Neville had often wondered what happened to Harry and Hermione. They had vanished just after the Ministry fell to briefly reappear at the final battle. Dark angels of death who casually rendered Death Eaters into chunky salsa. Moving like dancers through the spell battles in a ballet of fire.

Then just before the sun rose on that day they left. They did not say goodbye to anyone, did not leave to join the celebration. Luna claimed they had gone into the west to be with the other great heros but then Luna claimed that her knickers kept getting taken by Nargles. Neville chuckled that his wife was odd, but fun.

The next several years had seen rumors of their reappearance to hunt down and deal vengeance upon those Death Eaters and pure-blood supremacists who had escaped the battle. Neville had followed the rumors and sightings to an abandoned ruined chapel in the Scottish Highlands. It was deep in a valley where little sunlight reached.

Crawling into the ruins he felt a chill as the sun sank below the horizon casting the last few rays into the chamber. In the fading light he beheld a half naked Hermione sprawled across a grave that held Harry. The two of them were so pale and still that they must have died recently. Neville grieved until the sunlight had faded from the chamber.

In the darkness he heard a stirring rustling sound causing him to cast a lumos. In the light he saw Harry sitting up and Hermione languidly moving across to another coffin to pick up her shawl.

"Hello Neville. Long time no see eh?" Harry sighed in a breathless whisper.