A/N: I whipped this up infifteen minutes, so don't take it too seriously, sorry for any typos, I only browsed it a couple times.
Warnings: Character death, Slash, OOC, typos.
Little Death
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter.
Harry was the world's savior, so it didn't really matter what he wanted, not until he fulfilled his destiny, and killed the evil, Lord Voldemort. Right now he would have given anything to be normal, he told himself long ago, when he first learnt of the prophecy, that he could not wish it on anyone, not Neville, but right now he did, he didn't want to be the boy who lived, the savior of the wizarding world, he wanted to be free to make choices for himself, for his own life.
He started to weep in his lover's warm arms, trying not to wake him, they were in bed and dozing after Harry had woken him up for morning sex, so what if Harry seemed melancholy, he wasn't much of a morning person anyway, and stress from the Order was getting to him, he had to report back to them in only a couple hours, they worked Harry too hard.
Out of bed and getting dressed, Harry tried to pull himself together, he pushed his feelings to the back of his mind and pulled on a stoic mask, the sleeping potion should be taking effect by now, but he only had a limited amount of time, from under the bed Harry pulled out Gryffindor's sword, and taking a deep breath, plunged it into his lover's chest.
There was no blood, corporeal he may be, but Voldemort was not human enough to have blood, and as all his horcuxes were destroyed he turned to ash on Harry's bed, which he promptly burned, aparating to Grimmald Place as the last ember of his secret lover snuffed out.
Dumbledore found him later, sitting in the library curled up on a chair, he was staring off into space as his hand idly traced the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
A/N: I know, weird ending... tell me what you think though.