SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Draco couldn't catch his breath from crying. Ginny was holding him, Mother was holding him, Father was holding him— hell, it seemed like everyone was holding him, though none more closely than Ginny.
Her hair still smelled like wildflowers, even after everything. She was here, she was alive, she was safe… and so was he. It was impossible, but she had done it. She had brought him back.
A great shudder went through his soul as he remembered the feeling of the shadows' attack. It had been worse than dying, worse than the Cruciatus, worse than anything… he had been unraveling, bit by agonizing bit, being consumed into nonexistence…
And yet it would have been worth it— to save her. To save them all. He had been ready, in that moment, to die— to distract Alys and the monsters long enough for Ginny to run, to get back home, and then with his death… the gates would have been closed. The world would have been safe.
He should have known that Ginny Weasley wouldn't accept that outcome.
"H-how did you save me?" he stuttered, finally pulling back far enough to look her in the eye. Merlin, she was beautiful— his eyes took in every freckle, the warmth in her skin, the fullness of her lips… How was it possible that she was real? How was it possible that she had saved him?
She laughed, though her own eyes were still filled with tears. "I asked the Morrigan to send us home safely, and she did."
She had asked Death to spare him— pleaded with a god on his behalf. He threw his arms around her again, overwhelmed.
"It's over," she whispered once again, stroking the back of his head. "We're safe now."
There were others around them too— her family, Potter, their other friends— and they were intermittently saying things to each other, but he could only focus on Ginny, with his parents a distant, fuzzy second in his peripheral vision. She had saved him. They were alive. Voldemort was dead. It was over.
The sound of someone purposely clearing their throat made the group pause, and when Draco looked up over Ginny's shoulder, he saw a man in Aurors' robes approaching them, a determined look on his face.
His heart sank, though he fought the feeling almost immediately. So this was it then. His freedom would be short-lived— he had always known that, ever since he had started helping Ginny in the first place. He had been prepared to die only a few short moments ago, it felt like; getting to live at all would be reward enough. And they still had the bridge…
If Ginny would even want to talk to him, once he was in prison.
"Alright, I've given you lot more than enough time. Now that you're not all standing around— Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby under arrest by order of the Ministry of Magic."
He felt his father stiffen behind him, and for a terrible moment Draco was sure he was going to run, but Lucius Malfoy rose to his feet, head held high, and said, "Very well then. I look forward to cooperating with the Ministry's investigation."
"Yeah, I'm sure you are," the Auror muttered as the small crowd made way for him. With a wave of his wand, a pair of iron shackles appeared in his hands, and Draco's stomach clenched as he watched the man secure his father's wrists before removing his wand from his robe pocket.
"I guess it's time then," Draco whispered before extricating himself from Ginny's arms— oh how he wanted to stay, he wanted to stay, he didn't want to go— and stood up. He walked toward the man, his wrists extended, already dreading the cold bite of the metal.
"What are you doing?" That was Ginny's voice behind him, but he couldn't look back, he couldn't look back because if he did he would lose his nerve, he had to get through this—
"Draco—"
"It's fine, Mother." His voice didn't shake. That was good.
The man summoned another pair of shackles, but Ginny wasn't done.
"You can't arrest him." She hurried up to his side and slapped his wrists in an effort to get him to put his arms down. "He just saved the whole world. He's not going to Azkaban."
The Auror looked at her, then back at Draco, then back at her again. "Everyone's saying it was you who did that, Miss Weasley."
"And if it wasn't for him, I couldn't have done it."
"Be that as it may—"
"No! You listen to me now." She had walked closer to the man, gesticulating as she spoke, and had the gall to poke him in the chest, making Draco bite back a disbelieving laugh. "For the past two months, Draco Malfoy has been acting as a double agent within the Death Eaters. He is the reason I was able to defeat Voldemort, he is the reason my family wasn't executed when they were taken prisoner, he is the reason Harry was able to get here today and mount a response against the Death Eaters— it was all him. Do you know what Voldemort wanted to do to me?"
"Please don't say the name…" the Auror muttered, tugging at his collar.
Ginny ignored him, eyes blazing. "He was going to feed me Draught of Living Death and lock my soul away in a dream-world he created, never to wake up again. Draco prevented that from happening— without him, Voldemort would still be alive, still be immortal. He's not going to Azkaban."
"Miss Weasley—"
"She's right."
Draco looked over to see Potter come to stand at Ginny's side, an equally fierce look on his face. "I wasn't lying earlier. Draco is the only reason we knew to be here today at all, and if we hadn't gotten here when we did, Voldemort's plans for Hogwarts would have succeeded, and he would have been impossible to defeat. It was thanks in part to information he gave me that I was able to survive the Killing Curse. If you want to arrest him, you'll have to go through us."
Ginny nodded firmly, leaving the Auror gulping like a fish out of water.
"I… I don't know what to say…"
"If you're worried about your record, Dawlish, I'll do the paperwork." Kingsley Shacklebolt approached from behind the other Auror, coming to stand at the man's side, parchment and quill floating before him. "Let the record show that due to extraordinary field testimony by Ginevra Molly Weasley and Harry James Potter, heroes of the day, Draco Lucius Malfoy is hereby released from Ministry custody."
Draco dropped to his knees.
"This release is subject to Mr. Malfoy's cooperation with the Ministry in providing information regarding Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters' activities during his period as a double agent, as well as restitution for any crimes committed in the line of duty. This restitution shall carry possible penalties of probation, community service, and/or monetary fines, as dictated by the Wizengamot. Let the record show that no criminal charges are being filed in this case, and that Mr. Malfoy will serve no prison time." Kingsley grabbed the quill out of the air and signed the bottom of the parchment with a great flourish before looking down at Draco and winking. "Looks like you're a free man, Mr. Malfoy. Use it to do some good in the world, will you? Merlin knows we need it."
"Th-thank you," he stuttered, belatedly realizing that his whole body was shaking. He wasn't going to Azkaban. He wasn't going to Azkaban.
Mother was in front of Kingsley in an instant, shaking his hand profusely and extolling the virtues of his good name. Father, shackled but standing tall, echoed similar sentiments, praising justice being served.
"Kingsley, about Lucius—" Ginny started.
"I don't want to hear it!" Dawlish snapped. "If you have something to say, say it at his trial. Lucius Malfoy has a long, long record— he will have to stand trial before the Wizengamot."
"But—"
"It's fine, Miss Weasley," Father interrupted, keeping his imperious tone. "I knew the likely consequences when I agreed to help Draco— to help you. As I stated to you before, Dawlish, I will have no problem testifying before the Ministry. The truth will out, as they say."
"I'll be there," Ginny said firmly, her hands tightening to fists.
Father nodded at her. "I'm sure you will. I look forward to hearing your testimony, Ginny."
"Father—" Draco stumbled to his feet, still shaky. They were going to take Father away…
"It's alright, Draco. I am sure I will be seeing you very soon. Take care of your mother for me while I'm gone."
"Come say goodbye, darling," Mother said, tears filling her eyes once again as she stood at Father's side. Numbly, Draco did. Dawlish allowed them a quick embrace, and Draco's eyes widened as Lucius kissed the top of his head— something he had not done since Draco was a little boy.
"You have learned well from me, my son. Perhaps now it's time I learn from you," he whispered just before Dawlish pulled him away. Draco reached toward him on instinct, suddenly feeling very, very young, but the two men Disapparated, leaving Draco behind with Mother, Ginny, Potter, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"He will be fine," Mother said firmly, straightening her robes, pushing back tears. "Your father is a strong man. He can survive even the Dementors."
The Dementors. Like the shadows—
"Speaking of. I'll be speaking to my superiors about this, so I can't make any promises, but I'm of the strong opinion that given the Dementors' defection from Azkaban these last few months in service of Voldemort, we should not have them operating our prison. It's been that way for a very long time now, but, as these children are showing us, it's a new day. No reason we can't make improvements."
"That would be simply wonderful, Mr. Shacklebolt— please know that you have my full support, whatever you need."
Mother and Kingsley continued speaking, polite niceties mixed in with Mother's regular praise, leaving Draco with Ginny and Potter, who extended his hand toward him.
"Well, Malfoy, it took us almost seven years, but what do you say— friends?"
Draco looked at Potter's face, at the sincerity in his eyes, then down at his extended hand, then back at his face again.
It's okay, Ginny sent across the bridge, a warm smile on her face. He means it. You can say yes.
"F-friends," he said, and reached out to shake Potter's hand, making Ginny smile even brighter.
"Well, I never thought I'd see this day." Weasley— Draco supposed he should start calling him Ron— and Granger approached, smiles on both of their faces.
"Enemies no more, it seems," Granger added. "For real this time."
Draco said the only thought that was running through his brain, over and over again on a loop. "I'm not going to prison."
Ginny laughed before reaching out to grab his hand. Ron, he noticed, flinched but controlled his reaction quickly. "No, you're not going to prison," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "We get to go home."
Home. They would get to go home. He still couldn't believe it.
"Draco, darling, Kingsley has some questions for us, before he can return to the Ministry. Would you mind coming over here and answering them please?"
"Go on," Ginny whispered, squeezing his hand again before letting go. "We'll be waiting for you."
"Coming, Mother," Draco said, his eyes still locked on the impossible, beautiful light of Ginny's face.
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Ginny and Harry stood side by side, staring down at Tom Riddle's broken body. She had been mildly surprised to find that it was still here, right where it had fallen, but people were giving it a wide berth, even the Aurors. Lord Voldemort, it seemed, could intimidate the Wizarding World even in death.
"Weird, isn't it?" Harry asked. "To see him like this, after everything."
"Yeah. Yeah, it is weird." Ginny stared down at the body, at his chest, at the place where her hands had entered and ripped out his soul. He was gone now— where, she didn't know. But he was dead— gone from this world.
"I'm not sure what I expected to happen. But for him to just be a dead body like this…"
"He couldn't be anything else," Ginny said, her tone flat. "Despite everything he tried, he was just a man in the end."
"Yeah. Human, just like all of us."
"I ripped his soul out of his body." Her voice shook a little, and she tightened her fists in an effort to control it. "Where do you think it went, afterward?"
"Well…" Harry trailed off. "When I… died… Merlin, that feels weird to say. Anyway, after the Killing Curse hit me, I ended up in this… other place."
"Like through a portal?" Ginny turned to look at him, finally.
He met her gaze. "No, not like what you did. This place looked kind of like Kings Cross Station, if everything in Kings Cross Station was white."
Ginny's eyes widened as Harry recounted his vision of Dumbledore, of meeting his parents and Sirius again, of the horrible writhing fetus that was the remnant of Tom Riddle's soul.
"Your mother helped me. At the end."
"She did?" Harry asked, wistful wonder in his voice.
"Yes. I think I might have lost my composure without her, to be honest. She reminded me… reminded me that I wasn't alone. That they were there to help me in the sky, and you all were here helping me on the ground."
"That's… that's amazing, Ginny." His voice was thick with emotion, and they fell silent for a few long moments, the weight of all that had transpired hanging heavy between them as they gazed down at their defeated enemy.
"How do we just… go back to normal now?" Ginny finally asked, unable to look at the body any longer. "The fighting's over, but… now what?"
"Well… I'm not so sure that we do. Go back to normal, that is." Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, and Ginny's heart twisted at the nostalgia of the gesture. "I'm not sure that people like us ever get to be normal, at least not completely." He sighed before letting his hand drop. "For so long, I felt alone in this, even when people tried to support me. With the prophecy, with everything, it was just… bigger than anyone else could understand. They weren't living it. But now, after this… well, I think you might be the only person who gets it— what it's like to have the weight of the entire world on your shoulders, to feel like your whole destiny's been decided for you." He looked up at her, eyes shining. "I think maybe you've always gotten it— Voldemort targeted you from the time you were eleven, and I didn't give that the weight it deserved. I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't believe in you, Ginny— that was never what I wanted. The truth is, you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met, and I hope that, now that this is over, you can forgive me."
"Oh, Harry, of course I forgive you," Ginny said, reaching for his hand on instinct. "All those fights seem so petty now— I'm not upset with you, truly. But…"
"But?" he said gently.
"We should talk about things," she whispered. She glanced down at his hand wrapped in hers— so, so familiar, and yet foreign, like it was from another life. "Part of me is always going to love you," she continued, her chest tight. "For so long, you were everything I imagined for my future— everything I could ever imagine wanting. And maybe in another life, if things had happened differently, we could still be together, but—" Tears had crept into her eyes despite her best effort.
"It's alright," he interrupted, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. "I already know what you're going to say."
"You… you do?"
"I won't pretend it doesn't hurt, but yes." He looked to their right, where off in the distance, Draco stood talking with Narcissa, a bit away from other people. "He loves you. I know he does. And I won't act like I understand everything that happened between you two, because I don't, but if I've learned anything about Draco Malfoy the past few days, it's that you make him a far better man than he ever would have been on his own. So… it's okay. I'm always going to want to be a part of your life, Ginny, and maybe you're right— maybe in some other timeline, things could have been different for us. But they're not, and I have to learn to be okay with that. So… I guess I'm repeating myself here, but… friends?"
He looked back at her, and Ginny's heart squeezed impossibly tight.
"Of course, but… Harry, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for— I promise."
Ginny let her hand drop from his and looked over toward Draco. His pale cheeks were still flushed from crying, and he was standing close to his mother, talking quietly. He glowed that same beautiful white— the shadows hadn't taken it away.
"It's okay," Harry said softly. "Go to him."
She looked back at him, bittersweet tears in her eyes. "See you at home?"
Harry nodded. "See you at home."
Harry's blessing eased something inside her that she hadn't realized she had been carrying. Her chest lighter than it had felt in months, Ginny ran towards Draco.
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
"It's all just so… so surreal."
"I never doubted you for a moment, darling." Mother laid her hand gently on his arm, and he ignored the part of him that wanted to hug her once again— the part that never wanted to let go of her, never wanted to be apart from his mother's embrace.
"Well that makes one of us," he deadpanned, though Mother didn't laugh. "What are we going to do now?"
The absence of Father felt like an invisible hole in his chest.
"Well, I'm not entirely sure. Kingsley will let us know what the Ministry requires, but until then… well, I think I'd like to take a walk around the grounds, wouldn't you?"
Draco turned to look at her. She was smiling, that same gentle look on her face that she had always worn when he was feeling especially vulnerable.
"I think it is time for you to find out who you are in less difficult times, Draco," she said, reaching out to cup his face. "That was my wish for you, do you remember? That you could have grown up in less difficult times. You're a man grown now, but maybe that wish can still come true."
How did she always know the exact right thing to say? The thing that cut to the core of his worries, cut to the deep dark place inside his heart, the place where terror lived?
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt…"
Draco looked away from his mother, her hand falling away from his face, toward where Ginny stood a few feet away from them, looking uncharacteristically shy. He opened his mouth, but Mother was faster.
"You're not interrupting anything, darling. Draco and I were just discussing how lovely a walk around the grounds would be, though I daresay I've just remembered I do have some more questions for Mr. Shacklebolt. Perhaps you could accompany Draco in my stead. Please excuse me."
She was gone before Draco could say anything, leaving him alone with Ginny for the first time all day.
"Not exactly subtle, is she?" she asked, closing the distance between them and making him laugh.
"She tries, but no, not really."
"Do you want to walk around the grounds?"
"I…" He trailed off, looking around. People were still gathered in small groups everywhere he looked, talking and comforting each other. The Death Eaters and Snatchers had all been taken into Ministry custody by now, and at some point someone had had the forethought to move the bodies of the dead. Images of the battlefield flashed one after the other across his consciousness, making him flinch.
"Why don't we go down to the Black Lake?" Ginny asked, reaching out to take his hand, lacing her fingers with his. "Less people down there probably."
"Sure," he said faintly, not feeling quite like himself. What was this feeling? Shock? Was that it? Now that the fighting was over, now that he wasn't going to prison… it was like it couldn't quite compute in his head. He had never planned on making it this far— not really, anyway. Now they were just going to walk to the Black Lake?
That was, apparently, exactly what they were going to do. Keeping his hand tight in hers, Ginny gently pulled him away from the crowd, walking toward the shore of the Black Lake like it was any other day. People stared at them as they passed, some whispering to each other behind their hands, but Ginny acted like she couldn't even see them. She walked on, eyes on the lake, her shoulders deliberately relaxed, and so he followed her, ignoring the instinct to either hide or yell at the onlookers.
Her glow looked different, he realized. More of a true yellow than a gold now. Was that because she had used the gem's power?
Soon enough, they reached the shoreline. The afternoon was getting closer to evening now— the sun was already low on the horizon. The sky was tinged in a beautiful medley of pinks and oranges, reflecting down on the water below. Draco closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sound of the waves lapping against the shoreline.
"Not quite like the ocean, but close, isn't it?"
"Yes. Yes, it's close."
"Come on, let's sit down."
He opened his eyes again as she pulled him forward, and they sat down near the edge of the shore.
They sat in silence for a long couple of minutes, watching the water. She sat cross-legged next to him and, though he felt a little silly for it, he tucked his knees into his chest, arms wrapped around himself.
"It's hard to find the words, isn't it?" she said softly, still looking out across the lake. "After everything."
"I… I can't even begin to wrap my head around everything that's happened." He took a breath, but it was like a tidal wave was rising in his chest, a tidal wave she had given permission to flood forth. "I never thought I would get to be here. I was protecting you, trying to save you, and if I failed, I would have been executed, and if I succeeded, I knew I was going to Azkaban. It was a cost I was willing to pay— to do the right thing. To make up for… for Jane. To be enough for you. I wasn't actually supposed to make it." He let go of his knees, stretching his legs out in front of him. "When you had that portal open, and I felt that pull from those… things… I couldn't let them take you. Not when you had finally done everything we were all hoping for— not when you could have a chance to be happy. So I let go of my body…"
His voice dropped to a whisper, the cold memory of the shadows seeping into his skin, and Ginny silently reached out for his hand. After a hesitant moment, he took it.
"It was so cold." Ginny rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand. "They didn't hurt me at first, but I knew, I knew they wanted you, and at first I was sure I would just be trapped there, but it was fine, because you were back home, and Voldemort was dead, and you were going to be happy. But then I heard you, and I knew somehow you had followed me, and I wanted you to run but you wouldn't listen, and Alys left to go look for you, and they were all laughing at me… laughing at my despair that my plan hadn't worked. And then you came barreling through the door, Alys right on your heels." He laughed, half in disbelief. "Because of course you did. That's who you are. But you were in so much danger— I could barely think straight at the sight of you, trying to fight them. So I used the only weapon I had left— my family name."
"They were ripping you apart," Ginny said, her voice shaky. He squeezed her hand.
"It was… there aren't words for it. I can't talk about it. But I didn't regret it— not for a second. It was about you, but it also kind of became about more than you, at the end. I was raised to be selfish— raised to put myself and my family first, always. But it was about more than that. If we failed, the whole world would be in danger, in a way I don't think we can fathom. I couldn't let that happen."
"You saved us all."
"And yet you still wouldn't let me die a martyr," he quipped, trying and failing to bring a laugh out of her. "How did you do it, anyway?"
He listened in quiet, awed contemplation as Ginny described forming a makeshift circle as she had seen Alys do, projecting her soul out of her body and following the cord that was their connection out of one realm and into another. His hands tightened to fists as she described the danger of the swampy forest, of almost being drowned by an unknown creature. He relaxed again as she told him of Ignotus Peverell's arrival, though that relaxation was short-lived.
"What do you mean, he made it up? That prophecy is the whole reason any of this happened. You would never have ended up in Godric's Hollow without it."
"I know." It was Ginny's turn to tuck her knees into her chest, though she kept hold of his hand. "I'm still processing that part, I think— how much of this was really a matter of chance. How much of it feels like an accident, in one way or another." She took a deep breath. "Is it weird to say that I don't regret it though? That I wouldn't undo it? There's plenty that's happened over the last few months that I wouldn't want to live through again, but…" She looked at him. "We saved the world. You and me— together. And without all of this happening, I don't think I ever would have gotten to know the real you— the you underneath everything. We both lost so, so much… but we gained something too."
Draco wasn't sure he was breathing. The rays of the setting sun were hitting her hair at such an angle that she glowed— a light all her own, nothing otherworldly about it. She was smiling, though he thought he detected a hint of nerves as well.
"I told you, a long time ago, that after everything was over, you might think of me differently," he said quietly, holding eye contact with her. "Now it's after. If you want to go back to Potter— to how things were before— I swear I won't hold it against you—"
Ginny scoffed, outrage sparking in her eyes. "I literally traveled across dimensions for you. What makes you think I would throw all of that away now? I love you. I want you. I'm choosing you."
She was choosing him. Old pain, the memory of floating in a bathtub, rose in his mind.
That moment in the garden could have been so beautiful. She had been laughing— actually, full-on laughing— and the setting sun had hit her just right, making her positively glow. In another reality, she would have reached for him just as she had last night, and he would have embraced her, his hands running through her hair just like he knew she liked as he kissed her long and slow, savoring the absolute gift it was to be chosen by her.
Draco closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers and reaching up to twine his fingers in her hair.
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
"Ah, young love."
"Shh! Leave them alone."
"They can't hear us from across the lake, Lovegood. I think we're safe."
"My friends call me Luna."
"Is that what we are now?"
"Obviously. You invited me on a secret mission— you don't do that with people you're not friends with."
"Fair point— Luna it is."
"I'll have to add you to my mural."
Blaise blinked. "What mural?"
"Of my friends."
"Oh." Luna was a strange one. "I don't have a friendship mural."
"You could borrow my paints if you want— I'm almost out of blue though."
He laughed, caught off-guard in the most surprisingly pleasant way. "I'll be sure to replenish your supply." Feeling suddenly vulnerable, he cleared his throat, tugging at his robe collar. "My grandmother is an artist."
Luna's protuberant eyes lit up. "Really? What kind of art does she make?"
His cheeks feeling unusually warm, Blaise began to tell her about his grandmother's gallery in Venice. As she listened attentively, excitement glowing on her face, the thought crossed his mind that he had never really had a friend close enough that he would want to paint them, but that if anyone was going to inspire him to start, it would be Luna Lovegood.
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
"Hey."
Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione walking through the door of the Astronomy Tower, holding hands. He smiled at them.
"Hey. How did you know where to find me?"
"We didn't. We crawled through half the castle looking for you."
"Oh," Harry said, startled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I'm joking, mate."
The three of them shared a genuine, if uneasy, laugh.
"I thought you might be up here to get away from everyone," Hermione said, walking closer to him. She looked over his shoulder toward the gaps in the wall, where the early evening sky was darkening. "And because you often return to places of significance once a battle's been fought."
"Astute observation," he said, raising his eyebrows at her and making Ron chuckle. He looked around the room, his heart tight. This was the place— this was where Ginny had fled Hogwarts last spring. It was the place, that very same night, where Snape had murdered Dumbledore, by their own mutual agreement. It was the place where he had last spoken to his greatest mentor, the last place that had held any kind of surety, any kind of safety, for many months.
"The Ministry's finally letting people leave," Ron said, following Hermione's gaze. "They questioned a boatload of people, but I think they're satisfied for now. People are going home."
Home. His heart tightened. People were going home. It was over— really and truly over.
"Ron's mum's invited us both to the Burrow with them, of course," Hermione said. "It'll be nice, I think, after so much time on the run."
"What will happen to Hogwarts?"
"McGonagall said they'll close down for a couple weeks— give everyone time to grieve, and time to clean up the damage around here. But after that… she said it'll be open for anyone who wants to return."
"And here I thought we were getting to skip our seventh year," Ron said wryly.
"You're going to go back?"
"'Course. Mum already about lost it when Fred and George dropped out— can't do that to her again. And do you honestly think Hermione would let either of us ever hear the end of it if we dropped out of school now?"
"I would support you in whatever you decided," Hermione huffed. "But your N.E.W.T. scores are very important—"
"You see? Voldemort hasn't even been dead for twenty-four hours yet and she's already talking about tests."
The three of them laughed, and Harry felt something in his heart ease. "Well, I guess another year of school wouldn't be too bad. How much more eventful could it get, right?"
They laughed again, and Harry's thoughts wandered to what Hogwarts would be like without Severus Snape.
"They arrested Snape," he said quietly, a strange mix of feelings coursing through him. "I told him I would testify at his trial, and the git had the nerve to try to talk me out of it, right in front of the Aurors."
"I doubt he ever thought he would live long after giving you those memories, just given the state of things at the time," Hermione mused. "Confessing all your secrets on your deathbed is one thing. Having to live your life afterward is a good deal harder."
"Do you think he'll be pardoned?" Harry bit his lip. He had told Ron and Hermione, in bits and pieces, what Snape's memories had held, but he wasn't sure they understood the full extent of it.
"I think you'll do everything in your power to make that happen."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you have a saving people thing," Hermione said with a smile, making Ron laugh and Harry scoff.
"I don't have a saving people thing."
"Uh huh. And all that effort we went to for Kathleen was just for a laugh, then?" Ron quipped.
"Of course not! She needed help and—"
Ron and Hermione laughed, and after a moment, Harry did too.
"Okay, fine— maybe I have a little bit of a thing."
"That's alright— we love you anyway," Ron said, clapping him on the back.
"It's part of why we love you," Hermione corrected. "You've always been a hero, Harry— maybe now you can finally get a chance to just be you."
That sounded like the most brilliant thing in the world.