After

1. After

After the fall and the dawn alights
to brighten the world anew
when fears have faded, and everything’s right
but the story, the facts and the truth.
Let us see now, the truth of the end
how the story really came to pass
I’ll tell of the courage of all our friends
and the truth shall shine bright at last
-Caina Fuller, Dec 25, 2004

This is it. It’s finally over for me. I’ll be dead soon, and that’s alright with me.

Hermione Granger lay motionless on the cold, wet ground. Rain poured from the sky above Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, like shards of ice they struck the exposed flesh of her arms and legs, robbing her body of its precious warmth.

It took great effort but she forced her body to roll onto her right side. She squinted through the rain and saw the grounds leading to the Quidditch pitch were littered with bodies. Some faces she knew, some she did not. Luna Lovegood got shakily to her knees and crawled over to a young man with red hair. She let out a wail of grief and collapsed onto him, moving no more.

Fear struck Hermione, but she felt powerless to do anything. What was wrong with Ron? Was he dead? Was Luna dead?

“Luna,” she tried to say, but her voice was naught but a weak whisper. Then Ginny Weasley came stumbling toward Ron, her back to him as she dueled with a woman in a mask. Behind her a bolt of lightning struck one of the goal hoops in the pitch, shattering it to pieces.

“I’ll not let you hurt him!” Ginny yelled. Her words were almost cut off by a clap of thunder that followed the lightning bolt.

“I’ll have his blood,” the witch said, pulling a dagger out of her robes. She hurled a curse which Ginny ducked. The woman pulled off her mask. It was Bellatrix Lestrange. “I’ll cut off his head and let the Dark Lord use it for a Quaffle.”

At this she laughed maniacally and shoved Ginny back. Bellatrix raised the dagger but at that moment there was another bolt of lightning in the pitch. In fact, lightning seemed to be drawn to the pitch for suddenly thousands of small bolts were striking one object in the center of the pitch: Voldemort. Thunder rolled, shaking the ground, and Hermione watched in horror as she realized Voldemort was absorbing the energy.

The Dark Lord grabbed Harry by the throat and lifted him bodily from the ground. This was it. This was the moment that the world had been waiting for. The moment when either Harry Potter or Tom Riddle would emerge from a final battle, victorious.

Bellatrix, laughing manically, raised the dagger high. Dull light glinted off the blade as she prepared to bring it down, but Ginny, whose wand had gone flying out of reach when she fell, rolled over Ron at the last second. The dagger plunged deep into her back instead of Ron’s chest. She didn’t even make a noise as she slumped over.

“No!” Hermione managed weakly. She gripped her wand and raised it with a trembling hand, but she had not the strength to utter a single spell.

Bellatrix angrily pulled the blade from Ginny’s back and hauled Ginny off Ron, but as she did this she noted what Hermione noted….The lightning had stopped in the Quidditch pitch. There wasn’t a sound outside of the falling rain. Hermione drug her eyes from Ginny’s back, where the gaping wound was pouring blood, over to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry stood over the slumped figure of Tom Riddle, his wand held loosely at his side.

“No!” Bellatrix shouted. “Master!”

Harry, Hermione thought weakly. We need you…

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Harry looked up. He saw Bellatrix wailing, a blood soaked dagger in her hand, the bodies of Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny at her feet. He turned then and came running up the hill towards them, wand raised.

“Crucio!”

Bellatrix suddenly screamed and fell to her knees. Hermione struggled to see who’d cast the Unforgivable spell, and found Neville Longbottom approaching from her left, his wand trained on Bellatrix.

“You’ve taken too much from me. My parents…Ginny…No more!”

Bellatrix continued to writhe on the ground, and for the first time in her life, Hermione cared not for justice, for the law, or for human suffering. She wanted Bellatrix to suffer. She wanted that evil wretch to hurt for her sins against the good and the innocent.

Harry stepped over Bellatrix and knelt beside Ginny. He used his wand to start a healing charm to stop the bleeding and then picked her up in his arms. He looked back at Neville, who still had his wand on Bellatrix, his bloodied and bruised face screwed up in hatred and determination.

“I won’t stop Harry! Not until she’s as mad as my mum and dad!”

“Do with her what you will,” Harry said softly. Then he turned and ran with Ginny towards the castle.

The pain in Hermione’s body was too much. The edges of her vision were going from gray to black. She looked past Bellatrix’ writing form to the Quidditch pitch, and her eyes met the dead stare of what had been the most evil wizard to ever walk the earth. He was gone, Harry was here, and no matter what, life would go on. Even if it went on without her.

With a final sigh, Hermione gave in to the darkness.

*****

Blessed warmth. She’d thought she’d never feel it again, not after lying so long in the April rain. She’d believed she would die, so to be alive was a blessing that did not escape her now.

April showers will bring May flowers…she thought she heard Luna say in a sing-song voice. She lay there, thankful that her cold feet were finally warm, thankful that the pain in her body was gone, but she still felt tired. Too tired even, to open her eyes.

“I hear Neville’s gone over the deep end.”

That was Dean Thomas.

“No.” Seamus Finnegan.

“He has a right too, doesn’t he?” A deeper voice…Ron. Thank God, he’s alive. “Luna, pass us another chocolate frog.”

The sound of foil being ripped from a frog. Ron’s loud, distinctive chewing. He spoke over a mouthful of chocolate.

“Don’t be so greedy, Ronald. You must share with the others when they awaken. Or when they’re ready to open their eyes.” That was Luna.

“He’s at St. Mungo’s,” Dean said, speaking of Neville. “When we get out of school I want to go see him.”

“Can you believe it?” Seamus said. “Our last year at Hogwarts and we end it in a big fight with the Dark Lord and his minions.”

“What happened to that Lestrange woman?” Dean asked.

“She’s back in Azkaban,” Ron said. “I hear she’s a babbling fool. Good on Neville!”

The others cheered in agreement. Hermione realized that every so often she felt warmth caress her face. Someone was sitting over her. She allowed her eyes to flutter open and found herself looking into two shockingly bright green eyes.

“Harry,” she said, yawning and trying to cover her mouth. She wished she had some mouth wash. She grabbed her wand and did a quick cleaning charm, sighing in contentment as her mouth and breath felt blessedly fresh.

“I was waiting for you to open your eyes,” he said, giving her a small smile.

“How long have you been here?”

“Five, maybe six hours.”

“Ginny?”

“She’ll be fine. We almost lost her, but I got her to Madam Pomfrey in time.”

“I’m so glad. Bellatrix stabbed her.”

“I know.”

“She’s already awake?” Hermione searched the room. Ginny’s bed had curtains about it so that she couldn’t see her.

“She woke up an our ago, but Madam Pomfrey put her back under. You, on the other hand, are all patched up.”

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

Hermione shook her head. “I just remember stunning Nott. Then something like fire surged through my veins and I felt weak.”

“Dolohov. He’s had a yen to hurt you since we fought him at the Department of Mysteries two years ago. Lupin stopped him, but then he had to fight off two more Death Eaters. He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t check on you.”

“That’s alright.”

Harry looked angry about something though, for his green eyes were flashing. He scratched his forehead and that’s when Hermione noticed.

“Harry, your scar! It’s gone!”

“Yeah. It disappeared when Voldemort died.”

“What did they do with his body?”

“Sent him to St. Mungo’s,” Ron said. “Dumbledore is there with him. He’s making sure Voldemort is properly dead before leaving him. The last thing we need is a surprise resurrection.”

Hermione noticed immediately that no one, most of all Ron, hissed or reacted in fear at the name of the Dark Lord. She looked over at them. “You don’t seem afraid to hear his name,” she said.

“It’s like its not scary, that name,” Seamus said. “Funny huh?”

“Hilarious,” Dean said dryly, popping another frog into his mouth. His jowls wiggled as the frog jumped about in his mouth, and then he began to chew. Seamus kicked him.

“I wish Madame Pomfrey would release us,” Luna said. “I want to us to go somewhere private, when this is over Ronald.”

Ronald’s eyebrows lifted into his hairline. “Huh?”

“So we can snog each other senseless, of course,” Luna said, matter of factly. Dean and Seamus snickered into their hands.

“Oh…Ok,” Ron finally said, not quite able to hide the grin on his face as he chewed another frog. Luna put the bowl out of reach. “What’d you do that for?”

“I don’t want you eating yourself sick on them. Hello Hermione. Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Hi, Luna, thanks.” Hermione looked back and found Harry studying her intently. He didn’t have a grin on his face like the others, he didn’t look happy at all. He looked deeply disturbed.

“I have to go,” he said suddenly.

“Why?”

“I just…I need some time to myself.”

With that Harry stood and strode out of the hospital wing, his black cloak billowing behind him.

“What’s the matter with him?” Dean asked.

Hermione thought she had an idea, but it was Ron who voiced it. “Would you be chipper if you’d been forced to kill someone a few hours ago?”

*****

With pepperup potion rushing through her veins Hermione felt one hundred times better, just like her old self. She rushed through the corridors, some of which showed damage from the battle. Statues were missing heads, coats of armor were dented and singed, and chandeliers were shattered, their glass crunching under her trainers as she made her way toward the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione finally made it, but Harry was nowhere in sight. She took a deep breath and rushed up the stairs to the boys’ dorm and found him staring out at the rainy night. The lights of the grounds glowed eerily in the fog of the night.

“Harry?”

Harry said nothing. She went to him and found that his shoulders were shaking.

“Harry, are you alright?”

She gripped his arm and turned him toward her. He was weeping, biting his lip, trying to hold it in.

“Oh, Harry.”

“Hermione,” Harry moaned, his voice laden with grief.

He surprised her by pulling her into a rib crushing hug. She let him hold on to her, she tried to be a pillar of strength for him. He slid to his knees and gripped her about the waist, rocking slightly on his knees, weeping hard. Hot tears soaked her shirt and some dribbled down into her panties.

Hermione stroked his hair and rested her head on his, holding him close as his body rocked with sobs. She’d never seen Harry cry, no matter how hard life had gotten for him, no matter what injustices had been dealt to him, he never wept. Not in front of anyone, at least.

She was glad, in some strange way, to see this side of Harry. It made him seem human to her in ways nothing else could.

“I feel dirty, tainted,” Harry finally said. “He made me into a murderer.”

“Harry, listen to me.” Hermione eased down to her knees and took his face in her hands. “You are not a murderer. You’re not dirty or tainted. You’re a victim in this like the rest of us, but you’ll never be dirty.”

“Yes, I am-”

“Murder is the crime of killing someone for no reason, or killing for pleasure, Harry. You killed Voldemort because you had no choice, not because it brought you pleasure. It was self defense, not murder. You not only saved yourself but you saved millions of innocent people.”

“That’s just it…While we were dueling I was filled with such hatred for him…when he finally died I was happy that it was over! There was a moment when I was thrilled that he was gone forever.”

“That still doesn’t make you a murderer. Harry, you’re going to have to trust me on that. You didn’t seek Voldemort out to kill for pleasure. You met him in battle because he left you no choice. You’re good, Harry. You’re good to your core, and your soul is spotless. You’re clean, and whole, and I love you. I love you more than I love my own life, more than I love anyone or anything else. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Their words intermingled, and before they realized what they were doing their lips intermingled, their tongues entwined in a passionate dance. Harry pulled his lips away from Hermione, dragging them over her lips, down her neck, over her chest. They were both a right mess, their clothes ripped and muddy from the battle. Their skin tasted of dried sweat, earth, and rain.

Harry got to his feet, pulling Hermione with him. He lay her down on his four poster and used his wand to vanish their clothes. Under the covers their hands sought desperately to learn the contours of each other’s bodies. Kissing and caressing, they brought one another to the brink of ecstasy before plunging into the abyss of pleasure together.

When it was over, Harry rested his sweaty head on Hermione’s heaving breasts. He pulled the blanket over them, lest someone walk in and open the covers on his bed. “You’re the only thing that kept me going Hermione. I love you.”

Those words meant more to Hermione than Harry could ever know. “I love you too Harry. Rest now. Things will be better in the morning.”

“Promise you’ll be here.”

“I’ll be here for all your mornings, for as long as you want me.”

“Forever…” Harry mumbled sleepily. “I want you forever…”