Unofficial Portkey Archive

Boys Don't Cry

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. Only the plot.

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Well… From the reviews, it seems that I have upset quite a lot of you. I apologize. One of you said that, if I had planned for Hermione to die, then why lag it on or drag it on for as far as I did? Now I see that you have lost faith in me and my writing.

First of all, I promised a happy ending, and yes, you will receive just that. I don't think that a happy ending requires a dead Hermione, do you? I am sorry if you think I have led you on or have lied to you, but I must tell you that I never intended to let you down in any way. I really am sorry. But there is quite more to this story, and I must ask you to stick around. Because the sun also rises and shines, you know. It's not just gloom and doom in here, though it seems like it.

Some of you told me that you were confused, from the ending of the last chapter. Believe what you want; but this chapter will reveal Hermione's fate. I am sorry that in the beginning, I ramble on for so long and you think its nonsense. But I assure you that it does go somewhere.

More importantly, the dreams that Harry has been having; swimming in darkness, and all that, is just, well, it's from the Cure's `Just Like Heaven'. If you look in the song excerpt below, it says: Alone above a raging sea… That stole the only girl I love…and drowned her deep inside of me…. Well, that's why he's been having those dreams. Swimming in darkness, and all that stuff. I can't really explain it, but it just really made sense to me, to put in those dreams, after reading those beautiful lyrics (written by the brilliant Robert Smith). Well, I hope you bestow at least more faith in me and believe that I will provide a happy and fluffy ending for our favorite pair, because that's my only plan for this story. And no, this is not yet the end. Some people are asking me if it's the end… and I ask myself if I haven't made it clear enough. I assure you that when it is finally the end, you'll know. A few more chapters.

The file was too big (I don't even freaking know why; it was only 28 pages!) and so I couldn't load it onto Portkey. I had to divide it up into 2 parts. So, go to the next chapter after this!

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"…. Daylight licked me into shape

I must have been asleep for days

And moving lips to breathe her name

I opened up my eyes

And found myself alone

Alone

Alone above a raging sea

That stole the only girl I loved

And drowned her deep inside of me…."

--The Cure, Just Like Heaven

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Promise

There was a distinct and far sound, muffled and subdued. His body was tired and weak; he felt almost paralyzed. His energy was drained, and his thoughts carried no spark or fleck of protest or spirit. His soul seemed to be battered and torn to pieces.

He was swimming in a sweet, intoxicating and addicting darkness.

It was fluid and swayed gently but ever so powerfully that it carried his tall body with the current. It filled his mouth with a warm and inviting saccharine taste, and then slid down his throat to warm his aching lungs. It was silent, but it was a sort of silence that was expected and accepted dutifully without a care or objection.

He hadn't known this before. It was calm, and he was at peace.

But this wasn't the sort of peace he thought someday he might achieve. It was one that kept him trapped inside, one that kept him swimming in the darkness, never reaching the surface or nearing it. It was one that embraced him, not lovingly, but with sinister and mysterious intentions that he was too afraid to uncover.

He felt light, but he still felt that heavy burden that he had known for far too long. His heart was still functioning, beating, sending blood to course through his veins… but somehow, it made no difference.

His heart was beating, but he didn't know if he was alive.

There was a stinging pain deep inside him that made him want to think that he wasn't. It was the only sort of pain, the only sort of wound that the darkness could not soothe or swallow.

And it became stronger.

It throbbed with raw purpose, spreading and aiming farther, stabbing deeper. It was cold but it burned without mercy, as he felt himself double over in pain. He could feel his hand clutch his chest, eyes closed tightly, biting his tongue from crying out.

Just then, the peace and solitude he knew, vanished.

The current became stronger, fierce with jaws and hands that grabbed to crush him whole. The silence was replaced with a loud roaring and bellowing that made his ears ache. The darkness became darker, and the once sweet taste turned acidic and bile.

It filled his mouth and slid down his throat, leaving a smoldering trail. It filled and made his lungs crumble in pieces, making it impossible for him to breathe.

He unclenched his jaw and yelled out, but there was nothing. His shout was non-existent.

He felt his heart beating, faster and faster. Soon it was at such a rapid pace that it hurt. He could hear its booming beats, as if it were to detonate any second from inside him. His pulse was racing and his blood was so icy it seemed to pierce through the walls of his blood vessels.

Inside his eyelids, he saw swirls of color and slivers of trinket silver. He felt something rip and claw at his skin, tearing the flesh off of his bones.

He tried to call out again, but there was nothing.

Just then, he felt his heartbeats slow into a stifled pounding. He could feel everything fading away, the sensation of his surroundings growing fainter wrapping around him. The current had lost its sway and the acid, tart taste in his mouth and throat disappeared.

The harsh roaring was now a weak solace, but it seemed different than before.

He noticed the quick transition. It was like the winter thaw before spring. It made the atmosphere different, but it didn't take anything away at all.

He didn't feel the same cold bitterness, but instead a warm and welcoming one. He noticed how the sway had stopped for a moment, and was now rocking him gently.

But he still saw the same darkness.

Just then, he saw something start to appear or emerge from the darkness. It was a face, a beautiful and delicate face. One that was fit for hearty and melting brown eyes and a genuine and wide smile.

Little by little, the face became clearer. The features started to appear.

His heartbeats ceased as he saw who it was before him.

It was her.

She was smiling down on him, her deep brown eyes sparkling and glossy with tears. And he saw himself, asleep on a bed. His vision trailed down, and he found that she was holding his hand. The scene seemed to be playing before his eyes, though he was not sure if it was real or whether it was something his longing thoughts and imagination had created.

But he had felt it. That warmth, that sweet and gentle warmth that he could never miss or overlook. He had felt it trace against his palm and entwine with his fingers.

And it had felt real. He had felt her soft hands against his.

It had to be real.

But as he watched the scene with a vague familiarity, confusion mounded inside his mind and fought against his heart's protests.

He was watching her hold his hand, though he was asleep on the bed. How could he be here, seeing all of this?

He shook his head solemnly.

It couldn't be real. Though he didn't want to believe it, he knew he couldn't fool himself again.

It was just a dream.

Suddenly, he heard a whisper. His attention sharpened on the sight before him.

"Hermione?"

Something clicked inside of his mind, but it was formless and fuzzy. He could not place the strange familiarity of the scene and whispered words.

"I'm here, Harry. I'm right here."

Her voice was kind and gentle, and he felt his heart break from hearing her say those words.

It was a lie. She wasn't there. She was no longer by his side.

Dreams were ruthless and all they did was lie and give false hope.

It was not fair that he was still haunted by her and the accompanying pain in his dreams.

She was gone.

He didn't know how to face the rest of the world, or the rest of his life without her, but he knew he had to. He had to keep going.

But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay in this dreams forever, and just watch her. To just see her face, to just see her smile again. He didn't care if he ever woke up. Just as long as he didn't have to face the cold and harsh reality where she no longer held a place.

And it hurt, it did.

But she still held a place in his heart.

He could not make it vanish or disappear; if he had such a power he would use it to erase the pain and move on. He could not even try to soothe or help it heal.

He knew he would live on and it would still be the same; there would be no difference at all. She was still going to be there. In his heart, reminding him of the times when he was truly happy and content.

And maybe it would keep him bitter and cold. Maybe he would lock himself out of contact from the world that had stolen the only girl he loved away from him. But he knew better, though at times he insisted that he didn't. Sometimes he didn't want reasons, and sometimes he might just wanted to mourn over his loss and broken heart.

But he would still see her face. Her warm and laughing brown eyes that he would get lost in at times. Her smile and her soft laughter that he adored.

A memory. A place in his heart and a mere memory.

Is that really all he could offer?

But before he could try to search for such an answer, an overwhelming and deep feeling filled him. It was light but powerful, and it made his blood rush faster and his heart beat with fervor.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was plunged deeper inside the darkness. It was sort of like… falling. But there was no panic or frantic thoughts scattering in his mind. It was soothing and it felt better than anything else.

And so he gave in without resistance.

He fell.

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Harry opened his eyes, his eyelids still heavy. He could feel the dryness surrounding his eyes and he knew it was what was left from his tears from the night before.

He sighed, as he stared up at the blurry white, nude, ceiling above him.

It was still dark, just hours before the sun would rise. The curtains had been pulled over the windows, but he knew just what was waiting outside the Hogwarts grounds. He recognized the chill in the Hospital Wing enough to know that there was a light snowfall happening right at the moment.

He swallowed hard, trying to consume that dry and rough feeling in his throat.

He lay motionless, his gaze unwavering from the ceiling. His breaths were shallow and paced, his arms were completely still beside him. It was as if he was afraid to move. As if something was to pounce on him if he were to move an inch.

In his mind, there was a disturbing silence. But he saw things; he saw his memories playing before his eyes. It was heart breaking and painful, for they only reminded him of what he had and what he had lost, but he could never stop them if he tried.

He closed his eyes slowly.

His body was weak, tired. He felt as if his limbs were far too heavy to lift or move. His heartbeats were only occasional, a faint thud now and then. In his head there was a gentle lullaby playing that seemed to be fading with every tick the clock sounded.

He refused to think about what had happened, but he had no choice.

He knew that Dumbledore had enacted some sort of spell on him. And he wasn't bitter or angry about it at all. The spell had relieved him and made all the agony and pain vanish. Seeing her there, lifeless on one of the pure white Hospital Wing's beds, was something that made him lose his control and made him hurt more than he could have ever imagined.

She was gone.

And though he didn't want to believe it, a small part of him did just that.

He felt weak, small and defeated.

He had lost.

He didn't want to think about his life. He didn't want to think what was to happen after he left this room, or after he left Hogwarts. It was too much to bear. He didn't want to think about how he would be without her, or how the silence and emptiness of a small room could break him down and make him fall to his knees. He did not want to think about how he would think about her everyday, or the fact that his heart would never be mended.

He didn't want to think about the pain reminiscing would bring to him when he thought of her. He wanted to lock away all of his memories, clear his mind.

He knew he would never be able to move on if the thought of her still opened up new wounds, and stabbed into the old ones. He knew it would keep and hold him back. It would keep him underneath the same storm clouds; keep him living in the same painful past.

He didn't want to let go.

He hadn't wanted to lose hope.

But he knew that there were times where life didn't give choices. It shoved one choice in your way, and that was all you could make do with. He knew that life wasn't fair and that people lost people who were too pure and innocent. He knew that sometimes death took the ones who didn't deserve to go.

He knew all this.

He could accept it.

But it stuck white-hot daggers through his heart and pierced through his weary body, and he found himself turning away from it, stubbornly.

He wondered when the world had become such a place like this. Where no one was ever safe when they thought they finally were, and where wickedness could overcome a heart in good. He wondered why revenge became so important and he wondered how revenge could blind a person and everything and anything else didn't matter anymore. He wondered when the world became cruel and heartless, where people lost their love to the shadows of death and evil. He wondered why the world no longer held a shining torch for hope.

And maybe he had seen and known this all before. Maybe he had accepted it and maybe he had never questioned it. But somehow, thinking about it now, staring up at the colorless ceiling, he had a different view. He used to think he was just an onlooker, a bystander who saw all these things and tried to put a stop to them. But he had lost a person close to his heart, and he didn't know if he was just a spectator anymore. A passerby who had seen such things could have never felt such pain, such heartbreak, such loss. It was different. Everything was different.

And Harry didn't know if he could speak about such things to anyone, or voice them into the silent air surrounding him. Maybe over time, maybe if he lost himself enough to push the pain away. Maybe if he found another love. But he found it unspeakable, for the time being. He was voiceless on the matter. Whether he chose to be, or he just was, he didn't know. All he knew was that the pain was just too sacred and deeper than he or any person could ever imagine. He was just afraid that if he were ever to speak about such a thing, he would lose or run out of words. It was indescribable. There just weren't enough words.

Harry opened his eyes, and was met with the same sight. It was still silent in the infirmary, besides his rhythmic shallow breaths. Gloom and a faint sadness drifted about in the air, though he was positive one who didn't know what recent events that had happened here could never tell the difference. The walls had ears, the ceiling had eyes, the room alone had so many secrets to tell to those who would listen.

Harry sighed inaudibly, the blank sight he was gazing upon becoming blurry. His eyes stung with familiar warmth. He could feel his lungs start to ache, his heart start to thrash and call out.

Things just weren't the same. They were so different. Things were so sad, so serious, so silent. This wasn't where he wanted to be. The silence allowed memories and reminiscing. The silence allowed him to dwell upon what had happened. The silence allowed him pain, and nothing else.

He wanted an escape.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to convince himself this was some dream, or nightmare that he would wake up from soon enough. But as he opened his eyes, he was met with the same sight. He felt the warmth escape from his eyes and slide down his face, colliding with the coldness of his skin. He couldn't help but give out a ragged and deep sigh, as he closed his eyes again.

He felt it building up inside him, inside his chest, inside his lungs, inside his heart. That same burning, creeping up inside his flesh and tearing at his organs. His lungs became hot and compacted, and he couldn't breathe in any more than he could breathe out. It was a painful, internal suffocation. Somehow he knew this feeling once before, but it was much more stronger now.

Harry wiped his eyes and willed himself up. He pressed his hands against the mattress and sheets of the bed, as he sat up on the bed. He found his vision weary and unclear, even with the tears, as he reached over for his glasses. He put it on slowly, but without hesitation, as he sighed again and looked around.

There were faint shadows shading the walls and parts of the floors, like marked territories. He looked beside him, and he found the beds neat and tidy, the blankets clean and unwrinkled. The pillows were fluffed and kept. But as he turned his head in the opposite direction, he found himself looking at a sleeping boy. Harry slightly smiled, as he saw familiar ginger hair peeking out from the pale sheets. And then he turned his gaze right across from his bed, to the row of beds in front of him. His smile vanished and his gaze dimmed, as he saw that they hadn't sent her body elsewhere overnight.

With a heavy heart, he got up from his bed and walked over to her bed quietly.

He pulled up a chair beside her bed, and leaned forward, his elbows propped on the bed, as he reached for her hand. He enclosed his hands around it, slowly, before he entwined his fingers with hers. He watched his actions, trying to memorize the feel of her smooth, creamy skin with his. Something inside told him that there was something different, but he ignored it and shoved it in the dark corners of his mind.

His eyes trailed up her arm, still in her crimson dress robes, as they finally landed on her face. He felt his eyes sting again, as his heart became heavier and heavier.

She had the face of an angel. Calm, peaceful, kind, and beautiful in a way that he could never describe in words.

His memories returned, this time vivid and detailed, as if he was reliving it all over again. He saw her again, at the ball, the way he had gotten lost in her eyes and the way the world and their other peers had vanished in a matter of seconds. He remembered the warmth that had trickled up his body, holding her in his arms again. She had looked so beautiful that he had known he had to try again, just try to make her understand that he couldn't be without her.

He saw her, her face streaked with tears and her eyes hurt, and pleading for his reasonableness to return. He remembered the way she had cried onto his chest, the way her tears had soaked through his robes and shirt, sticking to his skin. He remembered the way she clung onto him so tightly and firmly, never wanting to let him leave. And he remembered not wanting to leave. He remembered wanting to confess to her, pour out what was burdening his heart, what had kept it too heavy all through these years. He wanted to let her know that he would do whatever it took to come back for her, he would do whatever it took to come back and be with her.

He loved her.

But he loved her too much to tell her.

He remembered the way he held her, and his heart ached; all he wanted was to hold her again. All he wanted was to see her smile; all he wanted was to hear her voice. All he wanted, in this world, was to be able to live with the only girl he had loved all these years. All he wanted, was to be happy.

He heard it in his ears, once again. The way her voice was so soft and gentle, so fragile and delicate. He remembered how it shook from her tears, but how it was so honest and strong. He remembered when she had told him that she loved him.

Harry bowed his head forward, holding her hand tightly between his. The tears were leaking out, slipping out from his eyes with so much ease. His heart was so heavy, still so burdened. He could feel the bittersweet drops slide down his face. He could taste it in his mouth. Salty, translucent as it seemed. It tasted of sadness and pain, sorrow and loss. Heartbreak. Lost love. Broken love.

He had tried to be strong. He had tried to overcome every obstacle: leaving her, fighting Voldemort, returning. He had tried to overcome every single problem without letting his heart fall in pieces and ruin to the pit of his stomach. He had tried to be strong.

For her. It was all for her.

He had to be strong for her.

He had always tried to keep the tears back, to keep it from slipping out though at times it hurt too much to bear. He had done just that. At times when he was weak and he needed reassurance but there was none to be found, he had kept it inside. When he had to leave his heart behind with his cloud of doubt growing stronger with each second, he had kept it in.

But this… this, was just something that had taken him and broken him whole.

It broke his spirit, his faith, his hope, his heart. His thoughts were useless and now they were aged and weary. His hope had been blown out like a single, flickering and weak candle in a dark room. His faith had been carried away into the tide of the lost. His heart… his heart.

His heart was where she was. His heart was with her.

His heart, no matter what she thought, was and always had been in her hands. He had given it to her completely so long ago, that he had almost forgotten. Over time, he came to rely on her, like the oxygen he needed to inhale every moment. She was vital, she was important.

He never found it unusual, or awkward.

He remembered there were times when they would just sit alone, staring up at the sky in the Astronomy Tower. He remembered the sky would paint itself blushing and soft pinks, striking oranges and brilliant yellows. And he remembered looking at her, watching the way her eyes lit up and sparkled, and the way her mouth would be pulled into the most breath taking and beautiful smile he had ever seen.

He came to thinking this was all he needed. It was what he lived for.

Her smile.

It was enough. It was just enough, no questions at all.

He remembered thinking about it, those late nights when he could not sleep. He didn't remember realizing when he had fallen in love with her, or when he had started to love her, but it seemed as if he had always loved her.

And each day, every moment, every breath he would let out and back in his body, it would get stronger.

He knew nothing else. He didn't know, he couldn't imagine not loving her the way he did. It was just there, scarred into his soul and imprinted onto his heart. He knew nothing different.

He remembered thinking that he could never leave her, but he did. He remembered vowing never to let her in harm's way, but… she was. She was. Because of him. Just because of him.

He felt the pain increase inside of him, and soon the silent air about in the Hospital Wing was disturbed. It seemed as if the walls were listening attentively, the ceiling looking down on him sympathetically. But the silence was broken by the sounds of the sobs of a boy, who had done his best never to cry, but had lost. The pain was too great, the loss too immense.

Boys don't cry, he told himself. He had told himself so many times before.

But it didn't matter now. It didn't matter at all. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted was for the pain to end; all he wanted was something to calm him. He wanted her back. He just didn't understand.

What had he done? What had he done to lose her? Why did he have to lose her?

The questions echoed inside his mind, as his body shook and heaved from his sobs. The tears continued to fall easily, without objection. He still held her hand, but now his hands were burning, his skin seemed to be ablaze. He did not bother to wipe away his tears, or dare try to hide it.

The silence was broken.

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Go on to the next chapter!!!! I had to cut this chapter in half because it was too big to upload.

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