You find him standing alone on a field. It's raining, thick droplets that smashes into the ground, almost hiding him from your view.
Your hair falls down into your eyes and you raise your hand to drag the black strands away, blowing warm air out of your mouth and nose, shivering slightly.
"Harry", you call out, uncertain if he will hear you but not yet daring to step any closer, very much aware of how he might react. Of what he holds in his hands.
He looks so god damn miserable you want to beat the crap out of yourself because fuck it, this is your own fucking fault.
"Harry, please."
He turns and laughs, the sound hollow and mad, grating at your soul. Your eyes lock and you know it is too late, even as you open your mouth to scream and darts forward.
The boom echoes, far, far louder than the rain.
