Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Foreword: You can take this as a sequel to my other work, "The Darkness of Virtue". I have a lot of free time on my hands. As a result, I have been writing several ideas I had in my head. Hopefully, this is benefiting all of my readers.
Love is a Terrible Thing
By Romantic Silence
Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily. His body was sore from the excess of magical energy he had cast just then, swiftly defeating the Dark Wizard and Witches that had believed themselves capable of stopping him. However, he was no longer the young hero that defeated Lord Voldemort more than twenty years ago. He had grown old and weary, and his body could no longer take the strain of his more rigorous actions.
He glanced from side to side, taking careful note that the enemies before him remained dead on the ground. Harry stepped forward, his eyes settling on the dark form not too far from him. Before him stood the mastermind of the terrible war that engulfed Europe, completely eclipsing Grindelwald's bid for power and making Voldemort's Death Eater uprising be nothing more than a brawl in a pub. On a personal level, this monster was the cause for the death of his wife, his best friends, and almost everyone he had ever cared about.
Standing calmly in front of him with a loving smile reserved only for him, Hermione Granger bade him welcome.
"You're looking dashing, Harry." Hermione softly complimented.
Harry glared at her and continued moving forward. She made no move to stop him and she did not raise her wand to defend herself.
"Don't talk to me as if you are my best friend. My best friend is dead. I don't know how it happened or when it did, but Hermione Granger died long before you arrived." Harry spat. "You're nothing more than a monster."
Hermione nodded, her smile never leaving her face. "Yes. You're right, Harry. I am a monster."
He now stood in front of her, mere inches separating them. His wand was directed at pointblank range; not even the most nimble of individuals would be able to avoid any spell he chose to cast. Despite the danger, Hermione remained nonplussed. Her brown eyes gazed into him, reaching into his very soul.
Even now, after three years of fighting her forces all across Europe, Harry never understood why Hermione had turned into this soulless being in front of him. What had changed over the years that transformed his beautiful and loving best friend into a creature that would mercilessly kill her own children?
In a gut-wrenching cry, Harry asked her, "Who are you?"
"I'm still Hermione, Harry." She answered him plainly. "Are you going to kill me? I knew it would always be you. Some were very close, but I knew that, in the end, you would be the one standing here now."
Harry's hand shook unsteadily.
"Harry, I love you."
He shook his head, disbelieving what he was hearing. He narrowed his eyes at her, glowering that she could say such a thing to him after all the atrocities she had done to the world.
In rage, Harry barked at her, "I'm going to kill you."
"Please do, Harry. You can do it."
His resolve faltered then. Memories of the past floated into his mind; memories of a time when Hermione had been everything to him. How many times had Hermione encouraged him with those four simple words that gave him the strength and courage to move forward? How many times had Hermione brought him back from the abyss of his own emotions and gave him the support he needed to get through the obstacles that were thrown at him?
"I… I can't, Hermione." Harry confessed, lowering his wand. "I love you too. Even now, I still love you."
Hermione reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him forward, forcing his forehead to lean gently against hers. In the midst of the battlefield, within the Forbidden Forest where Harry once died, Hermione drew Harry in for a kiss. Their lips softly caressed against one another, each one seeking permission to enter the other. Intimately, they tightened their grip on each other. Harry's heart soared the longer they held each other in their warm embrace.
"Harry," Hermione whispered, "I will always love you."
"I know."
"You had one chance."
"I know."
"Can you say it one more time?"
"I love you, Hermione." Harry confided into her ear, his breath tickling her. "I realize now it was always you that I love."
"Thank you, Harry, for loving me until now."
He felt a sharp pain jolt from his chest. Hermione had retreated from his touch, giving him ample room to peer down at his chest. A dagger was lodged in between his chest. He felt Hermione slowly lowering him until he was on the earth, his head resting on Hermione's lap. Strangely, he did not feel any pain and he wondered if that was Hermione's doing.
Slowly, he began to grow cold. Death was about to take him.
Hermione was running her fingers through his hair, softly watching him with the same loving, brown eyes he remembered from their youth. Age had made her more beautiful and more refined, but it was only now was he truly appreciating what he was seeing.
Harry knew he had failed the world. He had been the last beacon of hope to defeat Hermione. However, he had given up the safety and possibly the future of all those he held dear just for one last moment of love between himself and Hermione.
"Hermione," he wheezed, "did you know I would not be able to do it?"
Hermione shook her head.
"No, I didn't."
"Then, why give me the chance?"
"Because it was you, Harry." Hermione sincerely admitted. "I would have gladly died knowing it would be by your own hand."
Harry nodded, acknowledging what she confessed as truth.
He recalled the night Sirius died and when Dumbledore revealed the prophecy involving him and Lord Voldemort. Even now, Harry could remember the conversation he had with the Headmaster with perfect clarity. Dumbledore claimed that his greatest power was love.
Now, it had been his greatest weakness.
For love, Harry doomed the world.
