"Harry please," Hermione cried, trying to shake him off. "Please come to your senses."
Tears went down her face as her vision slowly blurred. She thrashed on the floor, shook her legs, fought hard to stay alive, but the life was slowly squeezed out of her.
She stopped moving.
Harry stared at her dead body. He had no malice, he had no joy. He felt nothing. His best friend was dead.
Then something snapped and emotions like a light switch turned on and horror, dread, sadness, fear, grief overpowered him all at once. He screamed. He grabbed her hands, begging to take what he did back. There were no take backs to taking someone's life. He wanted to grab a time turner and turn the time around, except the time turners did not alter past events, they simply fulfilled these past events.
What was done could never be undone.
He started rewinding in his head all the events that lead to this and wondered if there was something that if done differently wouldn't have resulted in her death.
"Please," he cried.
No one had the power to reverse what he had done.
He laid there by her dead body motionless for hours. Crying. Tears soon stopped shedding from his eyes as he exhausted the ability to produce any more teardrops.
The evening fell and Harry dropped asleep. When he opened his eyes, she was still lying there next to him on the floor. He reached to touch her face. She was cold. Rigor mortis had set. She was no longer Hermione, but a decaying flesh.
He needed to call people to let them know what he had done. He wanted the kiss of a dementor. He wanted to die.
But something stopped him. Something inside him that was growing strong told him, he couldn't tell anyone. He needed to get rid of the body.
