The General

There was a decorated General, with a heart of gold

That likened him to all the stories he told

Of past battles won and lost and legends of old

A seasoned veteran in his own time

On the battle field he gained respectful fame

With many medals of bravery and stripes to his name

He grew a beard as soon as he could to cover the scars on his face

And always urged his men on

Harry sat alone in the dark, willing the night to stretch on forever. It was the last night of peace Harry would ever know. The next day was set; he was to become a murderer, or a martyr, depending on if things went his way. The day Harry's life had been waiting on was set to arrive, you would think this would make Harry feel some sort of resolution, but yet it had not. As he sat alone in the darkening night, staring off into the great body of water beside the school, he couldn't help but let his thoughts move in a direction he had avoided for some time: his heart.

It had been five years since Harry had graduated from Hogwarts, and in those five years he had become one of the most powerful wizards on the planet. He moved quickly through the Auror ranks, due to his thirst to prove he was not just a name, but a force to be reckoned with. In only five years his courage in battle, and in the fight against Voldemort, he had risen to the highest Auror ranking: General. Personally Harry found it quite fitting that the battle for the wizarding world would take place on the landscape he had grown to call home. He had received a note from Voldemort simply stating that the fate of the wizarding world would be decided on the lush green grounds of Hogwarts, on the morning of his 23^rd birthday.

So there he sat, the evening before, willing the darkness to envelope him entirely. One would think that on the eve of impending doom his thoughts would be on the upcoming battle, but no, Harry's thoughts had drifted to one place, or rather drifted to one person. He had fought his feelings for years, ever since that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries, where he had watched, mortified, as her body had fallen to the floor, unmoving. It was then and there he realized his love, and it was also then and there that he realized he could never tell her; never allow her to put herself in anymore danger than just being his friend already had.

Harry lie back on the wet grass, staring up at the moon. His thoughts stayed on her; she was his life, she was his everything, and he couldn't tell her. There, on the lush grass of Hogwarts, The-Boy-Who-Lived fell into an uneasy sleep.

But on the eve of a great battle, with the infantry in dream

The old General tossed in his sleep, and wrestled with its meaning

He awoke from the night just to tell what he had seen

And walked slowly out of his tent

Harry awoke with a start, his dream being the culprit. He had been with her, lying in that very spot, cuddled together whispering sweet nothings in each other's ear. It was a dream so real and so vivid Harry could still feel the happiness it had brought when he awoke. As his thoughts moved through his mind with the softness of a hurricane, he longed to sleep again, just to feel that happiness one last time. This thought surged through his mind, causing chaos and breaking down walls he had spent years putting up. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go to his doom without telling her, he couldn't go to his death without knowing if she felt the same way.

All the men held tall with their chests in the air

With a courage in their blood and a fire in their stare

It was a grey morning and they all wondered how they would fair

Till the old General told them to go home

He said: I have seen the others

And I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting

No

And I've seen their mothers and I will no other to follow me where I'm going

So

He stood quickly, his resolution set, his mind made up. He turned quickly and began to walk back to the castle. She was there, sleeping in one of the empty teacher dormitories. Of course she was there, where else would she be than with her best friend on the eve of such an important day. Ron was there too, he and his wife, Luna, were sleeping in the teacher dormitories adjacent to hers.

Harry quickly made his way across the grounds. He arrived at the entrance and paused, `just what the hell am I doing?' He turned back from the door to stare out over the lake. `What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if this ruins our friendship, assuming of course that after tomorrow there is still a friendship to ruin?' He stood there, thinking to himself, arguing back and forth within his own mind. His distracted thoughts kept him from hearing the door move slightly behind him, and kept him from hearing the gentle swish of a lady's nightgown.

He began to speak out loud to himself, “She can't feel the same way. She can't love me. How could I even think of doing this to her? Telling my best friend that I love her before going out to fight the greatest evil this world has ever known.”

She gasped quite loudly, and this he heard. Harry turned, surprise and shock written on his face, to come eye to eye with the one person he was thinking about, and the one person who didn't need to hear what he had just said to himself.

Take a shower and shine your shoes

You've got no time to lose

You are young men you must be living

Take a shower and shine your shoes

You've got no time to lose

You are young men and you must be living

Go now you are forgiven

“Harry?” She managed in a weak voice.

“Hi.” Came his reply, the only one he could muster at that moment.

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments until she finally broke the ice, “Do you mean it?”

Harry's pulse quickened, as did his breath, he thought for a second before giving in to his heart, “Yes, I meant it.”

He expected her to look sad, upset, and maybe even angry at him for doing this before he was supposed to go off and fight. What he did not expect however was what he got. “I love you too.”

But the men held fast with their guns on their shoulders

Not knowing what to do with the contradicting orders

The General said he would do his own duty but he would extend it not further

The men could go as they pleased

But not a man moved their eyes gazed straight ahead

Till one by one they stepped back and not a word was said

The old General was left with his own words echoing in his head

He then prepared to fight

He said

Harry didn't remember taking those two steps to her; he didn't remember pulling her into his arms, what he did remember, as he would tell his grandchildren almost fifty years later, was that when their lips touched he found the power the dark lord knows not. He found it in of one of his best friends, someone he would trust with his life, and more: love.

As their lips parted Harry muttered four words he had been fighting against for over seven years, “I love you Hermione.”

And her reply was something Harry never thought he would hear uttered from her lips, “I love you Harry.”

Take a shower and shine your shoes

You've got no time to lose

You are young men you must be living

Take a shower and shine your shoes

You've got no time to lose

You are young men and you must be living

Go now you are forgiven.

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Harry awoke with a start, the rising sun casting its rays upon his eyes. He lie for a moment, deep in thought. Today was the day, today it would all end, one way or another. Despite the coming darkness he could help a smile as she slightly shifted in her sleep. He looked down to her beautiful face, watching her as she rested. After their declarations of love they had moved as one to her quarters, their eyes never wavering from their gaze. He couldn't remember walking up the stairs, or entering her room, what he could remember was her lips, the feel of her soft body in his arms, her declarations of love throughout the night. He sighed to himself, almost wishing it hadn't happened. He had just found the love he so desperately wanted, and now he was off to face his fate.

`Figures,' Harry thought to himself, `soon as I find what my soul has been seeking I go off to lose it.'

With this thought a fire awoke in Harry. A fire that had been awoken by what Dumbledore had told him years before; love. He felt it then; he felt the power the dark lord knows not. He felt it swell within his chest and within his soul. He could not leave her now, just as he found her. He would not give up what his heart had greatly desired because of a maniac murderer full of hate. He would not allow it, today would be the end of this conflict, but it would not be his end.

Harry slid from her embrace, wishing it wasn't so. He pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling her scent one last time. `No,' Harry thought, `it will not be the last time.' He resolve strengthened he turned to leave, pulling his cloak on as he moved toward the door. He exited the room quietly and moved through the early morning corridors of the school. As Harry arrived at the entrance to the school he was met with a sight that he should not have found surprising. Albus Dumbledore stood by a window, looking over the early morning grounds. At the sound of Harry coming down the stairs he turned, the twinkle no longer evident in his eyes.

“Professor.” Harry said.

“Harry I think by now you have earned the right to call me Albus.” Dumbledore responded.

“Ok, Albus,” Harry said, “What are you doing here?”

“Truthfully I don't know. I know you must go out there alone Harry, but I'm finding it hard to repress my protectiveness of you.” Dumbledore responded solemnly.

Harry sighed, “I understand Albus, but you and I both know what has to happen. It's him or me.”

Dumbledore returned his sigh, “Yes Harry, I'm just deathly afraid of what might happen.”

To Dumbledore's surprise, Harry smiled. “Oh don't worry about that Albus. You see last night I found what I've been looking for my entire life, and I'll be damned if I'm letting some power hungry maniac take it from me.”

“Well then all I have to say to you is good luck.” As Harry turned to open the door Dumbledore's voice stopped him. “Oh and Harry?” The raven haired man turned, “Will you do me a personal favor?”

“Yes?” Harry asked uncertain.

Dumbledore smiled, a bit of twinkle returning to his eyes, “Would you please kick his arse?”

Harry returned his smile, “It would be my pleasure.”

With that The-Boy-Who-Lived walked out of Hogwarts, into the newly risen sun, to face his destiny.

Harry stood in the new morning sun, carefully surveying the grounds. As his gaze drifted over the great lake he sensed something. A darkness that had loomed in the distance now felt close. His gaze quickly shifted to the Forbidden Forest. He searched the dark woods with careful eyes, willing his senses to absorb everything around him. His eyes drifted behind Hagrid's cabin, where the darkness seemed to grow thick within the woods. Harry knew he would find Voldemort there and quickly moved toward the darkened trees.

The raven haired man entered quickly and quietly, the darkness no longer seeming to exist, but rather, it smothered him. He knew it was not natural, that the darkness exhumed from the evil within. He moved with stealth deeper into the woods. Entering a small clearing he stopped to absorb his surroundings. He knew Voldemort was close, Harry felt himself being watched.

“Show yourself coward.” Harry said, trying to antagonize his opponent into revealing his location.

“Patience young Harry, I want to enjoy this moment.” The snake-like voice of Voldemort answered.

“Well I don't.” Harry said, more to himself, but was heard by the Dark Lord none the less.

“I don't blame you Harry,” Voldemort responded, then suddenly from close behind Harry, “I would want my death quick as well.”

Harry turned to find himself staring into the red eyes of his of his nemesis.

“Of course I'll never die, so I don't have to worry about that.”

Harry's pulse quickened as Voldemort raised his wand, “Don't worry Potter, I'll make this as quick as possible.”

“Don't bet on it, Tom.” Harry responded raising his own wand.

Voldemort's eyes widened at Harry's use of his real name, “Do not dare call me that filthy muggle name, I am no mere mortal, I am power incarnate.”

“Ok then Mr. Power Incarnate, are you going to talk all day or are we going to fight?” Harry said, his sarcasm covering his trepidations.

“Crucio.” Voldemort said as a red beam shot from his wand, hitting Harry squarely in the chest.

Voldemort's eyes widened in shock as Harry took the curse, and remained standing, completely unaffected by the blast.

*“I see you are powerful, as I have foreseen.” Voldemort said.

*“You'll find I'm full of surprises.” Harry said, raising his wand once again. “Let's finish this.”

Albus Dumbledore stood outside the castle, wondering where Harry had gone. Suddenly there were explosions coming from the forest, spells so powerful he could feel their essence through the very air. `God help you Harry, please come out of this alive.'

A few moments later the very ground shook with the force of a spell so great even Dumbledore awed at its power. Suddenly there was silence, and the great wizard knew the conflict was over. He sped quickly to the location of the battle, moving hastily into the woods. Dumbledore entered the clearing and knew it to be the site of the battle. Trees lay on their side, split at the trunks, the ground was blackened, the very dirt scared from the conflict. Two bodies lay unmoving on the ground, mere feet from one another. The Headmaster moved swiftly to the green cloaked body, fearing the worst. He rolled the body very slowly onto his back, moving his hand to the young man's throat, praying for a pulse.

-I know I know, cliffies are terrible, but everyone uses them now and again don't they?

*And Yes, I am aware that the two lines from Voldemort and Harry are from Star Wars, but I'm sitting here watching it as I write and they seemed to fit, what can I say? I'm a sucker for the galactic battles….

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The Headmaster moved swiftly to the green cloaked body, fearing the worst. He rolled the body very slowly onto his back, moving his hand to the young man's throat, praying for a pulse.

Dumbledore felt his skin being to burn as he touched the young man, despite the pain he felt it, the faintest whisper of a pulse, desperately clinging to life.

Satisfied for a moment, Dumbledore moved to the other form lying unmoving on the ground. He felt Voldemort's neck, only to find coldness radiating from his skin, a result of the pulse that did not beat within his veins.

`He did it.' Dumbledore thought to himself, `He defeated him.'

He moved quickly back to Harry's body and lifted him with much less effort than a man of his age should have been capable of. Blood trickled from Harry's mouth as Dumbledore walked to the school. `Hang on Harry.” Dumbledore thought desperately making his way through the sun shining over the grounds.

`Oh my God I'm dead.' The thought skirted through Harry's mind as he began to awaken, the pain in his body almost unbearable, his mind a mere meddled mash of thoughts and memories. He knew why he felt so terrible, but did not remember the outcome. His mind fought to play over the battle, trying to remember the end, he couldn't. The first sound he noticed was muffled crying, her muffled crying. He knew her quiet sobs anywhere, and his heart twisted in pain. Attempting to open his eyes Harry was introduced to a new level of pain, his lids refusing to move. He tried to summon the energy to speak, but it would not come. He felt the darkness begin to take him once again, desperate to let Hermione know he was alive and barely conscious; he pushed out with everything he had and moved his hand, which was being held by her shaking ones, buried under her face as she cried.

The sobs stopped instantly as she felt the slight motion.

“Harry?” She whispered questioningly, not daring to get her hopes up, but praying that what she had felt was not a trick of her mind.

The last thing Harry did, before the darkness swam over his mind once again, was let his head roll in her direction, the smallest of inclines at each side of his mouth.

“Oh Harry your alive.” Hermione whispered again.

With that, knowing she would be there when he woke, he let the darkness take him to the depths.

He awoke again later, how much later he didn't know, but the pain was less and he dared to open his eyes again. This time the pain didn't increase impossibly and he felt his lids inch open. The world appeared muddled and he heard voices, coming through to his ears as if he was underwater.

“How is he?” A voice he recognized as Ron's asked.

“The same. He hasn't moved since the other day.” Hermione answered, her voice strained to say the least.

“Are you sure he moved Hermione?” Ron asked lightly, “Are you sure it wasn't... wishful thinking?”

Hermoine boiled in anger born of worry and insomnia, “I KNOW when I feel something RON! I did not IMAGINE IT!”

Harry felt the beginnings of a row coming on, and it did nothing to help the pain that was radiating through his head.

He tried to speak, and this time his body allowed him to, albeit very weakly and quietly, “Hey if you two are going to kill each other, could you do it outside? I have a headache from hell.”

Silence.

Through the slits of his eyes he saw the brown bushy haired blob turn to him, “Ha...Harry?” Her voice sounded almost hopeful, if daring to believe he spoke was only going to break her heart.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He spoke hoarsely to her.

“Oh Harry!” She said relief evident in her voice as she threw herself onto him. “You did it baby, you killed him.”

Although the added weight also added pain, he didn't mind, he was here, conscious, not dead, with the one person he loved more than the world lying with him, and the weight of a lifetimes worth of battles being lifted from his shoulders.

The days after were still a blur to Harry years later when he thought back on them. He had stayed unconscious for almost a month, but within days of waking up he was faced with reality. There was the inevitable statement to The Minister. Then, of course, the interview with the Daily Prophet to tell the world what had happened. Although he remembered almost everything, the final moment still escaped his memory. Dumbledore had said it must have been a product of the power that had radiated from both him and Voldemort. The power had been so great his senses had overloaded and the electric impulses in his brain couldn't even record it to memory. Truthfully he didn't mind that much, despite Voldemort being the most evil wizard in history, Harry didn't want to remember murdering him, didn't want to remember becoming a murderer, no matter how honorable the intentions.

So Harry sat one evening, in front of a roaring fire, in the living room of a re-built Godric's Hollow. He sat in silence, his wife and daughter being out shopping for Christmas. He sat thinking about that night, and the nights afterwards, his wedding and the birth of his beautiful daughter, Lily Michelle Potter, who had dark messy hair deep chocolate eyes, and a knack for getting into trouble at Hogwarts. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened, bringing with it the cold and snow that was falling outside in the twenty degree December weather. He heard two sets of feet coming in the door, and he stood from the couch, and fire. He heard a “Hey dad,” as a flash of raven hair went by him, and then quickly padded up the stairs, bags clutched firmly in her grasp.

“Hey Lil'.” He called after her.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He heard her say as she came in the door, dropping her packages inside.

He quickly moved to her, pulling her into an embrace, inhaling her vanilla scent as he always did. He pulled back and kissed her, not a quick hello kiss, but a passionate, re-declaration of his love.

As they parted she looked at him quizzically, “What was that for?”

“Just cause.” He said in response, flashing her a crooked smile.

She looked at him knowingly, “You've been reminiscing again haven't you?”

He smiled guiltily, “Just a little.”

“Oh Harry.” She said, smiling and pulling him back into a hug.

He pulled away quickly to stare into those chocolate eyes he loved so much. “I love you Hermione.”

“And I love you Harry Potter.” She said, pulling him into another kiss.

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