The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 58: Sunrise

1 year ago. Hogwarts. After the Battle.

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry's eyes stirred open, and above him hovered a figure with a scent that reminded him of The Burrow, of home, of peace.

"Harry?" Molly's soothing voice came from above him. "How are you feeling, dear?"

His head pounded and his eyes widened in shock as if he was struck by a powerful spell. Flashes of memories came flooding in his head. He remembered the elder wand, he remembered the Death entity taking over his body, he remembered seeing Ron die and seeing himself revive him with a simple wave of his hand, he remembered a scream, Voldemort's scream, and his body thudding towards the ground.

He remembered a voice, he remembered-

The flashes faded and Harry sat up, pouring out his insides into what appeared to be a bucket held below his chin. He felt a warm tender caress on his back. He retched again.

Harry coughed, the taste of sick lingering in his mouth as he looked around feebly, hoping for some water, barely able to see without his glasses. He felt a cup being gently nudged against his hand and he gratefully accepted it, drinking the hot liquid inside it and a soothing sensation came over him.

"It's a soothing potion." Came Hermione's tired voice, handing him his glasses. "Works like paracetamol."

Harry's vision regained as he put on his specs and looked around calmly when suddenly a fearful thought filled his head.

"Hermione, Voldemort. He's-"

"He's dead, Harry." She smiled at him, but it didn't meet her eyes. "He's gone. You defeated him."

Harry's head was still fuzzy. Continuous images of memories and auras of power filled his mind as he tried to recollect the events, and flinched in pain when a sharp bright light snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Harry, are you okay?" Molly Weasley said from beside him. "D-Do you... remember anything?"

"I-I can't-" Harry forced himself to remember, but it pained him to do so.

Harry stared down at his hands, they were shaking. He felt Molly clasp them gently and caressed them tenderly. Harry looked over her and was overfilled with emotion. The war was over, so why didn't he feel joy? Molly came forward and embraced him with a hug, but Harry, still overcome with emotion, did not return the sentiment and stayed there, frozen like a statue.

"It's over now," Molly said gently. "He can't hurt anyone anymore. We've won."

She pulled away from the hug and smiled warmly at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek affectionately. She stood up to leave, Harry's gaze following her to see Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on Fred's shoulder: There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. He saw Neville, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside him, and nodded at Harry when he caught his eye.

Harry looked away, and back to Hermione, who was staring out into the sunrise shining through the stained glasses of the Great Hall. It would seem that, like Harry, she did not share the others' joy over the war finally being over.

"How could we claim to have won?" Harry spoke for what felt like the first time. "We've lost so many."

"But we've also saved so many." Hermione sighed deeply, turning to look at Harry. "You saved Ron. And I don't think I'll ever forget that."

Harry remembered. He remembered feeling like his entire world had been crushed, as if everything he had been holding onto was snatched away from him, as if that was the beginning of hell for him. But he remembered. He remembered saving him. Remembered saving everyone. Everyone except...