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Epilogue

"No one ever does live happily ever after, but we leave the children to find that out for themselves."—Stephen King-The Wolves of the Calla

He sat on the dewy grass, watching the sky light up.

He wasn't thinking about anything. Soon, someone would come, and he'd have to talk, and he'd have to think.

Soon, she would come.

But until then, he sat, watching as the night was slowly eaten by the sun.

And as if his thoughts had summoned her, he heard footsteps.

And somehow, even after a goddamned battle, she still carried a faint smell of roses that wafted through the air, proceeding her presence.

"What's going on back there?" He asked quietly.

He didn't turn around. He just carried on sitting, facing resolutely away from the castle.

From where, amidst the blood and bodies and death, the sound of celebrations could be heard.

"They're gathering the bodies up. Finished sending the wounded through to Saint Mungo's. Other than that, it's pandemonium."

He nodded. Of course, it was pandemonium.

It had already been starting, the instant Voldemort fell.

He'd taken one look at a group of people laughing, laughing while they sat a few feet away from where the Weasleys were crowded around Charlie's body, and he'd donned his cloak and slunk out.

"There's some ministry types talking. They want Kingsley to be the next minister. They're trying to decide what to do with the captured Death Eaters."

He snorted.

"Kill them all."

"Don't I wish. They're also arguing about Snape."

He turned to look at her, snarling.

"Really? After everything? Our testimony wasn't enough? Dumbledore's wasn't enough? The man fucking killed Rookwood! He, McGonagall, and Flitwick fucking dueled Voldemort to a standstill, and they're still arguing?"

She shrugged, and stood there for a second, before dropping to the grass next to him.

"Bureaucracy never changes."

He snorted again, turning his head back to the horizon.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, leaving his hands with a tremor as the full weight of the last forty-eight hours hit home.

It boggled his mind, that it had only been two days ago that Snape had arrived in Grimmauld Place.

So much had changed in that time.

She slowly reached over, taking his hand in her own.

"You came back." She whispered.

"I almost-I almost didn't," he admitted hesitantly. "I had a choice, and I almost didn't."

"You'd have left me," she started, her voice hurt and small, "how could you even have considered it?"

"I just-what's there for me here? I don't exactly have any skills,"

He barked out a laugh.

"Unless you can count killing and torturing."

"You have me," she said, tears filling her eyes.

He sighed.

"That's why I came back. Because there's still something good. More than good. But it's just..."

He squeezed her hands, unable to speak for a moment.

"When he-when he called for me," he said haltingly, speaking in stops and starts. "I was in the Great Hall. And you-I couldn't see you."

"I was helping in the dungeons."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"And I thought you were dead. No. I knew you were dead. And everywhere around were the dead and injured. Charlie, Seamus, Katie, Susan, Oliver, Dennis, Sprout, and-and all of them. Too fucking many to count."

She nodded, the beginnings of grief for her friends and schoolmates starting to sink in.

"So I went. I had to die, and I couldn't think of a reason to live, anyways."

She didn't speak. Even if she had, she wouldn't have had the words to express her emotions.

"That walk through the forest to him...God, I'd do anything to never have to do it again. But at-at some point, I remembered that Snitch. And I-I remembered your theory..."

'His numb fingers pulled the Snitch from his pocket, the first Snitch he'd ever caught. And he remembered the words written on it. How could he not? They'd spent hours and hours thinking about them, trying to figure out what they meant, how to open it. Hermione had been beyond certain that Dumbledore had hidden the Resurrection Stone in it. After all, the Snitch had a tiny triangle, circle, and line carved into it.

He'd come to agree with her, but neither of them had been able to work out any reason Dumbledore would have for giving it to him. Being Master of Death sounded good and all, but he didn't have the Wand.

Eventually, they'd stopped thinking about it, focusing more on the missions of the time, focusing on capturing Death Eaters or killing them outright.

But now, as he walked through the forest to his death, he remembered all their conversations.

He began to cry, thinking of her.

Thinking that he would at least be seeing her soon.

And then, standing there in the forest with the sounds of Death Eaters ahead, it came to him.

He didn't have to think about it. He knew what to do, as he had known the first time he'd flown.

As he had known the first time he'd killed a Death Eater.

He raised the Snitch up to his mouth until his breath fogged up the gold.

And said: 'I am about to die.'

And the Snitch split open.'

"It was the Resurrection Stone," he continued, words coming out in a rush, the tears streaming faster down his face. "And I used it. And they came. My-my parents. Sirius. Remus. Dean."

Her hand tightened on his, her nails biting into his skin.

"And he-he didn't. Ron didn't come. And neither did you. And I realized you were still alive. And I almost ran, right there. I almost didn't finish it."

"You did, though."

"I did. I thought-I thought Ron must've hated us, for him not to come."

'He was looking through the misty group, searching for the one person who he needed to see.

But Ron wasn't there.

His father stepped forward, putting a ghostly hand on his shoulder.

And for the first time that Harry could remember, he felt the weight of his father's body.

'Don't you worry about it,' James said, smiling tearily at him. 'He wanted to wait there, so he could welcome you when you arrive.'

And that set him off.

He started sobbing, all the emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel breaking though.

He was going to die, and he had to walk calmly to his death.

'It's all right, mate. It's all right.'

He wiped his eyes, looking up at Dean.

Dean looked good. His face didn't have the haggard appearance it'd gained over the course of the war, instead, he looked comfortable and at ease.

'Harry, it's ok. It's ok to be scared. But you've done fucking well, mate. You've set one hell of an example'

'You shouldn't have had to die,' he whispered. He looked around at them all, at his loved ones.

'None of you. Remus, you should have-you should have had more time with Teddy, and now he won't have anyone.'

'He'll have Hermione,' Remus said, stepping forward. 'And he'll have his mother and grandmother. And he'll have you. Even if you're not there. He'll still have us'

His head moved of its own accord, coming to face his parents.

'We're so proud of you,' Lily said, stepping forward and hugging him. 'So, so proud. You've done so well.'

'You have,' Sirius said, pulling his hands from his pockets and rubbing them together. 'Even with almost everyone against you, you've done well.'

'And I'm sorry, for what it's worth,' Lily continued, her own translucent face shining with her tears. 'That you had to go through so much pain.'

'The-the things I've done. The things I had to do...'

James came forward again, looking into his son's eyes.

'You did what you had to. You made the decisions no-one else could. You fought a war, son. No-one wins a war by being all lovey-dovey. It just doesn't happen. But you fought a war, with very few allies, and you fought your enemy damn near to a standstill. And you are my son. Even if you really were a monster, I'd love you no matter what.'

'Our son,' Lily said. 'Our brave, incredible son. And now...now it's time. You can't leave it too long. Or the fighting will start again.'

He nodded, pulling himself to his feet.

'Does-does it hurt? Dying? Will it hurt?'

And it was Sirius who answered first.

'Not at all. As quick and easy as falling asleep.'

'And he'll want it to be quick,' Remus added. 'He's scared that you'll manage to pull some miracle off, so he's not going to mess around. It'll be quick.'

'After everything you've been through,' Dean said, 'dying will be one of the least painful.'

He nodded again, and looked around the group, his eyes finding those of his mother.

'Stay with me. Please.' He asked quietly.

And she smiled at him, with tears running down her face.

'Until the very end.'

"I dropped the stone just as I reached him," he continued. "And they all just disappeared. He was waiting for me. With his followers. In some clearing there. And then...he did it. And I died."

Hermione squeezed even tighter, her breath coming quickly.

"But I woke up. It was beyond strange, this place. It was like-like an enormous train station. Just everything covered in white fog. And then Dumbledore appeared."

"Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore," He repeated, nodding. "Told me how proud he was. And that he was right. I could come back if I wanted."

He sat there for a moment, not speaking, just remembering.

The sun was beginning to rise truly, the top of it appearing in the east.

"I came so close to just staying there," he admitted. "So close. I can't explain it, but it was so good there. No worries. No fear. No pain. No guilt. It was like that feeling under the Imperius. And I-I knew what was going on here, but I couldn't relate to the bad stuff. But I thought of you. And I couldn't just stay there."

"What did Dumbledore say then?" she asked, enthralled.

"Told me how it's a good decision. How I mustn't allow myself to feel guilty, that I did what I had to. That I need to live, now. And then-"

'Dumbledore released him from the embrace, smiling at him with tears in his eyes.

'There's someone who you've been waiting to see. Before you go back, you two should have a chat.'

And as suddenly as Dumbledore had appeared, he was gone. But the white fog thickened for a moment, taking form.

And then it vanished, and Ron Weasley was standing in its place.

Harry gaped. Ron stood there, smiling slightly.

'Good to see you're still a midget, even on this side.'

And Harry howled with laughter, because it was Ron, and he was joking, and it was either laugh or cry.

And there could be no crying. Not in this place.

'Ron,' he said, rubbing his eyes, 'mate, I should have-I should have done better, you shouldn't have had to go, it's my fault-'

'Stop.' Ron said, and there was a strength behind his words that had never been there in life.

'Harry. Enough with this beating yourself up shite. You tried. And you can't save everyone. But look at you, mate. You're still alive if you want. So live. I don't blame you. Remus doesn't blame you. Dean doesn't blame you. So stop blaming yourself.'

'I wish you hadn't died.' Harry whispered.

'Me too. But I did, and there's no changing that. But you can live, Harry. You can have a life.'

'It's so peaceful here.' Harry said half-hoping that Ron would suddenly say yes, Harry should stay.

'Peaceful? This is just the entrance. This place is nice, but the next part...'

'It's that good? You're-you're happy?'

Ron grinned. 'It's like the Hogwarts Christmas banquet. Always. That feeling, you know?'

'Just...happiness.'

'Pure happiness. Even though we know what's going on, even though we can see you guys in pain. It's like...I can't explain it. I'm happy. But you can live. And you should.'

Harry nodded, pulling Ron into a hug.

And even though it shouldn't have been possible in this place, in this wonderful place, he felt tears filling his eyes.

'Its so hard there.'

'That's life for you,' Ron said, his voice muffled by Harry's embrace. 'it sucks, but it's amazing. That's life.'

Harry nodded, finally pulling away.

'If you decide to name a kid after me,' Ron said, grinning again, 'don't call him Bilious. Please, don't. No-one deserves that.'

Harry smiled weakly, not wanting to say goodbye, not again.

Knowing he had to.

'Tell my family that-that they were the greatest. Seriously. Try help mum. After me and Charlie, she'll need it.'

He nodded again.

'What about Hermione?'

Some semblance of wistful sadness crossed Ron's face.

'I can't think of anyone better for her,' Ron said. 'Honestly. But tell her...'

"He said he wishes he'd been less stupid. That he told you how he felt. And that you deserve to be happy."

Hermione shook with her tears, pulling him close.

"And he said to give you this."

He kissed her, allowing himself to forget all the pain, letting himself get lost in her taste.

Slowly, they pulled apart.

And she smiled.

He looked deeply into her eyes, watching as the last tears fell and were not replaced.

And he moved forward, joining his lips to hers once again.

When they finished, she asked, laughter bubbling under her voice.

"Ron told you to do that twice?"

"No," he said, shaking his head with a smile. "That one was all me."

They sat there together, hand in hand, as the sun rose.

They were prepared to face the future.

They knew it wouldn't be an easy path. Voldemort might have been killed, but many of his followers were still at large.

Many of the attitudes that let him rise still existed.

They could not be truly happy, not yet. They had gained victory, but it had come with such a heavy price.

Still, they sat there, watching as the sun rose over a world that did not contain Voldemort.

It may have sucked, but it was amazing. It was life.

And finally, they were content.

THE END

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