Disclaimer: Once again I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters you recognise.
Too Much
Harry had had enough. Enough of people using him, manipulating him, then forgetting about him.
Ron and Hermione didn't need him, they had each other. Ginny liked someone else. Who was he to think anything different. He had no family to miss him. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, even Remus, all dead. It was his fault they had all died. He had the blood of Tonks, Colin, Fred, and countless others on his hands. They had all died trying to protect him.
Voldemort was dead, there was no use for him any more. His only purpose in life was to destroy Voldemort and he had now done that. He was worthless now. No, even worse, he was a murderer.
Under the invisibility cloak Harry found the closest bathroom to him and locked himself into it. Throwing the cloak away from him, he took out the knife Sirius had given him and rolled up his sleeves. It was time for him to join those who had died.
Holding the knife in his right hand, he cut his left wrist as deeply as he could, feeling elated as he saw the stream of crimson blood fall to the ground. Then he changed hands and gave his right wrist the same treatment.
Already feeling dizzy for the loss of blood, Harry slid to the floor and the knife clattered onto the cold, hard tiles.
The scene before him grew blurry as he watched his life slip away from him. Someone was trying to get in, and then he heard them say 'Alohamora!' as if from a long way away. A scream filled his head as the person saw him sitting in a pool of his own blood.
He couldn't see anything any more, but he felt someone lift him up and say 'It's going to be ok Harry.'
It was the last thing he heard as the darkness overtook him.
(A/N): I don't now whether this is going to be a one-off or not. You decide. Just review and tell me what you think. Sorry it's so short though. I just hope I got my point across.