This is a very dark oneshot. Anyone who has problems with depression, self-mutilation and suicide, leave now. I warned you, so no flames from angry readers, or reports from bigoted idiots who don't read author's notes, or don't listen to them.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and probably never will.
~§~§~§~
He knew no one cared. He had found out a few weeks ago, when Sirius died, that no one cared. Dumbledore just wanted to rule the world and was using him to do it, Ron wanted the fame and fortune of being the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, Ginny wanted to marry him for the fame and fortune that would come with it and everyone that hated him before still did. He had hoped that maybe someone who hated him was just pretending, but no such luck. Voldemort still wanted to kill him, Snape still hated his guts and Malfoy was still his schoolyard rival. Neville was with Dumbledore, he was sad to say. In fact, so was everyone except Hermione. Hermione was his only friend. She was going to come with him when he left. Her parents wouldn't miss her, they were religious bigots and believed her to be an instrument of the devil. Ron was just trying to use her for sex. Ginny hated her because of how close she was to Harry. She was the only one who hadn't betrayed him, and he loved her for that. When they died, no one would miss them, and not a single tear would be shed at their funeral. They didn't care. They just wanted it to end. If Sirius was still alive, they would hold on, but with him gone, there was no reason for them to. So, really, the prophesy was true. Voldemort had killed Harry by sending him that vision which had lead to the death of the only thing holding him to this earth, so there was no point holding on anymore. He held the knife, and Hermione held an identical one and they faced each other, knives dangling at their sides. They both took one step forward, raised the knife and plunged it into the others stomach, perfectly in sync. They pulled the knives out and dropped them, clutching each other. They fell to the ground and held each other until the light faded from both their eyes. They died in the comforting embrace of the other, finally feeling the love they had been deprived of for years.
~§~§~§~
It was an old lady who found them in the park, laying there peacefully with soft smiles on their faces. She reported it to the police, and it eventually made its way to the Ministry. They held a nation wide funeral for the Boy-Who-Lived and the Brightest Witch of Her Age. Everyone stopped, a lot of people spoke, but no one shed a single tear.
~§~§~§~
With those two gone, it had been easy to take control of the Wizarding World. It fairly bended at the knees for him. He would always be grateful to the Boy-Who-Lived and the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and he would always miss the chases and battles, but he would not change what happened for anything. He, Lord Voldemort, was ruler of the world, and he had a sad little boy and his best friend to thank for it. It was something he would never truly understand, but always be thankful for.
~§~§~§~
I told you it was dark. If I'm honest, this was derived from how I'm feeling right now. I apologize for any distress I caused anyone, but I did warn you. And I wouldn't change what I wrote for anything.