Unofficial Portkey Archive

Boys Don't Cry

Disclaimer: once again, I do not own any of the characters except Matthew. And the plot. That's all I own; Matthew and the plot!

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Well… are you itching to get on already?

I have received quite an astounding amount of reviews complaining/remarking about the enormous amounts of angst in this piece of fiction. And they say that they are only reading on because I guaranteed a happy ending. And, I did promise you a happy ending for our favorite couple, and I never back out on my word. So, just stay tuned.

I am sorry if you can't take it, but inarticulate and blind that I am, I do not see so much angst. I'm sorry for stomping all over Harry; I really don't mean to. I love Harry, you know that. But well, the suspense and dramatic or whatever stuff is coming next, you know the stuff before the ending. Like, revelation and a death thing.

Darn it! There I go again, stupid wretched author notes!!

Okay, so here it is. I'm sorry again for the horrendous amount of angst, but I must ask you to stay tuned. In this chapter… voila! Hermione explains her reason! And I'll bet you that you won't call her so unreasonable and stupid anymore!!

Please don't forget to review! I might not put up the next part if you don't!!

Sorry for this long author's note. Well, what are you waiting for? Get reading!

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Downfall- Part Two

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The ball was to be held in a different location, one sited in the back of Hogwarts that Harry was certain that none of the students had ever ventured into. Dumbledore had announced that it was to be held there, because if all the years were to attend there would simply be no room to fit all of the students-let alone let them have some room to dance. It was confusing, but the Portraits knew the way like their own painting, and finding his way there was no problem at all. The corridors had been scattered with people, students ranging from first to seventh year, all in their most fancy and nicest dress robes. Harry watched, solemnly, the couple in front of him.

Their hands were entwined, and they were laughing and talking, smiling like they were the happiest people in both the Wizarding and Non-Wizarding World. He watched them, their eyes twinkling and the edges of their mouths turned up into a wide and pure grin. He felt a heavy and dark shadow eclipse his heart, as he tore his gaze away and looked past them. Looking at them only reminded him of what he could've had, now.

Of who he could've had, holding hands or linking arms with. Of who he could be laughing and smiling, and being happy with.

And what he had now. Nothing.

Of who he had now. No one.

He made his way through the corridor, silent, and tuning away from the world. He was quite a bit late, despite his efforts to make it in time, or even a little early. Ron had pestered him in looking his best, and then they all threatened him with their wands to try to have a good time and… smile. As if he wasn't weary and tired of pretending any less.

Ron and the others had gone before him, while Harry was left all alone in the Boy's dormitories, after he had insisted for them to go. He told them that he needed to be alone for a bit, and after hesitating and making him swear he wouldn't chicken out and hide in there all evening, they had finally managed to unglue the soles of their feet and walk out the door.

Harry remembered the cold silence, as he muttered the spell for the lights and instantly, the lights flickered off. He sat there, his head buried in his hands, in the darkness.

He had wondered to himself how he was going to live through this. Through seeing her, beautiful as can be, he knew, without feeling his heart breaking again. Through holding her, and getting reminded that she was not his.

Through looking into her eyes and trying to prevent those three words from escaping his lips.

He sighed inwardly, as he felt his heart crumble again, little by little and bit by bit, as he neared the entrance to the room. He watched as the couple disappeared inside as the door opened, as Dumbledore had enchanted the entryway so that there was no accidents or any chance of anyone getting locked out, for some reason.

Harry reached the deep mahogany doors that towered above him, shiny and polished to look so magnificent and inviting. He waited, as he heard the excited and eager chatter of the people behind him. Finally, the doors opened and even he could not suppress a look of awe.

He walked in; his mouth had dropped open, his eyes wide with surprise and delight. His gaze roamed the enormous room, his eyes disbelieving. Dumbledore was right; the Great Hall was no comparison to this. In Harry's eyes, the Great Hall would've been seen as puny and feeble… No place to really hold a ball for all the years and houses.

The walls sparkled with a tint of a heavenly and soft gold, glittering and sparkling ever so faintly. There were tall and big windows that hovered above them, exposing the light snowfall and dark sky. The shiny floors swirled with a deepness that he had never seen before, as he looked down beneath his feet. There were tables scattered around the room, with levitating candles the color of faded sunlight and a skinny vase of a beautiful dark blue flower that swayed along to the melody of the soft music. The ceiling was enchanted to look just like the sky outside, but as Harry turned slowly, his head craned up, he began to see the sky vanish. Instead, faint golden clouds seemed to appear, with glorious sunlight peeping through. It reminded him precisely of…

A slow and faint smile spread across Harry's features.

…Heaven.

And that's when he saw it. Angels. Smiling down on him, peering through the clouds. Their hair was the purest and most magnificent gold, their wings the purest white he had ever seen. He felt an odd feeling in his heart, staring up at the ceiling that towered above them. Something like happiness… though he was not completely sure.

"Harry?" He looked in the direction of the voice, and found their Headmaster in front of him, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles and a smile gracing his face. Harry smiled at him.

"Headmaster," he said.

"Care to share with me your thoughts about the location of the ball? It would be most appreciated."

"It's magnificent," Harry said, honestly. "Truly stunning. I can't… I don't think I can put it into anymore words. I really didn't need… all this." Dumbledore chuckled quietly.

"Very well, then. I'm glad you find it fitting to your accomplishments."

"Really, Professor. It's too much," Harry said, quite embarrassed.

"Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "You've defeated the most feared and lethal wizard of our time. This," he motioned to the room, "is not nearly enough to express our gratitude."

"You helped too. Somehow there's got to be some thank you in here for you."

"Ah," Dumbledore's sapphire eyes danced, " looking around and seeing all the students as happy as can be… That's all I need, Harry. That's all the thank you I could ever possibly need." He smiled down at him, before looking around the room once again. "Well, I must be off," he said. "I still have my duties, and I've got to alert and speak with the other Professors."

Harry opened his mouth, but just then, another thought appeared in his mind. It bolted through him and out his mouth before he could think twice.

"But Professor," Harry suddenly said. "What about Matthew?" Dumbledore froze as Harry uttered Matthew's name. His eyes suddenly dimmed only so slightly that Harry would've missed it if he were not being so aware at the moment. "I mean," Harry explained further, "I saw him enter the Great Hall earlier today, and I couldn't help but wonder why he was…" Harry faltered, as he fought over his selection of words, "…here."

"Well, he is part of the Order, and he is around your age, Harry. I wanted to give him the experience of being a part of Hogwarts and seeing one of the biggest balls of our time. He has helped, and it would only be too rude if our gratitude remained unsaid."

"Oh," Harry said, weakly. "But why is it that he only came today? Why didn't he arrive with us?" Harry noticed, this time, that Dumbledore's eyes darkened deeper.

"He was to arrive with both you and Ms. Granger," he said. "But there were some… difficulties, with his apparation into Hogwarts."

"What sort of difficulties?" Harry asked quickly, his curiosity building immensely.

"I am sorry, Harry, but I'm afraid I must go," Dumbledore said.

"But-"

"I hope you have a splendid time. And by the way, have you seen Ms. Granger? The ball is to start in about seven minutes." And with a final smile, Dumbledore left, leaving Harry to stare after him, with more questions flooding his mind.

Harry had noticed the affect of his questions about Matthew, and the faint hesitation. There was something that he was clearly hiding from him… But what?

"Harry!" he felt someone slap his shoulder. He turned, and was met with a beaming Ron. "Glad you made it, mate."

"I said I would, Ron…" Harry peered behind him. "Where's Luna?"

"Oh," he said, still smiling. "She's over at our table, talking with Ginny and the other girls." Harry nodded. Ron looked around the vast room, apparently searching for someone.

"Hermione's not down yet?" Harry shook his head, a fake smile plastered on his face.

"No. I haven't seen her yet."

"That's odd. She's late. She's never late for anything. Even, considering the circumstances, but still… That's not very likely of her to be late for anything."

"It's not very likely of her to stay locked up in her dormitory all day, either," Harry said, shortly. He had felt a certain flare or spark when Ron had remarked about the way things were. Ron looked at him, sympathetic.

"Yeah. It isn't," he said quietly. "But listen, Harry, she's coming to the ball, I know it for sure. Lavender and Ginny said that they spoke to her, and they helped her get ready, so… I'm pretty sure they also threatened her… But I don't have a clue how that could work, since Hermione probably knows more spells and hexes than the two of them could muster together in all…"

"That's good," Harry said, "to know, I mean. That she's coming." Ron laughed softly.

"Well, there's a table right next to mine and Luna's," Ron said, turning towards the direction of his date. "I'd beg you to sit there, but since I haven't asked yet, I'll ask first. Harry, would you sit in the table next to ours, in case anything goes wrong and I might need saving?" Ron seemed flustered, and Harry couldn't hide his smile.

"Sure, Ron. I'd be honored to save you, if anything does go wrong." Ron grinned, as Lavender pointed at him from across the room, and Luna turned and smiled.

"Thanks, Harry. I think I'm going to really need it." Harry smiled widely, at the way Luna's eyes twinkled and how widely she smiled at his friend.

"No. I don't think you are, Ron," he said.

ooooooooo

Harry watched as the couples got up and made their way to the dance floor. The center of the room was saved and empty specifically for it, as he watched dozens of people twirl their dance partners round, smiling and laughing.

There were swirls of colors, as the music became faster. There were vibrant reds, sapphire blues, soft golds, bright yellows, royal purples and deep emeralds. In the mixture, there were also soft and light pastels, ranging from blushing pinks to fading sky blues.

He watched as Ron offered a dance to his date, and stood as he held out his hand. Luna gladly accepted, and Ron flashed him a nervous but happy smile as they walked to the dance floor. Harry smiled back at him weakly, though he really was happy for his friend.

He watched as Ron bowed to her and she curtsied back, giggling, and they started their dance.

He watched, making sure to smile every time Ron would look past her and grin at him, though that became rare as they continued to dance. Suddenly, he saw a glimpse of curly russet hair, as his heart started beating faster, but was only let down at his disappointment to see that it was not Hermione. He sighed silently, closing his eyes for a moment.

He was weary, though he had done no manual labor whatsoever. He had gotten a fair amount of sleep, in his opinion, about four hours, which was the most he had had since the battle. But he knew that it was not his body that was weary and tired so that it lagged and walked about so heavily, but his heart.

She had not arrived yet. And it was about an hour and a half into the ball. He had seen the sympathetic and worried glances that his fellow housemates and professors had sent his way, as he merely turned away and ignored the sorry looks. It was obvious to him that they knew that she was not coming, though Dumbledore had smiled at him and told him she was. It seemed that their Headmaster was the only one who held no doubt at her arrival.

Harry was also beginning to doubt that she was coming at all.

Though a part of him nagged and scolded him for being so faithless and so distrusting of Hermione, he couldn't help it. Lately, doubt and hopelessness seemed to overshadow everything positive and light too easily. Like the feeling of weakness and defeat. This time, it brought him down.

He did not like the fact that they all felt sorry for Harry Potter, waiting for the girl he loved and was stood up. He did not like the looks they gave him. He did not like sitting all by himself, watching as his fellow peers had the time of their lives.

He wanted to simply stand up and leave. It was clear that she was not coming. What was he still here for? It was for him, this ball, sure he knew that, but somehow, it did not make a difference. Maybe they could find someone else to do the honor dance, like perhaps Matthew. After all, they wanted to show their gratitude for his help, just like Dumbledore had said.

Without another thought, Harry stood up from his seat. He didn't meet anyone's eye as the chair pushed itself in and he made his way through the crowd and tables. He could hear them whisper about him, feel them send curious glances his way, but he didn't care. He wanted to be alone, away from the happiness that the others seemed to be enduring… The happiness he couldn't have.

He made his way to the doors, mumbling a quiet "Excuse me," as he passed through them. But just as he was right in front of the door, and was about to reach for its golden and sparkling handle, he heard a familiar voice that made him freeze.

"You know, that door won't open. Dumbledore charmed it so that it won't let you or Hermione out until the ball's done." Harry looked at the handle and his still bandaged hand that hovered above it, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes hard and puzzled.

"Remus?" he whispered to himself, as he heard a laugh. He turned slowly, and was met with the sight of a happy and much cleaner Remus Lupin. Harry broke into a grin.

"You're here!" he exclaimed. "You didn't tell me you were coming!" Remus chuckled, dressed in dark black dress robes and his hair kept and fixed.

"I didn't know either, until about two hours ago, from an owl that Dumbledore had forgotten to send our invitations!" his laugh was hearty and full, and Harry had never seen his eyes twinkle so brightly. "But, we made it in time. All of us. From the Order," he pointed as he turned, and Harry saw them. He smiled, as they waved. "Molly's here, too," he pointed out, as he saw a much older Witch with shockingly red hair. She turned and smiled at him, as Harry waved happily. "I hope-" Remus looked out into the dance floor as he halted his words. "Oh look. Poor Ron has spotted his mother. It doesn't help to be frozen on the dance floor, especially if you're with a date." Harry laughed, as he saw what Remus was talking about. Ron was standing there, frozen with horror, mouth hanging open, looking at his mother. Luna was tugging at his arm, giggling, insisting that he introduce them.

"This is fantastic!" Harry said, looking back at Remus. Remus was smiling down at him, happiness drawn all over his face.

"Now, Harry, about those doors… Dumbledore explained to me earlier that he suspected that one of you might try to leave, so he charmed them. Sorry."

"Remus, maybe he didn't think about the fact that my partner for the Honor dance might not intend on coming, and that the best way to save humiliation and embarrassment is to flee."

"Now, Harry, you cannot leave. Just choose another lucky lady here tonight. This ball was intended for you, in your honor."

"But I don't want to choose anyone else. I wasn't even the one to choose Hermione for the dance. I just… I hate it that people are looking at me like that," he said, as he glared another girl that passed by, giving him a pitiful look. Remus laughed.

"Don't be so sure she won't show up, Harry. And besides, what would this ball be without an Honor dance? And without the Hero?"

"Maybe you could ask Matthew," Harry said, coldly. Remus looked at him disappointedly, as he sighed.

"I sense a bit of cold feeling for him, then?"

"You could say so," Harry said. Remus nodded, as he looked up. He was about to say something to Harry when Dumbledore appeared before them.

"Remus!" Dumbledore smiled. "Glad you could make it!"

"Glad you remembered to invite us at the last minute," he winked. They laughed, as Dumbledore looked behind them, at the doors.

"Planning to leave so soon, Harry?" he asked him, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Don't think I can, Headmaster," Harry said. "The doors are charmed to keep individuals like myself imprisoned inside, apparently." Dumbledore chuckled.

"So, Remus told you my secret, did he?"

"I had to," Remus said. "I don't want him to start a fight with the doors. Even a simple `Alohomora' couldn't open those things." Dumbledore nodded.

"Harry, would you excuse us? I believe Remus and myself have a bit of catching up to do." Harry nodded. " But, I must inform you that the Honor dance is in about a few minutes. I suggest you keep an eye out for Ms. Granger." And with that, they left. Harry sighed, feeling a bit of frost layer inside him at his Headmaster's words. He looked around, peering past the couples and the dance floor.

He could've looked and looked, but that would've been already too useless.

She was not here.

She wasn't coming.

Harry walked over to his table and sat down, bowing his head slightly. Who could he choose for the dance? He wasn't the even slightly interested in anyone else. He looked up, and watched as Ron and Luna had started dancing again, and across from them, a beaming Mrs. Weasley watching them.

"Harry?" he looked up to see Ginny, in soft jade robes. He smiled at her weakly.

"Hey Ginny." She nodded at him.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked, and Harry shook his head, as she sat down in front of him.

"Where's Neville?" he asked.

"Talking a bit with Seamus and Dean," she said.

"Having a good time?" Harry asked, without any curiosity at all.

"The best," she replied. There was silence, as he stared out at the swirls of colors and smiling faces. "Harry…" she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know what came over me."

Harry kept silent, his gaze unwavering at the crowd. He did harbor some little, rather cold, feelings towards Ginny now, but they were enough to keep him so bitter. He just couldn't get the image of Hermione's face in the Hospital Wing that night.

"I… I'm really sorry, about Hermione. And I understand that you're upset with me right at this moment, and you have every reason to be, but I just wanted to let you know that… well, Hermione… She's coming." Harry couldn't help but snort at this comment. "She is," Ginny insisted. "I talked to her, in the dormitories… And she swore to me, Harry. She swore that she was coming." Harry turned to her, his gaze sharp and cold. " I promise," she said, "that she's going to come. I'm giving you my word."

"I think there's already been too many broken promises over these past few weeks, thank you," he replied harshly. Ginny looked at him, sadly.

"Don't be so faithless, Harry. I know these past few weeks have been hard, and you've gone through a lot… But don't give up on Hermione. Not yet."

"Funny," he said, his words dripping with malice and anger, "the last time I checked, she was the one who gave up on me first." Ginny stayed silent, looking away, obviously hurt by his remarks. Finally, she stood up. She looked down on him.

"I'm sorry. I do hope you accept my deepest apologies. But…" she continued on, in a whisper that only he could hear, "she's coming. She is. You'll see." Then she turned and walked away without looking back. Harry sighed, looking away towards the door, once again. He wondered if he should believe her. Everyone seemed to tell him that she was, in fact, coming. It seemed as if everyone knew, except him.

A part of him wanted to believe them.

The other part had already lost all hope since then, and was not willing to fight for it all back anymore.

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It was only minutes later that Dumbledore requested for their complete attention. Harry could feel his heartbeats dull into a pounding noise that sounded as if he was underwater as everyone quieted down, their eyes on their joyful Headmaster.

"Now, you all know why we're holding this ball, do you not?" he asked.

"We do," the students' voices chimed. Dumbledore nodded, as he continued.

"In honor of the defeat of the most feared, murderous and lethal Wizard in the Wizarding World," he said, "and in honor of the young man that defeated him. For bravery and all the courage any Wizard can muster, and risking his very own life… Please, give a hand for Hogwarts's own Harry Potter!" The vast room rang with applause and cheers, as they all turned to him, smiling and swinging their fists in the air. Harry smiled, weakly. Even the Professors had stood up, clapping.

"Thank you," he said, though he knew that no one heard.

"Stand up, Harry!" he heard someone shout. When he didn't, more insistence came, and so he finally did. He bowed slightly, thanking them. Finally, the appreciation and applause died down, as Dumbledore called for their attention once again.

"And now, it is time for Mr. Harry Potter's own dance," he winked, "the one and only Honor dance." There were whispers, as Harry could feel his heartbeats become louder again. "Please clear the floor," Dumbledore requested.

Slowly, people cleared the dance floor, but gathered around it; eager to see just who he would choose.

"Mr. Potter, if you please," Dumbledore motioned. Nervous and full of hesitation, Harry nodded and made his way to the middle, people clearing out of his way. As he reached the center, he sighed inwardly and turned. He looked through the crowd, searching their faces. His heart seemed to have climbed into his throat, and then into his ears, as the thuds were thunderous. He could see every girl's face etched with anticipation and excitement.

But as he was looking through the big crowd, he heard a gasp and loud chatter start to erupt. It spread through the hall like a wildfire, as people started peering to see what had happened. Even Harry himself, as he turned his attention towards the doors, where all the raucous was coming from. He watched, as people's eyes widened, and they cleared out of the way. And suddenly, he saw Ginny, beaming at him with such pride and happiness.

"Told you so," she mouthed to him, and Harry felt his heart stop as he looked over to where people were clearing away. It seemed as if time was going too dreadfully slow, as his throat became rough and dry, his hands clammy. His heart was about to leap out of his chest, its attempts to swing and jump out making his body shake.

And that's when he saw her.

She had come.

She had really come.

He felt his mouth caught between a gape and a smile, watching her as she stepped out, in front of the crowd. He heard gasps and whispers around the room become louder, as Harry felt his heart suddenly melt and his happiness, longing and love for her, eat him whole. His head felt light, standing there, taking in the sight of her.

She was smiling, and he had never thought she looked so beautiful. He was not sure if he was breathing any longer, as the sounds of the whispers died in his ears. His body felt frozen and rooted to the ground, but they were pushing him to walk towards her, to hold her in his arms. To tell her that she had never looked so beautiful than tonight. To tell her that he loved her.

To thank and apologize to her, all at the same time.

He felt as if he was swimming in deep water, the sweet and drowning water filling his mouth and invading his senses. His nerves were buzzing with intense feeling, his fingertips humming and his heart pounding so loudly that he wondered if everyone else could hear it too. He could feel his body throb along with his pulse.

"Merlin," he whispered to himself, wondering how he had ever made his mouth to move and cooperate. "She's beautiful."

But he didn't even agree with the world beautiful. She exceeded the word; he didn't even think there was a word to describe her. Heavenly. Like the queen of Angels. He had never seen anyone so stunning and breathtaking. He had forgotten to breathe.

When he saw her, all his thoughts seemed to cease at once. Everything, his worries, his doubt, his bitterness… Everything faded except him and her. The fact that she was here, and that she looked so beautiful he was not sure he could ever let go of her after the dance.

Or ever, he remembered.

He had never wanted to let go.

She stood there, her pink lips turned up in an embarrassed and weak smile, her cheeks flushing from all the attention she was getting. Her auburn hair graced her face in soft and shiny, tamed curls that ran past her shoulders. She had a charming small hair clip of black diamonds that pushed her hair back on one side of her face. She was wearing sophisticated and striking scarlet dress robes that turned into a deeper shade of crimson as it reached her feet, making her deep brown eyes stand out. And gracing her delicate neck was a mere silver necklace, with a midnight pendant. She smiled at him uncertainly.

It was simple, but he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

Without another thought, and a grin that he could not suppress any longer, he walked towards her. He was looking into her eyes, as he watched her gaze follow him as he drew nearer and nearer, until he was just a small two feet away from her. He tried to make his breaths shallow and compose himself, but seeing her this way… The thought of holding her again, if only for one measly dance…

He wanted nothing else in the world, at the moment.

He held out his hand to her, smiling, his jade eyes twinkling. He bowed his head slightly, as he felt each and every person's eyes on the both of them.

"Hermione," he said, quietly, still grinning. "Would you grace me with this dance this evening?" He felt his heart stop as a wide smile began to spread across her face, as she placed her hand atop of his. His bandaged hand enclosed gently around her small and soft hand, as she curtsied.

"It would be an honor," she quietly said to him, and his grin became wider. They walked to the middle of the dance floor, the shiny and enchanted ground swirling beneath them. Harry looked into her eyes intently, as their other hands met and he laid his hand on her waist. She smiled at him nervously, as soft and slow music began to play and they started to dance.

As they started moving to the music and moments passed, Harry was no longer aware of his surroundings. Thoughts of anything else at all seemed to slip from his mind, the sensation of her drowning, pure and honest eyes seeping into him. The world seemed to have faded away immediately, staring into her eyes and holding her close. The noise and their eyes trailing them were non-existent.

For once, as the many times before, he had fallen into another world. Where there was only he and Hermione. Nothing else mattered, nothing else could interfere. He saw nothing else but her, and that deep look in her eyes.

He was lost. In the feeling of being close to her again, of holding her, of the fact that she was letting him look into her eyes again.

And that was when he saw. That was when he knew.

He saw that same warmth, that same hope.

He saw Hermione. The same Hermione he had kissed, the same Hermione who had told him that she loved him. The same Hermione he had fitted that same hat on. The same Hermione that he loved.

He had not lost her.

He had never lost her.

"Hermione," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "I miss you." Suddenly, as if he had pushed Hermione out of the trance they had both been in, her eyes darkened, and she looked away. She did not respond, and Harry tightened his hold on her. "Hermione?"

She closed her eyes, and Harry felt his heart fall. He tried to swallow hard, but his throat was rough and hoarse.

"Harry," she whispered. "I came here for you. Because we were to share this dance together. It was a plan. Nothing else, Harry." Harry felt his heart split with a splintering shatter.

"I… that's not true," he said to her, his voice severing. Her words chimed in his head, taunting him.

"There can't be anything else, Harry, you have to understand," she said.

"I can't understand," he said, his anger making its rise once again, "if you're not telling me the whole story." Hermione kept her eyes down.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm bloody talking about, Hermione!" he said, his voice rising. He could see her wince.

"Harry, please," she pleaded.

"Hermione, you're keeping me away for a reason. I know that. But you won't tell me why, or what that damn reason is. And I just want to understand! You beg me to understand, but you're not specifying exactly what!"

"Harry, stop it," she said, looking up at him with an angry look in her eyes. Tears were starting to form in them. "Stop it right now. Don't do this. Don't ruin it."

"Ruin what?" he suddenly shouted. Suddenly, he was sucked out of their world and that hypnotizing trance. He had crashed back into reality again, as he realized that they were no longer the only ones on the dance floor. They halted their dancing, as Hermione stepped away from his grasp. Everyone had also stopped their dancing also, looking over at them to see what had happened. Hermione had a scared and dark look in her eyes.

"Ruin what, Hermione?" he continued, livid. He was tired of her not explaining. He was tired of her excuses. He wanted the truth. The truth, and the whole truth. He wasn't going to settle for anything less this time.

He was not going to let her go until she explained to him the real reason they could not be together.

"What could I possibly ruin now? Everything's already been wrecked and destroyed!" he bellowed. "I just want you to explain to me, Hermione, your reason. The real reason. Why you're pushing me away and keeping me away. I'm tired of running after you and being left with mere excuses! Just answer me, and maybe I can move on! Maybe, if you just tell me the truth, I could have the chance, Hermione!" This time, even the music had stopped abruptly, as everyone gathered around them. There was silence, as Hermione looked up at him, terrified.

He could feel his rage and determination surge through him.

Suddenly, he saw the tears well up in her eyes.

"Harry, I can't do this," she whispered, before she turned and started to run. She made her way through the gathering crowd, heading towards the doors leading outside into the freezing snow. He stood there, watching her walk away, feeling the memories rush back.

He ran after her.

He called after her and made his way through the crowd, weaving his way through the students. He burst through the glass doors, as the cold and snow hit him brutally. He could feel it prickle and sting his skin, as he walked out. He heard the soft swish as the doors closed behind him.

The ground was covered with several inches of snow, the midnight sky high above him. Snow rained down on him, became caught in his hair, and dusted his robes. He shivered, feeling the impact of the frosty chill and snow trace up his spine. He walked through the thick snow, feeling his robes become wet and his feet throb, the ice painfully numbing his flesh inside. He followed the fresh footsteps, trying to walk through quickly to get to her.

He passed the frosted trees and shivering bushes. His fingers seemed to have frozen completely, the cold biting his nose and piercing his skin. His whole body began to ache from the intense cold. He reached inside the pocket of his robe, and felt the wooden handle of his wand. But just as he had grasped it, he came into an opening. A courtyard he had never seen before. He heard muffled sobbing, and he immediately halted at his steps. He let go of his wand.

He walked forward silently, and that's when he saw her. There were statues of Goddesses and Angels surrounding the place, all covered in white, pure snow. He felt his heart slowly thaw, though the weather had not warmed in any way, watching her.

Her arms were rested on a pale, stone bench, as she laid her face in them. Her knees sank in the snow, and he could see her shaking gently. Inside her russet locks were tiny snowflakes that had gotten themselves caught. He swallowed hard, as he listened to the sound of her sobs and walked towards her.

A memory flashed in his mind. Standing outside her door, hearing her muffled cries.

He stopped when he was barely a foot away from her.

"Hermione," he whispered. A ghostly mist appeared before his lips before vanishing. "I'm sorry. I didn't… I didn't mean to shout at you. I'm sorry," his voice pleaded for her to look up at him. Just then, she raised her head and looked at him with hurt, wide eyes. She stood up, her face tear-streaked and her body quivering. More tears slid down her cheeks.

"You want to know my reason, Harry?" she cried, more light snow falling from the sky. "Do you want to know why I've always been pushing you away? Why I can't be with you? Why things can no longer happen between us? Why you can't love me?" Harry swallowed hard. He was shaking, as he clenched his fists.

Was this fear that seemed to be tearing him apart?

"Yes," he said, "yes, I do." She looked away, her lips trembling, trying to keep back her sobs. He stepped towards her, closing the space so that they were only centimeters from each other. His heart seemed to pounding twice as hard, as he waited for her explanation.

Finally, she looked at him. He saw fear, hurt and pain, and secrets that were bursting to escape. She took a deep, tight breath that shook her body.

She looked inside his eyes, more tears slipping down her face.

"You can't love me, Harry. You can't. I can't love you. I'm to be your downfall."

Harry stared at her, not sure whether to believe her or not. He didn't understand, and he was hurting so much from it. He wanted to understand. But deep inside, there was a voice, ringing out, adding it all up.

He understood, and it was ten times much more painful than not understanding.

But he refused to believe it. That could not be it. He had to ask her. He had to make her explain further.

"What?" he demanded. "What do you mean?" Hermione closed her eyes tightly, as she sucked in another breath. She was in pain.

It was tearing her up so much inside.

"I'm to be your downfall, Harry," she repeated, her voice shaky. "You're going to get killed… because of me." Harry stared at her, his heartbeats suddenly ceasing. A roaring white noise bellowed in his ears, as he felt his anger slice through him.

But above that, he felt hurt. Pain.

It made sense.

He knew that it didn't all made sense, but he saw it. He finally understood. He saw it.

She was pushing him away because she loved him.

"How could you know that?" he shouted, livid. "How could you bloody know that?"

"Don't you understand?" she shouted. "You're going to get killed because of me! Because of me!"

"That's rubbish!" he yelled. "That's not true! That can't be bloody true! That's not possible!"

"It is! It's true, Harry! It's all true! Believe me, Harry, I spent so much time, trying to convince myself that it wasn't, that it was some trick someone was playing on me, but it's not! It's true, Harry! You're going to lose your life, because of me!"

"How could you know that, Hermione? How could you possibly know that?"

"I don't know!" she shouted, wiping her eyes harshly, although it was no use. "When you were gone, Harry… I saw it! I saw it! I saw the future! I saw you and me… and then you were gone! I saw you lose your life! I saw you get killed, Harry! And it's all because of me!"

"How did I get killed, Hermione?" he shouted. "How?"

"I don't know! But you came because of me, and you didn't leave, and then-" she started to sob, and Harry could no longer understand her. He walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders. He could feel her shaking much more than he thought, as her body heaved with her sobs.

"Say it, Hermione!" he yelled. "Tell me what you saw! I need you to tell me what you saw!"

"It wasn't clear, Harry! It wasn't-"

"How could you be so sure it's real, Hermione? That it's the future?" his voice was vindictive and full of rage. He tried to talk to her and not shout, but he could not keep it back.

He was afraid. He was confused, but right now, he knew more than ever.

He did not know what to do.

"Because it happened, Harry!" she shouted, as she jerked away from him. "I saw it! I saw your battle with him, I saw him defeated! I saw you arrive at the house! I saw it all! And before any of it could ever happen, I saw you and me! I knew you were alive! I knew you were going to defeat him!" Harry looked at her, his eyes dangerous and piercing.

He felt useless, and his fury seemed to be swallowing him whole.

"Who was it?" Harry demanded, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him. "Who sent it to you? Those visions? Was it Voldemort?"

"I don't know!" she cried out. "It wasn't clear, but it seemed as if whoever it was, was warning me! I don't know who it was!" She tried to pull away from him, struggling, but just then, she froze.

Harry watched her, a fearful look on his face, as she became still. She was not moving at all. She was not breathing. Her eyes had become the blackest black he had ever seen, and the tears had ceased its coming. Her eyes were wide and glassy.

"Hermione?" he whispered, framing her face with his hands. His voice was wavering with terror. "Hermione? What's happening?"

Suddenly, she gasped, as she coughed and wheezed for air. Harry held her close to him, but she was pushing him away again. Her face was pale, white with horror. Her wide brown eyes were filled with so much terror, and she opened her mouth, quaking.

"It's happening," she whispered, her voice soft from so much fright. Just then, she faced Harry, grabbing his hand. Harry looked down at her trembling fingers and pale hands. She was cold.

"It's happening!" she cried to him. "Harry, if you love me, you'll leave. Leave, right at this moment. Run, please, Harry," she begged him.

"What?" he asked her, his voice quiet from shock. "What's happening?"

"Leave, Harry!" she screamed, pushing him away. "Leave! Run away from here! Please, Harry, go! Go!" He grabbed her wrist again, and squeezed tight.

"No," he said, in a strained and hard voice. "I'm not going to leave."

"You must!" she screamed. "You have to, Harry, please! Please! Go if you love me! If anything we ever had mattered to you! Go now! Before it's too late!" But as she pushed him, struggling to make him go, he stood his ground. She pounded her fists against him, but he caught both of her wrists and held them. She, too weak against him, fell against him, sobbing. He held her to him, his arms wrapped around her tight.

He closed his eyes, feeling her scent invade his senses.

"Harry," he heard her sob. "Harry… Oh my God, I love you, Harry… I love you so much… Please leave… Please… Leave me…" He held her tighter.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered. "I love you. I can't leave you." And she cried harder.

Just then, Harry heard another voice. His eyes bolted open, as he felt Hermione also turn up her head. Harry watched, as a white, transparent and ghostly dome begin to surround them. Hermione's face filled with terror.

"It's happening," she whispered again. "It's happening."

Harry held her protectively against him, as a dark figure walked out of the looming shadows and snow. He felt his own fear stick their jagged and sharp teeth into him and his heart.

Its face was covered with a hood, dressed in a black cloak. Harry felt bitterness surround him, stinging his skin, that he was certain the cold could not ever bring.

It was not from the cold or snow, no…

It made his body feel weak and his lungs crumble.

It was evil.

Just then, the figure raised his hands and slowly pushed back its hood. Hermione and Harry gasped at the boy standing in front of them. Confusion, anger, and suspicion rose in him.

"Matthew?" Harry said, his voice full of shock. Across Matthew's face, a sinister and bone-chilling smile slowly spread. In his eyes was a look that made Harry press Hermione against him tighter.

"Fancy seeing you two here," Matthew said, his voice joyful but in a frightening tone. He was smiling at them like a madman on a killing spree. Suddenly, Matthew raised his pale hand to his sleeve.

"Say… Potter? Didn't you say that all the Death Eaters were either killed or sent to Azkaban?" Harry stared at him, eyes wide with horror. He could feel Hermione shaking violently inside his arms, sobbing.

She had seen this.

She had known.

Matthew raised his sleeve, as he grinned at them evilly.

"It seems to me that you've missed one."

And that's when he saw it. There, on Matthew's pale and exposed forearm, was a skull with a serpent slipping out of the mouth like a tongue.

Matthew's grin became wider, as his dark eyes glittered with wickedness.

There, on his arm, was the Dark Mark.