Harry didn't quite know what to do now.
Granted, yes, he was used to lying awake at night, processing the day's events and going over the new memories they'd created. He was no stranger to that. But...always before he'd done it with Neville there. And now he was gone.
What was more, he was incredibly disconcerted that he couldn't seem to recall specifics from the life he had lived. He remembered basics, large bullet points, but he couldn't pinpoint whether Ginny's wedding gown had had sleeves or not, or when Ron and Hermione's daughter's birthday was, or dozens of other specifics. In fact, his memory was only really clear up to the point where he had cast his damning Patronus in Hogsmeade, and Aberforth had ushered them inside the Hog's Head. After that point, it was as though he had read a book about someone else's life and tried to apply it to himself. After that point was...it wasn't uncertainty. It just simply felt like...the unknown future.
It was troubling. He knew he defeated Voldemort - that point was not in limbo, it was just something that was going to happen - but everything else was obscured by a distant haze. Obviously, there was still a choice that had to be made before anything else would become clear. And at that point, according to Neville, his entire life would switch to something completely different, and the life he remembered would no longer be even a faint possibility. Harry wished he knew what the choice would entail.
He rolled over on the skinny camp bed and huddled under the blanket. Even though he hadn't lived it in real time, he felt Neville's absence these past several months keenly. He wondered at that, but only for a few moments before he drifted off.
Harry and the newly-returned Ron managed to escape Hermione's piercing glares by pretending to go foraging for blackberries and mushrooms, which allowed them to talk somewhat more freely.
"Anyway, they nearly got Kingsley before we all realized that the name was jinxed - You-Know-Who knew that it was just the Order and you that would be saying the name outright, so they were using it to track us, yeah?"
Harry didn't really have anything to say to that. He lowered his voice with a glance in Hermione's direction. "You...haven't heard anything about the people at Hogwarts, have you? Ginny and Neville and the others?"
"No, mate," Ron said forlornly. "Nothing gets in nor out of the castle, except owls, and those are searched and censored, and you're not allowed to send too many, and they'll rewrite the letters, too - switch words around, that sort of thing, in case you're trying to write in cipher. Mum's not even really sure if it's Ginny writing the letters." Ron fell silent and began shredding a blackberry leaf.
"And Neville?" Harry asked, possibly a bit too urgently. "What about him?"
"No idea," Ron replied. "Mum hasn't got any letters from him, which is weird if you think about it, he always liked her, and Ginny hasn't mentioned him at all."
Harry's stomach fell. "So...he might be..."
Ron shrugged unhappily. "Hard to tell. He's not on the list of missing witches and wizards, not that I've heard...but I've missed a bunch of broadcasts. Maybe we could write his Gran? She might know."
"Maybe," Harry said hollowly. His stomach twisted as his mind refused to entertain the probability that the glimpse he'd had of Neville at the wedding before Disapparating was likely the last one he'd ever have.
"There's only one way in or out," Aberforth said gruffly. "The old passageways are guarded on both ends by dementors and Death Eaters. Guards patrolling everywhere in the castle. How you expect to get anything done in there is beyond me, but if you want to go get yourself killed, that's your lookout, eh? I wash my hands of it." Aberforth strode abruptly into the next room, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Harry to blink at each other.
Movement in the portrait made Harry look back at it. A tiny white dot appeared at the end of what looked to be a very long, dark tunnel, and now Ariana was walking back to them, growing bigger as she came closer.
There was someone with her. Someone taller, limping, with shaggy hair and torn clothing.
Ariana and the figure behind her drew closer, and Harry felt a sensation not unlike a large hand squeezing his chest. His heart started pounding hard enough that he was sure it would crack his ribs.
The frame of the portrait swung open like a door, and there he was, blinking in the brighter light, framed by the rough stone of a real tunnel behind him.
Harry drew a sharp breath, not sure if he'd even be able to say anything.
"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing forward to help him down from the mantelpiece. As Neville's feet touched the ground, his eyes sought out Harry. When they found him, his beaming smile was like the sun coming out.
Without being quite conscious of how he was managing to do it, Harry found himself striding quickly forward across the small room, catching Neville around the torso in a hearty embrace, trying to impart the enormous feeling in his chest that couldn't find words even if Harry had known them. Neville's arms wrapped around him and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world, causing the excitement in his chest to swell until Harry thought he must burst with it. He looked up into Neville's face, saw the tears shimmering in his eyes, saw the echo of a question there.
Harry knew the answer, had always known the answer, had known the answer for years but had never had the courage to say it.
He reached up, placed his hand firmly on the back of Neville's head, and drew his mouth down to meet his own with an urgency he hadn't known it was possible to feel. Without hesitation, Neville's hands went to the small of his back and the back of his neck, pulling Harry closer to him, fingers tangling in his hair and sending shivers down his spine. Their lips parted and tongues met, timid at first, but then growing more bold. Neville stiffened for just a moment in pain and Harry eased the pressure as he tasted a hint of saltiness of the blood from Neville's split lip and recalled that he had looked far from pristine as he had jumped down from the mantelpiece. It all rolled into one, the taste, the feel, the sensation of the kiss that had been waiting in the wings for so long.
Time had stopped, and there was only Neville, and nothing else mattered.
Neville ended the kiss first, drawing away slowly, almost reluctantly. Harry buried his face in Neville's shoulder, breathing just slightly heavily. "I thought you might be dead," he said softly. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"Me too," Neville said, stroking Harry's hair and drawing him close. "God, it's good to see you."
Ron cleared his throat behind them. "Uh. Anyone care to fill me in?"
There was the sound of Hermione smacking him soundly on the shoulder. "How dense can you possibly be? Did you honestly not see this coming all these years?"
"Years?" Ron sounded startled. There was the sound of another smack, but Harry tuned out the whispered vituperations as he closed his eyes and settled into Neville's embrace. He felt like he could float there, uncaring, for hours, and would have, had Hermione not tapped him on the shoulder.
"I hate to interrupt," and she sounded like she truly meant it, "but there's still more we have to do tonight."
Harry's carefree happiness burst like a pricked soap bubble. "Right." He took a deep breath and stepped away, regret causing an almost tangible pain deep in his chest. His head still felt oddly light, and he shook it to try and settle it. "We have to get into the castle, Neville. Can you take us?"
Neville nodded, looking every bit as loopy and exhilarated as Harry felt. "Of course. Follow me."
Years later, perhaps, Harry would be able to recall with clarity every word he and Voldemort had exchanged as they circled one another in the Great Hall, would be able to come to grips with the self-sacrifice he had performed in the Forbidden Forest. Later, once events had solidified and the shock wore off, Neville would be able to tell the story of the Sword of Gryffindor and how he had stood toe-to-toe with Voldemort, endured the terrible flames that had been cast upon him, and killed the last and final horcrux. Other quills would tell the tales down the road; some of the people holding the quills had even been there.
Right now, however, the silence after Voldemort fell slowly backwards was deafening. Harry could feel every eye upon him, could feel the grain of the wood of the Elder Wand in his hand, hear the hearts of everyone in the Great Hall beating. But even heavy silence is a tremulous thing, and at once, as though by consensus, the people around him erupted with whoops and cheers and screams of delight and disbelief. The sunrise was a dazzling orange, triumphant, strong, as a wave of people began to break toward Harry.
The first to reach him was Neville, of course. Neville had always been there, first and foremost. Harry fended off the attentions of the rest of the students, staff, parents, and others by the simple expedient of grasping Neville's face firmly in both hands and kissing him soundly.
"Harry," Neville said in a low voice, blushing, as Harry pulled away for a moment to study Neville's face. "Everyone can see us."
"Mmm hmm," Harry agreed, kissing Neville again. "And you have no idea how much I don't care."
This tactic worked for only a few moments, however, as the crowd got over this latest shock - or lack of it; Professor McGonagall looked entirely too smug for the revelation to have come as a complete surprise, and Mrs. Weasley was dabbing tears from her eyes with the sleeves of her robe - and decided that they wanted to touch Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the one who had vanquished the Dark Lord, no matter who he happened to be snogging at the time.
Everybody seemed to have a word for him, even if they weren't able to say it and could only profess it in a pounding on the back or a squeeze of the shoulder. Harry couldn't hear a single thing anyone was saying, for they all wanted to say it at once and as loudly as they could. They all pressed in toward him, determined to get to him, to share a part in the victory that was not just his that dawn.
Nobody considered that he had not slept in what seemed like an age, or that he clearly wanted time alone with the young man that he never let go of as he wandered through the hall, speaking a word here and there, listening to the news trickling in, bowing a head with the bereaved and shaking hands with those who were too tongue-tied to be able to say anything. Neville clutched Gryffindor's sword tightly with one hand, and his other hand gripped Harry's as though he never intended to let go, following Harry through the Great Hall, talking to no small number of his own admirers.
It wasn't until the sun was well in the sky and the crowd was no longer paying sole attention to Harry that he and Neville collapsed on a bench in a corner, exhausted beyond belief.
"It looks to me like you would like some peace and quiet," a light voice sounded from next to them. Harry looked over to see Luna perched on the bench beside them.
"Not likely," Neville said, surveying the crowd.
"I'll distract them for you," she said. "You can use your cloak to get away - no one's likely to be looking for your feet, it's your heads and hearts they're looking for right now."
Somehow, this statement made sense, in a very Luna sort of way. Before Harry or Neville could say a word, Luna had stood up on the bench and cried "Oh! Look, everyone, a Blibbering Humdinger!" As everyone turned to look where she was pointing, Harry swept the cloak over himself and Neville. Luna had been right: they were both tall enough that their feet were far from covered, but she was also right in that nobody noticed.
They shuffled carefully through the hall, Harry becoming rather distracted at how close he was having to keep to Neville in order to keep them both under the cloak, when he spotted two others whose company he also craved, though in an entirely different way.
"It's us," he muttered as they passed close to them. "Come with us?"
They stood up at once and together Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Ron left the Great Hall. Once safely away around the corner, Harry pulled the cloak from him and Neville, dismissing the sly voice in his head that was suggesting all sorts of interesting things they could have been doing under the cloak away from prying eyes.
They had not discussed where they were going, but they unerringly made their way there anyway. The gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's study said nothing, simply bowed and jumped to the side as Harry approached.
As they entered the office, an earsplitting noise sounded, and Harry - still slightly on edge - jumped. But it was applause and cheers; the portraits of previous headmasters were giving him a standing ovation, waving hats and goblets and tankards and putting their fingers between their teeth and whistling.
They finally fell silent as Harry approached the newest portrait, apparently unaware that he still held Neville's hand tightly.
"The thing in the snitch you gave me," Harry said. "I dropped it somewhere in the forest. I don't think I'm going to go back to look for it. Do you think that's a good idea?"
"I do indeed, my boy," the portrait of Dumbledore said, beaming from behind his half-moon spectacles. "And one that I am not at all surprised you came up with. Does anybody else know where it fell?"
"No." Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction; Neville made a mental note to ask Harry what the blazes he was talking about. "I'm going to keep Ignotus's present, though."
"As is your birthright, my dear boy," Dumbledore agreed affably. "Until you pass it on to your own children."
"But then...there's this." Harry pulled out the Elder Wand and Neville couldn't help but swallow hard. Ron and Hermione looked on it with a reverence that clearly made Harry very uncomfortable.
"I don't want it," he said, almost relishing the looks of shock on their faces. "I was happier with mine. So..."
Harry let go of Neville's hand to rummage around in the pouch around his neck and fish out the pieces of what Neville recognized as the wand he'd been using as long as Neville had known him. When had that broken?
But it didn't seem to matter, for Harry had placed the pieces on the headmaster's desk and tapped them with the Elder Wand, whispering "reparo," and the pieces knit themselves together, sparks flying from the end as the last crack sealed. Harry lifted his old wand and a smile of satisfaction spread across his face. He turned once more to face Dumbledore's portrait.
"I'm putting the Elder Wand back where it came from," he said decisively. "And then, when I die a natural death, the previous master would never have been defeated, and that will break the line."
"Are you mad?" Ron asked in disbelief.
"I think he's right," Hermione said softly.
"The Elder Wand is more trouble than it's worth," Harry said firmly. "And I've put up with enough trouble for a few lifetimes."
Dumbledore nodded, smiling. His gaze then took in Neville as well as Harry, and he beamed.
"You've no notion how pleased I am that Time has managed to bring you two together at last," he said, with just the tiniest emphasis that Neville was sure Ron and Hermione wouldn't pick up. He might not have picked it up either, nor Harry, had the colors not swirled in his head slightly as he had said it. There was a brief flicker of understanding, a tiny glimpse of a future stretching before him, and then it was gone like a puff of wind.
Harry's hand found its way into Neville's again. Neville carefully and reverently lay the Sword of Gryffindor across the headmaster's desk, where it gleamed in some unknown light source, and then turned to Ron and Hermione.
"I know you're his best mates too, and mine," he said, suddenly feeling so tired that he could not possibly sleep. "But if you'll excuse us, please, we're going to head to the dormitory. I need to take this man's clothes off immediately."
Ron goggled, and Hermione's hand flew up to her mouth to cover her astonished laughter. Harry, however, adopted the goofiest grin Neville had ever seen on his face, and he knew that he was wearing one to match.
"Think they're put out?" Neville asked as they stole along the hallways of the castle toward Gryffindor tower, trying as hard as they could not to run.
"Nah," Harry said, shaking his head. "They're probably off finding an empty classroom for themselves."
"Really?" Neville asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded after a moment of considering. "Everything worked out rather well, then."
The dormitory was blessedly empty. Harry scrawled a "GOOD GOD, DO NOT DISTURB" sign on a scrap of parchment and plastered it to the door before slamming it behind him, hurriedly locking it, and falling into Neville's arms as they backed toward one of their beds, mouths pressed together, all cares forgotten for the time being, and reveled in the knowledge that they were both alive and together, and nothing existed in the world any longer that would change that.