Author: Swishy Willow Wand

Title: Birthday

Summary: (No spoilers) (One-shot) (Post-final battle) (Harry's POV) (Drabbleish) He remembered, in the dwindling hours of the day, that it was his birthday.

This is definitely not a tear-jerker, but it does (sort of) reek of tragedy. It's short and drabble-like, and a bit no-nonsense and to the point. I think. I was inspired, cause it's my fifteenth birthday! Or, it is tomorrow morning(November 8th) at 7:49 am. Only mine's a happy one, unlike Harry's.

I listed this under Harry/Ginny only cause I didn't want it to be too broad. Ginny isn't a main character, but she is mentioned in a bittersweet(maybe) sort of way.

Sorry if you hate it!

Disclaimer: I own a grand spankin' total of nothing.

Birthday

He remembered, in the dwindling hours of the day, that it was his birthday.

It had crept up on him, quickly and yet agonizingly slowly, and jumped out at him from behind a large bush in his head. One day, he was the oldest seventeen-year-old in the world, and then pooft, it was his eighteenth birthday.

It wasn't right, he had decided. Time should've stopped the moment their lives did. And yet, it didn't. Days, weeks, months, years trickled by, no matter his desperate need for it to stop. It was almost as if their lives hadn't mattered.

But they had, damn it! Each and every life had mattered, but still they were constantly taken away.

His parents had mattered. More than anyone could fathom to him. He had been theirs and they had been his, until he wasn't and they weren't. They had been cruelly snatched away from him, like cookies from a greedy child.

Neville Longbottom had mattered. His poor grandmother was shattered, as was Luna Lovegood, sad little creature. He had been important to them. He had been their hero! And now, they were two lonely women, both grieving in different ways for different reasons.

Ron had mattered. Gods, but he had mattered. He had been Hermione's and his constant! Their best friend, and Hermione's love. Hermione was pitiful, now that he was gone; she had been reduced to a lump of dark circles and frown lines.

Ginny had mattered. His Ginny. She had been his sunshine, and his rain. She had been his everything, only oh, so briefly. And then, she was gone, like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

Everyone was gone, in one way or another. Dumbledore and Sirius and poor Just Finch-Fletchly were gone. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil and Cho Chang were gone. Amos Diggory and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mundungus Fletcher were gone. And they had all mattered.

Sometimes, Harry was glad he had survived, glad he had a life to live. But then he would realize that he had nothing left to live for. Because the entire world was devastated and broken, even though good had prevailed and Voldemort was gone. Because almost everyone had left along with him.

So that night, only a few short months after his world should've stopped turning, he went into his bedroom, lit a candle, and waited for July thirty-first to end, for the first day of his eighteenth year to be over.

And then, when the clock struck twelve, he said a prayer for all the lost.

And then, he blew out the candle.

I'm not sure about this story. It's wild card-y. But I like it.

Give me birthday kisses and reviews!

Much love,

-Turkey (SWW)