A/N: Special thanks go out to the ladies at PTB for helping me with this chapter. You never cease to make me look good!

Also, thanks to all those who have put me on alert and reviewed me. It means the world to me.

Damn the mini leprechauns inside my head. They had mini pick axes and were hacking was nothing new. The bastards showed up every morning to greet me in the wee hours. It never failed. I would come out of the black hole that swallowed me every evening to the pounding of gold digging in my head.

I hated the pounding but the peaceful nights made it worth it. The tranquility of sound sleep meant less screaming at night, less nightmares. At least for those few hours, I didn't have to worry that Harry would find me. I wouldn't have to see him raping me every time I closed my eyes.

There was something different that morning. I woke up with a resolve. Deciding that was the last time I would wake up to headaches, I walked over to the floo in my bedroom. "Blackhart's Wizarding Bookstore," I said as I dropped the powder to the floo floor. The fire turned green and I stuck my head in.

The bookstore appeared before me. Gerald Blackhart walked into my line of vision. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"I won't be coming back in, Gerald. I quit."

He didn't look happy. In fact, he looked concerned. "Hermione, whatever is going on with you, this isn't the way to deal with it. Come on through and we'll talk."

"No, Gerald. I'm quitting. That's it." I cut the connection and went to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of fire whiskey from the cabinet above the sink, I turned and slammed the door closed. I sighed in relief as I took the first drink.

Taking another, I looked at the stove. Really should make some eggs and bacon. I need to eat. Then again, what's the point? Eating is just a waste of time and it would more than likely make me sick anyways. Deciding that eating could wait, I whipped around and walked back to my bedroom. Throwing myself back onto my bed, I stared at the ceiling.

Over the last few months, I had banished everyone from my life. It was days like this, days when I had nothing to do, no one to talk to, that I felt the loneliest.

I took another drink from the bottle as memories from my time at Hogwarts flooded me. They were some of the only keepsakes I had of a much happier season of my life. The fire whiskey heated my throat on its way down, the bottle cold against my lips.

The whiskey started to make my head spin with memories, flooding my brain, swirling faster and faster. The day I first met Ron flowed into my mind's eye. I remember feeling embarrassed and nervous at the sight of him. The sudden emotions of my first crush had made my mouth clench shut, not letting me say anything to him more than "Hi" for a long time.

I remembered the day, not too long after, when he broke his wand and still tried to protect me, cursing Malfoy for calling me dirty names. The spell bounced back and made Ron spit up slugs for hours. The humiliation I felt later telling Hagrid about the incident filled me once again, causing me to swallow more and more alcohol to try to drown out the feeling.

As I continued to drink, I saw Harry introducing himself to me during our first year. That day, I never would have thought he would turn out like he did. I remember that I had actually had a small crush on him that day, a little star-struck. He didn't look twice at me, though. In fact, he and Ron hated me to begin with. It was all thanks to a giant ogre that we even began talking in the first place.

More whiskey warmed my throat. Drinking was the only way I could get through the day when the memories took over. That same year, the three of us were forced to put our lives on the line playing a human version of Wizard's chess to save the wizarding world for the first time. We had to play to be able to stop Professor Quirrel from finding the Philosopher's Stone. It was the most fun I had ever had. Looking back, the memory still makes me smile. For the first time in our young friendship, we worked together. Our whole friendship, we worked well as a team. Sure, Harry got all the credit, but it was still nice to be a part of something so amazing.

The room began to spin a little as I rolled over to stare out the window at the world outside. It continued to move forward as my life was stuck. I was completely caught up in the past as I drank. Lives continued on as mine was bogged down by pain. People were probably getting married out there. I never would. The fantasy world I had lived in for years, the bubble that had surrounded me, was gone. I finally knew what evil lurked out there from firsthand experience.

Another memory floated into my mind's eye. I saw Harry in the TriWizard Tournament being chased by that huge dragon. It turned out to be a Hungarian Horntail, the most vicious of the dragons available to the contestants. Thankfully, he had thought to Accio his broom. I remember being scared to death that he was going to die. That fire-breathing monster came close to succeeding at just that many times during the challenge, but Harry steered his broom like a pro. It was amazing.

Taking another drink, I thought about how every wizard in London thought Harry was extraordinary. Truly he was for killing Voldemort and saving our world, but during our time at Hogwarts, he began to change. I didn't realize that at the time, but looking back, I saw it. My respect and sibling-like love for him made me blind, but as the Muggles say, "Hindsight is 20/20."

There were small things over the years – things he said to me that would make me uncomfortable, touches that were inappropriate. I didn't think much about them at the time, but over the past months, I realized that they should have sent up red flags warning me of things to come. I should have known, should have done something. But that's how hindsight is; it haunts you with the possibilities of what should have happened, what you should have done.

I tried to take another drink, but groaned when nothing poured down my throat. Shaking the bottle, there wasn't even a drop left. Groaning again as I rolled over and sat up, the world began to spin.

Need more alcohol. I need to find more alcohol. I can't make it through the day without it. I can't live without it was all that ran through my mind. I couldn't think of anything else. A part of me knew that I might hurt myself, but that didn't seem to matter. There was the risk of alcohol poisoning or falling down from stumbling due to drunkenness, but none of that mattered anymore. I had to make the memories and heartbreak go away.

Stumbling into the kitchen, my vision began to blur. There wasn't any fire whiskey left in my flat. I decided that I absolutely had to go buy more. There was no other way around it. There was no other way to make everything stop – the memories, the haunting of the incident, hearing Harry's voice. I had to make it all stop. It had to go away.

I made my way out of my flat without anything devastating happening. Thank Merlin for that. Living on the fourth floor, there were plenty of chances for me to fall down the steps and die. Dying. Now, that would make everything stop. That would make it all go away. Then I could finally sleep peacefully for eternity; like I hadn't slept in months. Never before in my life had I thought about suicide, but how else could I make things go away? I had always thought people who killed themselves were cowards, but now I understood. I understood the desperation they felt. I understood their need to get away from life. This is what Harry had done to me. This is what my life had become in the past few months.

Stepping into the liquor store, I took a deep breath. I loved the smell of stale alcohol now. It meant comfort to me. It meant that soon my nightmare would end. Grabbing two large bottles of fire whiskey off the shelf, I walked to the counter. I made my purchase and made my way outside.

Taking the top off the first bottle, I took a large drink from the bottle as I walked outside. That's how low I had become. I was a drunkard, just a useless piss-artist on a never-ending bender. There was nothing to me any more than that.

I turned and walked toward my building, slowly getting more and more drunk. Nearing my home, a man came up beside me. My skin began to crawl as I walked. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I began to shake from nerves. I was so scared. Nothing made sense, though.

Everything about him scared me and made me cringe. He was dirty; every inch of him seemed to be covered in it. The smell of him reminded me of the alley where Harry changed my life. I kept my head down as I walked, refusing to take another drink. What had happened months ago could not happen again, and the only way to stop it was to stay as sober as possible. It seemed as though the stress of the situation had drained every drop of alcohol from my system. I almost cried at the thought.

"Hey, I could make all your problems go away," I heard a raspy voice say from beside me.

I couldn't stop myself from halting my movements. The promise of escaping all my problems was too good not to take a chance on this guy. "How's that?" I asked once I had stopped and turned toward him.

He pulled a vial from under his robes. The contents appeared to be a shiny purple substance in the light from the street lamps. "It's called 'pozione di uccidere'."

"What does it do?"

"It makes everything go away. You won't feel pain any longer."

"How much?"

"300 galleons," he told me without hesitation.

I had never heard of this potion before and I had read almost every book on magical potions I could. How had I never read anything about this purple potion before? I didn't even know what the name meant. This almost worried me, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel nothing.

"I'll take three," I said without thinking any further. Reaching into my robes, I pulled out the money and gave it to him. He gave me the vials I had purchased and walked away.

I stared at them a moment before hurriedly taking off all three caps and downing all the contents. Immediately, I began to feel stabbing in my stomach. It felt as though knives were forcing themselves into my body over and over from every direction. My hands covered it but surprisingly I didn't feel any wetness. How could this be? I had to be bleeding.

The world began to spin and I fell to my knees. I couldn't stand. Crawling my way toward my building, I felt tiny pieces of gravel from the walkway embed themselves into my knees and hands. I began to cough as I became more addled. After a few moments, I couldn't even crawl. I found myself lying face down in the dirt. Why does this keep happening to me? This is what I get for taking potions from someone who looks as though he lives in Knockturn Alley. Damn black magic wizard!

DPOV

My footsteps echoed along the pavement as I walked home. I hadn't lived here long; just came back after living in magical Russia for the previous four years. As much as I liked it there, I much preferred Magical London. It was much quieter after Voldemort died.

I very much regretted the role I played in the war. Every day since, I felt guilt over having taken the mark back then. Each attempt I had made to remove it was futile. Nothing I did worked. I hated the mark. It was as though Voldemort was still with me, watching my every move. There were nights I would wake up after a nightmare of him torturing me because of things I had done since the war.

Granted, I still hated Muggles, but I didn't do the things Voldemort had instructed and taught me to, like torturing and killing them. I hated myself for what I had done during his rule.

As I came close to my house, I noticed something on the pavement before me. I slowed my pace as I came closer. Is that... It can't be... I knelt next to her. The hair and clothing were so different than what she would wear. It couldn't be her. But I moved her hair out of her face and I knew. This was Hermione Granger.

I put my fingers to her throat and felt a very soft and slow pulse. She was still alive. What do I do? She's a Mudblood. I shouldn't... but I can't...