Harry clenched his teeth as the needle dug into his skin. He felt it when he got right into the vein and shot up the sinful, white substance. He exhaled slowly and leaned his head back against the bathroom wall.
The needle slipped out and his hand feel limp against the cold floor tiles. Harry smiled as he felt the heroin working its way through his system. Sure, it was practically eating him alive from the inside out, but what did that matter? It was relief, plain and simple.
Harry watched the colors around him spin and swirl. He laughed and poked the red tickling his face. There was a sharp knock on the door and the colors popped. Harry smiled and put away his stash and syringe, placing it all in his shaving kit which he put back on top of the bathroom cabinet.
"Harry? Are you okay in there?" Hermione's voice came from the other side of the plywood. Harry opened the door for her and greeted her with a kiss.
"Everything is perfect." He said dreamily, remembering quickly to pull down his sleeve.
"Harry, you sound exhausted," Hermione chided. He knew she didn't mean exhausted.
" 'm not tired..." Harry mumbled into the crook of her neck. He kissed her tenderly and she sighed against his mouth before pushing him away.
"Why do you do this Harry?" she asked quietly. Harry continued kissing her, down her throat to the valley between her breasts. He spoke one word through his fogged voice, the word that Hermione knew would keep her from trying to stop him.
"Escape." he murmured against her skin. Hermione felt her eyes go moist.
"None of it was your fault, Harry." Hermione said, though she knew it wouldn't make a difference.
"Tell that to the families." he responded. "Tell that to Neville, spending his time with his parents at St. Mungo's. It's okay, he won't remember ten minutes later." Harry's voice was low and unfeeling. It made Hermione shiver as he continued to kiss every inch of her, whispering in that cold, emotionless voice.
"Tell Molly and Arthur that it's not my fault their brood is down to 4. Tell Ron that it's not my fault his brother is gone. Tell Teddy Lupin it's not my fault he's an orphan." Harry said.
"You're the only one who cares anymore, Hermione. And I'm not even sure why you do. I'm a killer, Hermione."
"You saved the Wizarding World, Harry. You know none of them have sore feelings towards you. They're all just mourning for their loss. We're all mourning. But this will pass. They aren't angry with you." Hermione defended, but she knew it was in vain.
"I murdered more than one person for my cause, 'Mione. I don't deserve their forgiveness. I don't deserve you."
"Harry James Potter, I love you! I always have and i always will! You are not a murderer. You are an honorable man. I could not love you were it not so." Hermione responded vehemently.
Harry only shook his head and kissed her to silence her. "Then you do not love me." He said.
He began to remove her clothes and she wanted to stop him. She didn't want to make love to him without him knowing that she really did love him. That he was an honorable man and that she would always love him for that.
But she went along with him, she made love to him. She knew that Harry never would forgive himself, never could. She knew that it was just too much death, too much pain. And as much as she wanted Harry to be happy without it, she knew she would never keep him from his heroin.
He moved inside her and she responded with the same fervor as always. But this time was different. It was frantic and filled with need. The need for her to show just how she loved him and the need to let him know that before she did what she knew would be best for the both of them. It was Harry's only chance at being happy.
Hermione could move on, but Harry could not. And though a part Hermione would always love Harry, she knew what she had to do.
Harry was up and about by 2 am, just as Hermione knew he would be. The heroin made him sleep, but kept it from staying that way. She found him in the bathroom, about to shoot up. He gave her a look like he was sorry she had to see it.
Hermione leaned over and took the syringe from his hands. She turned on the bathwater and stripped him of whatever clothing he had thrown on. She slipped out of her robe and went to the bathroom cabinet.
She reached for a package on the second shelf. She took out a disposable razor and with a murmured charm, transfigured it into a straight razor. She took a deep breath and turned to face Harry.
"Get in the tub, Harry." Hermione whispered. Harry looked at her like she was insane, but did as he was told. She slipped in behind him and he leaned his head back against her chest.
Hermione set the straight razor down on the side of the tub and put Harry's hands in the water and held them there. "Harry..." she murmured. "It's time to move on."
Harry sighed exasperatedly. "I wish I could, Hermione." he said quietly.
"I didn't mean it like that." Hermione said quietly. "Harry, as long as you live you will never be happy. And I want nothing more than for you to be happy." Hermione paused.
Harry wasn't sure he understood, but he let her continue.
"Let me help you move on, Harry." Hermione said.
"How, 'Mione? How can you do that? How can you erase all of my guilt, all of my pain, all the sorrow, the faces of those I will always mourn for..." Harry's voice cracked and faltered.
Hermione picked up the straight razor from the side of the tub and held it in her right hand. She took his left hand and pressed the blade against the inside of his wrist. "This way." Hermione said.
Harry froze in her arms. How many times had he wanted to? Thought seriously about it? But how could he? He had to stay alive... for Hermione. Harry loved her so much more than he could ever tell her. But his grief was consuming him and his drugs came to be the only release he had. Hermione anchored him, Heroin let him fly.
He'd wanted to die for a long time, but he never felt like he could. He had Hermione to live for.
"I can't." Harry protested. "I have to live for you."
"You're not living, Harry. You're already dead; inside. You've been dead for a long time. And though I love you, more than you could understand, I love you enough to want you to live... enough to let you go." Hermione told him.
Harry though about what she was offering. He would die, but he would live. She wasn't killing him, she was giving him the chance at a new life. Hermione always took care of him. She still was. Harry twisted his body around to give her a kiss. They both tried to pour all of their feelings into it.
They pulled away gasping for breath. "Are you ready to live again?" Hermione asked, taking his hands in hers. Harry nodded. Hermione looked deep into his eyes and said, "I love you, Harry Potter," as she pulled the straight razor across his forearms.
There was no pain, as the water around his arms was the same temperature as his insides. The blood seeped from his veins effortlessly, clouding the water around them with crimson. Harry's vision started to grow dim. He laid in the bath with Hermione and kiss her one last time.
He gave her his final breath, whispering against her lips, "Thank you," before succumbing to the blackness of his sleep.
Hermione laid in the tub with his lifeless body, tears streaming down her face as she looked at the expression on her lover's face. It was a face she had not seen for months.. years, even.
Harry Potter, through his stone, gray lips, smiled. And for once, he looked at peace.
Hermione stayed in the tub until the water turned cold. She cast several charms to clean herself, clean Harry and the stained bath. She dressed Harry in his favorite quidditch jersey and sleep pants. She healed his wrists, making it look like there'd been no cuts at all. Then she set him in the bed and firecalled St. Mungo's. She said that he died in his sleep. That the psychological stress had just been too much.
They looked at Harry's peaceful face, and no one bothered to ask questions.
The funeral was attended by hundreds of people and televised globally. People cried as the pall bearers brought in the casket of the Boy Who Lived. But when they opened his casket, and exposed his face for the ceremony, his peaceful smile spread.
There was not one dry eye in the Wizarding World that day, but almost every tear was matched with a smile. Everyone seemed to understand that Harry Potter had not died.. He had moved on to a new life. He was finally happy again.
That night, Hermione dreamed of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. She stood in the center, of the green field, the stands towering above her.
A nimble flyer zoomed down from the sky on a formidable broom and came to a hover next to her. He smiled down from his Firebolt and said, "Thank you." He held something out to her in his closed palm. Hermione stretched out her hand and he dropped the Golden Snitch down to her. She smiled and grasped it tightly.
"I will always love you, but I hope I'm not the only one who moves on." the flyer said. Hermione nodded in understanding and let a tear escape.
"Why do you cry?" he asked.
"You're finally happy. And i love you so much, that I'm happy too." she answered. The man gave her a huge grin in response.
"I have to go now." He said. "Don't worry, you'll see me again someday. But probably not very soon. Don't worry, I'm watching." he assured her. Hermione nodded.
He blew her a kiss and turned away. "Sirius says, 'Say hello to Buckbeak.'" he called, and then Harry Potter darted away into the blue skies.
Hermione jolted awake, realizing that the meeting had only been a dream. She brought her hand up to her forehead, but something was resting in her palm... it was a Golden Snitch. It had an inscription on the side opposite the folded wings.
Hermione turned on the lights and smiled when she saw the message.
i"i live now.
you should too. /i
Hermione clutched the gold metal ball to her chest and closed her eyes. "I promise i will, Harry."