When Harry awoke it must have been hours later, the last rays of the setting sun were edging through the window of the boy's dormitory. He sat up, groggily, to find he was alone in there, and with a jolt of pain that felt physical, the memories of the battle came flooding back to him.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he was filled with an urgent need to join the others, as well as a deep horror of seeing the bodies of Fred, Tonks, and Lupin and others he had known and loved. He felt a sudden anxiety wondering how the Weasleys would feel about him now. With another jolt that he felt in the pit of his stomach, he wondered how Ginny would feel about him.
As he approached the great hall, he could hear hundreds of voices emanating from it, where people must still be both celebrating and commiserating. Hovering by the doors, the first people he saw were the Weasleys, an unmissable gaggle of people with flaming red hair, standing where the top of the Gryffindor table would have been. The bodies of the dead had been moved, but the family stood where Fred's had been, Bill speaking in low murmurs, Mrs Weasley in teary silence, and George sitting with a blank expression on his face. He could see Ron and Hermione, arms around each other, standing slightly outside of the circle.
Nervously his eyes sought out Ginny, but they didn't find her. He hung back, feeling awkward. He couldn't join them in their grief, not when he knew he was responsible for Fred's death. He hesitated for a moment, then, feeling a hotness creep over his face and neck, glad that nobody had seen him, he turned to walk out into the grounds, aching for the cool breeze.
As he turned around the corner of the doors of the great hall, his mind occupied, he bumped headfirst into someone, who gave a short yelp of pain and surprise. Staggering back, clutching his head, in a voice that made his heart do a flip flop, someone whispered his name into the echoes of the entrance hall. It was Ginny.
Then, before he could think clearly or respond, her arms were around his neck, and, in a bittersweet echo of that fateful moment in the Gryffindor common room after the house cup win, he was kissing her. But it wasn't the light, sweet, kiss of simpler times. It was hot and slow, underscored by their deep grief. They clung to each other with a disbelief, as though they were snatching this moment from a time from which it didn't belong.
Harry could feel the warm weight of Ginny's body pressed against him, and in his relief, in the love that he could feel swelling his heart, he felt his body subside to the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. He felt hot tears spill from his eyes, and a painfully large lump in his throat. They were tears of joy, pain, grief, and happiness. He didn't bother to try and hide them.
When he pulled away, he could see that Ginny was crying too, their tears mingled on her cheeks, though her face remained bright and fierce. Looking up at him, she put a hand to his face, brushing the tears gently with her thumb. Then he held her again in a tight embrace, feeling that this moment was the sole thing tethering him to this earth.
They may have stood there for minutes or hours. When Ginny finally pulled away, she looked up at him and, seeming to sense that he wasn't yet ready to face the crowds of the great hall, nodded to the dark yawn of the entrance hall doors, which stood open to the grounds. In relief, Harry nodded.
They walked, slowly but steadily in a wide loop around the grounds. Though the destruction of the battle was visible everywhere, the grounds were empty of both the living and the dead. So many things hung between them, but Harry didn't yet feel able to articulate them. They wandered wordlessly towards the lake, stopping at the edge to sit on a rock on the shores. The water was dark and glassy, reflecting the moon, and so calm it seemed impossible to imagine the frenzied violent battle that had taken place here, mere hours earlier.
Gently, Ginny reached for Harry's hand, and they sat, gazing outwards towards the horizon, in a sombre yet peaceful silence. Eventually the moon rose in the sky, and it felt time for them to return to the castle.
They entered the great hall together, and Harry felt nervous but strengthened by Ginny's warm hand in his own. They walked to the top of the Gryffindor table and Harry felt he almost couldn't bear the crushing grief emanating from the Weasleys, and the weight of his responsibility.
Then, seeing their approach, Mr Weasley stood up, and in several quick strides had walked over to him and enveloped him in a brief but tight embrace. As they walked towards the others, Mrs Weasley stood up and wrapped her arms around him too.
She said his name in a voice thick with grief and exhaustion, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Harry, you brave, brave, boy. Thank you, thank you." He looked down at her, relief cresting over him in waves.
He looked around at the family, missing one of their number. "I- I'm so, so, sorry". It felt feeble, completely inadequate in the face of their great sorrow, but they seemed to understand his unsaid words. Bill and Percy rose to shake Harry's hand, and Charlie locked him in the same tight hug as Mr. Weasley. Only George, sitting, with the blank expression on his face, didn't rise. But he looked up at Harry, meeting his eyes and giving him a brief nod, which Harry read as: thank you.
Ginny walked over to George and sat by him, gathering his hand up in hers. Harry found a seat by Ron and Hermione.
Bill conjured a bottle of fire-whisky and 11 glasses, which he filled and passed around. "To our brave brother" he said fiercely, raising his glass to the starry sky of the great hall. Holding their glasses aloft, they each cried "to Fred", and drank the burning liquid down.