'You don't need me. What you need is a good old firewhiskey. Enjoy. -Harry'

Hermione's grip on the bottle tightened as she read the three sentences written on the card with Harry's handwriting over and over again. "Git." She hissed, crumpling the small piece of paper in her hand and threw it away. "Git!" She uttered, her voice somewhere in between a scream and her normal voice. A few people turned their heads towards her but honestly, she could hardly care what others would think of her. Ron had cheated on her, Harry had been ignoring her and the whole wizarding world was expecting her to smile and face the world bravely? Bah! Pathetic. Good thing she was still in Muggle London, then.

She had her limits, just like everyone. And after losing two important people in her life, she just couldn't handle it. Facing Voldemort and the Death Eaters seemed a lot easier than this. At least, back then, she knew what was right and what was wrong. But now, she had not the slightest of clues.

All Hermione wanted to do was to curl up in a ball and cry her eyes out. And, a bucket of ice cream would do nicely, most probably. If not only for the fact that she had no where to go to, that option was out of the list. Apparating to Harry's house and punch him in the face sounded very appealing to her, though that might not be a wise move. After all, she didn't want to further ruin her relationship with the black-haired git. And the possibility of Harry, once again, making Kreacher get rid of her was big.

Of course, there was always Ginny to run to. But yet again, she lived under the same roof as one of the two men- more like children, if she was being honest- causing the distress that she was feeling at this moment. But then, Ginny did work for- or was it supposed to be 'with'? She wasn't sure- George in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Hermione could always drop by to the famous store... although she wasn't too keen with the idea of being in a room, filled with people, let alone children.

So... Now, what? She had no idea. She clenched her fists. Now... She was going to do something a Gryffindor shouldn't do.

She was going to run and hide.

Harry threw an empty bottle of firewhiskey towards the wall of his room. Stupid! That was what he was. Stupid. Utterly, frustratingly stupid. Hermione needed him and she seeked for his company... but what did he do? He sent Kreacher to give her a bottle of firewhiskey. He screamed to the top of his lungs, his eyes clenched shut. Did he really just do that? Did he really just send Hermione a bottle of firewhiskey? For what? To make her like him? To put her in this stupid state- phase, whatever you wish to call it- he was in? "Idiot!" He screamed again, his knuckles turning white from how tight he clenched his fists.

He stood up from the edge of his unmade bed and leant his forehead on the wall. If Hermione got in trouble, it would be all his fault. And he couldn't have that. What? Another death? Another death that he caused? He couldn't have that. He couldn't... He couldn't bear that. He punched the wall, but he did much more harm to his knuckles than to the wall. He had already caused too much pain. Too much despair. Too much deaths. He couldn't bear cause another one. And cerainly not Hermione Granger.

He gave the wall another punch. The wizarding world adored Hermione Granger. Afterall, she was the war princess... or whatever they called her. The reporters were already going wild with the fact that their 'beloved' Hermione Granger had tried to kill herself. And also the fact that he had beaten Ron up. He really shouldn't give them another topic to write an article on. Harry Potter, our Savior, pushed our war princess, Hermione Granger, into killing herself? That probably sounded like a pathetic headline. Too long, probably. He didn't know. How was he supposed to know? And honestly, he didn't really care. Oh, but they were going to go wild if two-thirds of the Golden Trio had resorted into drinking their problems away!

What had happened to that 'Golden Trio' thing anyway? Weren't they supposed to be role models of the future generations? Weren't they supposed to be the epitome of bravery and righteousness? What happened to that? What happened to the Harry Potter the wizarding world looked up to? What happened to him? How did he ever get stuck to this daily routine of sleeping and drinking and throwing fits? Everything had happened so fast. And he was unable to keep himself up. He drowned in pain and confusion and self-hate.

The wizarding world loved him... while he despised his own self. And after the whole Voldemort and battle thing... he just lost his reason to live. He just lost his purpose to the world. He had already fulfilled what he had to do. What was he supposed to do next? He had no idea. And that was when everything spiralled downwards. That was when everything got ruined.

He didn't know when or how he slipped down to his knees but he found himself kneeling against the wall, with tears streaming down his face. What was his purpose? Why was he still alive?

That was the question, wasn't it? Why was he still alive if he could have simply uttered the two words that could end all his pain? Why had he still not killed himself? There must be a reason. There had to be. Why did he hold on for so long? What was his reason?

And now, he knew. His reason was his friends. His loved ones. The one who cared for him the most. Even though he had been neglecting them for... what? A half a year? More? He wasn't sure. But still... They were still his reason. And it was probably about time that he pulled his self together... not for himself... but for them. For those who mattered most.

But uncertainty started to spread in his mind... Hermione hated him. Well, probably... She must be! With that stupid firewhiskey and his stupid note. She must be furious. Oh, should he? Should he go on with his plan? This stupid plan of his? Of course, he should. It was time that he stopped being selfish and focused on other people's feelings. Hermione's feelings.

He wondered if he should go and apologize or if he could just wait for her anger to fade away. The latter sounded much more appealing and tempting. But he knew that that would never work. With a shaky breath, he wiped the tears off his face. He grabbed for his wand from his pocket and whispered. "Reparo." He watched as the shattered glass formed itself back together slowly. He sighed. He wished that a simple Reparo could fix his self as well. Or fix Hermione's broken trust for him, perhaps? A Reparo for his reputation would be great as well. He sighed. A Reparo for his life, was what he needed.

A/N: Another update! Yay! I'll try to update every week, though I'm not so sure if I could keep up with that on July since I'm joining Camp NaNo. Maybe I should write in advance. Hmmm...

Anyway! I can't believe that I'm so close to having 100 follows for this story! Just two more! Oh, I'm so happy. HAHA. Thank you!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Tell me what you think through a review. I love reading through all the reviews I've received.