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It's over. It's actually over.

Neville looks around the Great Hall. This isn't how he'd imagined it would be all the times he pictured what the end of the war would look like. The faces in the crowd look so broken, and he knows that they are. They have all lost so much, and Neville isn't completely sure they'll ever get it back.

And yet, despite the heaviness in his chest, he can feel that strange sense of fluttering. How long has it been since he actually felt peace within his soul? Far too long. He still remembers clinging to those last remaining shreds of hope, looking at his friends and finding a reason to carry on. But this isn't that. This isn't a spark, a reason to fight. This is pure, unabashed peace mixed with a different kind of hope.

Without warning, Neville finds himself falling over. He isn't sure if he's dizzy, exhausted, or maybe something else entirely, but he barely manages to slide gracefully to the floor while hoping no one saw him.

Someone did. Hannah, of all people. Neville wants to melt on the spot when she holds out her hand. "Careful," she says brightly, offering him a tired smile.

He allows himself to be helped back onto his feet. "Sorry. Been a bit of a day."

She laughs. "That's an understatement. Come on. I've got something for you."

Neville's brows raise. He and Hannah weren't especially close before this past school year. Something about tragedy and war managed to bring them together in a way that nothing else ever could. Even so, he's more than a little surprised. Still, he follows her along, more than a little grateful to get out of the Great Hall and all those grieving faces. Being there hurts more than he can ever say.

He isn't entirely sure where they're going, except that he's vaguely aware the Hufflepuff dormitories are nearby. They don't go there. Instead, Hannah stops in front of a painting of fruit and tickles a pear. Neville is about to ask when the painting gives way and reveals the kitchens. He imagines there would normally be house-elves hustling back and forth, preparing for whatever meal is coming up. Now, it's empty. Neville remembers seeing the house-elves out there, charging into the battle without a second thought.

Hannah doesn't seem to mind that there isn't anyone else there. Humming to herself, she sets about, grabbing things from the cabinets and shelves. Neville watches curiously. Gran would never let him watch her cook; she would always shoo him away, muttering something about too many people in the kitchen, even though it was only ever just the two of them. Hannah doesn't run him off, and he can't help but smile.

"I can't believe it's really over," she says after several moments, breaking the silence as she puts the kettle on.

"I know. It's…" Neville trails off and shakes his head. Whatever it is, he doesn't really have the words for. "It doesn't really feel over."

"I guess, in some ways, it's really just started," she agrees. "We've got a long way to go before we're back to normal."

"Do you really think things will go back to normal?"

Hannah turns to him, lips pursed. A second passes, and her expression softens. She nods, tugging at her blonde braid. "I think so. Maybe it's silly because all sort of gotten used to this nightmare," she tells him. "But I think we're strong, and we've proven that we can overcome even the darkest things."

Neville smiles. It's such a pretty thought. As hopeful as he's been, he doesn't think he's ever seen the world quite like Hannah does. She speaks with nothing but certainty, and he knows he has no choice but to share her optimism.

The kettle whistles, and she grabs a teacup, removes the kettle, pours the steaming water over the teabags. "Mum always had a passion for cooking," she tells him. "I never could measure up, but that doesn't stop me from trying."

She hands him the cup, then a plate with an egg sandwich and sliced strawberries. Neville bites into the sandwich and lets out a content moan. "This is delicious."

Her lips quirk into a small smile. "Mum always said there's nothing a meal prepared with love and care couldn't fix."

"Wise woman, your mum," he tells her. "I know you must miss her."

Hannah nods, but she doesn't say anything else on the matter. Instead, she silently pours herself a cup of tea as well.

"We're going to be spending a lot of time together," Neville says, trying to change the subject. "I mean, with the whole Hogwarts thing… I overheard McGonagall talking about rebuilding, and well, they'll need all the help they can get."

Merlin, he's rambling like a fool. It's a miracle Hannah hasn't lost interest. Maybe she has, but she's just too kind to say so. From what Neville can tell, she's listening so politely, and he really hopes it's sincere. He would hate to waste her time or bore her to death.

"Yeah, the castle is in pretty bad shape," she agrees.

"Would you… Well, I figure… Maybe we could…?"

Hannah grins. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"If you'd like."

"I would love that."

Neville relaxes, exhaling a breath of relief. It's just one more silver lining on this black cloud that's been hanging over them for far too long.