At the Close


There was an eerie silence in what remained of the Great Hall. There were large chunks of rock from the walls of Hogwarts castle in every direction. A thin fog of dust and debris hung in the air, as did an aura of deep and penetrating melancholy.

The lifeless corpse of the Dark Lord lay, sprawled-out on the ground. It, however, garnered no attention from those in the vicinity. Everyone's thoughts were elsewhere, distracted by their own mourning. The terrifying gloom of death permeated every heart.

At once Harry's eyes met hers. Dried blood, mixed with sweat and dirt made a little bunch of her hair cling to her beautiful face. From head to toe, she was soaked; her hand hung at her side, wand held only loosely. Her expression was a twisted blend of bliss and sadness. Her smile was weak.

Trudging over the rubble of the once majestic ceiling of the Great Hall, Harry worked his way toward her. She, too, stepped slowly in his direction. Several tears ran down her dust-darkened cheeks.

"It's really over," she breathed; she threw her arms around his neck. "It's finally over." Ginny, the brave, strong girl he had known since his first journey to Hogwarts was crying – not for sadness, but for joy.

"Yeah," Harry said softly, hardly able to believe it himself. There was something terrifying, yet exhilarating about the realisation that came over him at that moment. Life was no longer stretched between being the hero for the world and the hero for the woman he loved. He was thrilled with the prospect of devoting his attentions more fully to the amazing person in his arms. "And Ginny?" he whispered. He pulled some of the matted hair from her face, her deep and rich brown eyes captured his heart once again.

"Yeah." She swallowed, tilting her head to rest it on his shoulder.

"I missed you." He felt himself choke on his own sobs as he pulled her closer; her red hair tickled his face. She lifted her hand to his cheek and stroke it gently.

"I missed you, too," she whispered. Time passed as the stood together, holding each other for the first time in far too long. Harry let his arm rub her back; he'd nearly forgotten how wonderful it was to hold Ginny – even if her scent was less than its usual spectacular self. "So," she continued, "where were we?"

Harry gave her a mildly confused look that was chased away as she rose to the tips of her toes and touched her lips to his. Making-up for months of lost time, passion built – slowly at first, then more quickly. It then occurred to Harry that the letters Dumbledore had etched into the flesh of the Golden Snitch had more than their obvious meaning.

I open at the close.

At the close of the reign of terror, Harry's life and all the many possibilities it had begun to open like a rose blossom seeking the morning sun.

It was great to be alive.


Author's Note: This was just a short little drabble of one of the many awesome events not seen in canon. I hope you enjoyed.