It wasn’t exactly a celebration. They had all gathered in the Great Hall, marked with their grief and relief. A party wouldn’t have been appropriate while the dead lay among them. Out of sadness and grief, and as a mark of respect for those who had fallen, everybody in the Great Hall simply talked quietly among themselves.

There was a definite sense of relief in the air; however, it was marred by the bodies lined in neat rows on the floor against the wall. A great white sheet, pure and innocent, was draped over the bodies. Dean Thomas had offered to help, as had Seamus and Neville. McGonagall, who had conjured the blanket, took the final corner, and Dean thought of it as a kind of bedsheet that was tucked around its peacefully sleeping inhabitants.

Soon after, Dean himself felt tired and weary. He longed for a quick kip in his bed up in Gryffindor Tower. He thought warmly of its soft sheets and the privacy. Decided, Dean nodded to Seamus and Neville and set off towards the tower. He climbed staircase after staircase, pausing often to sidestep rubble. Once or twice he was forced to take a different route as the corridors had been blasted away. Finally, he reached the entrance.

Luckily, the portrait of the Fat Lady was still occupied by its chief inhabitant. Dean only now realised that it would have been far more likely that she would be grieving with the other portraits and paying respects to those who had been slashed, burned, or maimed in the battle. However, he found her whimpering softly next to a few other medieval-looking women, who were all huddled together in the portrait for security and companionship.

The Fat Lady gazed up at him, lowering the handkerchief from her face. “Go on up, dear; just try not to disturb him.�

The portrait swung open and Dean stepped in, puzzled. He walked across the empty common room and headed straight for the boys’ staircase. Ascending slowly, Dean wondered who the other occupant of Gryffindor Tower might be. As he entered his usual dorm, Dean cast his eyes around before softly closing the door behind him. He could make out someone behind the drawn curtains of one on of the canopy beds, sleeping peacefully. It was Harry, sound asleep.

Dean tiptoed across the room to his own bed, removing his shoes as quietly as he could. As he bent down to take off his left shoe, he heard movement from across the room. Harry had rolled over onto his side and sat up.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I can leave if you don’t want to be disturbed. I just thought I’d have a kip…� Dean explained hastily, but Harry shook his head.

“It’s fine, Dean. Should have known I wouldn’t be the only exhausted Gryffindor,� Harry replied, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Dean smiled back.

“How’d you hear me anyway?� Dean asked, sure that he had made less noise than a house-elf.

“When you’re on the run from Death Eaters, you learn to sleep with you guard up,� Harry replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Though I think you know that kind of sleep too, Dean.�

Dean nodded, recalling all those nights he had spent on the run, on edge, convinced that he had never quite fallen asleep.

“Harry, er, I don’t think I ever quite thanked you. For rescuing me from the Snatchers and then from Malfoy Manor…and, obviously, well…t-today.� Dean stuttered a little at the last part, almost overcome by emotion and tiredness.

Harry looked a bit confused as to how to reply, but he finally managed a small “Welcome�, before laying back down in his bed. “Reckon we could both use nap now,� he muttered gruffly.

Dean nodded, and they both fell asleep amid the quiet peace of the dorm.

***

Seamus had been sitting in a circle with his schoolmates, or former schoolmates. They were all solemn and content at the same time. Lavender was holding his hand, as if grounding herself to real life, as if holding onto something solid would make the situation more concrete. Seamus felt that the whole situation was unreal.

Sitting around in a circle (they had allowed the adults to occupy the tables, although he supposed that they were technically adults now, too), occasionally whispering or simply leaning against each other, they were at peace. Seamus, however, found himself becoming quite tired, as the battle had raged all night into morning. He was due for some sleep, and maybe a nice cup of tea if he were lucky.

He shook his head, as if to dispel the sleepiness from his head long enough to make it up to Gryffindor Tower. Calmly slipping Lavender’s hand out of his, Seamus transferred it, and the duty to console Lavender, to Parvati, and Lavender silently leaned her head on the other girl’s shoulder.

Seamus stood up, nodded to the circle, and left the Great Hall. He slowly climbed staircases, taking short cuts where he could. He was forced to back track a few times, as the particular corridor he wanted to use was currently in extreme disrepair. Climbing the final staircase, Seamus walked up to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was sitting quietly among a small group of witches with tall pointed hats and looked up at him for a split-second before promptly swinging the portrait door open. Nodding his thanks, Seamus climbed through the hole and walked through the deserted common room, up the equally empty staircase, and into the dorm. The room, however, was already occupied. Not wanting to disturb his friends, he quietly tiptoed over to his own bed.

“Hello, Seamus.�

Seamus nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the two boys greeting him. “Blimey! I thought you two were sleeping,� he said, running his hands through his hair. Seamus gazed curiously at the look of understanding that seemed to pass between Harry and Dean. “I was just coming in to take a nap, too�.

The two boys nodded, smiling, and Seamus. He walked over to his bed and silently removed his shoes, which were ripped and torn in places, from what spell he couldn’t remember. Sliding comfortably into bed, he found it as welcoming as it had been his first year. Well, maybe he had to bend at the knees a bit to fit in it, but all the same.

He was pulling the curtains around the four-poster when he stopped abruptly. He sat there, fighting himself over what he should say. His tired brain wasn’t alert enough to come up with any grand gestures. He simply opened his mouth and said, “Thank you.� Harry nodded in his bed, and with his job done, Seamus lay back in bed and let sleep overtake him.

***

Neville didn’t want to ever leave these people, but sleep was slowly but surely dragging down his eyelids. He yawned and laid his head down on Luna’s shoulder, and she patted his head comfortingly.

“Maybe you should get to bed. It’s quite late. Or early,� whispered Luna, gazing up at the magically enchanted ceiling. A beautiful, blissful morning stared down at them.

Neville nodded and looked up into Luna’s round eyes. “What about you?� he asked.

“Oh, I’m going to go up to Ravenclaw Tower myself,� she answered.

Neville thought this was a very good idea, and the two silently rose from their sitting positions, with Neville still clutching the Sword of Gryffindor. He hadn’t let it out of his sight. It was almost as if he still couldn’t believe that the sword had come out of the Sorting Hat for him. Luna took him by the hand and led him out of the Great Hall. They walked across the Entrance Hall hand in hand and then began the ascent to their respective towers.

Past charred walls, slashed portraits, and through demolished corridors, Neville never paused. He climbed still more and more staircases, finally remembering to jump over the vanishing stair, until he came to his destination. Neville approached the Fat Lady cautiously, not wishing to ruin the sort of silent vigil she was holding with a small group of witches in the portraits. He remained in front of her, not because he had forgot the password but out of a sign of respect. Eventually, one of the strange witches tugged on the Fat Lady’s sleeve, and she looked up, swinging open the door with a sad smile.

Neville shouldered the sword and climbed through the hole. He strolled across the common room, realising just how surreal it was to walk into Gryffindor Tower carrying the sword of its namesake. He suddenly found his legs so tired that he almost collapsed into one of the comfy armchairs in front of the cosy fire that still miraculously blazed in the hearth. However, Neville managed to will his legs to move and trudged up the staircase to his dorm room.

Upon entering, he was quite surprised when he realised that he would not be the only one sleeping there. He supposed that he should have guessed where Seamus and Dean had gone, but the thought had not occurred to him, as his mind was so confused by tiredness. And, to Neville’s surprise, Harry was there, too.

It was quite something, for Neville, to see his old roommates sleeping peacefully in the same room they had shared for the past six years, as if they were still young boys. Neville quietly tiptoed into the room, not wishing to disturb his friends, and headed toward his usual bed. When he got there, he stopped suddenly. Quietly turning on his heel, he walked toward Harry instead and silently placed the Sword of Gryffindor on the cabinet next to his bed. Neville may have been worthy of the sword for that moment in time, but he felt that the true owner was slumbering right in front of him, Harry.

Neville returned to his own bed, removed his shoes, and snuggled under the comfy sheets. On the other side of the room, Harry could feel his eyes prickling as he stared upon the beautiful bejewelled sword resting on his bedside cabinet.

***

It took Ron ages to disentangle himself from the arms of his mum. She pulled him to her chest and sobbed openly, petting his head. Through her wailing, Ron could hear phrases such as, “We were so worried� and “My brave son� but most of her words were indecipherable.

“Mum, you can let go now,� Ron hissed, sounding irritated.

In reality, he wasn’t really upset about his mum’s babying. For the past year he’d wanted nothing more than to see his parents and, more importantly, to see his parents without fearing for their safety. Despite all that he’d accomplished over the past year, and especially what he had done today, he couldn’t bring himself to be upset with her. He couldn’t demand to be treated like the adult.

Ron finally managed to pull away from her unyielding grasp, rubbing his arms to bring back the blood flow. Mrs Weasley, not missing a beat, quickly clenched the nearby Hermione into a back-breaking hug. Ron couldn’t help but smirk as he watched Hermione’s face fill with shock.

Stumbling over to the table where his brothers and Ginny were seated, they all looked up, solemn yet somehow at peace. All of the Weasleys avoided looking at the great white sheet, afraid to acknowledge their terrible loss. Ron sat down, tired from both the battle and from the power of his mother’s hug. Ginny put her arm around Ron as quiet tears dripped down her face.

He remained there for a while, basking in the warm pleasure of being surrounded by his family, or by most of his family. Ron’s thoughts kept straying toward that brother who, despite his usual griping about his constant teasing, had brought laughter to the lives of all the Weasleys. Swallowing his grief, he leaned against Ginny.

Eventually, he realised how tired he had become. Knowing that Harry was sleeping in his room in Gryffindor Tower above them, Ron decided that now was a good time to join him.

“I’m going to take a nap,� he mumbled to his quiet family, leaving the table.

Ron quickly exited the Great Hall and climbed the marble staircase. He climbed further and further up until he eventually reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was in hushed conversation with a group of witches who looked like they belonged to the Founder’s era. The Fat Lady had watched his approach and she promptly swung open the door to allow his entrance, and Ron clambered through the hole.

Desiring to reach his cosy four-poster as fast as possible, he swiftly crossed the abandoned common room and climbed the stairs up to his dorm. He pulled the door open silently, realising that Harry would be sleeping, and stepped into the room. To his surprise, all of the beds in the dormitory were occupied—except for his own, of course. Ron noiselessly shuffled past the other sleeping boys as he made his way to his own bed. He bent down and removed his shoes, and the bed seemed to welcome him, as if he had never left it. Pulling the covers up to his chin (they strained against his hands as he was too tall for the bed now), Ron closed his eyes.

“We’re not really grown up yet, are we?� Neville asked suddenly. “We’re still just kids, right?�

The other boys emitted a soft “Yes� in reply before letting sleep overtake them. They were the kids who had saved the world.