It was late – just past midnight. The silver full was high in the black sky, the glitter of stars shining merrily as they looked down on the graveyard. It was quiet – too quiet perhaps, the sort of quiet that was melancholy – sad. It was a strange time to hold a funeral, but the attendants had wanted it to be private, quiet, personal.

The funeral was small – only a handful of attendants, and the priest. Fleur's lovely face looked at Harry from one of the elegant, grey tombstones, Dean's – from the second. The ring of Aurors and friends, all clad in black, was silent.

Harry surveyed the assembled. Hermione, pale, but dry-eyed. Viktor, whose arms were around his fiancée, appeared grave. Ron, embracing a grief-stricken Bill. Arthur and Molly – both red-eyed. The sombre Minister. Severus and Remus, each holding a single white rose, hands locked. And the frail figure of Gabrielle, in a floor-long black dress trimmed with fine lace, her silver hair cascading down her back. The girl's beautiful face was drawn, dark circles under bloodshot eyes. She seemed to be beyond grief. Beyond tears.

'I feel guilty,' Harry spoke. Draco, who stood beside him, grasped his hand comfortingly.

'It's not your fault. There are always casualties in war.'

'I know. But I still feel as thought I am to blame. If it had not been for me, they would not have come. If it had not been for me...' His voice trailed off.

People began to move, each walking up to the two fresh graves to place flowers there. Harry waited until the small group began to disperse, somehow unable to move at all, as if moving would have made it all... final. Irreversible.

'How are you feeling?' Hermione asked, shuffling up to the two men. Harry smiled at her sadly, noticing that her bulging stomach looked bigger every day, huge under her thin black dress.

'Okay, I guess,' he replied blankly, mind numb.

'Feels strange to suddenly know he's gone for good, doesn't it?' Hermione asked, tossing a dark curl off her face.

'Yes, it does,' Harry admitted. He had not thought about that. Most of his life, he was driven by the single goal of destroying Voldemort. And now that he has... Well, it was hard to digest. As if something was suddenly gone – a part so huge of him that there was now a vast black void.

'You want me and Viktor to give you a lift to the restaurant?'

'No, it's alright,' Draco said quietly, 'I think we'll go home. He needs to get into bed and have something hot to drink.'

'Okay,' Hermione looked back and saw Viktor waiting for her, 'um, I'll go then. Call me, okay?'

Draco lead Harry away, towards the small, silver Renault parked not far off. Harry followed obediently, in a somewhat trance-like state.

At home, Draco helped him get undressed and ushered him into the bedroom, where he forced the brunet to climb under the blankets. Finding that he was too mentally tired to do anything else, Harry obeyed, falling into a fitful sleep not long afterwards.

Draco lay down next to him, on top of the covers, and pulled Harry closer.

'What's going to happen now?' He asked, no-one in particular, bending to kiss Harry's tousled hair.

And he knew, deep inside, he knew that everything as going to be alright. They'd been through too much, seen too much together – loved each other too much. Watching the sun rise, gracefully and magnificently, colouring the sky in every shade of greens and blues and pinks, Draco pulled his sleeping lover closer. Despite his tiredness, he felt as hope blaze within him. A tiny smile curved his lips. Yes, everything was going to be alright...

A/N – Just to clarify something about the Horcruxes. The Amulet was supposed to be one, but Voldemort decided against it and placed the last one within Remus instead. I had no idea how to work that into the story.

Anyways, this is it guys. Hope you had fun – I sure did!