"It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees." – Quote attributed to Emiliano Zapata, Mexican revolutionary.

Dean Thomas was dead.

Yes, he could feel the pounding of his heart. Yes, his chest rose and fell with each fearful breath.

But for all intents and purposes, he was dead.

His eyes fixed on the stone floor of the Great Hall. The cries of pain, of terror, of grief, all faded from his ears. All he heard were Lord Voldemort's words echoing in his mind.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him."

He lied. Dean knew Harry would never run away from a fight.

He tried to convince himself the dark wizard also lied about his friend being dead. Not Harry. After everything he'd been through.

Deep down, Dean feared Voldemort hadn't lied about that.

Someone shuffled next to him. He forced himself to turn.

Professor Sprout, head hung low, trudged toward the Great Hall's exit, followed by the sullen forms of Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan. Dean noticed more people slowly moving in the same direction. Voldemort had demanded their surrender, ordered them to gather in front of the castle to see Harry's body.

Dean clenched his teeth, trying to suppress a sob. He stared up at the ceiling, the magically produced starry sky broken up by holes and cracks.

So this is it. He was really going to die. Barely seventeen and that was it. No getting married, no having children, no standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters watching his kids go off to Hogwarts.

An invisible icy hand plunged inside him and twisted his guts. Horror like he'd never known before, never knew even existed, consumed him.

I wish I wasn't here. I wish I wasn't a wizard.

Someone loomed in front of him. He blinked away the tears and noticed Seamus Finnigan. Soot and bruises couldn't hide the morose look on his face.

"We're dead, you know that?" His best friend's voice quivered.

Dean just stared at him. He wanted to pretend Seamus hadn't said that, wanted to pretend Seamus was wrong.

"We both got at least one Muggle parent. No way You-Know-Who's going to keep us alive under his rule."

"Yeah, I know." Somehow Dean managed to get the words out.

They ignored the procession of students and adults moving past them. Seamus' jaw trembled. He took a staggered breath.

"Seven years, mate. Y-You're like a brother to me, you know. I wish . . . I don't . . ."

Seamus sniffled and turned away.

Dean glanced at the Patil twins as they passed by, crying and clinging to one another. Next came Michael Corner and Cho Chang, holding hands, looking more angry than scared. Dean forced himself to swallow as his gaze followed Cho. She'd been with Harry for a time a couple years ago. Would Voldemort kill her . . . just because? Would it be quick for her, or would the bastard prolong her suffering?

What about me? Will I get it quick, or will Voldemort draw it out?

He wanted to run, to hide, to effing live! He didn't want to end up like Colin Creevey or Fred Weasley.

Maybe if I . . .

No. He'd already gone into hiding once. That worked out really well. Voldemort's bunch would find him eventually.

Not only that, but running away wasn't very Gryffindor.

"On your knees, or on your feet."

"What's that?" Seamus canted his head.

"There's this Muggle expression. 'It's better to die on your feet than live on your knees.'"

"Yeah," Seamus nodded. "I heard that one before."

"You said it yourself, mate. We're dead. I guess . . . God, Seamus. I'm bloody scared. I don't want to die."

"Neither do I."

Dean needed a couple deep breaths to settle himself. "But . . . but if we're going to get the chop, I'd rather . . . do something."

"What do you mean?"

"Like . . . like . . ." He had to force himself to utter the words. "A-Attack V-V-Voldemort."

Seamus' eyes bulged. "Are you serious? You want to attack . . . him? Dean, he's . . . what bloody chance do you think you have against him?"

"None, probably. I know. But what should I do? Just stand before him, or worse, get down on my knees and let him hit me with a Killing Curse?"

Dean waited for his friend to say something. But Seamus just regarded him in shocked silence.

"I have to do this, Seamus. I can't . . . I won't die a coward."

Seamus took several long breaths, then worked his jaw back and forth. "All right, mate. I'm with you."

Dean managed a half-hearted smile. Somehow, he felt a little better knowing he wouldn't have to do this alone . . . even though it meant his best friend would also die.

They clasped hands. The handshake then became a hug, with both boys pounding each other on the back.

"It's been an honor knowing you, mate," Seamus whispered.

"You too."

They broke the embrace. Dean felt his face muscles tighten, trying to hide the maelstrom of fear swirling inside him.

"What do you say? Let's go make Gryffindor proud."

Seamus silently nodded.

Dean knew he had to move. But his brain refused to give his feet the order to walk, to take the last steps he'd ever take. If he stayed in the Great Hall, maybe he had a chance. But to begin walking, that would make it final. The reality would hit him full force.

These would be his last minutes of life.

Seamus grasped his shoulder. Dean bit his lip until he tasted blood. He lifted his foot slowly, then set it down. One step after another, he and Seamus marched toward the exit of the Great Hall.

Dean almost stopped when he noticed who walked in front of him. The entire Weasley family. Tears slid down his cheeks as he watched Mrs. Weasley walking on shaky legs, supported by her husband, whose shoulders shook with sobs. Fleur clung tightly to Bill. Percy appeared as though he was about to fall. And George . . . for a second Dean wondered where Fred could be. The twins went everywhere together.

Dean staggered when the realization hit him again. Fred was dead. The words just didn't go together. Fred . . . dead?

His eyes shifted back to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. His jaw trembled. In their place he pictured his own mum and dad, crying when they heard the news their son had died.

Dean couldn't breathe as a new fear suffocated him. His parents. His siblings. Would Voldemort kill them too?

"He's not dead," a shaky feminine voice caught his attention. "He's lying. Harry can't be dead."

Dean's insides collapsed when he stared at the beautiful girl with long red hair next to George.

"Ginny," he muttered her name to himself.

He had to look away. A black mass of regret took form within him, devouring his soul.

How could I have messed things up so badly?

He wanted to run up to her, grab her by the shoulders, and apologize. Apologize for being such a git, for taking her for granted, for causing her any pain, for feeling any sort of anger toward her when she wound up with Harry . . .

And to thank her for those moments when she made him feel happier than at any other time in his life.

But he couldn't, not when she was mourning her brother and the boy she loved.

Any chance of reconciliation would die with him.

He plodded along, imagining a giant clock, its hand ticking closer to the words DEATH. Only a few minutes remained until . . .

"Dean?"

He stopped at the sound of the dreamy voice. Slowly, he rotated his head.

Luna Lovegood stood against the archway of the Great Hall.

A tingle raced through him. He locked eyes with her, memories of their imprisonment at Malfoy Manor bombarding his brain. The eternally dazed look he'd always associated with the Ravenclaw girl had vanished. He detected traces of worry and fear on her clear face.

"Hey, Luna." The lump in his throat mangled his words.

"I wish you didn't have to die."

Dean took a step back, his eyes widening. "What?"

"I'm sorry if I upset you, but I'm sure you know, you and Seamus, that with Muggle parents, You-Know-Who's followers will kill you. To them, you're contaminating the Wizarding World."

"Yeah, we know," Seamus muttered.

Dean bit his lower lip for a moment. "We're not gonna go quietly."

Luna canted her head.

"We're not just going to go meekly to our deaths. When we have the chance, we're going to take a shot at V-Voldemort."

"I understand."

With any other girl, Dean would have expected a response like, "Don't be foolish!" or "Please don't throw away your life like this." But those two words uttered by Luna didn't surprise him at all. During their time together in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor and later at Shell Cottage, he'd come to know her very well. She wasn't just "Loony" Lovegood. He found her to be a bright, insightful girl . . . and a brave girl, braver than a lot of Gryffindors. A warm, caring girl.

And a very beautiful girl.

A jolt of pure energy shot through him when Luna reached out and took his hand.

"I just want to thank you, Dean. For looking after me when we were prisoners at Malfoy Manor. You're a very kind person. I know one day we'll see each other again, in another place. But until then, in this place, I'll . . . I'll miss you greatly."

His entire body trembled. He stared into Luna's large eyes, which glistened with tears.

"You . . . you're an awesome girl, Luna. I . . . I wish I'd gotten to really know you before all this. And . . . I think you would have been right at home in Gryffindor."

A smile spread across Luna's face.

"And I . . . I think . . . I think you're . . ."

Dean brought up his hands and cupped Luna's face. He leaned in and kissed her, kissed her with every ounce of passion he could muster. He savored the moist softness of her lips, the feel of her hair caressing his fingers.

For an instant, the nightmare vanished. There had been no battle at Hogwarts. Harry and Fred and Colin weren't dead. He wasn't facing impending death.

Only Luna Lovegood existed.

Their lips parted, and Dean returned to the nightmare.

"Good-bye, Luna." He slid his hands off Luna's cheeks.

"Good . . . Good-bye, Dean."

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

A hand came down on Dean's shoulder. "Come on, mate," Seamus said softly. "We gotta . . ."

Dean walked backwards, not wanting to turn away from Luna. He studied every square inch of the girl, trying to burn her image into his brain. One last happy thought to hold on to before going to oblivion.

Finally, he forced himself to turn. He prayed Luna didn't see the tears that slid down his face.

His feet grew heavier as he approached the main exit. No matter how many deep breaths he took, his heart wouldn't settle.

He peered over the crowd gathered at the base of the steps. Beyond them a mass of dark, hooded figures approached. Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw Hagrid walking in front of the Death Eaters. Why would he . . .

"NO!!"

Dean nearly jumped at the cry of anguish. His wide eyes locked on Professor McGonagall. The most fearsome woman he'd ever met looked on the verge of fainting.

More cries filled the air. Ron, Hermione, Ginny. Dean's gaze shifted back to the Death Eaters, to Hagrid, to the still form cradled in his arms. The still form with black hair and glasses.

"HARRY!!" Dean gaped at the sight of his friend of six years.

No, no, no. He can't . . . he can't . . .

Dean shut his eyes tight. He didn't even try to fight off the sob. Regret struck him with the force of a Stunning Spell. All that time at Shell Cottage and he never once told Harry he'd come to terms with him and Ginny being together, that he no longer felt betrayed by him, that he still, and always would, consider him a good friend.

I'll honor your memory, Harry. I'll make you proud.

His memories of Harry Potter strengthened his resolve. He fought to clear his mind of fear.

It couldn't be done. How could anyone not be afraid when faced with imminent death?

Afraid or not, he would do this. He was a Gryffindor. He was Harry Potter's friend.

"Come on." He tapped Seamus on the arm.

The two edged their way to the front of the crowd as Voldemort blathered on.

"Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"What should we hit him with?" Seamus spoke out the side of his mouth.

"Redactor Curse. That's probably our best chance to do some damage."

Dean and Seamus slipped past Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein. Neither Ravenclaw boy noticed them, their horrified gazes directed at Voldemort.

Just one more row of people, then nothing would stand between them and the dark wizard.

Dean pictured the imaginary death clock in his head. It no longer counted minutes. It counted seconds.

He and Seamus stood behind Professors Sinistra and Vector. Past them, only open air existed between the Hogwarts defenders and Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Dean took several gulps of air, the last ones he'd ever take. Fear crashed against his insides like a tsunami. He tried to push it back.

"R-Ready?" He looked at Seamus.

His best friend turned to him. "On our feet?"

Dean nodded. "On our feet." He took a long breath. "On three. O . . ."

A scuffle broke out. Dean whipped his head to the right and saw Neville Longbottom dart out of the crowd. Voldemort dropped him immediately with a Stunning Spell.

"Go, Neville," Dean whispered.

"But you're a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy? Voldemort asked Neville as he got back to his feet.

"So what if I am?"

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over! Dumbledore's Army!"

A cheer went up from the Hogwarts defenders, Dean and Seamus included.

The feeling of euphoria was short-lived. Voldemort summoned the Sorting Hat and placed it on Neville's head. Dean gasped as the hat burst into flames.

"We have to help Neville!" Seamus started to move.

"Wait!" Dean grabbed him by the arm. "What difference will it make?"

"He's our friend."

"And what? We hit him with a Water Charm, Voldemort kills us, then goes back to kill Neville. He's . . . he's dead already."

He felt vile just saying it. He was actually willing to sacrifice Neville just to make his stupid last stand.

But can we really save him? Or anyone else here?

Dean looked to Seamus. The Irish boy closed his eyes and nodded.

"This is our chance," Dean said. "While he's distracted. One . . . Two . . . Th . . ."

Another disturbance split the air. Shouts, pounding hooves, war cries. Dean spun around in all directions. He saw Hagrid's brother Grawp taking swipes at Voldemort's giants. Centaurs galloped toward the Death Eaters, who fell under a rain of arrows.

A silvery flash caught Dean's eye. Neville had pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and sliced of the head of Voldemort's snake.

The crowd surged around them. Dean and Seamus became separated. Multi-colored spells streaked through the air. Dean spotted a Death Eater fleeing from the Centaur charge and brought him down with a Body-Bind curse.

The fighting moved into the Great Hall. More Death Eaters fell. Dean wound up next to Angelina Johnson. The two of them brought down a hooded figure with Stunning Spells.

Fear left him. All emotions left him. The world became one prolonged series of cracks and shouts and colored streaks and darkened bodies falling to the floor. Dean just reacted, cursing one Death Eater after another.

Two words penetrated all of it and made him stop.

"HE'S ALIVE!!"

Dean world around. He had to blink. Could it be . . .

Harry Potter was alive! He stood in the middle of the Great Hall, wand drawn, facing down Voldemort.

The world went still, except for Harry and Voldemort. Dean watched as they circled one another, talking. He had a hard time following their words. Dean was just trying to accept the fact his friend had miraculously come back from the dead.

"Avada Kedavra!

"Expelliarmus!"

The bang was like a cannon blast, and gold flames erupted between them. Voldemort collapsed on the floor and did not move.

Dean gaped at the sight. My God. My God in Heaven. Voldemort is . . . he's really . . . dead.

Jubilation broke out in the Great Hall. Cheers echoed off the high walls. People hugged Dean tight. Most of the time he didn't even recognized who had their arms around him. His mind struggled to accept the reality.

Voldemort was dead.

And Dean Thomas was alive.

XXXXX

While the others chatted and ate and mourned, Dean stood outside the Great Hall, his hand on his chest. He never enjoyed feeling the beat of his own heart more than he did at this moment. He had been absolutely convinced that this feeling would have ceased hours ago.

He leaned against the wall, his hand still pressed over his heart. How had he been so lucky, when so many others hadn't?

"Why aren't you with the others in the Great Hall?"

Dean looked up. Luna Lovegood sauntered over to him.

"Oh. Hey, Luna. I just . . . I don't know."

She smiled at him and moved closer. Luna reached out and placed her hand on top of Dean's. His breathing staggered as he relished the feel of her soft skin against his.

"It's a lovely feeling, the beating of your heart. Though it's quite rapid. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, I am. I mean . . . I didn't think I was going to get through the night alive. I was . . . I was ready to . . ."

"I know. I did support your decision. Most people would think you were throwing your life away, but they would be wrong. In some extreme instances, the way we die can be just as important as the way we live. Had Voldemort won and you had submitted to your death, no one would remember the name Dean Thomas. But had he won and you died attacking him, no matter how futile it may have been, people would have remembered. The survivors of this battle would have made sure of it. You and Seamus would have been inspirations to everyone else who would have resisted Voldemort. And you wouldn't be truly dead, not while there were people who kept your spirit alive in their hearts."

Dean stared at her, not knowing how to respond. What could he say to something like that? He never even thought of becoming a martyr when he and Seamus planned their suicide attack.

Luna looked up at him with one of her quirky smiles. A grin spread over Dean's face. Without this girl in his life, this unusual, wise, wonderful girl, he never would have realized his actions, whether it be in life or death, could impact so many people.

He wrapped his arms around Luna and pulled her against his chest. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her soft dirty blond hair. He remembered the kiss they shared before leaving the Great Hall, thinking it would be their only one.

Dean Thomas resolved there and then, from this day forward, he would treat every second of life as a precious gift.

And he hoped to spend many of those seconds with Luna Lovegood.

THE END –

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the scenes and dialogue were taken directly from the climax of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I do not own the Harry Potter universe.