DISCLAIMER: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter lol, that belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and whomever else. But I think you knew that.

Chapter One

Harry Potter collapsed into his bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. All he wanted right now was a good sleep. He'd just defeated Voldemort, after all. It would be his first peaceful night's rest for the first time in a while. For the past year, it had been hard for him to sleep at night, no matter how tired he was, because he was always worried for Ron and Hermione. He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to keep watch. His two best friends meant everything to him.

Now sleep was easy. His eyelids felt heavy and he drifted right off.

Hermione Granger, however, couldn't have been more awake. She sat on what had formerly been her bed in the girls' dormitory. Her arms were wrapped around her knees. All of her favorite books were scattered around her; she'd been trying to distract herself ever since Harry had left Dumbledore's office in search of some sleep. But not even Spellman's Syllabary or Hogwarts, A History or even The Tales of Beedle the Bard could keep her thoughts from wandering back to Harry. And Ron, of course. The way his eyes lit up when Harry left the room, realizing that he and Hermione were alone together. The thought hadn't filled her with joy, as she suspected it should have. Rather, it made her heart tear farther in two.

Ron asked her if she wanted to talk, and she told him she was tired and was going to bed. She didn't go to sleep, though. She sat on her bed all morning while the sun rose higher and higher, trying to distract herself by reading and watching the sunlight gleam off the broken window glass.

Now it was around ten in the morning. Hermione heard a knocking on the door, and for a moment, she hoped it would be Harry. Then she shook her head. What a stupid thing to hope.

"Come in," she called. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Ron Weasley was the one to open the door. He smiled at Hermione like she was the light of his life, and she forced her lips upward in their own half-smile. She remembered kissing him last night and felt a surge of embarrassment. She wasn't supposed to be ashamed about kissing Ron... right? He was quite a good kisser, but she didn't feel anything there. It was a bit awkward, actually—like kissing a brother or cousin.

She stood up slowly and walked over to him. He hugged her, and she hugged him casually back, the whole exchange feeling totally friendly. Where was the attraction for this man that she'd been harboring inside for the past two years? They'd finally kissed, like Hermione had been wanting to do for months. Shouldn't their romantic interactions be passionate now? Shouldn't they both be riding a first-love high?

Ron certainly looked like he was. "Hey. Did you get some sleep?" He asked softly as he pulled away from her. He reached over and delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I feel a bit better," Hermione lied. She didn't want him to think she was making up excuses not to talk to him, but honestly, she felt so awkward after the kiss that all she wanted to do was avoid him.

"Good." They didn't say anything for a while. She could feel Ron watching her as she stared determinedly out the window. Don't look at him. Just don't, she told herself.

Ron grabbed her chin and turned her head toward him. He looked into her brown eyes, then, and said the words she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. "I love you, Hermione."

Hermione froze. She couldn't move, couldn't think. What could she say to that? She didn't know if she loved him back, and she certainly wasn't in a position to think about it.

There was a pause before she spoke again. "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date. No time to say hello, goodbye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late," she whispered. She had no idea what had compelled her to say the old line from Alice in Wonderland, but she'd said it, and now she started to walk towards the door.

Ron caught her arm and pulled her back. "Umm, what? No time to—Mione, what are you talking about?" He looked terribly confused, as if struggling to grasp a difficult concept. She'd seen the look many times when they were in class together, but now it somehow seemed threatening.

Hermione swallowed. Ron didn't understand the reference, but Harry probably would have—

Why did her mind always wander back to him? Even now, during this important moment with Ron, she was thinking about what Harry would and wouldn't do.

"It means I—" Hermione's throat closed off. There were no more lies to tell—not to Ron, nor to Harry; not even to herself.

So she ran. She pulled her arm free from Ron's grip before he could even make sense of what had happened. Down the stairs, out into the corridor, then just... running. Stumbling blindly wherever her feet took her. And that place happened to be the Astronomy tower.

Harry had been in there by himself since before nine in the morning. He'd woken up fully prepared to go down to the kitchens and get some food, but as he walked past the Great Hall, he spotted the dead bodies on the tables. The bodies of Fred Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Collin Creevey, and so many others were being mourned by families and friends.

This is all my fault, Harry thought. If they hadn't tried to help me, they would all still be alive. Look at all the first and second years, just poor little kids. No one knows what they could have been or who they would have become, and it's all because of me.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He sprinted all the way to the Astronomy tower. Once he got there, he clutched the protective railing, out of breath. Then he sat on the floor for a long while. How could he ever get over the fact that so many people would never breathe again because of him? How could he make it up to their families? He knew what it was like to live without loved ones. Their lives would never be the same again. It made his heart ache heavily. Slowly, he stood up.

He climbed up onto the railing. Was he seriously about to do this? All the pain inside him just gathered together, and it was too much. He couldn't handle it. There was nothing worth living for—

"Harry, please. What are you doing?" A trembling voice spoke from behind him. He recognized that tone all too well. She was on the verge of tears. He didn't turn around, though. He just called out to the cloudless sky before him.

"Nothing, Hermione. I… nothing."

He wanted to tell her everything, but at the same time, he didn't. She wouldn't understand. He could never escape this burning hurt inside of him. It was larger than life. He wished he could say this and make her get it.

"That doesn't look like nothing to me." She was standing down on the floor next to him, looking up. Tears ran down her cheeks, but he didn't dare glance into her eyes. If he did, she'd see all the pitiful shame and cowardice that comes with the desire to end one's life. She probably saw it anyway, but he didn't want to confirm it for her.

To Harry's horror, she climbed up onto the railing as well. She hugged one of the pillars for support and glared at him fiercely. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined her losing her footing and slipping, falling, down to the ground far below… where the impact would probably cause her to—

He couldn't think for a moment, as sick images of that possibility filled his mind. It made his throat close up. "Hermione, please. Get down from there," he whispered desperately.

Her hushed voice was still shaking. "I'll come down when you do."

And without warning, tears burned hot in his eyes and flowed freely down his face. He didn't even care if she saw him crying. He was about to die anyway. "No, really, you don't get it. You deserve to live. I don't. Do you know how many people I love have just died for me? And do you know how that makes me feel? They gave up so much, and it must mean…" He swallowed nervously. "It must mean I was meant to die. I shouldn't be able to live while everyone else…"

"Stop it, Harry, please, please, stop it," she sobbed. Her entire body was shaking, and Harry wanted her to get away now more than ever. He couldn't stand it if he killed somebody else.

"No. I need you to leave now." He couldn't even look at her.

"Harry, I'm not leaving! You're supposed to be alive! That's why you're still here, damn it, and not wherever dead people go. You were not meant to die. If you were, you would have died in the forest, hours ago, and all of the Wizarding world would be under Voldemort's control. Do you think that was meant to happen?"

He didn't know what to say. Her words made sense, but they only infuriated him even more. "I HAVE TO DIE! I HAVE TO MAKE UP FOR THE FACT THAT EVERYONE ELSE IS DEAD ON MY BEHALF!" he shouted.

"No you don't! That's not your fault!" she yelled in return.

"YES IT IS, HERMIONE, AND I'M JUMPING, RIGHT NOW, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT." Harry closed his eyes and prepared to…

"IF YOU JUMP… I'M JUMPING TOO," Hermione screamed.

"FINE, GO AHEAD, THEN. SEE IF I CARE." His anger exploded from him, and he was about to do it. But then he opened his eyes to see that Hermione had let go of her pillar. Her feet were hanging dangerouly off the egde.

He gave in and looked into her eyes for the first time. Something lurched inside him as he felt the sincerity of her expression. His heart failed for a moment. She really would have jumped if he had.

A little breeze blew by—it wouldn't have been anything big had Harry and Hermione been safely on the ground. But since they were at least eight stories up, perched precariously on a thin railing, it felt like a hurricane. The force pushed Harry backwards, and he landed flat on his back on the balcony floor. But it made Hermione's shoes slide around. She lost her footing and toppled over the other side.

Her piercing scream brought Harry to his feet. The only thing keeping her from falling was her hand, which was gripping the railing for dear life. Her knuckles were white, and her feet below scrambled for something to push onto.

Panic clouded his brain. He couldn't think properly; he could only act on instinct. So he found her other hand and pulled as hard as he could. He also grabbed her waist as soon as it was within reach. With one final tug, she rolled over the railing, breathing hard. Harry, too, was panting. He tried to relax. She was fine now, but it had been close.

He had almost killed somebody else. He was completely disgusted with himself. It had been all his fault that this had happened. If he hadn't made her scared for him, she wouldn't have fallen over.

She was lying on the cold stone floor, her eyes wide. Harry's hand flew to his mouth. She was alive, but imagining the alternative made him feel sick. Hermione's body crumpled on the grass, her spine twisted grotesquely, the light forever extinguished from her warm brown eyes...

He leaned over the railing and vomited. That image had almost been reality.

Upon hearing the retching, Hermione stood up. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Harry?" she asked, fear saturating her voice.

Harry straightened up and turned around. Her face was inches from his. Instinctively, he pulled her into a tight embrace. It was only natural to be grateful that his best friend was alive... right? Of course it was. Although it seemed to be something stronger than gratitude that made him wrap his arms tighter around her. She responded by burying her face in his neck, and Harry couldn't help but notice how comfortable it was. Neither of them said anything for a long while, until Harry finally broke the silence.

"Hermione, are you mental?" he murmured in her ear.

"You're kidding me. You were the one who was going to do it first!" Her voice was still trembling a bit, but she sounded hugely relieved.

"Yeah, but... why would you follow me? You have your whole life ahead of you—"

"No life is worth living without my best friend." She broke the hug and smiled at him. The look in her eyes made Harry's heart skip about five beats. "Besides, you have your whole life ahead of you, too. You still have so many years left to do great things, Harry Potter, and I don't ever want you throwing that away."

"I've already done great things." He pointed at himself in fake arrogance. "I killed the most evil wizard of all time, at age seventeen!"

They both burst out laughing. As they joked and laughed, Harry realized how wonderful and familiar and comforting this felt to him. It occurred to him that he couldn't live without her. If she weren't in his life, he would be physically unable to survive. He'd never been fully able to appreciate this fact before.

Hermione was always there for him, and she always would be. After all these years, Harry had never believed her when she said she was in it until the end... but today, she had been willing to end her own life for him. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the concept. He looked at her smiling face, and his heart swelled. Without a word, he reached forward and took her hand. An electric current that had never been there before flowed through his arm.

Without conscious direction from his brain, he leaned in toward her face, and she leaned as well, and she was getting closer, and their faces were two inches apart, now just an inch, and he could feel her warm breath on his mouth and he closed his eyes and parted his lips and—

An owl landed on the railing and hooted loudly. Hermione jumped backwards and shrieked. Harry straightened up and shook his head, trying to figure out what had just happened. Now that the owl had broken the sort of trance that they'd been in, he could think properly again. Had he and Hermione almost... kissed? What had gotten into them? And was Harry now disappointed that it hadn't happened? No. No, not at all. He was just a bit startled, that was all. He felt his face go hot.

They were both silent for a moment. Then—

"I'm getting hungry," Hermione said. "I'm sure you are too, after the morning you've had. Come on; they're probably serving lunch in the Great Hall."

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and she put his arm around her waist and they made their way down together.

No one else seemed to be wandering around the damaged castle, which gave Harry the feeling that he and Hermione were the only two people in the world. He loved it so much. It wasn't until they were on the third floor that they heard footsteps. To Harry's surprise, Hermione pulled quickly away from him when she heard the noise.

"You all right?" Harry asked, wondering what that had been about.

"Oh, yes... Yes, I'm fine," Hermione said distractedly, her eyes darting around the deserted corridor.

Harry suddenly understood. "You thought that was Ron, didn't you? You didn't want him to see us together?"

"Well..."

"You can tell me if it's true."

"Harry, it's not like that—"

"I'm serious, Hermione, you don't have to spare my feelings. I shouldn't be touching you or anything if you're dating him. I get it. Honestly, I do."

"No! I just don't want to make him feel worse about—"

"Yeah, he's an insecure git, I know," he said, cutting her off.

Hermione shook her head. "How can you say that? He's your best friend."

"One of my best friends," Harry corrected. He honestly didn't know what had come over him. He'd never said anything bad about Ron unless they were in a fight... which they hadn't been in quite a while. Where was the sudden animosity coming from?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed.

He didn't say anything; he just patted her affectionately on the shoulder and walked down the stairs in front of her. Why did this hurt him so badly? Hermione had chosen Ron, so what? It wasn't even a choice. Choosing Harry wasn't an option. She'd always wanted Ron—this was nothing new. Harry had never even been a contender, nor had he desired to be.

So... why was he so upset all of a sudden?

AN: Thanks for reading! I'll try to post the next chapter soon!