Red Red Wine

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic. It was inspired by the Neil Diamond song of the same name. Please review. Hope you enjoy.

An alarm clock rang. It was 7 am. Harry didn't want to open his eyes; his head pounded, his mouth was parched, completely dry; it felt like sandpaper. His clothes were still on. He swore at the alarm, he didn't remember setting it or why he had set it. It hurt to move, but the pain the ringing of the alarm was causing his headache demanded that he shut it off. With a sigh he rose, grabbed his wand and with a flick the incessant noise stopped.

Oh, thank God, he thought. He lay back down on the bed. He tried to remember what he had done last night, but his memory only went as far as tea time. He remembered getting up at lunch time in exactly the same bad shape he was now. He had eaten a few slices of toast and washed them down with a glass of firewhiskey. The bottle was empty in no time. He must have gone to buy more, he thought. He knew every wizarding pub in London and was able to go to different ones every day to replenish his supply. He would go in, buy two bottles and leave. He never stayed, had a chat or a meal or anything like that. He had been barred from the Leaky Cauldron the last time he did. He had gotten inebriated and caused a row with a diplomat from Geneva, who had asked for his autograph. The barman intervened but he had attacked him as well, and got thrown out. The Daily Prophet had a field day.

He didn't want to get up and face another day. He wanted to go back to sleep, back to his dreams. He used to hate going to sleep, the nightmares that Voldemort caused him saw to that, but now he lived only for his dreams. If one could call it living, it was more like simply existing. But in his dreams he was free. He would dream of playing Quidditch, being at Hogwarts with his friends, of Sirius or simply flying around on his broom, he still did fly the odd time but he never got the same thrill from it that he used to. But most of all he dreamt of her. They were the best ones.

But now he couldn't get back to sleep. He eventually willed himself to get out of the bed, he pulled himself up and tried to stand up, but instead fell to floor like a sack of potatoes. He was shaking uncontrollably as he crawled, frantically searching the room. He found what he wanted. A bottle. Without getting himself a glass he opened it and took a swig, spilling it down the front of his robes in the process. There were plenty of stains there already. The shaking stopped and the pain in his head lessened considerably. He lay out on the floor as if he was exhausted after a marathon. He returned to his thoughts; taking a sip of the firewhiskey every so often.

It was ten years since she had died. He hadn't been able to handle the grief. He had lost both his best friends, and many others who were close to him, in the war against Voldemort. Those who had survived, he pushed away long ago. He never expressed any emotion at their funerals. Mrs Weasley, Lupin and Moody had tried to talk to him, coax a response out of him. He wouldn't open up to anyone. They, no doubt, were very worried about him, but he wouldn't let them in and one by one alienated everyone he loved until ultimately no one cared about him at all. Now he spent his days drinking away the fortune he inherited from his parents and godfather. He drank because he missed her so much, because he was so lonely, because he had nothing else to do.

After what seemed like an eternity he rose from the floor. The bottle was half empty now. He removed his clothes and stepped into the shower. After he had washed and dried himself, he performed a cleaning charm on his robes. He left his bedroom and made his way down the stairs to his kitchen bringing the firewhiskey with him. The whole house was a state. There were empty bottles everywhere. He had no house elf since Kreacher died and he didn't bother do to any cleaning. He glanced at the calendar and realised why he had set the alarm the previous night. He took his hipflask from his pocket and emptied the bottle of firewhiskey into it. He got his wand and broom and left the house.

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After an hour he reached his destination; he circled the air above and saw that it was deserted. He brought his broom down and landed in a clear area of grass. It was very quiet and peaceful. He hopped of the broom and walk along the path. Turning a corner and leaving the path he walked a few steps and stood at a grave. He looked at the headstone:

Hermione Granger

Died 31st July 1998

Aged 18 Years

In the great victory of light over dark

Beloved Daughter and Friend

Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army

For the first time in years tears began to flow down his face. He remembered the last time he saw her.

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Voldemort lifted his wand, pointing it at Harry, "Avada Kedavra" he bellowed.

Time seemed to have slowed. The green light shot from his wand making its way to Harry's chest. Hermione screamed and leaped in front of Harry taking the unforgivable curse. Harry roared her name but he saw his opening, and with every ounce of hatred in his being for the tyrant standing in front of him he shouted "Avada Kedavra" as he directed the curse towards Voldemort's heart. Voldemort's eyes widened, the curse hit him. He fell to the ground. Smoke started to drift from his body and in seconds there was nothing left.

Harry turned to his side where Hermione was lying. He knelt beside her and cradled her in his arms. Her face was bruised and bleeding, her skin pale, breathe fading.

She whispered up to him as a weak smile played across her lips, "Harry, you did it, I'm so proud".

Her breath became raspy and wheezy. She closed her eyes.

"Hermione! Open your eyes ……… Please open your eyes" he trailed off. "I love you, don't leave me now"

Her eyelids flickered. "Harry. I love you too"

With that she closed her eyes and breathed her last.

"NO, Hermione, Please come back to me. I love you ……… I love you" he sobbed as he hugged her lifeless corpse closer to him.

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He came back to reality as he was now crying loudly. Years of feeling and showing no emotion now came out all at once

"Hermione I still love you".

Suddenly a stabbing pain went through his brain. Years of abusing his body had taken their toll. His head felt light. His blotchy face became pale. His bloodshot eyes dimmed. He could no longer see. He fell to the ground and his life expired. The last thought went though his mind. I'm with you now, my love.