A/N: Written as an entry to a Deathly Hallows ending contest, fitting in the 500 words limit.

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It was over. Voldemort was dead. But as Harry lay on his comfortable bed inside the most guarded ward of ’s seven days after his great victory, he felt thoroughly defeated. The letters, gifts and newspapers lying on his bedside table hailed him as the saviour of wizardkind, but Harry knew they meant nothing. True, he had destroyed the horcruxes, but Dumbledore had taught him how to search for them, and he would have still failed had it not been for Hermione’s tireless research. Hermione. Why did she come between him and Voldemort? That green rush of light needn’t have touched her at all; it was aimed at Harry. Did she know before dying that Ron was already gone? Had she too helplessly watched the red-haired, freckle-faced boy falling before the combined attack of a dozen deatheaters?

The door opened and a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman entered. Harry quickly shut his eyes. Healer Martlet was nice, but she though reading out newspaper articles on him would cheer him up. Harry was weary of such empty eulogies. He felt Martlet standing over him and touch his forehead.

“Mr. Potter, it’s time for your medicine.”

Knowing pretence to be useless, he sat up and wordlessly gulped down the colourless potion. Martlet took the empty goblet from him and handed him his glasses.

“You have a visitor.”

“If it is the Minister of Magic again-”

“It’s Miss Ginny Weasley.”

“Oh…all right, then.”

She came. She looked sadder and older than the last time he had seen her, but her eyes had the same hard, blazing look. She sat on the visitor’s chair beside his bed and looked at him.

“How are Mr. and ?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Mum had been ill, so I couldn’t come to see you earlier. She has recovered now. Dad’s quite steady too, although he took leave from work. They might visit you tomorrow.” She paused a little and her eyes lingered on the heap on the table. “I was bringing you flowers, but Healer Martlet said you didn’t want any more gifts and flowers to be brought in here.”

Harry looked away without replying.

“It’s your ‘all-my-fault’ thing at work again, is it?”

“Ginny-”

“Harry, your friends died fighting bravely. If either Ron (her voice shook a little, but her gaze did not waver) or Hermione had been in your place, you’d have done exactly what they did, you know it.” She reached out and took his hand. “We shall miss them Harry, and it isn’t easy, but they would have wanted you to be happy, because they loved you. For their sake, Harry, we must live. Remember what Dumbledore said? Those we love never really die, but live through us.”

And as he felt her small, warm hand inside his own, Harry understood the true meaning of Dumbledore’s words. For the first time, he realized the full power of the magic of love- greater than the darkest spell, and more lasting than the deepest scar.

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I realize this isn't very cheerful, but please do review.