A/N: If you are confused at the end, I will have a review written with an explanation of what happened, or you can email me at FashionDeeva931@excite.com Please review, it means so much to me when you do!! Enough of me, now read!!
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We met. It wasn't
planned, not by us anyway. A graveyard, much like the one of Voldemort's
rebirth, we stood, eyes locked, expressions deadly.
"You," he whispered, his voice icy, "You betrayed me, you betrayed us," he said this last word with pure venom. "Your friends, your family," he paused, then continued with a kind of disbelief, "her."
I choked. I had never, in all my years of being his friend, his confidant, and in my years of being his enemy, seen this hatred. It was worse than the night when we were young teens, and he believed Sirius betrayed his parents. It was worse than when Voldemort finally killed Dumbledore. I had been his friend. I shook myself mentally, telling myself to get it over with and kill him, but my mind was screaming "No!".
"Yes, me, dear little me," I fought to stare into those green eyes, so cold, so emotionless. "Well now, let's get on with it," I said, attempting to keep my tone light. I drew out my wand, ready. Ready to duel; ready for the green light to appear; ready for the satisfying thump when his body would finally hit the ground; ready for him to join the others.
We dueled. It was minutes. It felt like days. And then it hit me. As I stared into the hard cold hatred that penetrated his eyes, I realized, I was wrong. I paused, only for a moment, but it was enough. "He will never know the truth," I thought, watching as he uttered those fatal words, and the green light issued from his wand. "The reason I paused. He'll never know I was sorry, sorry for the deaths, sorry for the pain, sorry for my betrayal." The spell hit me, the one I thought him incapable of. And I was dead.
Harry looked at his enemy, his insides burning. He had seen the pause. He saw the sorrow, the pain, and he saw the realization. Harry had killed his best friend. His mind flashed, he saw the first train ride, saw them laughing together at Honeydukes, he saw him cheering him on at the Triwizard Tournament. "How long ago that was," Harry thought, and then he saw his back, walking away, walking to Voldemort.
A new emotion overcame Harry, one like never before--pain. Falling to his knees, Harry wept. He wept for himself, for his friend, for his past, and for his mistake. "There is no one left," Harry thought, his eyes and throat burning. "No one. Voldemort killed my parents. He killed my godfather. He killed my friends. He killed Dumbledore. And him," Harry's thoughts switched to his now-dead friend. "Voldemort killed his compassion, Voldemort killed everything good in him." Sobbing, he reminded himself, "But not everything. Not his last moment." He had sacrificed himself, letting Harry know that he was truly sorry. "It doesn't matter now," Harry thought, anger once again coursing through his veins, "I have no one else to love."
Harry stood up, his body still shaking, and walked from the graveyard. He paused at the stone by the entrance, with the names of those killed by Voldemort and his followers. His eyes fluttered over the names of those he had loved, his parents, his dorm mates from school, almost all the Weasley children, along with their parents. And Hermione.
Tears clouding his eyes, he paused, looking for a sharp rock. He then scratched into the memorial, adding to the list, "Ron Weasley".