AN: I don't own Harry Potter.
He was dying inside. Burning and twisting and falling so far for so long that it seemed he'd always existed in this black abyss. Everything he'd once been had been bled dry from his veins. All that was left was a withered, fractured soul who longed for that final, blissful death. The last chapter in the life of Harry fucking Potter.
Curling in on himself, the disheveled man covered his face, willing the household noise to go away. Distantly, he recalled that there was a party today. A celebration on the one year anniversary of the day Voldemort died and splintered what was left of Harry's life. One year and he still couldn't bring himself to move. Three hundred and sixty five days in which the tomb that was Harry had mustered up the will to care about anything.
Groaning, Harry hoped to God no one decided to play good Samaritan to him. There was a kind of vague certainty that if they pushed him today, he'd crumble to ashes. He gave a bitter smile at that. Wouldn't that be something? The Boy Who Lived killed by misbegotten kindness. Cause of death, Sir? Apparently, someone said hello to the poor chap. Never stood a chance.
The floorboards creaked outside his room, making Harry close his eyes in frustration and resignation. Well, he was making progress, somewhat. At least he knew he didn't want whoever it was here.
A flash of green light out of the corner of his eye had him searching the room frantically for the source. Screams tore at his mind as that last scene rose up again and again to haunt him.
Smoke was everywhere as deadly, colored, magic whirled around him. Harry coughed slightly before flinging another hex at a masked figure. A scuffle to his left drew his attention, making his eyes widen when he saw Draco and Lucius dueling with each other. Shaking it off, green eyes scanned the area around him as Hermione and Ron came up beside him.
"Ready, then?" Ron asked, studying him.
Harry nodded. "All right, you two?"
Hermione flashed a cocky smirk and cursed someone who got too close. "Never better."
Smiling, Harry and Ron rolled their eyes and nodded. The Trio charged their way through the battle field to where Voldemort and two of his Death Eaters were waiting.
Ron scowled and launched a hex at Wormtail, eager to settle his score with his former pet and traitor. Bellatrix laughed insanely and drifted to Hermione.
"I suppose that just leaves us girls," the woman said maliciously.
Hermione wasted no time in engaging the witch in battle. Harry was left facing Voldemort. Raising his wand, Voldemort motioned to the carnage around them.
"Doesn't it excite you, Potter? Doesn't the magic just rise up and sing in your blood?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "No. Expelliarmus."
Voldemort chuckled as he dodged the spell. "Come now, boy. I can see it in your eyes. The adrenaline pumping, the rush you feel when an opponent goes down. Admit it. You were born for warfare, Potter. That's what you exist for."
Easily deflecting another spell, Voldemort's eyes glittered vilely. "What will you do when it's over, little boy? Your sole purpose in life is to fight and destroy me. What will you do when I win and everything you love is stripped from you in front of you?" Almost lazily, he sent a hex at the boy, sneering when he avoided it. "Or, if you do somehow pull a miracle out of your arse, what's left for you? What are you good for if I'm dead?"
Harry snarled, "Sectumsempra!"
Voldemort smirked and made a vague motion with his wand. "Protego."
A scream drew the wizards' attention. To their right, Bellatrix lay unmoving in the mud, stupefied from the looks of her. What caused Harry's eyes to widen in horror was Hermione a few feet from him, on her knees and with her hands on her stomach. Blood was gushing from a long wound in her middle.
Raising her head, her brown eyes found his own terrified gaze. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. "Harry," she whispered before her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed on the ground.
Ron came running from his fight with Pettigrew as Voldemort began laughing manically.
"Perfect, perfect!" He cackled. "You've killed her yourself, Potter, and saved me the trouble."
Harry couldn't breathe as he stared at Hermione's still form. Numbly, he turned and faced Voldemort. Before he could say anything, however, Ron caught them both off guard.
"Incarcerous!"
Ropes shot out of his wand and wrapped Voldemort up before either man could blink.
"Incendio," Harry hissed, and watched as the dark wizard was consumed in flames.
"Harry!" Ron shrieked. "I can't find a pulse! I can't find a pulse!"
Spinning, Harry ran the few steps to his best friends and fell beside them. Desperately, he reached out and yanked Hermione into his arms, searching for hope. Some sign of life.
"What do I do, Hermione?" Harry pleaded to her. "What do I do?"
For the first time since he was eleven, Hermione didn't answer his call for help. Even when she'd been petrified, she'd still helped him. That thought crashed into Harry as he clutched her body to him.
"Come back, Hermione! Oh, Merlin, breathe! You have to wake up and tell me what to do. Please!"
Ron sent up red sparks and a few loud bangs. When the smoke cleared, Mediwitches were running to them.
Ron grabbed Harry's arms. "They'll bring her back, Harry. She'll be all right. She's got to be!"
Harry rocked Hermione back and forth as Ron tried to console him. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead! Hermione was lifeless in his arms as his heart shattered and a dark emptiness filled the space. Hermione was dead by his wand.
The mediwitches rushed to them, immediately reaching for Hermione. Harry refused to let her go, however.
Ron moved to grip Harry and forcibly yanked him away from the girl. Snarling, Harry jerked away from him just as the mediwitches portkeyed Hermione to St. Mungos.
More soon appeared beside Harry and Ron, but they waved them away when they went to examine them.
"We're fine. Go see about the others," Ron stated, looking at Harry now that he had calmed.
"I killed her," Harry whispered, raising his head to look at Ron with dead eyes. Suddenly breathing became too much and he began panicking, tearing at his arms and face. "Oh, God! I killed Hermione!"
Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders and struggled to get him to calm down. "No! Harry, Harry, look at me! You didn't kill her. Voldemort did."
Harry turned wild eyes on his friend. "I cast that curse. She got hit with my curse! I killed her!"
Remus appeared beside them and, taking stock of the situation, cast a spell on Harry to knock him out. Glancing to Ron, he nodded.
"It's over."
Ron shook his head and looked pointedly at Harry. "No. I doubt it'll ever be."
Moaning, Harry threw his arms over his head, shielding his eyes from the scene. "I killed her," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The end seemed anticlimactic when compared to the rest of his life. Except for the fact that he'd killed his best friend. A stray curse. It was still hard for him to believe that invincible Hermione had been killed by a deflected curse. And he'd been the one to cast it.
The whine of door hinges brought Harry back to the present. "Go away!" He shouted, voice hoarse from screaming.
Footsteps came closer to his bed, dredging up enough resentment and anger in Harry that he sat up and turned to snarl at the intruder. When he saw who it was, however, his face drained of color and a terrified scream ripped from his chest. Falling backwards, he stumbled over himself and the bed sheets as he frantically tried to get away.
"Leave me alone! You're not real! You're not real!"
Huddling into himself, Harry backed as far into the darkest corner as he could. Holding his head, he began to rock.
"Go away, go away, go away!"
A shuffling sound let him know the figure had come to kneel in front of him.
"Harry?"
Sobbing, Harry shook his head. "Leave me alone. You're not real."
"Look at me."
It was said so pleadingly that he had no choice but to look up, even knowing that his mind had once more conjured up images from his past. Moaning, Harry clamped his eyes shut again.
"I killed you," he wept. "I didn't mean to. I'm s-sorry, so sorry."
A cool hand slid against his cheek, prompting him to open his eyes and stare at her. Tears fell from her eyes as she wiped his from his face.
"You didn't kill me, Harry. Nobody did. See?"
Studying her, Harry took her hands from his face. Reaching out, he pulled on one of her curls, watching as it sprang back into form. "Hermione?" he breathed, not daring to believe that this wasn't some kind of cruel joke.
Sniffling, Hermione nodded, rubbing her cheek into his palm. Gasping, Harry pulled her into his arms.
The iron fist around his heart released him, flooding his system with indescribable relief. Shuddering, he held her tightly to him, not daring to hope that it wouldn't turn out to be a dream in the end.
"I saw you fall," he mumbled into her wild hair.
Hermione sighed heavily and drew back slightly to look at him. "Oh, Harry, we've been through this, remember? You didn't kill me. Did you remember to take your potion last night?"
Harry stared dumbly at her, lost at to what she was implying. "Hermione?" He asked, as if he was still a child and had gotten lost in the market.
Eyes softening, the woman before him ruffled his hair affectionately. "No matter how many times I tell you not to skip the doses, somehow you always manage to do so. Here," she said as she procured a purple vial from her robes and handed it to him. "Drink up, it'll make you feel better, I promise."
Silently, Harry drank the potion, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. All at once memories of the last year slammed into him.
Hermione in a coma for two months-Voldemort being forcibly ripped from his mind-killing Hermione-seeing Hermione laughing in St. Mungo's-taking his potions every night to heal the damage done to his mind by the last battle-waking up screaming-Hermione holding him-Hermione's scar stretching the length of her side-Ron cracking jokes, threatening to get him a custom straight jacket if he skipped one more dose-Hermione-Hermione-Hermione. She was okay.
The horror and paralyzing terror that had kept him enthralled since he'd woken suddenly released him. Harry slumped against the wall, feeling tears slip silently down his face. Closing his eyes, he withdrew from her into himself.
"I'm sorry."
Something very much like a growl came from the petite woman so close to him. Startled, Harry looked up to find Hermione nearly snarling in his face.
"Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter. I am sick to death of you doing this to yourself out of some kind of warped penance for some imagined sin. You are sick, Harry. That potion is the only thing keeping you from slipping into your nightmares forever. I swear to God that if you skip one more dose, frighten me like this again, make me relive that day one more time, I will transfigure you into a tea cozy and give you to Winky."
Harry's eyes had widened, but he remained silent as she was far from done.
"I have watched you suffer about that day since I woke in that hospital bed. Merlin, it was days before you could even look at me, let alone speak to me. I got injured in battle, Harry, yes, but that was a risk I knew when I followed you to that hill. Yes, it was your wand that cast that curse, but Harry, you have to understand about the shield Voldemort conjured. It doesn't act like that naturally."
All the breath left Harry in a rush. "What?"
Hermione glanced to him, startled. "Honestly, Harry. I've only been telling you this ever since I woke up. I guess it's about time it finally sunk into your thick skull. That shield naturally deflects a cast curse back at the castor. Voldemort manipulated it to hit me instead. See? Even though, technically, you cast the curse, Voldemort is the one who made it hit me. Stop blaming yourself over something that was out of your control."
Taking in his stunned face, Hermione gave a confident smile and took his hands in her own. "You have to focus on you getting better. The only way for you to do that is to start taking your potion regularly so it can heal the damage to your mind. Let the past go. I want my Harry back."
His heart had clenched and then released completely sometime during the course of her speech. It was too much to take in after believing for so long that he was at fault. He hadn't been able to live knowing he'd been the one to strike her down, even if she had survived it.
"I don't know how to let go, Hermione," he finally whispered. Tapping his forehead, he gave a rueful smile. "I'm pretty messed up. That potion takes a long time to heal this much damage."
Hermione smiled. "I know, Harry. Ron and I are right here. We're not going anywhere without you. We'll get through this, nightmares and all."
Reaching out, she cupped his face and looked at him intensely. "You have to find something to live for, Harry. Voldemort was very wrong. War isn't the only thing you know. Fighting isn't the only thing you do. That's not who you are. If it was, you wouldn't have saved a crying little girl from a troll. You wouldn't have been able to do any of the things you've managed, Harry. You would have been struck down on that hill by that evil creature. Like can't defeat like. Only love can defeat evil."
Sobbing, Harry gave a choked laugh. "Everyone goes on and on about love. I don't even know what it is."
"You do, Harry," she insisted, "otherwise the small spell you cast would have had no effect on Voldemort. Nothing burns more strongly than love, not even hatred. You know how to love. You just have to learn how to accept love."
Green eyes met hazel in question. Flushing, Hermione smiled.
"Really, Harry. Of course I love you. I suppose I'll have to keep telling you that until you believe it."
A small smile peaked out on his face. "I believe you."
"Good. Now, get dressed. Everyone's waiting for you to come down. I'm not taking no for an answer."
Shakily, Harry got to his feet. "You and Ron are staying here tonight? You'll be at the party?"
Hermione nodded and patted his arm. He had trouble in large crowds, still. She wondered if he'd ever get over that.
"Of course. Now, hurry up. I'll get Ron to help you."
Harry shook his head. "No, I can at least dress myself, thanks. I'll be down in a minute, I promise."
Hesitantly, she agreed. "Ron will wait at the bottom of the stairs. I'll get us a plate and a place at the table, okay?"
Smiling, Harry agreed.
As Ron looked up from the bottom of the stairs, he saw Harry shakily grab the banister and slowly make his way down. His motor skills had good days and bad days. Sometimes he was normal and other times he seemed like a lost child. The bad days were getting fewer, though, and that gave the red haired man hope.
Glancing over to the table, he spotted his other best friend setting three plates down at the table. He wondered if Harry knew how much Hermione had been taking care of him the last year. When his blue eyes returned to the man on the stairs, he found that his attention was focused on the same subject of his musings.
Ron cocked an eyebrow at that. Harry was staring at Hermione with something akin to confusion and longing. Maybe he wasn't giving his friend enough credit. Harry turned his attention to him and smiled.
"Hey, Ron."
Ron grinned. "Bout time, mate. I'm starving."
Harry's smile widened as he nodded and followed him to the table where he took his seat beside Hermione. Ron watched them both and smiled inwardly at the undercurrents between the two. Once, a long time ago, he would have been jealous of what they had-whether they were conscious of it or not. After everything that had happened and nearly losing them both-one to death and one to the cell of his own mind-Ron had come to realize that there was a lot more to life than what he'd previously assumed.
Now, he just wondered how long it would take for Harry to realize that there was love, and then there was love. Chuckling to himself, Ron watched as Harry wrinkled his nose when Hermione put peas on his plate.
"They're good for you. Besides, you need something to counterbalance your diet of EasyMac and cereal."
Grumbling, Harry surrendered and ate the vegetables. Maybe normal was a lot closer than Ron thought.
He hoped so.
Finite