A/N: This is one of the fics I wrote for a 100 fic challenge. The prompt was "death" and my pairing is Harry/Hermione.

How does someone get the blood off his hands when it's stained down to the bone in a crimson color that makes him nauseas at the thought of it?

It was the blood. It covered him. It drenched him in such a way that a shower would. Blood droplets were trickling down his body, as if they were as innocent as raindrops. It was the blood that had him falling to his knees in angry cries. It was the blood he knew he would never get off of his hands for the rest of his life. It was the blood that made him wish it were the end of his life.

It was her blood. It was her blood that made him wish death upon himself every night. It was her blood that caused him to cry himself to sleep at night. It was her blood that caused the numbing he felt everyday of his life. It was her blood that he would never be able to wash off.

If it were someone else's blood, anyone else's blood, even Ron's blood, he wouldn't have felt the numb pain he felt every second of every day. He wouldn't have felt as though half of him was lost forever. If it were someone else's blood, he wouldn't cry himself into a sleepless night wracked with nightmares of losing her. If it were somebody else's blood, she would still be there.

But it was her blood. She was gone. He couldn't bring her back. He failed to save her. It was his fault she was lost forever. It was his, Harry's, fault that he would never see her again. It was his fault that he would never be able to tell her what he had killed himself every minute over.

It was his fault for the blood. If he had been a second quicker, gotten there a moment sooner, been by her side, she wouldn't be gone. If he hadn't been marked for death, she wouldn't have been in any danger. It was his fault for leading her into the face of death. If it weren't for his life, she'd still be alive.

He didn't deserve to live. He might as well have killed her with his own bare hands. It was his fault that he let Voldemort get to her. He should've stopped him, but he didn't. When she was lost, so was his will for living. He would never have the chance to hold her, kiss her, love her, or be with her ever again. He would never get to say those words that haunted him every moment.

"I love you, Hermione."

No, he wouldn't get to say those words because the blood was on his hands, and he would never be able to wash it off…