𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 | 𝐡. 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟔𝟐 - 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞

They sat on that bank for a while.
Just silent beside each other, the sound of the lake gently lapping on the surface was peaceful enough for them to not want to disturb it.

Yet there was far too much to say and very little words they could use, it seemed that they had not anticipated a grief so terrible that it had struck them into shock, naively a small part of them had hoped that once this was all over with they'd be washed over with a great sense of relief.

That this was finally done.

It was over, for good.

But one question remained.

What now?

Harry's hand was numb, he was squeezing Phee so tightly that he was certain he'd never feel anything in it again but he was fine with that so long as he never let her go, when he closed his eyes he could still see the look on her face when he met her at the Grand Staircase.

The defeat.

The light had been extinguished behind her eyes, she had nothing left to fight for.

He cast his eyes to Phee, sat on the bank beside him.

Who looked simultaneously empty and alive, her eyes were closed and her hands were shaking yet her body still drew breath, though it seemed reluctant, each breath seemed to be fighting to escape her lips and the colour had drained from her face, she almost looked like she'd aged within moments.

"They're looking for us," she said, with her eyes still closed, her voice was hoarse and croaky from a mixture of smoke, water and overuse, "They're worried."

"They're bound to be." Is all Harry said, moving his eyes back over to the inky surface of the water.

It didn't take them long to find the couple, Ron practically diving on the pair of them the second he came into sight, his face was covered in soot and tears had streaked paths down his cheeks revealing his freckles beneath.

"You've damn near scared the shit out of us!" He yelled, but not in a scolding way, "But you're alive, you're alive...."

Hermione was crouching beside Ophelia, taking her free hand in her own she looked to Ron to be quiet for a moment.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice failing her as though she already knew she did not want the answer so much as she needed to know.

There was a pause, where Ophelia did not open her eyes.

Harry spoke.
"Voldemort is dead and so is most of his army."

Hermione nodded.
"We know... we saw..." the body was the rest of the sentence yet Hermione did not speak it, still, Ophelia heard it all the same in her pause.

Ron looked at Hermione with a sense of caution, whether or not it was too soon to be asking such questions had not yet been determined, as it was very hard to determine how Ophelia was feeling about it though they could gather from seeing her that she was not okay.

And she probably wouldn't be, not for a long while.

Ron took ahold of Phee's free hand and began to rub some warmth back into the cool digits, attempting to soothe the anxiety creeping in his chest at her silence, he squeezed her firmly. "We're safe now Phee, all of us, we don't have to worry about them ever again."

Not all of us. She thought weakly.

Ron looked over at Harry whom was still observing them both with a sad smile on his face, Ron nodded once and resigned himself to his role of brother. He'd made a promise to himself to look after her long ago and with the absence of her family, he needed to look after her now more than ever.