A/N: This was submitted for the 10 Commandments Challenge. I chose thou shall not kill as my commandment to work off of.
Disclaimer: I own none of what you recognize
Thou Shall Not Kill
Harry sat in the Hog's Head, nursing his firewhiskey, trying not to think about the events of the last few days. He kept seeing Macnair's eyes when the curse hit him. It was the first time Harry had seen the light go out and been the cause of it. Voldemort had killed himself; Sirius had been killed by the bitch. He had never before been the direct cause of another human's death. He downed the last of his drink and ordered another.
"You know, that stuff will only help for a while," Harry heard a voice say behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked as Ron slid onto the stool beside him.
"I was working in the shop and Ginny came by," Ron said. "She figures you could use someone to talk to ya?"
"I don't wanna talk. That's all I've done for two bloody days is talk," Harry spat. "Everyone telling me I had no choice, it's not my fault." Harry downed the rest of his drink and raised his finger to Aberforth. "What the fuck do they know? Were they there? No, they weren't."
Aberforth placed another glass and a whole bottle in front of Harry. "Serve yerself, I am tired of coming over here," he growled, stalking back to the other end of the bar.
Harry popped the cork from the bottle and poured himself a large drink. Ron took the bottle from him and poured himself a drink.
"You're right, Harry. We can't know," he said, taking a drink. "You know what? I'll even bet it felt good huh?" he said, looking into Harry's eyes. "Offing that bastard. I'll bet you even planned it that way." Harry started to looked shocked at what his best mate was saying. "Maybe it is your fault. You knew what he was capable of. You should have just left him alone, and then he would still be alive," Ron said, downing his drink.
"What?" Harry almost screamed, stumbling a little as he stood up from his stool. "How can you say that? You know me. You know I would never do that," he protested, his green eyes taking on an almost manic intensity. "I had no choice, he was gonna kill that lady. I didn't want to kill him. I didn't like the feeling. How could you think that I did?"
Harry was standing right next to Ron, who was still seated on his stool. Ron took another drink, looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, and started to grin. The realization started to dawn on Harry as to what Ron just did.
Harry slid back on to his stool. "Real clever, Weasley," Harry said without any edge in his voice.
"Hey, being with Hermione was bound to rub off at some point," Ron shrugged. "Speaking of girlfriends, yours is worried sick."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said, setting the glass back on the bar. "It's just it feels wrong. What if I begin to like the killing? Dumbledore always said killing tears your soul. What if I become like ... HIM?"
"Is that really what you're worried about?" Ron asked incredulously.
"You don't get it," Harry said, looking down. "I still hear him sometimes, telling me how alike we are."
"Let me ask you something, Harry," Ron said, turning to look Harry in the eyes. "Do you think Voldemort ever sat in a bar with his best mate lamenting having to kill someone?"
Harry shook his head, "Voldemort didn't have friends."
"My point exactly," Ron smirked. Ron placed his empty glass back on the bar and stood up. "Now, let's get you home and call Ginny over," he said, supporting a more than a little drunk Harry. "You need to talk to her."
"I know, I know. I imagine it will require some sort of an apology on my part," Harry said, stumbling as they left the bar. Harry stopped and looked at his best friend. "Why do you all put up with me?" he asked.
Ron hooked Harry's arm over the back of his own neck to support him as they walked out the door. "Cause you're family."