The Endless Secret

By Butcherkid

Chapter One: Seeing is believing?

The midnight sky looked like it had opened up completely, revealing the heavens as the planets and stars visibly shined. The night in itself seemed so perfect. It seemed to be glowing with a brilliance that could be seen clearly through all eyes.

Except one pair.

Those emerald green eyes looked pained and defeated. Their owner remained deep in thought, trying to hold back the emotions creeping up slowly.

Everything had been perfect before, regardless of the trials and tribulations that were always present. The past held something, or better yet, someone that was precious.

The past also contained the bloodiest war of wizarding history. The war was where this certain young man triumphed over the darkest wizard of the age. This war caused families to separate and lose members because of the ongoing efforts to prevail. It contained injury, failures, and true identities that were revealed. So many aspects of tragedy all rolled into one package that spanned over five years after Voldemort's 'rebirth'.

But all of that seemed insignificant. Everything remained meaningless.

Everything except the concluding battle.

It was that final battle that caused the Boy-Who-Lived to lose everything he needed. His struggles were worthless, even though he had defeated Voldemort. Even though he had freed all wizards and witches from that monster, he had lost the one person he had held dear.

Hermione.

Reliving her death was most painful, especially since she had sacrificed herself protecting him. He cursed himself for ever letting her step foot on that battlefield.

But of course, Hermione was her own person. She would have gone no matter how much reprimanding Harry could have given her.

He smirked, thinking about what she would have probably said. "Harry, I'm going no matter what. I've been through everything with you and this last battle will be no different. After all, who was the most intelligent student in our year?" He managed to create the scene in his mind, seeing Hermione vividly.

She would have stood before him, her arms folded across her chest. Her feisty brown eyes would be ablaze in both apprehension and anger. The hair she used to loathe would have been pulled back away from her beautifully stunning face.

"But why think of what ifs, they don't matter." Harry muttered sadly, pushing the thoughts of the falsified scene from his mind.

Snapping back to reality, Harry glanced around his flat. Everything seemed so empty within rooms, as if there wasn't any soul within the walls. It seemed dreary and lifeless, to state the obvious.

But he didn't care about love.

His true love had died, protecting him and fighting for a cause she had deeply believed in. For that, he would always consider her brave.

Getting up from his bed, he limped over to his bedroom window. His right leg had been mangled in the war, never truly healing correctly. It often pained him, but he never revealed that weakness.

Night was quickly disappearing and a new day would be forming fairly soon. Another chance at life would be presented, but Harry wouldn't grab it. He lingered within his depression, not willing himself to live without her.

Everyone had tried to pull Harry out, but he refused to be helped. He couldn't get over the emotional barrier that had been placed around his heart. His friends and former professors often found themselves at Harry's doorstep, hoping to finally break through his well-built interior.

The cause seemed hopeless.

No one would ever break through those walls. Harry Potter would forever continue on deadened, without a care for anyone.

Including himself.

Sighing deeply, he walked away from the window, not able to watch the sunrise. The sun rising meant nothing, only another day to sustain his loneliness. Another day without her.

Harry glanced at the clock that resided on his bedside table. Seven o'clock and he still hadn't found sleep, but that wasn't completely surprising, he rarely slept anymore. He stepped out into his living room; he expected Ron would be arriving shortly.

Ron always visited him in the early morning, for reasons unknown to Harry. He hated being around all other people, expect Ron. There was something about his red-headed best friend that made the hours go by quicker. Spending time with Ron, more often than not, helped the green-eyed man forget his own exhausting thoughts. Every morning, the youngest Weasley son would talk about his job at the Ministry, his large Weasley family, and other random things he figured that would cheer Harry up.

When gentle rapping came at seven-thirty, Harry figured Ron would be waiting on the other side of his front door. However, a letter was laid carefully on his doormat. The envelope looked tattered and disheveled, but Harry shrugged and picked up the envelope. Closing his front door behind him, he strolled over to the couch.

Opening the letter, we briefly wondered why the person, who left the letter, didn't stick around and personally deliver it to him.

Sighing, he started reading the letter. It was typed, which made him believe the person wanted to forever remain anonymous.

Dear Harry,

Sometimes, seeing is believing. Other times, our eyes fail us completely. You're the only person I've ever known that used to believe with their heart and not their eyes. However, it now seems you've lost that ability. Your beloved died before your eyes. Right? They never found her body after you went completely crazy on that Death Eater. Right? Maybe there are many reasons. Maybe, there's just one. Everything within this letter is for your thoughts. Your sleepless nights concern me because I know the truth. I know everything. I know she's not dead.

AN: Please review. Tell what you think. :)