White Flag

I saw Harry cover himself with the cloak. I was the only one to see it, but I knew. He was alive. Harry was alive. The relief crashed over me like a powerful wave, washing away everything else around me. Suddenly, as I watched my friends, my family, and even my enemies fighting against Voldemort, emotions began to rage inside my tired body.

Sadness; for those who had fallen fighting for what they believed in. Hurt; for those who had suffered during the long year leading to this very day. No, this very battle. But most of all, of all the emotions inside me fighting for dominance, anger rose to the surface-fast and furious.

All I could do was see these cloaked figures hurting the people I loved, causing deliberate pain to innocent children, enjoying others' pain. Then, one true clear thought, passed through me: this was not the end. We would rise above this cruelty that had loomed over us for almost two years now.

I would not put my hands up in surrender. There would be no white flag. I would keep fighting until the very end, until Harry stood above Voldemort's dead body, and every last Death Eater was gone.

I saw Hermione out of the corner of my eye. She stood, her back to me, facing Bellatrix. The left sleeve of her blouse was burned, ripped off clean above the elbow, revealing her scar: the word Mudblood carved into the inner side of her arm. The wound was still an angry red, reflecting how she must be feeling, if not just me.

They were dueling now, and I could tell that Hermione, as talented and skilled with a wand as she was, could not do this alone. I ran toward her, hurling hex after curse at Bellatrix. She shot a stream of purple light at me, and I dodged it skillfully. A part of my brain wondered freely if it was the same curse that had hit Hermione in the chest when we were in the Department of Mysteries.

I aimed a stunning spell at Bellatrix, but she blocked it with ease, along with another one from Hermione. A green flash of light erupted from Bellatrix's wand, and I saw it hurtling toward me, I didn't even have time to dodge it.

But it flew right past my ear, crashing one of the windows in the Great Hall instead. I raised my wand to fight back, but suddenly I heard my mother's furious, strangled cry. "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

I turned just in time to see her raise her wand. The rest was a blur. Suddenly, I felt someone's hand touch my shoulder. I whirled around; pointing my wand at my attacker, but no one was there. "H-harry?" I whispered hoarsely.

He never showed himself, never made any sign of life; all I heard was his soft voice full of worry. "Be careful, Gin. I love you." His voice was reassuring to me, like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

"Harry?" I whispered again, but he was gone, or at least I thought he was, but now was not the time to be distracted. There was war to attend to, and I was fighting it for Harry. I was in love, and always will be.

I heard a cry of outrage rise from the sea of robed Death Eaters in the Great Hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bellatrix fall to the ground, dead. My mother stood, wand still raised, relief and cold satisfaction etched into her kind face.

"HARRY! HE's ALIVE!" The overjoyed cries and cheers deafened the surprise of Voldemort's followers. What was he doing?

Cold fear rushed shot through me as I remembered. 'Neither can live while the other survives.' I felt numb with worry, anxiety, and the wild desire to cover my ears and shut my eyes. Everyone was waiting to see the outcome of this very moment, it would determineā€¦everything.

The scene before me seemed to move forward in slow motion, as if under water. Then, after what seemed like hours of talk, revealing dark secret after dark secret, Voldemort raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"


Blinding light filled the Great Hall. Gold sparks and green and red. And then, as soon as it had begun, it had ended. Still in slow motion, Voldemort's wand dropped from his hand, and his lifeless body fell backwards, hitting the Great Hall's stone floor with what seemed like a deafening thud.

The rest was more of a blur than anything else; people shouting in victory, hugging each other, crying over lost loved ones, even crying in joy. It all seemed superficial to me, like a vivid dream that I couldn't wake up from. It seemed so fakeā€¦until I saw Harry.

He was standing alone, leaning his back against one of the few pillars that hadn't been destroyed. His eyes were closed, and the way the sun shone through the broken window behind him gave the effect that he was glowing.

My scuffed shoe accidentally knocked a piece of rubble astray, making a loud clattering noise. He lifted his head, alert, but relaxed when he saw me.

"Hi," he said, walking toward me. I did the same, and we met halfway. He slowly reached his arms and wrapped them around my waist in a light hug. I leaned my head against his ripped, sooty T-shirt.

Everything seemed to get better from there. Fred's death was still on my mind at all times, making everything I did that much more difficult, but I had Harry. I had Harry.

The love crashed over me like a powerful wave, washing away everything else around me. I was in love, and always will be.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) J. K. Rowling; White Flag (c) Dido

This story is a song-fic by the wonderful artist Dido. (Look her up on YouTube, the song is genius.)

Please review and tell me what you thought of this one-shot. It would mean a lot.