A scream tore through the air, and all movement stopped. Each eye flew to where it would all end.
The tall figure of the Dark Lord crumpled and the Death Eaters began to retreat. A lone figure stood, but as she hurried forward, he slumped forward. She got there just in time to grab Harry before he hit the ground.
Harry cracked his eyes open, "Did it work?" He mumbled.
She nodded vigorously stroking the side of his face, "Yes, it worked, he's dead."
Harry smiled and reached up toward her, but just as he was centimeters away his consciousness slipped away. For one wild moment she thought her Harry had just died in her arms, but a pulse told her otherwise.
When the healers finally came to take Harry to Saint Mango's, she tried to follow but someone held her back, "Let them work, let them help him," the voice whispered in her ear. So she joined the crowd of anxious people; together in their grief, but separate from their jubilation. She couldn't rejoice Voldemort's down fall when her Harry was in critical condition.
Several hours later they were allowed to go in and see her Harry. He hadn't regained consciousness but they said he was stable, weak but stable. The fight had weakened her Harry immensely, but they were hopeful, the signs were good for a full recovery. She didn't believe them; she wanted to hear it from her Harry that he was okay, no one else.
Everyone else was glad, they left to go celebrate, but she stayed. How could she celebrate when her Harry was like this?
The room was oppressively silent, the only noise came when a healer came to check on her Harry, but it was pointless noise, because it didn't really help her Harry. It kept her company, the silence kept away thoughts of what would happen. It made the seconds drag though.
Dawn was rising with her rosy fingers when her Harry cracked his eyes open.
She smiled, he was going to make it, she was sure now. She leaned forward, "Hey." He mumbled.
"Hey," she whispered back.
Her Harry's eyes were wet with tears, "Did I really do it?"
She nodded back, her Harry smiled thinly, "Good," he gazed past her, at the wall.
Her Harry looked back at her finally, he reached out a hand like before, this time she leaned in to the touch, and he caressed her cheek, smearing a thumb through the tears that were sliding down her face from joy.
"I'm sorry," Her Harry whispered.
She looked in to his eyes and saw him fading, "No, no, no!! Harry don't do this to me, please!" She leaned in closer and kissed him, he responded slightly, her tears now of sorrow fell into his eyes where they mingled with his own tears, they ran down Harry's cheeks a tribute to a love never destined to be.
She felt him slip away from her, she knew he was gone, but she didn't move, when she pulled back their tears were still falling from Harry's eyes, the only children they had, children of tears.
Her own tears redoubled and she sobbed on to her Harry's still chest. When the healers finally came in running she wouldn't move, her Harry had already been gone, they couldn't do anything, he had been gone from her forever. He had never really been her Harry, he said he was, but it was Voldemort that he always put first, the fight against Voldemort. He said it was for her, so he could be with her, but now she had lost him to the cause that he fought for her. So she killed her Harry, her Harry was dead because he loved her and she loved him. But now she was alone, to be together but separate forever more, together in grief but separate in grief. Just like she and her Harry had been, together but separate in love, now together but separate in death.