A/N: AU - the part of the Prophecy that says 'Either must die at the hand of the other' never existed. This is one of my many theories on how the last book could end. I haven't re-read any of the books in a while, so sorry if any of this is inaccurate. Enjoy, and please review.
Paring: Ron/Hermione
Disclaimer: I own nothing and all mistakes are mine. Spoilers for HBP.
Hermione Granger wrapped her arms around Ron and buried her face in his neck, trying to hold back tears. Ron put his arms round her and held her close. Today was June 31st, a year since the death of Harry Potter.
Many months ago she and Ron had accompanied him on the search for the remaining Horcruxes. Harry had tried to convince them to stay for their final year at Hogwarts, but their minds had been made up.
After weeks of searching they found and destroyed Helga Hufflepuff's cup. It was hidden in Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
Rowena Ravenclaw's necklace was the next item. It had been hidden in a cellar in Hogsmeade, right under their noses where no one suspected it.
Professor Dumbledore was right about they're only being two relics of Godric Gryffindor's left. The sorting hat and the sword. Ron had suspected that the sorting hat might have been a Horcrux, but Hermione said that Horcruxes do not draw attention to themselves by singing songs in front of large audiences.
Regulus Black – the younger brother of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, had destroyed the locket of Salazar Slytherin long ago, meaning that all the Horcruxes should have been destroyed. Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring were both gone.
Each time one of the Horcruxes was destroyed, Voldemort felt it. A painful stab to his dark, evil soul. He knew the time was near and hid in the shadows until he was ready.
Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione went to visit Godric's Hollow, the last hiding place of Lily and James Potter before their deaths. Memories of the first year of his life started to come back to him.
Harry didn't know what to feel. Sad? Uncomfortable? Uneasy?
No, what he felt was pain. His scar was practically on fire. He knew something wasn't right. He felt a presence, dark and full of hatred. Everyone felt it.
Voldemort chose that moment to make himself known, hissing Harry's name from behind him. He should have been mortal, all the Horcruxes had been destroyed – or so they thought.
Harry stood defensively in front of his friends; wand raised and ready to fight. They tried to get out, but Voldemort had locked the doors, trapping them inside.
The two threw spells and curses at each other back and forth. Good verses evil. Gryffindor verses Slytherin. Light verses dark. Everything depended on these next few, slow minutes.
The four of them were able to weaken him with their combined power. That was when Voldemort let it slip that there was still one remaining Horcrux, the snake Nagini. Unfortunately for him, the snake was dead. Killed with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, just like the Basilisk.
Everyone was stunned. That was when Hermione gasped. "Oh my God, Harry, it's your scar!" she whispered so that Voldemort couldn't hear. "The night of your parent's death he gave you that scar. That's why you can speak Parseltongue. He must have created a Horcrux when the killing curse back fired."
Harry nodded slowly, not realising he was holding his breath. The prophecy echoed through his mind. Neither can live while the other survives. The Horcruxes had to be destroyed before Voldemort could die. But if Harry died, how would he vanquish Voldemort? It made sense that his scar was a Horcrux. Harry had had it his entire life without even realising it. He held the key to killing Voldemort. He doubted whether he knew. After all, why would he want to kill Harry if he would be destroying part of his own soul? He looked Ginny in the eye, hoping she would understand how much she meant to him.
Ron realised what he was about to do. "Harry, you can't," he whispered.
"I have to Ron," he said, lowering his wand and looking his best friend in the eye. "Take care of everyone for me."
Harry dropped his wand and ran towards the Dark Lord, hoping that his plan would work. This had been his destiny from the start. This was meant to happen. He was meant to defeat Voldemort, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. He had to keep his friends – the whole world – safe.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort fired the killing curse at Harry, just as he had fired it at Lily and James.
He screamed before collapsing to the ground. Hermione knew she would remember it forever. It would echo in her mind for just as long. The last Horcrux had been destroyed. Range filling her she looked at Ginny and Ron. Tears streaming down their cheeks, faces full of pure shock and disbelief, they all pointed their wands at the Dark Lord. Harry Potter would be avenged. The killing curse was fired. "Avada Kedavra!"
Another piercing scream filled the room, followed by silence except for the heavy breathing of the three survivors.
Ginny collapsed by Harry's side, crying her eyes out. Ron was holding his younger sister, his own tears falling to the ground. Ginny sobbed into his shirt, he into her hair. She had loved him. She loved him and now he was gone. It didn't seem possible.
Hermione stood there in shock, her wand still pointing at Voldemort's body. He was finally gone. The Dark Lord had been defeated, costing Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, his life. She dropped her wand and fell to her knees, vomiting up anything she had eaten recently. She looked up at Harry's still body, pale and cold. If it weren't for the fact that his chest wasn't rising, she would have thought he was asleep. He looked almost peaceful.
The three stayed there mourning their friend until Arthur Weasley found them days later.
Harry's body had been brought back to Hogwarts where they had a funeral for him. Students, teachers, members of the Ministry of Magic, giants, ghosts, centaurs, merpeople, and others had all been in attendence.
He was buried next to Professor Dumbledore beside the lake at Hogwarts, his memory would always live on in the hearts of Wizards and Witches everywhere.
After the burial there was a party celebrating his life and the fact that Voldemort was gone for good.
"I miss him, Ron," whispered Hermione, her thoughts snapping back to the present.
Ron kissed the top of his girlfriend's head. "I know. I miss him too."
He felt his shirt getting wet as Hermione started trembling. "It's not fair, he shouldn't have died," she said.
"Shh," he said, whipping away his own tears. "Hermione, he sacrificed himself so that we could live. He wouldn't want us to be like this, he'd want us to get on with our lives."
She looked up at Ron and shook her head. "I know, but I can't."
He smiled. "He's in a better place now. With Sirius, and Dumbledore and his parents."
Hermione looked out the window, watching the rainfall from the sky. It was raining the night of his death. She knew she would always associate raindrops with that event a year ago. They would haunt her forever, a constant reminder of what they had lost. A beloved friend.