A/N: I own none of this. I do not own Harry Potter or any rights to his image or personality. I do not own the moon or the stars. I do not own human genders, other than my own personal original factory equipment. Honest. Nope, not me. I most certainly do not own the rights to a billion dollar literary work. .. Damn it.

Aftermath

-Or-

Observations from a Battlefield

The aftermath of the battle was horrific. Still, Harry carried on. That part of him that made him want to save everyone had him searching the castle in hopes of finding more survivors.

Ron was with him, as much to keep an eye on his best friend as to assist. Hermione was with the Weasley family, cuddled to a still sobbing Molly, sleeping only as someone who had expended everything they had fighting to survive. Ron knew Hermione was as safe as she could be surrounded by his family. It was his job to make sure Harry did not fall to his own demons.

Harry's own exhaustion finally caught up with him as well, the 17 year old collapsed onto the floor to sit back against one of the still standing interior walls. Ron joined him and the two enjoyed a bit of silence for a few moments.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said quietly. "About Fred, I mean."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Me too." The red-head thought for a few moments before he reached out to nudge an odd spherical object with the toe of his right foot. "That the hell is that thing anyway?"

"Dunno," Harry grunted before the elder wand appeared in his hand and the object levitated from the ground and rotated to reveal itself to be a severed head. "Fucking hell," Harry gasped, the spell forgotten and the head falling to the ground, where it bounced once and rolled to a position where the pair could clearly see the face.

"I think that's Bellatrix," Ron breathed.

"You think so?" Harry asked squinting through his cracked glasses. "I could have sworn she was taller."