Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, unfortunately. J.K. Rowling does, so do not sue me or flame me either. Everything else is part of my twisted imagination. Pls. Read and Review. Oh yeah, this is dedicated to my wonderful and beautiful 13-yr. old sister. ENJOY!

Warning: Post-HBP and major character death.

Requiem

By Keara Avonmora

For some, tonight is a night just like any other. Everyone is going about their daily businesses without any hesitation. Husbands return home from a tired day at work into the waiting arms of their wives. Mothers tuck their children into their cozy beds where they dream of the adventures that tomorrow may bring.

Yet for others, tonight is a night of rejoicing. At last they can sleep in peace, their dreams unfettered by the dark presence of the Dark Lord. Finally they can all breathe a sigh of relief. No longer will they have to worry for each others safety, or wonder whether a friend, a relative or even they themselves would be the next victim of his followers. No longer will the emerald Dark Mark hover menacingly above houses and buildings accompanied by mysterious and unexplained deaths. No, the wizarding community is safe at last for the Dark Lord has finally been vanquished.

And yet, for a select few, not only is this a night of rejoicing, yet a night of anguish. Their loved ones and dear friends strewn across the ground, some badly mangled, others still intact. Bodies laying side by side, friend beside foe.

To a Muggle, this extraordinary scene seems to be the next crime hot spot. A homicide perhaps or better yet a massacre. Numerous bodies are strewn across the expanse of the hot and steamy streets of London. However, they would be puzzled over the strange attire that these people were wearing. Robes-long tailor cut robes, in different shades and color, and strangely, wooden debris is also strewn across the street. Others are found with different colors and sizes of sticks clutched in their hands. Others bear severe injuries, yet oddly, some have that glassy eyed terrified look, as though they had died out of fear. Nearby, several of these odd people start to stir, every movement causing them to grimace as hot-white pain starts to sear within their bodies.

Yet, in the middle of all the chaotic stillness, another scene unfolds in front of our eyes. Four teenagers huddle in a group on the ground. A teenage boy, renowned for his dark hair, emerald eyes and the lightning shaped scar upon his forehead, lies still in the lap of a young girl. Her loose red locks tumble down upon the still face of the boy, her brown eyes searching for a hint of life in the young man. Slowly, she caresses his face as she bows her head down to be closer to him.

A brown head appears from within the folds of her black robe, her cheeks streaming with tears. Slowly, she pushes back her unruly brown hair as she reaches out to place a comforting arm around the red-haired girl beside her.

"No, Hermione...don't." Lethargically, the brown haired girl looks up into the haggard face of her friend.

" Ron. I-I-I." Once again, she buries her face into her hands and sobs passionately.

Beside her, the red-haired young man sits down, with a look of anguish upon his face. Slowly, his arm encircles Hermione, bringing her into a close embrace, as they watch the still face of their fallen friend.

Suddenly, the red-haired girl mumbles incoherently. "Harry…." She whispers the word uncertainly as if the wind that blows away the words upon ones lips might blow away the man that she loved.

"Ginny", the young man in her lap stirs and tries to open his emerald eyes.

"Shh…Don't move Harry." Ginny whispers into his ear. Quickly she glances at his broken body. Shebravely fightsback the silent tears that are welling into her eyes, an unbidden spring, waiting to be released.

"Harry." Hermione whispers softly. "You did it! You defeated him." The triumphant ring in her voice was soon eclipsed by the fear and sadness that was etched in her young face.

"Mate," Ron says gruffly, trying to hold back the various emotions waiting to be unleashed. "Mate, we're here…' Mione…'Mione sent for help…" His knees buckle as he lowers his head, his lips faltering. "Harry, hang in there, mate."

Harry's world plunges into darkness once more. Trying to shake off that unspeakable heaviness upon his chest, he tries to move once more, his face a mask of the pain that he is in.

"Harry, don't move. I am trying to heal you as best as I can.." Hermione shakes her head worriedly her hand faltering as she tries to heal her friend.

"Hermione….Ron." Harry mutters, trying to get a glimpse of his best friends. There they were. Hermione's brown hair and worried face, and Ron's lean figure with a mop of flaming red hair. He gives a sad smile and whispers, almost incoherently. "Ron."

"Yeah, mate?"

"Take care of Hermione. And Ginny. Make sure that they will never be…that no harm will come to them. Ever."

"I will. To the very end, Harry. I will protect them."

"Harry, don't say that, don't! Oh, Harry!" Hermione's wand clatters to the ground as she buries her head into Ron's dark robes, weeping passionately.

"Ginny…." Slowly, Harry turns his head to gaze at Ginny's tear filled eyes.

Smiling sadly, she clutches his hand in hers; a small clink of two silver bands pierces the silence.

"Stay well. I love you." And with one last smile to the heavens above him, his hand goes limp in Ginny's clasped hand. Her small form shudders and her sobs continue to echo throughout the night.

Footsteps echo in the distance, yet the small group does not seem to hear. Another wizard approaches, his wand limp in his hand. Suddenly, he abandons all caution and runs towards them.

"Hermione, Ron!" As he approaches them, Hermione lifts up her head from the depths of Ron's tear-stained robes.

"Professor Lupin." She clears her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's too late. Harry is…is…"

His haggard face contorts into one of anguish and pain. He drops to his knees, sobbing over the prostrate form of his best friend's son. "Sirius…. James…… Lily…. I tried…." He whispers to the wind. "Harry. I am sorry. I failed to protect you when you needed it most."

Hermione places a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "Professor, there was no need to protect him. He knew what he had to do."

All around them pops and cracks can be heard as Ministry Aurors and Order members alike, come running to help those who they could still help, never minding that they were too late to change anything else.

At last, evil is once again conquered, the end of decades of war. Yet, the remnants of evil may still be picked up, piece by piece like a shattered mirror. For those who were left behind, the shadows of the past do not fade easily, for they do not forget what they and their loved ones have lived through and died for. For them, their own war is just beginning.