Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Devastation of War ❯ Devastation of War ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

It wasn't as if either of them had planned it. It was just that after the war had ended, both of them were tired. Human conatact after any traumatizing experiance is a basic need, but they were tired. Exhausted was a more appropriate way of putting it, but that's what they were. All the struggles before and during the war were now a grim and horrifying memory that both of them wanted to forget.

First they slept. It was after traveling to escape the place were their friends had fallen, and not speaking for fear that there would be nothing to talk about. They had prepared a make shift tent in the middle of the woods, and eaten a small meal of water, bread, and some candy one of them had found in their pockets. It was dismal fare to partake of, but neither of them had the strength of will to eat more than that, let alone prepare something more filling.

And so they crawled into the tent that was more of a blanket held up by branches, and curled into each others arms and coats for warmth, and slept. The woman was the first to awake, sunlight streaming into the tent and onto her face, causing her eyes to pop open. He was lucky. His face was buried into her shoulder, hidden from the brightness outside and inside, and he did not wake. So she sat up, rummaged through their supplies, ate some dried, cooked meat and drank some water, then fell back asleep, pulling his arm over her eyes to block the glare of sunlight.

When they awoke next it was afternoon. He was outside, looking into the horizen, and she merely sat up again, this time watching his figure and thinking about how out of all their friends and family, they were the only ones to survive to the end of the war. They were the only ones who were able to look out at the charred and bloody earth, and finally appreciate that there was going to be no more fighting. No more pointless deaths. No more pain.

The only thing left now was to say prayers for the dead, visit their graves everyonce in a while, and try to rebuild their lives from the devastation. The memories would only be painful for a while. Then they would become beautiful and tragic, but would not bring tears to their eyes. Even now, there had not been enough time to cry. Neither of them had been able to shed tears for the dead, and neither of them could bring themselves to do so now. The pain was too fresh, and it was too much of a shock.

She stood and went outside to stand at his side.

For a while neither of them spoke. Words weren't necessary to share the relief they both felt. When the mood changed though, so did the silence. It began heavy and thick with sadness, and both of them were drowning in it.

Her head went to lay on his shoulder, and he put his arms around her, resting his head atop of hers. Their eyes were closed, trying o deny what there five senses had told them. What there eyes and ears already knew.

They were the last ones left.

Out of all their friends, out of all their family, they were the last ones left. Oh, to be sure, there were others out there just as devastated as they were, and even those who were all alone, but it was still hard to cope with. The idea that everything that had made up their lives prior to the war was gone, and everything needed to be rebuilt. It was going to be tough on every single person who had lived through the trauma. Comfort was needed, and that was what was given.

It started out innocent. They both turned away from the sunlight and hills before them, and went back into the tent. The air was not as crisp, not as cold, not as bitter, and they relished in the meager warmth surrouding them. They sat cuddled together, her sitting between his outspread legs, and him with his arms around her. Her arms rested on his thighs.

They had known each other for years now, and for years that contact had remained innocent. Theres was a relationship of comfort and trust. After her parents had died, she had moved in with him. Actually, it was a little before hand. She had already had half her belongings set up in a room at his apartment, and was not at home to find out what had happened. Her parents were murdered and she had been helpless to stop it.

He was only fourteen years older than her, so he could easily have been her father, but fate deemed it otherwise. It was a fact she was very grateful for.

Now they sat, resting on each other, breathing deeply of the cool air, and lost in their own silent hell. It was her who broke the silence first.

"Let's say the names of those we loved, so that we do not forget." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it sounded loud in the silence around them. He gave a harsh laugh.

"I'll never forget. Never." It was a vow that echoed her own, but somehow saying the names seemed like it would help relieve the ache. She went on without him.

"Sirius Black, god rest his weary soul, Harry Potter, the little twit that actually won this war for us, at the cost of his own life. As well as watched over him. To Ronald Weasly. Thank you for befriending him, he needed it. To my best friend, Passion Gilcrest, I love you still you traitor..." That was as far as she got before his voice broke in.

"To another traitor, Peter Pettigrew, you were good before this all began, to Luna Lovegood..." She looked up at him in shock. "Thank you for loving all your friends enough to lay your life on the line for them. To Hermione Granger, if you were here today, you'd be the next greatest witch to walk this earth." His voice broke and she felt tears come to her eyes. He had loved them all so much that he had rushed in to the middle of a battle to save thier lives, after all, she had been like a daughter to him, after her parents died. Voldemort had pointed the killing curse her way and she had taken the bulk of it. He had gotten an armful of it though, and like Harry, now had a scar. His looked like dark vines had spread out all over his arm though. It was a miracle that he had not died.

A sigh escaped her lips. A sad laugh escaped the man behind her, but she ignored it and moved on. "To Draco Malfoy, you would have been hot if you weren't such a prig. Just kidding. To Voldemort, COWARD!!! No one will ever mourn your loss!"

A hand clamped over her mouth. She smiled, glad that his former self was returning. A cough broke the silence.

"I believe you said to say the names of those we loved..." He said, a smile playing about his lips.

She turned over and layed her head on his chest, looking into his hazel-green eyes.

"I did love Voldemort. I loved to hunt him down and help kill him. Draco Malfoy too."

He shook his head at her, not saying anything to her response, then continuing on with the names.

"To all the members of the order of the Pheonix who died. We won, so it wasn't all in vain. To all the students and teachers who lost their lives. We are sorry that this battle ended too late. To all of those who suffered. We apologize that this did not end until now. To..."

"..Dumbledore....Thank you headmaster."

They smiled at each other. They could have named more, but it was enough that they had covered all their friends. Oblivious to his actions he pulled her closer, squeezing tightly. In return she squeezed him back, glad for the contact. They continued to stare at one another, until finally she moved forward to close the distance between them. Gently, she lay her lips on his, intending for the kiss to be chaste, but it wasn't. Never before had they ever done so intimate a thing, and neither of them moved as their tongues tangled together. It wasn't sinful to appreciate contact that was comforting, and that was the same excuse they used when the kiss changed.

Neither was sure who startes it, but shortly after the kiss began, their tongues were moving against each others. It changed from innocence to lust in that short space of time, and then they were laying down.

She was atop him long enough for him to pull her shirt off, and undo her bra, and then he was over her, caressing every inch of skin he could find. She unbuttoned his shirt, and kissed his chest as he pulled down her jeans and panties, then reached for his zipper.

Then it truly began.

Their bodies melted into one anothers, desperate and surging, and her cries of passion intermingled with his moans of pleasure.

And then it was over.

Both of them lay panting, not quite nude, not quite dressed, afraid to break the almost akward silence that had settled around them.

Carefully she rolled over, him pulling his pants up, a blush lighting across his cheeks. She said nothing, and neither did he, and for the longest time neither of them made more movements than the ones required to rearrange their clothing into some semblance of order. They were embarrassed.

To be sure, both of them had known that there was something there, after all, before the war had become a priority they both had entertained thoughts of the other. It was only natural. But this, this was different. They both knew it was largely the moment, the need to remove all the bottled up emotions that they had kept for so long. It was less lust, more need, but it was still wrong in a way.

Where had any love been?

He was the first to speak this time, his voice coming out hushed, broken and apologetic.

"I...I'm sorry."

She ignored him for a few seconds, then let out a sigh that bespoke of weariness and sorrow.

"What is there to be sorry for? We both needed this." She said softly. He shook his head.

"No. We both needed comfort, not this...sudden burst of lust."

Abitter laugh escaped her.

"I dunno...there is always the possibility that we really did need sex to calm down. I for one feel a lot better. At this point I'm only embarrassed and slightly regretful that it hadn't happened sooner."

He turned to look at her, his face still a little red. She let out a real laugh this time, one that spoke of amusement.

"Relax Remmy. It's not so horrible. Think of all those times we've flirted or all the times we touched each other. Half the time we were playing but I was always partially serious whenever I grabbed your butt or quickly kissed your mouth."

A smile quirked his lips.

"I was serious when I said I would marry you if I wasn't dangerous." He replied, his eyes twinkling. She gave him a playful smack on the shoulder.

"And I was serious when I told you that I would too if I wasn't the bane of your existance."

They both laughed at the old joke. The only reason he had ever called her such a thing was because of the potion he had to drink every moon. And she always made sure he drank the awful stuff too by standing over him like some mother hen and watching to make sure he swallowed. It was amazing that such an eccentric person could be so motherly.

Gradually the akwardness went away, and they both returned to feeling somewhat like their normal selves. It was different now, they both knew that. Not only had their lives irrevocably changed, but so had their feelings for one another. They loved each other more now, and neither was sure how it had happened. It was before they had fully known each other, before the war. But at the same time they knew it was at that moment as well. The feelings had built overtime, now they were out in the open. They only needed to be said.

And they were said. They were said later that night as they once again touched and carressed each other. They were said over the small breakfast the next morning, and they were said as they travelled to London to see if any of the other survivors were people they knew, even in a small way.

"I love you Remus."

"I love you Nymphadora."

Fin.

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Read and review please? Reposted under CORRECT category this time. ^.^