Author's Notes: I've had this story sitting in my computer for some time now, and I thought it'll be the perfect time to put it out there. I'll just like to let you know before it confuses you that there'll be some "inner dialogue" which will be expressed through the italic form. The story is also a bit shorter than my other stories, but hopefully you'll enjoy reading it.

This has not been Beta'd, so all errors are mine.

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A Thin Line

The bright sun illuminated the whole sky and the earth before it. Birds' chirps could be heard from afar, as well as the buzzing sound of insects. There was even a soft breeze that cooled the suns' strong rays.

It was just a beautiful day.

Somewhere, a baby must have been born. Somewhere, a couple must have married. Somewhere, lovers must have been embracing one another.

Hermione could imagine that happening now; after all, it is a beautiful and why shouldn't it? Moments like those always happened on a beautiful day.

Yet, that cannot be admired for the sight before her had quickly penetrated her thoughts again.

Harry laid there and not far from his body lay Voldemort's former self.

Harry's body is scorched with burn marks, his glasses were strewn not far from his head. His open hands laid face-up; his distinguished mark that marked him as Harry was crusted with dried blood. The emerald green eyes of his are lifeless and staring up into the sky. She caught the whiff of burning hair; she gagged as she instantly covered her mouth and nose with both hands.

'They call it an implosion, an implosion of what? Magic?'

Both were powerful wizards in their own terms, power that could not overshadow the other. One had learned through manual teaching, the other was connected with him. They might as well have fought with their own reflections.

It was an implosion.

'It is rare; I'm seeing something rare…'

"Hermione."

'The two must have used the same spell, but neither was stupid enough to take it.'

Hermione dropped down into her knees, her sight still upon Harry's dead form.

'There was a name for it, but I can't recall it.'

Her fingers were digging into the hard soil; she could feel the dirt moving under her nails.

'I should have told Harry about it. Didn't he tell me that something similar happened back in the cemetery on our Fourth year?'

There was a metallic taste in her mouth; her teeth had just ripped through the thin layer of her bottom lip, but she didn't care.

"Hermione!"

'That smell… it's not the burning flesh of an animal.'

A pair of hands took hold of her shoulders, but she shrugged them off.

"Let's go."

'Ron, why didn't you do something?'

The same pair of hands was firmly placed on her shoulder before she was enveloped into a hug, unaware that the person behind her was trying to pull her away from the sight before her. She grunted as she struggled against his grip.

"Let me go." she uttered as she took hold of the arms of the man behind her; her dirty fingers digging into them.

"Hermione, please!"

'Why didn't you do something?'

"Someone, help me!"

Hermione turned herself around to face her captor, scratching at him as she tried to pull away from his grasp. Her face contorted with anger as she repeated those same words:

"Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you do something?"

The frantic, red haired young man tried to pin her arms beside her but her strength was something he could not take, unless he wanted to hurt her.

"Ron!'

Taking the opportunity of him turning away, she quickly slipped from his grip and quickly crawled towards Harry's body. She touched his arm, expecting him to move. She groaned, as she felt the still-warm body.

'I'm here Harry… I'm not late. You know I had to go tell them Harry; I could not let you go without notifying them.'

Her hand gingerly touched the skin on his chin; her fingers lingered towards his lips. They were parted, she could feel his teeth; the red color coming at their corners caught her attention, she wiped it away with her index finger.

'They'll be here Harry; I can hear them coming.'

She suddenly felt a pair of strong arms pick her up from the ground; she didn't bothered pulling against them, just as long as she could still his face.

'No, no… that's not it. It's our fault… It's my fault for letting you go alone.'

"Hermione, please, child!"

No response.

"Cover the body!"

"It's my fault." she whispered as she stared at the now-covered body; someone came into her view.

"Hermione?" A dark, long haired man asked; his eyes scanned into her own.

Hermione stared into his eyes, but not before her mind drifted back to the burnt flesh of Harry. His scar was burned away, only leaving a trail of blood that has dried. She instantly closed her eyes, wincing as she recalled the details of his dead body back into her mind. Burned flesh, open-wounds, blood…

"It's my fault, my fault… I shouldn't have left him." she whispered, more to herself than to anyone as she slumped down onto her knees. Her shoulders hunched forward, her chin touched her chest.

Someone said, "She must be taken to St. Mungo's."

"Look at her face; she's not here." Another commented.

"Why are you standing there?! Do SOMETHING!" was all Hermione could hear before she dropped herself from the outer world and into her own.

'Why… did you have to go?'

The End…?