A/N - Yes, all you wonderful but slightly midguided story-alerters, I decided to add another snippet. Now a word of necessary warning: Ginny has some major moodswings in this, and they are both a leetly OOC, but there are reasons for this: 1) They've both just gone through an incredibly traumatic battle and seen horrific displays of cruelty. 2) They're both teenagers. 3) Ginny is a teenage girl, and we're meant to have crazy and unbelieveable mood swings. Or else I just go to school with a ton of bipolar girls. And I do know that the end conversation is a bit strange adn disjointed, but conversations are like that late at night, and evveryone is liable to forget them if you've just been asleep. ANYWAY don't let me ruin this, please enjoy and review! x

It was over. They had won. Won. Ginny sat on the bench, her mother's arm around her. She felt totally numb: she knew that she should be upset, devastated, shocked, but she couldn't seem to feel a thing. She just sat there, unable to tear her eyes away from the shredded remains of a Gryffindor banner that lay crumpled against the table leg. One corner of it was unpleasantly dark where it had been dragged through a pool of blood. You'd think there wouldn't be much blood, when wizards could kill with two simple words. But there was, so much. For the first time in her life Ginny had witnessed the inhumane, unnatural cruelty of evil. And yet she still couldn't feel.

She didn't see anyone for the rest of that night - there were no emotional, epic reconciliations - she staggered up to her dormitory and collapsed on the bed, falling asleep immediately. The next morning she woke at dawn, before anyone else, and crawled out of the stiflingly warm bedroom and down to the Great Hall instinctively, all the years of routine leading her before she realised that there wouldn't be any breakfast there.

It had been almost destroyed, you see. The enchantments on the ceiling remained but the sky appeared permanently black with great clouds passing across it sluggishly. One of the walls was almost entirely gone, a great gaping hole in its place, and the stone flagstones al ripped up and distorted by the violent spells. Instead, she made her way directly to the kitchens, hoping against hope that the house elves had been un-evacuated. She passed many bodies sprawled out over the corridors, sleeping after the battle. She passed other bodies too, sinisterly still and covered in thin white blankets. There were less of them, but they still appeared with terrible frequency, almost reproachful in their silence.

The Entrance Hall was empty but for a sole figure, slumped against a statue by the door. A shortish boy, wiry and strong, but with messy black hair. He stood as he heard Ginny's measured footsteps watching her with exhausted eyes. She regarded him blankly for a moment, and then she broke. All the emotions that she had previously not felt came rolling out of her like crashing waves on a beach, unstoppable, terrifying in their determination to reach their destination. She stopped short of his outstretched arms, her face deathly pale and contorted in anger against her flaming hair.

"How could you, Harry?" She hissed, and then her voice began to gradually rise with each world until she screamed the last phrase to the gargoyles "Do you know, what that did to me – to everyone? How broken I felt? How it seemed as if we no hope left at all? How – how could you do that to me?"

The harsh words echoed around the draughty hall into silence. He looked at her helplessly, standing there tense and accusing, and shrugged, defeated in his victory.

"I had to, Ginny. It was the only way"

All of a sudden, her shoulders slumped. The appearance of fight, of vituperance and stridency and strength fled her and she looked very young, very fragile. Her brown eyes stood out huge from her white face, lips trembling as tears began to dribble down her face. He crossed to her in one step, gathering her up in his arms as she began to sob uncontrollably, clinging to him.

They found them like that hours later, curled up in a dusty corner, wrapped in each other's arms. No-one made any comments: everyone needed whatever comfort they could get in these times. No matter that they had, technically, won. Really there was no winner. Too much was lost.

They spoke quietly, murmuring. She devoured him with her eyes, as if she might never see him again. Many questions were answered for them both, that day. Why he never wrote; why she tried to fight. They fell asleep in the same position, and someone laid a thick blue blanket over them. When the night dragged on and the air seemed to thicken, as it does in those hours after midnight, they were both dozily awake.

"Harry"

He grunted in return, eyes opening reluctantly

"Harry" she said sleepily "What about the wedding? I know you had to leave, don't worry. But what were you going to say?"

He looked confused for a moment, and she had to describe the circumstances leading up to their interrupted conversation, when realisation dawned.

"Oh." He sounded slightly disconnected, as if he couldn't really control what he was saying "I was going to tell you that I thought I was in love with you"

"Oh" she considered that for a moment, and then she snuggled back down into warmth of the crook of his arm "Good. I was worried about that. Goodnight, again."

"G'night" he muttered, and oblivion overtook them again.

Neither remembered it clearly in the morning, both believing it to be a dream of sorts, as so many late night conversation are wont to be, but the possibility was enough to keep them close. And the next time they had that conversation, they both remembered it exactly.