A/N: before you read this chapter I think it's only right I give you a warning. This chapter contains severe depression and suicidal thoughts. I hope it's not OOC that it would cross their mind because after all we're talking about teenagers whose hope is running out and all the devastation in the air isn't helping. I hope I do it justice and get you to really feel their pain. On with the story.

I hear the water drip from the faucet.

It's sweetly falling in tune.

I'm gently closing the closet.

I fall to the floor,

and crawl to my room.

The thought of ending it soon...

Just let me sleep in my room.

"Black Orchid"- Blue October

Hermione paced back and forth inside the tent. The night was about to fall and Harry was not back. They had moved once again, to provincial farming land. He had gone off in search of real food, a welcoming thing after months of badly cooked fish and tasteless fruits.

It had been a week since they had last really talked and there was something wrong. It was stupid for Harry to think she wouldn't notice. At first, her insecurity blamed it on the chaste kiss they had shared. Yet as the days progressed, she noticed the new problem was much more deeply rooted. Despite his hardest efforts, she had seen him tossing and turning one night. Yet every time she woke him up and asked him what was wrong, she got the same tight-lipped response, the same shaking of his head dismissively.

She tucked her wand in her pocket and parted the tent curtains. Scanning around the campsite, there was no sign of movement. He still wasn't back. The sky was darkening steadily and she knew that if she didn't move now, it would soon be impossible for her to find Harry. Just as she was walking past the extinguished fire site, she heard a panting sound.

"Harry!" she said breathlessly.

"Hermione!" Harry panted. "Dementors, I couldn't fight them..."

"Dementors?" Hermione repeated in fright. "Where?"

"Not here," said Harry taking a deep breath. "Near a barn…"

"But you can always—"

"I couldn't all right?" Harry yelled.

"What's going on?" she asked in concern. "I know you've been having nightmares just tell me!"

"No, you've had enough to deal with."

"Harry!" Hermione yelled firmly forcing him to look at her. "How many times must we go over this?"

"I'm here for you!" she repeated.

"Yeah well, that's the problem…it'll be the end of you." He said wretchedly.

"Is that what this is about?" she asked him.

"Harry," she said patiently. "Being your friend doesn't put me in any more danger than what we already are in."

"Hermione, you know what he's like." whispered Harry. "He used Sirius because he knew his relationship with me….what would he do to you if he knew…"

"If he knew what?" Hermione inquired.

"I just…I think it's just better if you went to Australia…hide with your parents..." He explained. "Leave me."

Just as Harry had expected, Hermione shook her head vehemently. He knew suggesting what he had would be pointless. Hermione was just as blessedly stubborn as he was. He loved and hated that about her. The truth was; that he felt happy she was refusing to budge. He was already barely hanging on mentally, he would be lost if Hermione left. Totally useless.

"But I can't leave you…because I know that you would never leave me in a situation like this." She confessed. "And I can't… I just can't. I'd go mental with worry."

"I just don't want to lose you." Harry cried. "Or Ron, I...can't. I wouldn't be able to handle it."

Hermione felt the warm tears well up in her eyes. It physically hurt to see Harry in such misery. She knew the pain he was feeling all too well. They shared the same fear. She had been lucky enough not to have lost anyone close to her as of yet, but in war, she knew it was only a matter of time. She couldn't imagine what life would be like without Harry. Romantically or not, a life without Harry was just too inconceivable to think about. She could not see herself surviving such a life.

"What can I do if all the fight in me is gone Hermione?" Harry asked. "I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore."

"Everything is just like you said." He continued ardently. "Pointless. We have no clue and all we are doing is prolonging the inevitable."

"Then fight for Ron, The Weasleys', Hagrid, Remus, and Tonks…me." Hermione suggested. "You have people rooting for you. He has nothing, nothing as strong as what you have."

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand firmly in hers. Though her words did not have the impact she had hoped for, they had visibly calmed him. It was hard for her to give him reasons when she herself was losing her own will to fight. She smiled cynically at how hypocritical she has been. Why did she want to urge him to keep up the hope when she herself had none? In a way, it was not her fault, it was her damn autopilot. Soothing Harry came much more naturally than did anything else. Seeing him so broken disturbed her severely. Of course, she had seen Harry moody. In fact, it was safe to say she had seen all the sides to Harry. The good and the bad. Still, she had never seen him this thwarted. Hopeless.

"I'll take over the watch for tonight." Hermione said softly. "You need to rest."

It was proof of his exhaustion that he didn't attempt to do otherwise. The Dementors were only this effective because had already been psychologically beaten down. Whatever it was he was dreaming of, the Horcrux, the bottling of his feelings; the toll was starting to show.

Hermione watched as Harry slumped into his bunk. What could she possibly tell him that she hadn't already? Even if she did know what to say, Harry obviously was not going to listen to her words. He was not going to confide his nightmares in her. Something stronger was keeping them apart. She had her own reasons to not be her normal self with him. Everything had changed since the night they had kissed. It hurt to accept it, but perhaps even though he had not said it was a mistake, he had failed to give a valid reason as to why he had done so. Maybe it had been just an act of loneliness, only he was much too polite to admit to it. Hermione was not sure how she felt about it. She knew she had kissed him back because she had been wanting to for months. Years even. How could she possibly go back to touching him without that overwhelming fluttery sensation in her stomach? Even looking into his eyes had become unbearable because she was not sure she was as good at hiding the smile that spread on her lips when brown eyes met those brilliant green ones.

"I didn't manage to find anything to eat Hermione." He said weakly from the bed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Hermione assured him. "I'm not hungry anyway."

"There's still a bit of tea bags left…fancy a cup?"

"Sure." Harry muttered simply.

Harry closed his eyes as he tried to rid himself of the nauseating sensation left by the Dementors encounter. As he rested his arms at his side, he felt a lump in his pocket. Stuffing his hand inside, he retrieved the golden snitch. He scoffed at the sight of it as it unraveled its wings and flew above him. It still boggled his mind why Dumbledore had thought that out of anything in his possession, the golden snitch would be of any help to him. What purpose did it have? At least Hermione's still had the possibility of being helpful. Ron's had had some purpose, even if it had been an annoyance in their miserable journey. What was this Dumbledore's cruel way of giving him a small reminder of his happiest memories before he faced up to his destiny?

"Have you discovered anything new about it?" asked Hermione's soft voice from far away.

Harry had not noticed the moment Hermione had walked up to his bedside with a small cup of tea.

"No." He answered.

Hermione nodded at him in reply.

"Drink some tea." She urged him delicately. "It might help you sleep easier."

"I doubt it." Harry answered dryly.

Hermione pursed her lips together in defeat. It was futile to try to get any further with him. Instead, she grabbed 'Beedle the Bard' from her bed and walked far away to her chair. She sighed heavily as she plumped down on it, the wind behind her flapping the canvas of the tent. To say it was cold was an understatement, they were in December, the dead of winter, and the long night did nothing but intensify the cold. She shivered as she wrapped the blankets closer to her, her heavily bundled hands holding the book. If there was one positive thing she could get out of the whole silence she had been enduring with Harry the past couple of days, was that she was almost done with the book. She was disappointed however that she had yet to find anything remotely helpful. Nothing. How could she possibly cheer him up? Give him reasons to keep going if she had not found anything informational herself?

With frustration, Hermione tucked her book away and looked out to the loud brook just a few yards away. Her mind drifted back to those glorious days of summer. Who would've known those would be her last moments of happiness? The dips in the pond to cool off from the scorching weather, the laughter, the normalcy. It was those memories, more than anything that had kept her sane up to that point. The thought of having more days like those, more time with her friends, was her incentive to keep going despite all the misery. If only she could find the same reasons for Harry.

Harry held the Snitch above his head as it struggled in his grasp. It felt like a foreign object, those fun days of Quidditch were so far away that it felt like more than just a year had passed since the last time he had held one. Anxiously, he tried to see if he had missed something. It was not possible that the Snitch didn't fill some purpose. Surely, Dumbledore could not have been so cruel. Perseverance. That was the reason he had gotten the Snitch in the first place, according to his old mentor. He could still remember that day, his first match, the jinxed broom…the broom he had accused Snape of jinxing. What if he was just as wrong in judging Dumbledore as he had with Snape? Maybe he wasn't all-knowing and wise as he had thought. It had been enough to hear different versions of Dumbledore from other sources, Rita Skeeter, Ron's great aunt Muriel….now even his own mind was starting to doubt everything Dumbledore ever told him.

He clenched the snitch hard in his fists and felt the burning anger course through his veins. He flung the snitch to the opposite side of the tent before he rolled over in his bunk. As he curled up his knees into his chest, he felt the cold metal pressing into it. Harry held it hard in his hand, remembering the force with which it had clung to his chest earlier, with the Dementors. This time, he didn't want to part with the wretchedness and ire it brought him. He wanted to intensify it, maybe then he would finally crack, find his way out of his hell.

'It's useless' he found himself thinking. 'Everything would be better if I just…'

Harry shook his head as he fought the tears brimming in his eyes. The thought was horrible, but for the first time, he wondered why it had never crossed his mind before. Misery was all he had ever known. Voldemort had wanted him dead before he could walk. He loved his friends and would miss them horribly, but the idea was no longer just something he accepted, but now something he would welcome with open eyes. No more pain, no more fear…

He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that for once he would be able to drift off into a dreamless sleep. Though the possibilities, he knew were slim.

The next day Harry found himself lying in his bunk for hours. The only time he got up was when Hermione had caught some fish from the nearby brook. .. He felt horrible that he wasn't speaking to her. She had to feel helpless; Harry knew Hermione knew exactly what he was dreaming. A brilliant girl like her would not be easy to fool. Still, he couldn't tell her the terrible things he had seen been done to her in his dreams. He couldn't find it in him to say them because they were just too horrible. Even if he had the courage to tell her, what would it do? She would only tell him it was a dream, not reality. She would more than likely promise him that nothing would ever happen to her even though they both knew that such a promise was a joke. He would know, he had promised her that himself.

Soon after, he had promptly retreated into the cramped bathtub that was somehow still functioning. The scorching water was a welcoming sensation with the cold air trapped inside of the tent. Immediately he immersed himself inside seeking its delicious warmth. He closed his eyes, feeling as close to tranquil as he could hope to be. His muscles relaxed as he slid deeper into the bathtub. Vaguely, he felt the Horcrux latch itself tightly to his chest.

'This would be the perfect way to go' He heard a voice in his head say, disturbingly similar to his own.

'No pain, no mess…'

Harry inched lower into the bathtub, water framing his face. With one last look at the canvas ceiling, he submerged fully, eyes wide open. The warmth of the water forced his eyes to shut. Maybe it was better this way. Do Voldemort's job for him. It was selfish, sure it was. Yet he didn't feel bad about it. Would anyone blame him? Or would they be too angry that their savior took the easy way out? After all, all they really wanted of him was for him to destroy Voldemort. They didn't care that all his life he had known nothing but grief. They had no idea that his life in its entirety could not compare to the measly months of hell they had experienced thus far. They didn't care about Harry; they only cared about The Chosen One.

Only one person would probably understand his grim decision. Hermione. What would she think of him? Would she begrudge him for leaving her when she had never once left him? What a terrible way to repay her loyalty. He could only imagine the look on her face when she found him lying in a bathtub lifeless... It would haunt her for the rest of her life. He felt horrible, he couldn't do this to her. He wouldn't do this to her.

With great force Harry emerged from the water, gasping for the air he had so willingly given up just seconds ago. Through the soap and the wet hair that covered his eyes, he could see a small figure floating in front of him. The Golden Snitch. He grabbed the snitch again as it flew before him. This time, he willed himself to think of positive memories, the ones that had succeeded in taking him out of his severe depression after Sirius's death. The first day he met Hagrid was usually his first fond thought. Hagrid had been his savior, the hero that had taken him from his dreary life with the Dursleys. The day he got his wand was another, it was then for the first time that he realized that he hadn't just had a wonderful and very realistic dream. It was real. The wizarding world was real and so was Hogwarts. The thought alone of Hogwarts brought a smile to his face unlike any he had had during his whole time hiding. That was his home, the place he had built his amazing friendships. The place where he discovered he was finally good at something, there was a purpose to his existence.

He looked fondly at the snitch as he remembered his first-ever Quidditch match. He could still remember it vividly as if it had been just a day ago. He remembered the fear he felt before the match, which he had to admit far exceeded the fear he experienced when his broom went haywire. Out of all the catches he had made, he remembered the first one perfectly. He had nearly swallowed the snitch in his brave attempt to make a win for Gryffindor. As a first-year, he had had a lot to prove.

"Harry I just read-Oh my gosh!" said Hermione shielding her eyes behind a book as she walked past the bathroom. "I'm sorry I didn't-"

"It's okay." Harry reassured. "One moment."

"Oh it can wait till you're done." said Hermione shakily.

"I've taken long enough." Harry answered. "Hold on."

Harry swiftly got up and wrapped a clean white towel around his torso and walked out into his quarters. Hermione's back was facing him as she fidgeted with herself nervously.

"What were you going to say?" he asked. "What did you read?"

"Well, what I was going to say was…" she said turning around. "You're half-naked."

"That's what you read?" Harry teased.

"No, I'm stating that you're half-naked in a poorly insulated tent…in front of a girl." She said breathlessly. She hoped desperately her burning cheeks weren't as bright as she imagined them being.

"Oh come on you've seen me in swimming trunks." said Harry unabashedly.

"In the summer where it was okay." She admitted. "Please go put on something; you're going to catch your death!"

"Okay, okay!" Harry replied.

Hermione smiled as he disappeared to change. Her hormonal side was screaming in anger at what she had just done. She had sent a handsome half-naked boy to put on clothes that covered his great physique. She knew it was horrible- given the circumstances- that she had been objectifying Harry's body. Still, she was an eighteen-year-old girl who had been cooped up in a tent with her fancy for months. Her rational side did not understand this sadly, and for once Hermione wished it wasn't that side that controlled her.

"Better?" Harry asked wearing a grey sweatshirt and jeans.

"Loads." Hermione responded.

"So again, what were you saying?" Harry requested, towel drying his raven hair.

"I'm done with Beedle the bard." Hermione said simply.

"And what did you find?" Harry inquired nervously.

"Nothing." Hermione announced.

"Well, that's not surprising." Harry retorted sardonically.

"I did find something rather interesting though." Hermione confessed. "There's an image that keeps popping up."

"What I don't understand," she continued flustered. "Why it was drawn in. I've looked in all of my ancient runes books and nothing comes up."

"Let me see." Harry suggested.

Hermione flipped through the book eagerly and handed it to Harry when she found the page.

"I've seen this before!" he breathed.

"You have?" she asked shockingly.

"Yes, Luna's dad was wearing it at Fleur's wedding. Viktor was mad about it, kept saying it was Grindleward's symbol."

Hermione eyed him in confusion.

"Why would someone draw this in a children's book?" she asked dejectedly.

"I don't know" Harry shrugged.

Near his ear, he heard a whizzing sound. The Snitch was flying by him again.

"And this damned thing keeps flying at me." He added frustratingly.

"You sure there's not anything you've overlooked on it?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Hermione, I've been looking at it for days." Harry defended. "There's nothing there. It's just as useless as the rest of Dumbledore's rubbish."

Hermione looked at the Snitch curiously. At Harry's last words, it had become more agitated.

"They have flesh memories you know, Snitches." She explained.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, they remember the first person who ever touched them…I don't understand why nothing has happened. There must be a reason Dumbledore left it to you."

"You give him almost as much credit as you give me." Harry smirked.

"I know it's hard to keep the faith but…it's pretty much all we have." Hermione admitted.

"Hermione…I'm sorry I've been distant with you." He apologized genuinely. "It's just that…everything is finally catching up to me. It's too much."

"There's a saying that my mum always had." Hermione shared. "It's not uniquely hers but, 'it's always darkest before the dawn' has gotten me through a lot of things."

"Did you know I once contemplated ending my life?" she asked.

"What?" Harry blurted in shock.

"It was before Hogwarts." She began. "I was teased to no end. They called me a freak, a loser, and many other horrible things. I was always asking questions in class, sucking up to the teachers for extra credit and there was this one particular girl that made my life hell."

"I was just starting to really show signs of being a witch. Of course, I had no idea what I was doing or how I did it." She continued. "Needless to say, the other children started to notice strange things happen whenever I was around. Enter, Alana Reynolds. She was the leader of the bible club and started spreading rumors about me after I scored better than her on a test. One day, her whole club ganged on me and slammed me against a wall to cut my hair. The next day I went back and my hair had grown back and they started calling me a witch. I had no idea that I would one day be proud to be a witch. I was just a lonely ten-year-old girl who wanted to fit in."

"Then one day, after weeks of torment and ridicule, I decided to end it." She said tearfully. "My school uniform was going to do it. My school's tie particularly. It was very symbolic and of course, me being me, I chose it to be the most ironic thing. I had just tied my tie to the ceiling fan when I see an owl pecking at my window. That was the day I got my Hogwarts letter."

"Hogwarts saved you." Harry responded.

"Yes, and I was so happy that I would finally belong somewhere that I realized what a dark hole I had fallen into." Hermione breathed. "It took a long time to tell my mum, but when I did she told me that phrase. I had my dark and Hogwarts was my dawn. You just need to find yours."

Harry reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. He had never admired Hermione more. Her courage was breathtaking, she had been rightfully sorted and the realization that he was about to desert her just moments ago made him feel low and guilty. He had to make her proud. She was his Dawn.

"I think I'm on my way." He whispered.