I Am Ready Now

—x—x—x—

Shaken and shaking, Harry made his way through the ruined stone halls that were once his lone bastion of comfort from the cruelty and neglect of his aunt and uncle. The crisp wind from a cool, dark spring night would have been rather pleasant had it not carried with it the acrid scent of ash, sweat, blood, and death.

Making every effort not to fold in onto himself, he steeled his will and his power as he ambled slowly past friends and acquaintances scattered throughout the school.

He cursed the full moon. Not only because it removed Lupin from consideration for participation in the battle, but because it added a savage layer of lycanthropes to Tom's army.

Right now though, his biggest issue with it was that it was shedding entirely too much light on the sights around him. Seeing so many young children so thoroughly devastated, in various states of consciousness, injury, and worse.

It made the notion of accepting the terms granted him seem almost reasonable.

"Surely, my life isn't worth all of this suffering and death." Harry thought to himself. "If I go, they'll stand a chance. It'll be just that ruddy snake and him. Everything else is done." He proceeded steadily through the entrance hall into the depths of the castle headed for the Pensieve in the headmaster's office. Despite those thoughts, he of course knew that his friends and mentors would never dream of letting him give up when he still had his whole life ahead of him after this conflict was over.

Voldemort's assault had been as powerful as anyone could have feared and then some, with losses that were about as much as should reasonably expected he thought about it… He considered the absurd notion of well-trained enemy forces and monsters making a concentrated attack on a school containing mostly teenagers in addition to a few dozen professors and what meager reinforcements had made themselves available.

It was too much.

Hope was actually a rather absurd notion if you stop to think about the whole situation. More than anything it was astonishing that those remaining had survived this long...

Turning through the back of the entrance hall and climbing the stairs that would take him to the corridor he was in search of, he wondered how many more of his friends and chosen family would die cruelly by the end of this final conflict.

The incredibly odd interaction he'd just had as his less-than-beloved former potions master met his end in the boathouses on the Black Lake mere minutes ago still didn't really make sense.

Snape had always been an ass - more so than was entirely necessary, especially when it came to Harry - and that's before taking into account the fact that he'd murdered Dumbledore in cold blood nearly a year ago, before openly embracing his not-so-former Death Eater ways.

In the end, Snape seemed startlingly and uncharacteristically remorseful. Hearing Snape tearfully invoke Lily's name was about the last thing Harry could have imagined in that moment, but nonetheless, that's what had happened.

It just didn't add up.

He was missing something.

Hopefully, something that would be contained in the memories in the vial in his pocket.

Ascending the stairs to the Headmaster's office, tears filled his eyes at the thought not only of his former mentor, but also of the pain and loss surrounding him in his newly shattered sanctum, as well as the life, love, and opportunities that could never be afforded to those who had already been lost this night at far too young an age.

—x—x—x—

Finding himself 10 minutes later in a shuddering tear-soaked heap next to the pensive he and his mentor had spent countless evenings around; shocked, devastated, and broken just barely started to scratch the surface of his mental state.

His breath caught in his chest, and he felt dazed, an ocean of tears pressed firmly and without yield at the back of his eyes, steadily leaking through while his face tingled as though he may be about to pass out. High pitched ringing entered his ears, though the source was not anything in the once familiar room around him.

Had Snape really loved his mother? An absurd thought really. Not that it mattered, as he'd betrayed her just the same.

Somehow that wasn't even the biggest revelation he'd just been bludgeoned over the head with. He himself was a horcrux, and if anyone else in this castle was to live to see the sun rise on a tomorrow free from Tom Riddle, he knew that he would not, he could not live to see that same sunrise.

He needed to be destroyed no different than Riddle's diary, Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup, and Gaunt's ring already had been. Now it was just himself and that damned snake standing between Tom and a mundane, mortal death.

He wasn't ready for this.

He allowed himself a moment to take stock of himself.

Countless small cuts, scrapes, and bruises assaulted him from head to toe, along with a few that weren't exactly small. Stinging souvenirs of the spellfire and shrapnel that had been flying freely through the air for much of the night. His right shoulder sent up a sharp pang of discomfort as he rolled it, likely an after effect of one of the several times he'd thrown himself bodily onto friends or strangers over the past few hours, doing his level best to keep them safe as curses and hexes rained down upon them all.

His left ankle was tender. Distantly he remembered stepping awkwardly on it as he was rushing and turning at the same time on a staircase trying to get a small cluster of 5th years out of the way of a falling piece of castle wall about the size of Hagrid's kitchen table… He hadn't quite succeeded.

He was bone tired, but he couldn't lay down and rest. Not yet.

Come to think of it, he'd never sleep again.

There was still work to be done, and it was his to do because he was The Chosen One - though he'd certainly never chosen that title. He'd cheerily pass that title on given the opportunity if he could get back even a small fraction of all it had cost him, the least of that being a happy first 11 years of his life. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny; Neville, Luna, Lupin, and even Shacklebolt had almost been killed simply by associating with Harry over the years. Never mind the losses of his parents, James and Lily, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Dobby… And that's not even putting names to the countless bodies he'd seen fall in the last 10 hours in the castle that was no longer his escape from harsh reality.

As he started to get his faculties and mind back in order a funny - no, funny isn't the right word, it couldn't be at a time like this… But a thought crossed his mind about how remarkably simple everything had just become for him.

Not easy. No, definitely not that. The next hour would be filled with a few of the hardest things he'd ever do. But it was indeed simple.

Interesting how having mortality thrust upon you at just under 18 years of age can cut right to the very heart of the things you care about in life.

As he wearily picked himself up off the floor of that ancient office with a sigh more befitting a man three or four decades his senior, he knew he had only two things left to do on this earth. One being to accept Voldemort's offer to stop the fighting in exchange for turning himself in. But that would come after a conversation he'd been putting off out of a bashful sort of childish fear ever since he'd come to a realization sometime in the middle of 3rd year.

He'd thought he would have more time. Merlin how he wished he had more time.

He knew it wouldn't be easy on either of them, especially given what he was planning on doing right afterwards, but he had to tell her, explain to her, somehow convey to her... He had to tell her that even though he'd been too terrified of ruining their fabled "golden trio" dynamic, too scared that the feelings weren't reciprocated and he'd be left vulnerable and humiliated with his beating heart in tatters, he was not strong enough to say anything until this - his final hour - about the fact that he'd been madly in love with his best friend for the last 4 years and change.

He closed his eyes firmly at that thought and knelt back down to retrieve Snape's memories from the Pensieve.

—x—x—x—

Making his way back to the entrance hall, he found a portion of his family on a large landing connected to a hallway about midway down the staircase.

A shock of fiery red hair on a tall, lean frame wrapped in an orange jumper - the colors of his favorite quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons - denoted his brother in all but blood, and the first friend he'd ever made. He was busily focused on helping out a few third years that had been minorly injured. Ron wasn't particularly gifted in healing spellwork, but he knew plenty to be helpful at a time like this, when resources were stretched thin.

"I'm not ready for this." Harry thought to himself.

He paused on the stairs before approaching.

'Hey Ron." Harry said almost casually as he composed himself again and approached down the staircase from the corridor that led from the headmaster's office.

"Harry, where've you be-" Ron started in a somehow still optimistic tone, until he'd turned and caught sight of Harry's face.

To someone who didn't know him well, Harry probably looked collected and steadfast. Settled into "fight" mode, alert and ready for whatever came next. Ron, however, knew Harry well. Very well. Better in fact than nearly everyone else in the castle, or even in Harry's life for that matter. Ron recognized immediately that the cool and collected facade was just that. A front put up to conceal the appearance of a sundered foundation. A mask worn to hide reality.

Looking at Harry, Ron knew immediately something was horribly, utterly, and terrifically wrong - and the thought of something being somehow "worse" than the circumstances he'd found himself in throughout this battle was a sobering one.

"What is it? What's happened?" Ron asked urgently, looking scared but focused and seemingly ready to charge back into battle at a moment's notice while taking a few steps away from the 13-year-olds he'd just finished settling into a couple of conjured cots so they could rest.

"I know now what I have to do, Ron." Harry said simply, with an air of unyielding bedrock to his tone, as he unblinkingly met Ron's eye and took the last few stairs down to Ron's landing.

Ron's face hardened with the realization of what Harry was implying. He immediately thought of Voldemort's offer of a ceasefire in exchange for Harry, and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he took a few hurried steps forward.

"No! No… No. You're mental mate. You can't possibly be considering going ou-" Ron said in disbelief before Harry cut him off once again - but this time it was intentionally.

"Ron." Harry interjected almost sharply "I'm gonna be honest with you here mate, and I know it doesn't make any sense. Not yet anyways, but I've just learned something. Something I suppose I've suspected for a while. And no - there's no other way."

"Tell me. Please - I need to know what the bloody hell you're on about Harry." Ron pleaded, already knowing but hoping desperately that he was wrong about what was coming.

"I'm sorry Ron, I really, truly am." Harry emphasized. "I just can't right now. I don't think I have it in me to hold it together as long as I need to if I have to explain it all right here and now. Take this and trust me."

With a sincere though exhausted look, Harry handed Ron a small vial containing some sort of clear, slightly viscous liquid. Ron wasn't quite sure what it was. "When it's all over… When it's done - go up to Dumbledore's office and use the Pensieve. I know it's mental, but also, I promise really it's not. This will explain everything." Harry said just as his voice began to falter.

He knew he was going to have to explain things to her, and he definitely didn't have it within himself to do it twice. Thank Merlin that Ron was too taken aback at Harry's apparent condition to let his substantial stubborn side show.

Harry took one more large step forward, closing the distance between them with a thud before immediately wrapping Ron in a nearly bone crushing hug. "You do know I love you like a brother, right?" he said with a gravelly sound into Ron's ear as his voice wavered slightly. "You and your whole crazy family… The whole lot of you… You've all been one of the best parts of my life, the family I never had a chance to have for myself before I met you, and I love you all." he paused a moment, exhaling heavily, "Tell them that for me, once this is all over, will you?"

A long moment of somber silence stretched out between the two of them.

"You too Harry… Of course I will, mate." Ron said slowly and sincerely, failing miserably in his shock to smother a sniffle as he clapped Harry firmly on the back a few times before separating from their embrace. His eyes glistened and welled up as he watched his 6th brother continue down the staircase toward the main entrance of the castle, and to whatever fate was waiting for him outside.

As they separated and Harry turned to continue down the staircase, he stopped a moment to face the rest of the hall and noticed some eyes tracking him curiously, though most were busy helping the wounded or cleaning up rubble.

—x—x—x—

He took a moment to scan the room from his height on the stairs and look for his next, his last, destination.

Just as he was starting to worry she wasn't nearby, he spotted who he was looking for. He felt the uncomfortable pressure of tears he dared not shed here and now form rapidly behind his eyes as he saw her.

"I am definitely not ready for this." he thought to himself as he waited for her to see him there on the stairs.

An unruly mop of chestnut hair pulled back into a practical ponytail. Smiling chocolate brown eyes met his and faded to concern almost immediately as she finally looked up and took him in from across the entrance hall. She stood out a bit as one of but a few present wearing muggle clothes as opposed to the more common robes at the castle.

As they made brief eye contact, he nodded his head to indicate a small antechamber in the entry hall. She cocked an eyebrow briefly but took his meaning and started over to meet him away from the crowds, weaving around cots and the seated injured scattered around the hall.

It was a room that was perhaps originally designed as a guard station when the castle was built, but in more recent decades had been used more regularly to house seasonal decorations while they weren't in use. During the Yule ball it had served nicely as a somewhat oversized coat room for guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as their main accommodations had been outside on the castle grounds and they'd needed to walk a bit in the frigid Scottish winter to get to the castle.

Harry thankfully had a more direct route, or at least had fewer obstacles, and made it to the room just a few moments before Hermione entered. He was glad for that, as it gave him 20 or so seconds to breathe deeply and try to maintain some semblance of focus and purpose. His head was still spinning a bit after his use of the Pensieve, and the information thrust upon him in it.

He knew this wasn't going to be easy.

Organizing his thoughts, he continued to think through the coming conversation. In some sense, he knew it was almost cruel of him. On the off chance she felt similarly, they'd never have the chance…

It would be cruel because there'd be no opportunity to court, snog, date, become betrothed, marry, have a life together, kids if they decided they wanted them. Did he want kids? He'd never thought about it too much really. Did she?

Blimey, he was getting way ahead of himself, as if it mattered at all at this junction whether he fancied the idea of kids in the future… his future was the next 45 minutes or so he imagined, but he couldn't help it…

He knew they'd have no chance to see the world together, to know each other completely, in all of their perfect, beautiful, flaws and imperfections… No chance to meet and know her parents and gain the father he had never really had of his own by way of marriage.

There would be no drinks and commiserating after a hard day at work, no failed attempts to cook that lead to laughter, memories, and ordering takeaway, no date nights where they neglected, forgot or perhaps never intended to leave the house at all in favor of spending the entire evening in bed enjoying each other, no lazy Sunday mornings where they could just lie in each other's arms and let the entire morning pass them by until the call for tea or a trip to the loo begrudgingly forced one or both of them out of their lazy reverie.

There would be no visiting for festive holiday gatherings at the Burrow for them. No pickup quidditch matches with the Weasleys while Hermione and the older Weasleys and other gathered friends cheered them on lovingly.

There'd be no slowly growing older and closer together, enjoying each day as much as the last; each new season of life met with a sense of wonder and appreciation of the cherished fact that they got to spend it together.

There'd be no happy endings… Not for him anyway.

Only an ending.

Despite all that, and the fact it might be more than a little cruel, he felt he owed it to her to not have any secrets between them. And he knew beyond doubt that he owed it to himself to not have any regrets when he walked out of this castle for the last time.

"Gryffindors charge forward." he thought with a silent chuckle to himself as she entered the room.

He somehow got a feeling that he was going to need far more courage and bravery in this room right now than he would when he met Tom in the forest in a little while.

"Hermione." Harry said as she closed the door with the squeak of an ancient hinge and a soft click. He felt a flutter in his chest as she looked at him with concern in her eyes.

"Harry, what is it? What's wrong? What did you just tell Ron? He looked like he just walked through Sir Nicholas when I saw him a moment ago." Classic Hermione. Rapid fire questions, ever observant, ever caring.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

Much harder.

"'Mione," He whispered as his voice faltered and he ignored a brief quizzical look at his uncharacteristic truncation of her name. "I- I just learned some new, well I guess old, details about this whole mess." He waved his hands manically to indicate everything going on around them and sniffled as his eyes started to sting with tears, though he'd not let any fall since the headmaster's office.

"What is it? What can we- I do? How can I help? What do you need? Harry, you're scaring me." She strung together another perfect series of inquiries mixed with support and caring.

"It's… it's m- me." Harry rasped as a single sob broke free from him. "I am, I'm a h- I'm not ready." he swallowed against his frayed nerves then exhaled, struggling to get his thoughts out as Hermione closed the distance and wrapped him in a tight hug.

He was stunned at how much he needed it.

"Take a breath and slow down Harry, it'll be ok. We'll get through this. What aren't you ready for?" She replied soothingly, patting him softly on the back as she held him, even as a wave of panic started to rise within her. She knew something was terribly wrong, but she wouldn't be able to let her staggering analytical abilities suss out a solution if she couldn't get the problem out of Harry in the first place.

'No… WE really won't get through this…' Harry thought darkly to himself as he took a few deep breaths and pushed gently away from her, just shy of breaking her embrace so he could look her in the eyes for a moment.

Emerald met mahogany for an instant and they truly saw each other for what may have been the first time that night. Her eyes were soft pools of sincere caring and hope, comfort even after the tumult of the last 10 hours, never mind the desperate months before that, but just under the surface they were strong and resolute. Her eyes somehow made him feel comfort and warmth in the face of the new, cold realities settling in around him, and light in the dark reaches of his newly burgeoning despair.

As she returned his gaze - where normally she saw the nearly infinite will she'd become accustomed to - Harry had always had an incredible ability to keep pressing on, one problem at a time, even in the direst of circumstances - but instead of that, now she saw for possibly the first time… Is that resignation? And a look of deep longing and perhaps regret that made her breath catch in her chest.

Seeing him like this scared her more than she could rationalize to herself and didn't do anything to quell the still rising panic she'd felt, but she knew she couldn't show that now. Something big was clearly happening and he needed her to be there and be strong with him because he needed her support.

His resolve was somehow recharged simply by her presence and meaningful look, Harry continued "Hermione, my connection to Voldemort… We always knew it was strange and unique." She nodded, then he continued "I learned why it's there. It's been there almost my whole life."

Her eyes started to well up now too as she fought off a realization. The thought had crossed her brilliant mind before, especially once they learned Nagini was a living and breathing dark artifact, but she'd never truly believed a human being could be-

"I am a horcrux, Hermione." he exhaled the phrase gently - as though a soft, low delivery would soften the devastating blow she'd take at his words.

She was suddenly unnaturally still, but her suddenly grief-filled eyes were locked on his as he continued.

"Well, my scar is anyway. That's the connection. That's how I can see what he's seeing, feel what he's feeling, especially when he's worked up over something." Harry rambled, hurrying as though the finer details would matter to her in the least at this point.

"No," She sobbed as slow tears began to fall in earnest, "that… It shouldn't be possible!" Denial, anger, and bargaining flashed by like a snitch speeding across the pitch in less than a second.

"I don't think it's ever been done, intentionally anyway. I don't think he even meant to." He continued much more calmly than he'd thought he'd be able to manage, "When whatever magic my mother left when she died for me broke his killing curse, I think it must have happened accidentally. His soul was so unstable from being fragmented so many times before that Halloween and it just sort of happened." Harry wheezed abruptly as she squeezed him tightly again, more tightly than he'd initially thought her capable of. He returned the embrace and idly patted and rubbed his palm between her shoulder blades in a way he hoped she'd find comforting as she buried her face in his chest.

With his message delivered, he let out a long slow breath into her mess of curls. He was starting in on acceptance, while she settled into depression. He was in an odd state. Slowly numbing to the realization of his new, dreadfully short path, while still somehow feeling an excited fluttering in his chest at their current closeness. He almost winced as he made a mental note of how perfectly she fit in with her head just under his chin as they were.

Time seemed to slow down as they just stood and held each other. He wished he could stop it, spend the next 100 years in this room with her and die happily of old age right here, never needing to acknowledge anything outside of the safe bubble of this moment ever again.

Her mind was still racing. She wanted with everything in her to argue, struggle, and most of all rage against this new forbidden and terrible fact, but she knew where this was going immediately after the revelation. Riddle can't truly die while he has any horcruxes in existence. Harry is a horcrux. Harry had to die before Voldemort could be considered properly mortal.

"IT ISN'T - FAIR!" She screamed between sobs into his chest, not so much at him as for him.

He didn't disagree.

"No arguments here 'Mione." Harry admitted with a soft, mirthless chuckle. "But there's one more thing I need to do… I know y- you already know what I have to do next, right?" he asked, though he hated himself for forcing her to focus on it just then.

She buried her face somehow still further into his chest and nodded through another sob. He could feel warm tears soaking through his shirt.

He didn't mind.

"Hermione." He said, his voice barely a whisper "I hate this every bit as much as you do, as much as Ron does, but I need to tell you, I need you to know, that I don't regret it." He pushed her slightly back again so he could see her face, it was surprisingly pink, nearly red with emotion, as confused shock settled onto it after his last four words.

With conviction in his voice, he continued "There's never been anything that any of us could have done to change this. The die was cast 16 years ago - we just didn't know it until now. It's a right shitty part Hermione, bloody awful even, but it's mine to play and it always has been. If I need to march out there and surrender myself to be killed to end this, this insane war of his, save the school, England, the world, and you…"

He paused for just a moment to emphasize the last, before continuing,

"Then I'll do so gladly and with my head held high. I wouldn't have ever chosen it for myself - but my life is a small price to pay for yours… And everyone else's."

"How can you dare say that, Harry? How can you possibly think so little of yourself?" She asked sincerely, almost angrily, and more than a little aghast not understanding how this wonderful boy no- this wonderful man, that she grew up with could value himself so little as to willingly walk off into the night and his demise at the hands of a maniac.

Harry only laughed softly and took a deep breath.

'Here it comes.' He thought to himself as he summoned all the Gryffindor courage he could muster. He caught her eyes before proceeding.

"'Mione, it's a small price for all of that because I'd do it all just for you if I had to..." He said sincerely and without a hint of hesitation to his statement.

He paused and exhaled slowly for a moment as she blinked rapidly in disbelief before he took her slackening face gently into his hands and continued softly "Hermione Jean, I love you. I'm in love with you. And I'm pretty sure I have been since near the end of third year."

Hermione's jaw actually dropped.

She felt like she'd need three healers and at least a month at St. Mungo's if she was ever going to speak again. Her lungs were temporarily out of service, and she could hear blood pumping rapidly in her suddenly ringing ears.

She was hardly six inches from his face. She was staring into the honest, emerald green eyes of her best friend of the last 7 years. She knew, knew, he absolutely meant every last syllable he had just spoken.

Her mind started racing. She wasn't ready for this. She might never be ready for this.

Well… that wasn't entirely true. She'd been waiting and hoping for this in some sense since the end of second year when she'd been healed after being petrified by the Basilisk. She'd heard from Madam Pomfrey how Harry was in the hospital wing sitting by her side every single day for the more than three weeks she was there. Afterward, she'd overheard McGonagall telling Madam Pomfrey how his grades had improved noticeably since he'd started taking notes to give her when she got better. She also learned he was the one that made sure there were fresh flowers by her bedside for when she woke up, and that he'd told a grinning Madam Pomfrey that he wanted the first thing she saw after her terrible experience to be something beautiful.

She wasn't ready for this. Not now.

She remembered consoling him after he learned of the betrayal of his parents when they were in Hogsmeade one snowy Saturday just over four years ago, chasing his invisible form following his footprints to the shrieking shack as he broke down and wept openly. She remembered how her heart fluttered when she had to hug him close on Buckbeak the night they freed Sirius. She remembered the power he wrought into that Patronus Charm saving not only himself and Sirius, but her as well. She thought of their terrified hug on the front page of the Prophet from the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, and the Yule Ball that neither of her favorite couple of dolts had stepped up to ask her to, though she did manage to share a wonderful dance and a chase kiss on the cheek with Harry at the end of the night.

This was too much for one night.

She thought of how hard it was to not write to him before fifth year when Dumbledore made her promise, and she wondered for a fleeting second if the old wizard knew then what she'd just learned a moment ago. She recalled how viscerally he'd reacted when she was hurt in the Department of Mysteries. Of course the others were distraught to see her take a curse like that, but Harry seemed shaken to his very core. She even thought she could vaguely remember Harry focusing on her and her injured state as he finally fought off Voldemort's possession.

It all seemed to strike her at once.

She remembered the nights just after Ron left them in the tent in the wilderness. Crying herself to sleep as Harry tried his best to console and support her. She'd had some feelings for Ron at the time - but never again since. She'd seen her way to forgiveness, and they were indeed good friends again, but after that whole fiasco there wasn't any spark there any longer and she knew that there never could be. She sure thought there'd been one between her and Harry though for a night or two or maybe more over the next weeks when they'd danced in the tent, she'd been too scared of any potential fallout and focused on the mission to act on it though. She very clearly recalled the look of abject rage and horror on Harry's face on her behalf as he'd found her with Dobby on the floor of Malfoy Manor just a scant month ago.

How could she not have seen this sooner?

Now though, standing in this musty storage room, with his warm hands holding her face, the brightest witch of her age felt like the dumbest person in Britain.

How had she not pieced this all together before now? How could she dare to let that precious time slip between her fingers until this damnable moment, as the man she'd loved since she was just barely figuring out what romantic love even is, was about to march off to his death to end Voldemort's reign of terror?

Harry had been holding his breath since he last spoke, for what felt like somewhere on the order of five hours (even though it was probably closer to 10 seconds… probably) as he watched thoughts and emotions flicker across her beautiful brown eyes, inches from his face.

Why wasn't she saying anything?

I mean, typically one at the very least responds to an admission of love, right?

Maybe she… maybe she doesn't…

Oh. No.

Oh nooo…

"It's ok!" He exclaimed suddenly, ripping Hermione out of her empirical, linear review of the evidence before her, "if you don't… ahh- 'no regrets' and all" Harry stammered with an awkward chuckle and a forced smile after a pause that he felt was entirely long enough. "I just… I needed to say that… to uhh, you, er, before I- ". Just before he had a moment to wish Voldemort could appear right then and there in that giant closet to end him immediately, he stopped talking.

He stopped talking because Hermione had pulled him fiercely to her lips.

Both pairs of eyes closed as they held each other close after an initial moment of hopeful uncertainty. Her lips were soft and warm, and he could feel goosebumps prickle at the nape of his neck as he felt more than heard a strangled sound come from her. A soft, strangled, whimpering moan of happiness, elation, frustration, heartbreak, and anguish, somehow all conveyed at the same time in a single strange and beautiful sound. He broke contact briefly only for her to immediately chase and capture his lips once more as he smiled for the first time in what felt like years and pressed his lips firmly back to hers. He could feel heat radiating off her face and he was quite sure she'd feel the same from him.

His eyes shot open for a shocked instant as he felt her tongue brush tentatively along his lip. He was certain his pounding heart here in the Scottish Highlands could be heard by anyone who cared to listen from London or perhaps even New York as he yielded and opened his mouth to hers.

As the kiss deepened, a chill shot down his spine as he suddenly felt soft, warm hands on bare skin. Apparently, she'd stopped holding him tightly at some point, though he wasn't quite sure when, and her hands had found their way under his jumper, and one was pressed firmly onto his lower back while the other was on his chest...

If he'd ever need the use of a Patronus again, he was certain that Prongs would be much larger than the monstrous Hungarian Horntail he went up against in fourth year if he were to use this particular memory to fuel the charm.

The kiss was tender, delicate, passionate, and at the same time hungry. He too eventually found his hands roaming desperately, curiously, looping under her left arm with his right he gently held the back of her neck for a moment before gently running his hand through her hair. His shoulder and ankle still hurt but for some reason they didn't hurt nearly as much just now as they had a minute ago. At the same time, his left hand wandered up and down her right side before settling comfortably on her hip. It was remarkable to him how naturally it just sort of fit there, as if that particular curve is what his hand was molded from originally.

He wasn't entirely sure what was happening but he knew it was good. And he knew that he needed some good just now. Best to go out on a high note as they say.

And this was a high note indeed...

He'd awkwardly kissed Cho once, and he and Ginny had snogged a few times during their brief time together last year, but this was something thoroughly different. If Cho had been a candle and Ginny was a torch, Hermione was a thousand-acre inferno. It consumed him in a way he didn't know was possible and even in the midst of experiencing it, could hardly comprehend.

And as the moments strung together and passed by before the kiss broke, it seemed he could be quite certain that Hermione felt the same way.

"I do too. Love you that is. I love you too Harry, and I may have for longer even than you." Hermione admitted rather awkwardly with a coy grin as her face took on a deeper shade of red.

Harry just marveled at her.

"Astute and collected as you are nearly all of the time, 'Mione… you're incredibly cute when you're flustered." He said with a sly grin.

A shared snort of a laugh at the absurdity of it all, the timing in particular, and they fell into another embrace.

Tears started flowing again. Bittersweet to say the least. They were both assaulted by thoughts of what might have been had this whole war not taken their youth and innocence from the both of them, and had it not been about to take Harry's life from him. Many of Harry's thoughts from just before she joined him here were now cycling through her mind, interrupted occasionally by a shock running through her as Harry planted small kisses on the side of her neck where his face was nestled.

As they held each other close, Harry had a sudden thought about what Snape had done earlier. He hadn't realized tears could function in a Pensieve until about 30 minutes ago, and it just so happened he was something of a mess right now.

Hermione felt Harry reach for his wand in a pocket of his robes, but he made no effort to step away, still holding her tight with one arm.

A whispered incantation and a flick of his wrist before he pocketed it again.

She wasn't sure what he did, but she knew somehow, she wouldn't have to ask.

Both still crying to some degree, Harry stood up straight and took a half step back, stoppering a small vial he'd apparently just conjured. It was about half full of a clear liquid.

She shot him a quizzical look.

"Ask Ron what to do with those, he knows already, though I'm sure you'd sort it out quick enough yourself." he said softly. "And please, tell everyone you can that I truly accepted it at the end. I hope that one day soon everyone else, and you in particular, can live a happy life, a full life."

He paused and took a deep, shuddering breath as he lowered his forehead to meet hers. "I wish I- Merlin help me, I…wish we had more time, 'Mione. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Harry." she replied unevenly, as another series of sobs escaped her.

They walked out towards the castle entrance holding each other close, side by side.

At the steps they separated with one last kiss to the shock, but not really the surprise, of most who witnessed it.

He made his way alone across the dark grounds to the forest. On the distant horizon to the east, shades of purple, pink, and orange were blossoming as the sun was about to break free of the ground. He could see the pitch-black silhouettes of countless branches weaving an intricate tapestry against the colorful sky ahead of him, but as he approached the tree line a cold, bracing wind began to stir and rustle through the undergrowth.

He took a long breath and exhaled forcefully. While he wouldn't allow himself to think that it would end so quickly, instead he focused on the love he'd just been shown. It was the one thing that Tom, or even death itself couldn't take from him. After he was gone, he knew somehow that it would stay with him - always.

While finding the small footpath through the underbrush that he supposed was his to take, he realized aloud to no one in particular

"I am ready now."

—x—x—x—