"Oh, Merlin! Oh, Merlin! We have to get Dumbledore!"

Hermione Granger stood there, shaking slightly, her worried words reverberating off the dorm room walls. Ron Weasley was sitting on his bed, practically translucent, alternating between staring at Hermione and staring at the bottom bunk of the four-poster bed across from him. All over the bed was blood, pills, and the green stains of an evaporated potion. In the very center of the mess was a boy, his arms covered with open, oozing wounds, his skin, a blue tinted alabaster, and his lips gray and parted letting saliva trail out of them and down his ice cold cheek.

"Ron, didn't you hear me! Oh, I'm going to get him myself," squeaked Hermione while running away, her robes swirling as she went to get help.

"Wait, no, Hermione! Don't!" yelled Ron suddenly while getting up.

"Why?" asked Hermione in confusion.

"He's already dead. There would be no point...," said Ron sadly, his eyes red and droopy.

"So...Harry's dead?" asked Hermione in dull shock.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly, getting himself ready for Hermione's reaction.

"Oh, thank God. Finally," said Hermione with a relieved sigh.

Ron's jaw dropped in amazement.

"Oh, stop it, Ron, don't act like you've not been waiting for it too," said Hermione with slight annoyance while taking out a pack of cigarettes, Virginia Slims, and beating the back of the them, loosing one, and sticking it into her mouth, "Light my fag, would ya, mate?"

Hermione held out her lighter and Ron lit her cigarette for her in a daze.

"Thanks, love," said Hermione between drags, "So, how'd it happen? You do it?"

"No, no...he killed himself," said Ron in disbelief while taking a letter from off Harry's nightstand and handing it to Hermione, who snatched it from him.

"Oh, so the great Harry Potter snuffed himself," said Hermione boredly while reading the note aloud to herself, "Blah, blah, blah, 'I can't take the pressure,' blah, blah, 'I hate the world,' oh boohoo... 'Voldemort would have gotten me eventually,' well obviously with the way he was carrying on...blah, blah, blah."

Ron couldn't help but feel hurt as he listened to Hermione, one of his and Harry's best friends, go on without a hint of remorse or care in her feelings. Ron ran a shaky hand through his ginger hair and winced slightly as Hermione snorted at one of the line's in Harry's heartfelt adieu.

"You shouldn't do that."

"Oh, please Ron," said Hermione in exasperation, "Stop being such a prude about this. We all knew he'd do it. The annoying prat was just asking for it."

"I didn't say anything," said Ron.

"Ron, yes you did. You told me I shouldn't..."

Hermione stopped in mid sentence and stared openmouthed at a spot next to Harry's bed. Ron looked over to find Harry standing up next to the bed looking daggers at Hermione and very much alive.

"Harry..." started Hermione in shock.

"It was supposed to be a joke..." said Ron quietly.

He and Harry were standing next to each other looking betrayed and angered.

"Get out of here," said Harry through gritted teeth, green eyes flashing dangerously and wand in hand, sparking.

"Please, Harry, Ron, let me explain," whispered Hermione pleadingly.

"Just go, Hermione. We don't know you," said Ron fiercely, although his eyes were filling with tears.

"I'm...leaving," said Hermione in defeat.