This was it.

No more backing away. No more time to think about it. No more time.

His steps were steady. His head held high. He brings the snitch near his mouth and whispers, "I open at the End" and the snitch pops open. Resurrection stone. Ha, the final joke from the dear old professor. His mind peacefully empty, he drops the doesn't need it. He doesn't need reassurance of his long dead parents or anyone else for the matter of fact. He has always been alone. So, it is kind a poetic that he does this alone also. He steps to the clearing.

Hands sneak around his waist.

"Love."

Whispering soft male voice purred near his ear. He leans into the a word. Yet, it means more than anything else. He tilts his head. Cold lips press cool kisses on to his exposed neck.

"Make love to me one last time," he whispers back.

"Cladly" the voice whispers.

Next morning his body is found. War was lost. Voldemort won. Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he was coward. Maybe he took the easy way out. But he didn't think it that way. If things had been different… If he had been Gryffindor instead of Slytherin… If his childhood had been happy instead of being filled with pain, misery and violence… If his parents had lived… But he was dead now. Free. That was all he had wanted. Freedom of everything. Voldemort had promised that. Had given his that.

And now… He would wait him. His Lover. He would get bored. He would want to join him. And together they would walk head held high to the Next Great Adventure. To be happy and free together.