"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...
The forest was quiet. It was already dark. The few stars in the sky didn't have enough luminance to illuminate the path Harry had taken. The ground was wet. The leaves from the trees were slimy and make slurping sounds as he stomped over them moving further into the forest. He finally reached a mossy sward in the middle of the forest surrounded with lofty trees.
Harry dropped the cloak of invisibility on the ground. He looked around suspiciously, worrying that something or someone was hiding in the darkness, spying on him, wanting to know his secret.
"Lumos," his wand gleamed, shedding bleak light over the surroundings.
There seemed to be no one. But he felt paranoid.
"Revelio," Harry casted a revealing charm, staring into the darkness, environing the meadow.
He waited a little before pulling Hermione's enchanted bag. The irony of hiding her decaying corpse in the bag she had enchanted to help him win the war. He couldn't carry her body in the open, so he had to stash her in the bag.
He pulled her body from the bag, stared at her lifeless eyes and sense of dread set over him. He had killed her.
He started digging a hole for her. A shallow unmarked grave. It was strange. He didn't feel sad.
He pushed her body into the pit he had dug and covered her with dirt.
"Goodbye, Hermione," he said apathetically, and part of him felt horrified by how little he felt. Something inside him was eating him alive. It was consuming his soul. It was gnawing at his sense of compassion, stripping him of his own self, as if to leave an empty shell behind for something else to fester and take form.
He walked back to school, hidden behind the invisibility clock. No one could find out what he had done. People were going to ask questions. They were going to look for her and if they found her, they would only find her rotting corpse.