-1Title: Day of Triumph
Pairing: HP/GW
Genre/Rating: Angsty, PG - 13
Length: 1.068 Words
Warning: Hmm... a bit sad, I suppose. And also, it's not slash. So there.
Dedicated to: Emmy
Notes: This was written for a contest... we were supposed to write it during a 'holiday'- either a real one, or one we made up. Enjoy!

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Harry woke up that day nauseated. He hated June 7th. Hated it with a fiery passion.

He pulled the covers over his twenty-five year old body; Harry felt them faintly slip off his feet. Harry groaned. He turned over to his left and kissed the rumbled red haired woman lying next to him. The woman groaned as well.

"Morning already?" she mumbled, pushing her blazing red hair out of her clear blue eyes. Harry just nodded and kissed her nose. "Bloody hell," she responded, massaging her temples.

"You're telling me, Ginny?" Harry laughed half-heartedly as he sat up. Suddenly, at least fifteen owls swooped into the room, screeching their lungs out. Ginny lay down in the bed, muttering something that sounded a bit like 'effing owls…', pushing her pillow over her head. It was no use. One of the owls landed right on top of Ginny's pillow. She jumped up, yelping, while Harry could barely contain his laughter. She sighed and fumbled into the bathroom, half awake. Harry almost laughed out loud, then thought better of it; he remember the last time he had, and he had come out on the bottom. Harry rubbed the back of his head in remembrance of where that broom servicing kit had hit him.

"Get the bloody owls out, Harry! Get the letters, and get them out!" Ginny called from the bathroom. He heard the water begin to run, and sighed, knowing that Ginny was going to take a while. He began untying the letter from the legs of the owls, who beginning to pester him. They were all the same, all the bloody same. All from people who wanted him.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We'd love it if on this Day of Triumph you could be the guest of honor at our gala. We would be so honored for the Chosen One himself to make at least an appearance…

Harry threw the letters on the floor, not willing to read any more.

"Ginny," he growled, "they're all asking me to come to their bloody parties… I don't think I can stand another one of those." Harry thought back to the time he had mistakenly gone to one of these galas; there were fan girls everywhere, he had barely gotten out with his clothes on… he groaned.

"Harry, people expect you to be there!" Ginny called from the shower. "Come on, you did defeat Voldemort seven years ago today!" But there was an odd tone to her voice, there was something odd-

Harry, confused, inched to the bathroom. The shower was still running, but he heard gasping sobs coming from inside. Harry opened the door. Inside was Ginny, wrapped in a towel, leaning against the counter, crying her eyes out. Ginny looked up at up, her face wretched with grief. Harry did not understand; today was supposed to be happy, it was supposed to be joyous-

Oh.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, still in his boxers. He felt her wet skin against his, and she slowly began to calm down. He didn't know where the shower water started and the tears began, and he didn't care. All he could think of was them.

Ron and Hermione.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny, I forgot-" Harry murmured into her hair, his voice ragged with emotion. Ginny nodded into his chest, tears still running down her cheeks. She clutched the towel to her chest rather awkwardly. Harry almost smiled at the childish gesture. But he didn't. Instead he cried, cried rather bitterly. In the end they were both holding each other up, both distraught, both horrified by the grief they had been holding back for the past seven years.

"I just can't believe they're gone, Harry-" Ginny sputtered out, trying to regain some of her control, her dignity. Harry nodded, his speech impeded by his tears.

"You know, when you told me what had happened, I didn't believe you, Gin… I thought you all were- kidding around…" Harry choked out. "Only when I saw them lying there, hand in hand, all cold, all dead-"

"Stop it, Harry!" Ginny shrieked, pulling away; she began to walk to the door. "I should never have brought this up. It isn't the time, or the place, I can't deal with this today-" But Harry caught her in his arms.

"No, today is the right day. Right now is the right time. And frankly, I don't care where we talk, but we need to. They deserve that respect," he said, his voice coming out as a whisper, although he didn't intend it as such. Ginny sagged back into him.

"I don't want to talk about them," she whispered back. "I don't want to drag up those memories… they are too painful. Don't you see, Harry?" She turned back to him, her eyes glazed over with tears. "Don't you see? If we start talking about them being d-dead, it means they really can't come back, they really can't… They're really dead." Ginny's eyes widened and she burst out into tears once again. But this time she did not turn to Harry for comfort. Instead, she ran out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Harry didn't follow. He let his body fall down, down onto the wet floor…

Harry hated June 7th. Hated it with a fiery passion. Harry hated it for being the so called 'Day of Triumph,' the day that he had killed Lord Voldemort. He hated it for being the day he became a murderer. He hated it because it was the day that his two best friends met their early demise.

Harry's cheek lay against the floor; tears were pooling under it, but he did not move to wipe them. Instead, he just lay there, motionless.

After an infinite amount of time, the door slowly opened. A flash of red hair, and a pair of gleaming blue eyes. Those cheeks- they were tear stained… but there was a fire behind those eyes that Harry noticed. A fire to continue on, no matter what odds. A fire that he loved.

Harry felt Ginny's warm fingers brush his tears away.

"We can do this together," she whispered, pulling him up to a sit. She brought her arms around him, and kissed his lips gently. Harry almost smiled. They stood up together. Ginny turned back a gave him a quick smile. "Come on, Harry; we've got a gala to crash."