(The Backstory to this is that Hermione was about to leave for her rounds when she noticed Harry acting wierdly, so she took him with her. She took him inside a broom cupboard and they had this conversation. Taken place during the half-blood prince when Hermione was angry at Ron)

DISCLAIMER:

THE FOLLOWING STORY MENTIONS SUICIDE, IF YOU THINK YOU COULD BE EASILY OFFENDED OR AGGRAVATED BY SUCH A STORY, PLEASE DO NOT READ IT.

'Hermione.' Harry's voice said quietly, and he sounded tired, the same way he has sounded for weeks before this, and next to her she could feel him sliding down the wall into a sitting position.

She sat down next to him, being careful not to trod on him in the dark.

'What is it, Harry?' She knew the amount of stress he'd been under, and she just focused on making herself sound soothing.

'It won't stop.' He whispered.

Even by the pitch black-ness of the broom cupboard, She could still see the startling green eyes that belonged to him, looking glazed over, as though there was no life behind them. He was on the verge of tears, and she knew why.

Hermione, of course, knew that Harry was referring to his dreams. Having to relive the death of Cedric, or having to look Voldemort straight in the eye, not to mention witnessing the death of his godfather, time and time again, would eventually get to you, Harry's internal strength was alot stronger then his physical, and it had lasted almost two years. No emotional strength could be able to keep the raging wars and chaos inside Harry at bay forever.

Harry rested his head on her shoulder, and Hermione felt a drop of warm water fall onto her hand.

'Harry...' she soothed, lifting a hand up to wipe his cheek. 'You have been through something horrible, and have shown great courage, that type of courage, I'm sure, doesn't even exist in the best of us.'

Harry sniffled quietly, but again, he whispered in the same, depressed, dejected tone, 'I don't even want to fight anymore. Voldemort's won.'

Hermione turned, and cupped her best friend's face, wiping away the wetness on his cheeks.

'Voldemort has not won.' She told him quietly, in a hushy but stern voice. 'You do want to fight, you want it all to end, so you have to fight, in order for it to end. You, Harry Potter, are the chosen one.'

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but she put a finger to his mouth.

'You are the chosen one. You might not want to be the chosen one, Harry. I know you don't. You didn't get to pick whether you wanted to live with muggles, and you certainly didn't get to pick if you wanted your parents killed. You didn't get to chose for Sirius to die, or Cedric. You didn't choose to get bullied and abused in the only home you ever knew, or to get bullied here. You also didn't get to pick to be the chosen one. This world has mistreated you, and tortured you, and it's tore you apart. I'm so sorry, Harry.'

Whimpering, she pulled him into a hug, which lasting longer then any hug would usually.

'I want to -- to just jump off the astronomy tower, or something. Then it will all end.'

There they were, the words Hermione had been dreading.

'No, you don't, do not lie to yourself. You are overtired, and you need rest. You haven't slept properly in over a year. Please think rationally, Harry, you have a future.' She whispered, and a single tear of her own leaked out of an eye.

'I'm not lying, I should have died fifteen years ago. I am a burden.' Harry wasn't crying anymore, his face was set determinedly, as though he was disguested with himself. 'I can't beleive I've done this to everyone, putting them in such danger.'

'Enough, Harry James Potter.' Hermione said sternly, but still quietly. 'You are not a burden, you are a hero. I know what that horrible excuse for a man did to you, but you need to keep fighting, keep on pressing yourself to fight, because one day, Voldemort will die at the hands of you, and then it will all be over, sweet.'

Harry's hardened face broke, and he stared into her chocolate eyes helplessly for a while. A child, running back to his mother after being bullied. Bullied by the world.

'I can't do this on my own.'

'You will never be alone, Harry. Ron and I will go through hell and back umpteen times just for you. We will hunt Voldemort with you, and duel death eaters with you, we love you.'

Hermione saw a warm water drop cascade down Harry's cheek. Wiping it away, she told him, 'Happiness can be found in the darkest of places, if only one remembers to turn on the light.''

'Lumos.'

The sight of his own ignited wand tip seemed to flick a switch inside of Harry. Hermione saw the reflection of the wand in his eyes, but she also saw another light, a bright spark deep in the emerald orbs, just as his facial features morphed into something so similar, she knew what it was.

The Spark of Hope

She wouldn't leave the cupboard until she had that spark turned into a blazing bonfire.

So that's what she did.

RR