfoy. I know I was only glad they managed to live again, together. It was rather fitting, as both of them would never forget the Saviour of the wizarding world, in their own way.

After his runaway with Snape that followed Dumbledore's death, Draco came to us and aided the Light greatly for the majority of the Second War. The Malfoys were never again connected to the Dark Arts, and nowadays were renown for their bravery and loyalty.

As an example for that, young Ms. Henrietta Malfoy came to find me under the beech trees by the lake just a few minutes after I had sat down on the grass.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "I'd never have thought…"

"It's all right, darling." She came to sit by my side, resting her head on my shoulder. "I never told anyone. Well, not anyone who hadn't been there, at least."

"Why did you keep it a secret?" She looked up at me. "Did Papi know?" Just as Gamma for me, Papi was the old affectionate name she had for Ron.

"Of course he did, he'd been there with us the entire time," I said, smiling down at her. "And it wasn't a secret. I just never knew how to discuss this with those who hadn't lived in the war. Your generation would never really understand what happened back then. For you, it's only a class you have to take for History of Magic."

"Well, you could try to explain it to me," she said lightly. "I'm the top student at my year, after all."

"Yes, you are." She reminded so much of myself, Henrietta. Her defiance, her courage, her intelligence, and her odd insecurity at certain occasions. "I guess it's time you hear this tale of ours. Where would you like me to start?"

"From the beginning, preferably," she said with a grin. "Though I'd really like to hear more of Harry Potter. He sounds like such an interesting character."

"He was." He really was. "And I meant what I said. He was a true hero."

"I sense that for you it means so much more than it would for other people, Gamma." Ah, shrewd Henrietta.

"It does. He always meant very much for me." A faint smile curved my lips up as I reminisced. "And he saved me, in every way a person can be saved. Not only from the dangers I mentioned, which were all true and I could add many more to the list. But he did so much more.

"He saved me from heartbreak, from obsession, from perfection. He saved me from oppression, from insanity, from the world. He saved me from myself, and life itself.

"And that is why for me he'll always be the hero of my life."

I looked down to see the amazed and focused eyes of Henrietta. Eyes that conveyed so many emotions at hearing this story, and that reminded me so much of him. And, try as I might, I'd never know how on earth a descendent of Ginny, Draco, Ron and myself came to have such amazing green eyes. Eyes so much like the ones of Harry Potter.

And I watched those eyes as I proceeded to tell the story of something that had happened so many years ago, but that for me would always feel like it was just yesterday.

A.N.: Here it is. Truth be told, I'm not entirely satisfied with it. The quick sketch I made of it seemed better, actually. But there you have it. I'd love to hear your opinion on it.

I felt the need to write this as a few days ago I was flipping through the channels of the cable, and I found myself watching the ending of "Titanic", which was the motion picture mentioned in my first note. It's from where I got the line, "And he saved me, in every way a person can be saved." And what first inspired me to write this.