Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.
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The Edge
It isn't my first time here, but it will be the last. Of course, it isn't the first time I have come here with the exact same thought, only this time it really will be my last. It will, I promise. One way or another.
I slowly walk towards the edge – there's no rush. I have to savour each moment of this, no rush, no hurry. Just determination. The decision is done, now it waits to be executed.
I pause after each step, stand still and think. It's important to think. I made a list of all the reasons why I am doing this, wrote down the pros and cons, weighed them both carefully, read them over many, many times. I wrote them down on a parchment with blood red ink. Perhaps I should have used real blood, my blood. After all, tonight it will be spilt. The words glowed ominously against the pale background, and for all, they should have seemed more final, more real this way. But they felt weak, so weak. You can't put everything into words. Somehow, they lose their meaning in the attempt, and then they are nothing but words, sequences of letters, empty.
Pain. P. A. I. N. It's just a word of four letters. It could mean anything. It could be a mild headache, or the sweet longing for someone or something, or it could be a feeling so overwhelming that you lose yourself into it. All is pain. Is it temporary, is it lethal, is it necessary? Will it go away over time? Pain is just a word. But the feeling, that's something else.
And grief, and loss? Your cat died? You dropped your favourite quill? Or you saw the love of your life dying before your very own eyes, trying to protect the lives of you and your unborn child? It makes a big difference. But words are just words.
Time to take another step. Closer to the edge.
I said I've come here before, and I have. Whenever things got too difficult, whenever life became unbearable, I came here. I stretched out my arms and let the wind ravish me, let it stab me and freeze me to the bones. And when that wasn't enough, I would walk to the edge, slowly, step by step, and I would look around, and then up, and then down.
One more step, and all my troubles will be gone. One more step and I will be free. You want it to end? One more step. You want to get rid of the pain, the loss, the grief? One more step. You want freedom? One more step. You want answers? One more step. You want justice? One more step. You want truth? One more step. You want peace? One more step.
You want to suffer? Turn back. I wanted to suffer, and I turned back.
On the edge, everything is so easy, so simple, so clear. All the lists, all the words written down in either ink or blood, on the edge none of them matter. All that matters is whether you wish to take that one more step, or not.
To be or not to be, that is the question…
Dying is easy, living is hard. That was the answer.
No. Dying is not easy. It's easy to be killed, but it's hard to die. When it's all up to you, when you are the one who has to take that one more step. It's not easy. You are only able to take it if you are absolutely sure that's what you want. And even then it's hard.
Victory. Another meaningless word.
Another step. Closer to the edge.
It's a celebration, you know. Today, here at Hogwarts. Not up here in the Astronomy Tower, but down in the Great Hall. All those who survived the war are there celebrating it. Not the end of the war, but the fact that they survived.
Harry and Ron are not here today. Neither is Ginny, nor Neville, nor Cho, nor Luna, nor so many others. Why? Because we won. We won the war. But they aren't here to celebrate. Why? Because it's only for the living. Those who didn't survive, can't celebrate their survival.
Ron died for me, and for our unborn child. He asked me to marry him. I told him to ask again, after the last battle. He didn't. A few months after the war, when I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, our child followed his father. Or her father.
And today, I will follow them both.
You have nothing to live for, Hermione, why are you still alive?
Another step. I'm on the edge now, and once again, things became crystal clear.
One more step.
I didn't leave a letter. What would I have written? I have lost everything, my life is nothing but pain, even time can't cure my wounds. Don't blame yourselves, it was my decision. When you are reading this letter, I am in a happier place.
I have lost everything – four words, 19 letters. They mean nothing to those who don't know what it means to lose everything. And those who know it, don't need to read them to understand.
Don't blame yourselves – they still do, whatever I say. "We should have been there for her", "We should have helped her"... There is no help for me. There is nothing you can do to help me. Nothing. But you don't understand it, do you? Because you read my words, but you don't feel my life.
You don't know. And I'm glad you don't. If you did, I wouldn't be alone on this edge.
One more step.
One more obstacle, and then – freedom, peace, oblivion.
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"Granger? What are you doing?"
That's life. All that can go wrong, will go wrong. If I take that one more step now, there's a chance he will yell. Perhaps not, but I suppose he has had some drink and might not be thinking clearly.
I do not want to hear Draco Malfoy scream as the last thing in my life.
In my cruel, cruel, cruel life.
He might even try to save me, if he is especially drunk. He might even succeed. That is something I wouldn't live down.
Perhaps I could push him off the tower as well? They say you have to try everything you can in life, and I haven't experienced murder yet.
"Get lost, Malfoy. I want to die in peace."
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The cold wind cuts into my bones, and I shiver. I don't feel it, but for some reason I still shiver.
Here on the edge there is only truth.
One more step.
Because what is there for you to live, Hermione? Why are you still alive?
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"Revenge. Live for revenge," he says.
But Voldemort is dead. Severus Snape is dead. Lucius Malfoy is dead. Perhaps I could hunt down every single Death Eater there is left in this world and kill them? Would it help? Not me. I've done enough for the world already. My task is accomplished. My debts are paid.
One more step and I'm free.
"No, one more step and you are dead."
Exactly. Death is freedom. Death is peace.
"No, death is death."
And life is pain. And time does not heal all the wounds.
"It's been only six months, Granger."
Perhaps for you. For me, it has been eternity.
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Revenge.
Perhaps there's one more favour I'm willing to do for the world.
Murder.
Perhaps you would have saved me, Draco, but now I am going to kill you.
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He isn't fighting me as I drag him to the edge. Perhaps it ought to tell me something, make me think, make me see something I have overlooked before, but now it really doesn't matter. Here is truth, here is clarity, here is the end and the beginning of all things.
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One more step.
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We will all answer for our crimes one day, if there is any justice in death. There sure is none in life.
The End.
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A/N:
I hope you liked it. I spent a long time thinking whether include Draco into the story, or not. At last I decided to let him come, for I kind of liked throwing him down the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps I should do it more often. (evil grin)
Review?