I may kill myself in the dark

Sweet-Lemmon

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 02/01/2007
Last Updated: 06/01/2007
Status: completed

After everything, he had moved on; she had drowned in sadness. As he was getting married, she was dying inside. Warning: Major character death. Depression. Dark thoughts. Sex. Language, violence. Excerpt: ““...and then I hated you, Harry.” Harry’s eyes snapped open and he gazed at Arthur. But the older man didn’t look hateful. No, he looked sad and ... disappointed. “When we entered that Hospital Wing and I saw you and Ginevra kissing.… I hated you. I hated you because ... because I immediately knew that you had just killed what little soul still remained in Hermione Granger.” He stopped and looked seriously at Harry, his eyes boring into the young wizard’s. “That kiss was your own killing curse.” Two-part fic.

Chapters

1. Part One

2. someday

1. Part One

I may kill myself in the dark

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rate: R (I think...)

Summary: After everything, he had moved on; she had drowned in sadness. As he was getting married, she was dying inside.

Warning: Major character death. Depression. Dark thoughts. Sex. Language, violence, attempted to sexual abuse (only mentioned but still...).

Harry isn’t very nice in this first part, okay?

Thanks to Bexis for his amazing work and help in this story. :)

***

Part One

She should be happy. Or at least, content. Maybe a small smile. Something. She should at least feel something. Something good. Not the dry throat, the tiny chest, the darkness that enveloped her.

She should be happy.

They were her friends- or at least they used to be. Now, she didn’t know. He had moved on. He had got along with his life- had found a wife – and had left her behind.

Five years. Five long years had passed and she still wasn’t able to leave the dark behind - nor had the dark left her.

She hadn’t moved on. She couldn’t. And nobody cared.

He was happy now.

He was getting married. He had asked for Ginny Weasley’s hand.

He had proposed just the night before. He had done the deed during a dinner at The Burrow. She hadn’t even been there to see it – she had been too busy with some reports that needed to be finished. There were always reports that needed to be finished. Perhaps it had been for the best.

If she knew it was going to be such an important dinner, she would have made the effort to be there - but she didn’t know. He never told her.

Five years ago he would tell her everything. Five years ago she thought they would be friends forever. Maybe more.

Nope.

Five years ago he had left her in pain to be in Ginny’s arms.

She never forgave him for that.

Hermione looked around her meager surroundings; never had her cubicle in the Ministry seemed so small, so claustrophobic.

Her boring, bureaucratic work had been the only thing that kept her alive- well, functioning, if that could be called living. But now the pain was too much. Even when she buried herself in all the papers, reports and so on, it persisted – sometimes dull, sometimes throbbing, always present. She needed to get out of there. Badly.

She needed to cry. Badly.

She hurriedly gathered her belongings, at least those that still mattered to here. She felt her old injuries – the souvenirs of all the curses she had taken for him – start to hurt once again. Madam Pomfrey had told her that those injuries would probably always be with her. That they would always hurt in a stressful situation - although with time, she would physically heal. She called it “only” psychological.

Psychosomatic or not, it was five years later– and they still hurt.

*

Pressing her bag against her chest, she left the room. Fast steps. Fast steps. She wouldn’t inform anyone she was leaving. Not this time.

Fast steps. Fast steps. Why did the Ministry corridors seem so endless?

Fast steps. Breathing hard. Fast steps. She wanted to cry.

Fast steps. Breathing hard. The exit was close...

Fast steps...

“Hermione?”

Him.

She flinched. Hermione closed her eyes briefly before turning to face him. She didn’t say a word.

“I guess you already heard the news,” he commented a little awkwardly, “about Ginny and me.”

Hermione only allowed herself no more than a mute nod. Her pain was getting worse and worse, her heart beating so fast that she could only pray that she would not cry – that she would not break down in front of him.

That would only add insult to injury.

“We didn’t settle on a date yet, but-” Nervously, he ran a hand through his messy hair. “I think Gin won’t want to wait too long, you know?”

“No,” she blurted, no longer even trying to hide her annoyance. He knew damn well why she was annoyed.

If he knew, he wasn’t showing it. Harry blinked twice before replied, “Excuse me? What do you mean no?”

I won’t cry, she instructed herself.

“And is there another meaning for no, Potter? What part of it don’t you understand?” Her voice was dry and rough in its sarcasm. “I don’t know what Gin wants. I never have. And frankly I don’t give a shit for it!” I won’t cry. “Now, if you excuse me, I must go-”

Grabbing her arm firmly, Harry turned her around and hissed at her, “What’s wrong with you, Hermione? Why can’t you be happy? Why can’t you be happy for Ginny and me? Or at least for me?”

Without even a shadow of a smile, Hermione threw everything back in his face. “Happy? Of course I’m happy. I’m trilling! Can’t you see! Congratulations! Congratulations on forgetting so easily! Congratulations on moving on without looking back.”

“What is it with you? Do you just want me to be miserable forever – like you?” his voice was getting high in its anger. “Hadn’t the bloody Harry Potter the right to be happy?!”

“Be happy, then,” she spat. “Voldemort was dead and you simply forgot - you simply forgot about the bodies that still needed to the buried...”

“Whatever happened to Ron,” he countered.

“Sod Ron! You had made me feel special! Nobody else – you!” she yelled, her voice shaking, not caring that a small crowd had gathered and was staring at them. “You led me to believe that you thought I was special - that I was loved. I gave myself to you! Willingly and without reservation! I offered you my body and soul. And you took them.”

He let her go and slowly turned away.

“And you never gave them back.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione smiled shyly at him. She was nervous. She had never been nervous around him before.

They were in his bedroom at the headquarters, talking about random things like the Muggle world, Hogwarts, and what they would do after the end of the war. Neither of them knew when, or how, or even why their mundane coversation suddenly ceased d to be replaced by silence. Instead of talking, they stared at each other.

She moved a hand towards him, perhaps to take off something from his hair. Ordinarily he let her do this without a second thought, but this time he grabbed her capturing her fingers like a Snitch. This connection made both of them shiver with strange but not at all unpleasant sensations.

“Harry,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

He held up his other hand like a stop sign. “Shh...” He leaned forward, pulled her to him, and kissed her on the lips. The kiss began shyly and awkwardly, but like so many things Harry did it grew, soon she was filled with an intense feeling of desire and love.

Things had never been the same after that.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hermione-”

“You fucked me!!” She wasn’t able to control the tears anymore, as they poured from her eyes. “You fucked me like everything in the world depended on it. Then two days later, you were celebrating your victory in Ginny Weasley’s arms!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gazing at her svelte and now naked body in front of him, Harry had to work very hard to maintain his self control, to stop himself from simply acting like a caveman.

“Hermione, are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’ve been sure for quite some time. I want to be yours, Harry.”

Harry’s hands found her shoulders. His arms flexed and brought her ever closer to him. “God, you are beautiful” he whispered huskily. He said no more. He let his body, his lips, do the talking fore him. His tongue pushed her lips apart as he kissed her hungrily.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With that outburst, he grabbed her and pulled her into a nearby vacant office. Still, holding her, Harry whispered, “Hermione, about that night-”

*~*~*~*

He entered her slowly, gently, more than a little unsure about what he was actually doing – about why he was doing it. Most of all he was afraid of hurting her. He never wanted to hurt her.

He didn’t think he had – hurt her, that is. Once he found himself completely inside of her, their bodies began to dance to the tune of his thrusts. For the first time in Harry's young and often desolate life, he felt fulfilled – truly fulfilled.

*~*~*~*

“That night killed Ron!” she cried in awful memory of that horrible time. He let go of her, his lips mute but his eyes staring. “That night killed Ron and two days after... you killed me. Looking back, I think Ron got the better part of the deal!”

Without waiting for his reply, Hermione stalked away, wiping angrily the unwelcoming tears.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry didn’t know for how much time he stayed there, rooted to the floor, as unmoving as a rock- in the middle of that godforsaken room.

“That night killed Ron and two days after... you killed me.”

Hermione’s words echoed in his head, bouncing off the insides of his skull like a sadistic mantra.

“That night killed Ron and two days after... you killed me.”

A slap wouldn’t hurt so much- a curse wouldn’t generate so much anger. She had always had a way with words.

“How dare she?!” he growled to himself, finally gathering enough of his wits to walk back to his office at the Aurors’ Department without running into – or through – a wall.

“You led me to believe that you thought I was special - that I was loved. I gave myself to you! Willingly and without reservation! I offered you my body and soul. And you took them. And you never gave them back.”

So what? He never had promised her anything; he never had told her he loved her. He had never lied to her.

“I asked her if she was sure!” he muttered angrily as he entered his office, slamming the door behind him.

That night was only a fuck- two friends fucking. It wasn’t a moment to exchange loving words and being sweet. That wasn’t how we were.

It was only sex. Was he careful? Yes. Had he tried his best not to hurt her – not to make her uncomfortable? Yes, it had been good, mind-blowing, even. But still it was only sex.

He didn’t love her...He knew he didn’t love her.

Didn’t he?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry felt a little lost when he woke up that morning in the Hospital Wing. He wasn’t exactly feeling any pain – well, maybe a small headache.

Still searching for his glasses on the bedside table, Harry was suddenly enveloped by two of the sweetest arms he had ever seen.

“Oh, Harry!” he heard Ginny’s voice coo at him. “You did it! You defeated him!” And before he could say anything at all, she brought her lips against his, kissing him passionately. That was it for conscious thought.

For a few minutes, anyway.

They broke apart abruptly, when they heard the heavy oaken door creak, letting them know that someone was entering the room. Harry looked as the door shut again. There was Remus, and he was carrying a badly injured Hermione in his arms; Ginny’s father was trailing behind them. He looked absolutely crushed, crying silently.

Harry wobbled to his feet. As fast as his injured and tired body permitted, Harry half walked and half stumbled towards them.

“Hermione?” he whispered her name. Remus lowered his arms so Harry could see. Her face was very pale, her clothes were torn, dirty, and soaked in places with dried blood. He could sense that she was forcing herself to not collapse.

She saw him. She saw Ginny. Hermione was the cleverest of her age. When she saw the two of them, she knew.

“You make me sick,” she hissed, her eyes filled with sadness and, what was that? Deception? Stunned by her accusatory attitude, Harry looked up at Remus and then at Mister Weasley. Remus looked to Arthur, who said in an almost inaudible whisper, “We lost Ronald, Harry. We lost Ronald.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry had never wanted to know how exactly Ron had died – so he never found out. He had promised himself wouldn’t let himself lose himself in sadness. Ron wouldn’t want that. Harry promised himself that with Voldemort finally gone it was his duty finally to be happy. All he knew was that it had happened at the Granger’s - a Death Eater attack. What he couldn’t understand was why Ron was there - he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He was supposed to go home to the Burrow. At least that’s what he had told Harry.

Harry never asked Hermione about that...he never even asked her about her injuries. Ron had died at her parents’ house. If she wanted to talk about it, he would have listened, but he would not force her to.

His kiss with Ginny, even if it was less than two days after he and Hermione had sex, seemed to him to pale in comparison to what she had done.

She had brought about the death of their best friend.

“It’s because of her that he’s dead,” he finally let himself say out aloud. It was something that had festered within him for a long time – something incrusted onto his heart.

“No, Harry,” a familiar voice said firmly. “It wasn’t her fault. You cannot blame her for surviving - especially because she really didn’t. Hermione died then too.”

Harry stood from his chair. “Mister Weasley….”

“I think it’s time for you to forgive her. And yourself.” Arthur Weasley forced a small smile. “It’s time for you to know what happened.”

>>>>>>>End First Part<<<<<<<<

Please let me know what you think.

I hope you all had a wonderful Holiday!

2. someday

I may kill myself in the dark

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rate: R (I think...)

Summary: After everything, he had moved on; she had drowned in sadness. As he was getting married, she was dying inside.

Warning: Major character death. Depression. Dark thoughts. Sex. Language, violence, attempted to sexual abuse (only mentioned but still...).

Thanks to Bexis for his help. And thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the first part.

***

Second part

The room was dark and cold; clothes, papers, glass, splinters – there was trash spread all over the place. Curled up, with her knees firmly against her chest, Hermione was on the floor, her back against the wall. Mumbling incoherently, she rocked her body back and forth. One of her hands clutched a wizard photograph of Ron. It had been taken on their graduation day at Hogwarts; he was smiling and waving excitedly at the camera.

That would be last time he really laughed.

He died five months later.

“Oh God, Ron, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered disjointedly, the tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting her shabby clothes. “It shouldn’t be like that...it shouldn’t be like that.” She winced as pain from her old injuries shot through her. Hermione suspected internal bleeding but she could care less. In fact, she was so far gone that she now welcomed it. It was a masochistic and rather sick form of redemption.

“I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it anymore….”

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione woke up feeling a little lost and a lot, sore. Smiling slightly to herself, she finally opened her eyes. After a few minutes mulling over the night before in her head, she realized Harry wasn’t there. She was alone.

She frowned.

“Harry?” she called his name in vain. Sighing deeply, she received only silence in reply. Hermione finally managed to lift herself out the bed and put on some clothes.

“Why you aren’t here, Harry?” she whispered in a pained voice. She forced herself to not cry. “Was I that repulsive?”

Not bothering to go to her room to throw on some clean clothes, or even to freshen up, Hermione gathered all the dignity she retained and went to the kitchen.

**

“’Morning, Ron,” she greeted quietly. “Have you seen Harry?”

Without looking up from his coffee, Ron answered emotionlessly, “He left about one hour ago.”

“Oh.” Hermione bit her lip as she served herself some coffee.

“Was it good?” Ron commented unexpectedly, finally looking at her.

“What?” Hermione stared at him in confusion.

“Was it good to be screwed by the boy-who-lived?” His voice was cold and harsh, yet oddly calm. “Was it your first time or has he already fucked you before?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Ron -”

Ron laughed dryly. “You two must have laughed when I told you I loved you,” he hissed. “What an idiot. Ron the perpetual git.”

Hermione tried to touch his shoulder but he shoved her off. “You know I would never do that,” she told him. “I would never-”

“You and Harry had sex!” Ron yelled angrily, his face reddening. “Did you ever for just one lousy second spare a thought about me? About how it would hurt me?”

She looked down, ashamed.

“Or did you think that I would feel nothing? After all, I’m only Ronald Weasley, the goofy one - the comic relief, the bloody sidekick!”

“Ron -”

“I told you I was in love with you, Hermione! Am I not good enough? Or do you prefer to be fucked by Mr. Almighty Hero even if he won’t even bother to stay with you the next morning?” He smirked. “Or maybe you just aren’t that good in the sack.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Ronald Weasley, I know you might be – somehow hurt…”

Ron snorted.

“…But you have no right, no right at all to say these things to me! Yes, you told me you loved me. And when was that? The day after our graduation! The day after! Were you ashamed to have me as your girlfriend at Hogwarts? I told you then, and I’m telling you now. You. Wait. Too. Long. But I won’t discuss you and me now, Ron. Not today. Today…” She angrily swiped at a tear that insisted upon falling. “You don’t have the vaguest idea how I’m feeling. Yes, I slept with Harry last night, Ron. And, no, there wasn’t much sleeping going on. I gave my virginity to my best friend; I let him into my own body! And today...I wake up alone. He didn’t have even the decency to leave a note! He just shagged me and left me alone, naked in his bed! How do you think I’m feeling right now? Huh?”

She was crying openly by now.

“Do you know what my first thought was when I realized that he wasn’t there? I wondered if I was so repulsive that he couldn’t bear stay with me again.”

She stood up from the chair.

Ron was looking at her, open-mouthed. He had never seen Hermione like this. Not even with Malfoy. Little Miss Prissy might hit, but she didn’t curse. It was the first time he had heard her use those words – all right, more than once or twice. Of course he was still mad at her, but Harry’s attitude? That was utterly beyond comprehension. Deep inside, he always wondered if Harry and Hermione would get together one day. He just didn’t imagine it would be like that. “Hermione -”

“I told my parents I would lunch with them. Bye.” With a pop she Disapparated. She did not bother waiting for any kind of reply.

***

It was little past noon when Ron Apparated to a predestinated safe point near the Grangers’ house in Oxford.

He was coming from The Burrow, where he had spent the morning talking with his father. That had been something in itself. Ron couldn’t remember the last time – even if there had been a last time - when they had talked for so long and so openly.

Trudging up the path to Hermione’s house, Ron remembered his father’s words to him after he had told him everything that had just happened with his friends.

“I won’t say you shouldn’t be upset, Ronald because I know you are. But you also have to be honest enough to yourself to understand that Hermione never betrayed you. She never lied or gave you false hopes; she never pretended to be anything to you other than what she was. I can’t say that I know what is be rejected by a woman you care about, but I can say this. She was your friend, and she risked that friendship not to give you a false hope. Saying no is immensely more difficult than to say yes while not meaning it.”

“Deep inside, you know you aren’t really in love with her, but that doesn’t matter right now. Right now what matters is for you to show and offer your friendship again. It’s time, Ronald.”

“I don’t know what happened and I am not a man to judge without proof. But I will say that Harry’s attitude today was beyond shameful. I can only wonder about state of Hermione’s mind right now.”

“It’s more than being rejected by a new lover. She was abandoned by one of her oldest and dearest friends.”

Don’t you be the second one to do it.”

“I won’t, dad,” Ron said to himself as he trudged along. He was about 50 meters from his destination when his jaw dropped. He saw something he never hoped to see again: the Dark Mark was floating over Hermione’s house.

Not caring that some Muggle might see him, Ron cast a Patronus to call the Order. He ran towards the house, his heart pounding. He prayed desperately not to be too late.

He eased open the front door, which was closed but not locked, and stepped inside the house. It was then when his heart seemed to stop, and a sick sensation formed in his stomach.

Dumbledore was right. There were worse things than death.

The only sound he could hear was Hermione’s desperate pleas, her voice absurdly small and weak.

He never felt so much hate in his entire life; he never felt so ashamed for being a bloody Pure-Blood, even for being a man. He crossed the room slowly, barely aware of its horrid state, of the Grangers’ broken bodies lying lifeless across the floor, of all the blood. Ron saw only one thing, and he was going to do something about it. He tightened his hand around his wand and said in a surprisingly calm tone of voice.

“Get your filthy hands off of her, you sick bastard.”

*~*~*~*~*

“What Ronald didn’t know was that there was another Death Eater in the house,” Arthur Weasley said in a pained whisper, closing his eyes briefly. “Remus, Charlie and I got there just a little too late -” He stopped, as he strangled a sob. “Lucius Malfoy had just performed the Killing Curse.”

Incapable of saying anything, Harry simply stared at the older Weasley. Tears fell fast from his eyes, but he ignored them. Noticing that the young wizard wouldn’t say anything, Arthur Weasley continued to talk, his voice dry, the marks of the years painfully exposed on his features, “I never felt so much anger ... so much hate.”

He shook his head.

“Lucius laughed. He laughed at me. He had just killed my son, and he laughed at me! I wanted to kill him.… I almost did kill him right then and there.…” Arthur Weasley closed his eyes briefly, sighing. “But Charlie stopped me. In meanwhile, Remus had already taken down Dolo-”

“Dolohov?” Harry repeated, a mixture of anger and nausea invading his body. “Dolohov...”

Arthur nodded, sadly. “Yes, him. He had some sick fascination with Hermione.”

“A-And Hermione?” Harry asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted to hear. How could he blame her? How could he? Even if it was only unconsciously. Merlin, what kind of monster he had been all those years?

“Ronald arrived just in time to … stop him….” Arthur looked at Harry, who nodded slightly, understanding what the older wizard implied. “I don’t know what would have happened to this poor girl if.… My Ronald was a hero.” He ran a hand through his hair, smiling sadly but Harry could see his chest swell a little. “I never told him how much he made me - and his mother - proud. I never got that chance.”

“He knew, Mister Weasley,” Harry said softly, his voice slightly trembling. “He knew.”

Arthur gave an almost imperceptibly nod. “I can’t tell exactly what happened afterwards,” he continued. “It was all part of such an enormous blur. I remember Ron’s body ... and ... Hermione ... that stricken look on her face. Such sadness. I recall noticing that she wasn’t crying.” He took a deep breath. “Her eyes were lost, lifeless. Remus had managed to cover her up. He had healed the superficial wounds but she didn’t seem to care. There were much deeper scars he couldn’t begin to reach.”

Arthur stopped for a moment, conjured a cup of water, and drank it.

“Charlie had gone to the Ministry, to bring an Auror to press formal charges against Malfoy and Dolohov. We didn’t know what was happening; we didn’t know about the other attacks ... about you. When Charlie returned with the Auror, he told us that apparently everything was a big mess and, ironic or not, we happened to be at just about the safest place there was at that moment.

“Hermione was bleeding so much, but St. Mungo’s was under attack, so taking her there was out of question. The only place was Hogwarts ... we needed to find a way to get to Hogwarts, but you know, nobody can Apparate into or out of there. I couldn’t let Hermione just bleed to death, not after Ron had just died to save her. I just couldn’t lose another child.”

As Mr. Weasley spoke, Harry closed his eyes. He felt so much pain inside himself – that and shame. Lots of shame. If he had only known. If he had only asked. If he just hadn’t left Hermione alone in that morning.

If he didn’t love her...

His blood roaring in his ears, Harry scarcely listened to Mr. Weasley telling him about the wait, and about how they finally managed to go to Hogwarts (a Portkey, he thought had heard - but that didn’t matter, anyway).

“...and then I hated you, Harry.” Harry’s eyes snapped open and he gazed at Arthur. But the older man didn’t look hateful. No, he looked sad and ... disappointed. “When we entered that Hospital Wing and I saw you and Ginevra kissing.… I hated you. I hated you because ... because I immediately knew that you had just killed what little soul still remained in Hermione Granger- and you had used my own daughter to do it.” He stopped and looked seriously at Harry, his eyes boring into the young wizard’s. “That kiss was your own killing curse.”

“That kiss was your own killing curse.”

Mr. Weasley’s words felt sharper than a dagger against his chest.

“That kiss was your own killing curse.”

“Mister Weasley -” Harry whispered tentatively.

“Shut up, Harry!” Arthur yelled at him, making Harry close his mouth, surprised. “Just shut up for once! How do you think I was feeling, Harry? My youngest son had just died! And it was me who told him to go there! Me! When he told me what had happened between you and Hermione…. Why, I foolishly thought that you must have had a bloody good motive to leave Hermione like that! Yes, and when I found out the truth, I was disappointed with you. However, even then I never thought you were the kind of man that take a girl’s virginity and abandon her in the next morning. I thought there had to be a reason. Merlin, Molly and I always talked about how in love you and Hermione were, but that you were too blind to admit it.

“But then everything went down. You kissing my daughter ... and Hermione, dying by degrees.… Time passed I saw in your eyes that you blamed her! How could you blame her, when you didn’t even ask what happened to her! You didn’t even have the decency to notice that each day she was getting worse and worse!” Arthur took two deep breaths. “She’s still getting worse! Her wounds never healed, Harry! And maybe never will! Dolohov and Malfoy cast on her a very dark spell...her wounds are attached to her emotions...Depression alone can make her bleed to death….”

Harry let go an anguished gasp, hiding his head between his hands. He didn’t want to hear anything else.

He couldn’t hear anything else.

He felt like dirt. Worse than dirt, because dirt didn’t have a choice to be dirty.

But Mr. Weasley continued to talk – sternly, “I wanted to talk to you.… To tell you, but she didn’t let me. She said that you were happy, that you had already moved on. Molly and I tried to help her the best we could. I managed to find a work for in the Ministry and we helped her find a small apartment that she could live in.” He grinned briefly. “Three months had passed and we were finally starting to believe that – maybe - she would be okay.... But then something happened when she was in Diagon Alley. I don’t know -”

“She saw me,” Harry blurted, his voice shaking, feeling nauseous with himself. “She saw me, and I pretended that I didn’t know her.”

“I see. That would make sense. She had a crisis soon after that. We had to place her in St. Mungo’s.” Harry remembered that. But he was too angry at her to care, to try to find out what had happened. He looked at Mr. Weasley waiting for him to say what had happened but to his surprise, the man didn’t say anything. Arthur just looked at Harry as if he was wondering about something.

“Mr. Weasley?”

“She had a miscarriage that day, Harry.”

Harry brought a hand to his mouth, in horror; his body began to shake uncontrollably. He began to cry, first miserably, and then nearly hysterically.

What he had done? What he had done? How had he become such a monster? A-A baby...

That was that final straw - he simply couldn’t hold himself anymore. Now, looking back, anything seemed so ridiculous- so ridiculously silly.

His reasons sounded so stupid!

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he repeated over and over.

Arthur sighed. He wanted to be angry with the young man. He had been angry with Harry and that anger had been justified.

But now that anger was simply spent.

He stood up from his chair and went to the young man, pulling him into his arms, like a father comforting a son. Even if all those years had transformed Harry in a man - an adult, in that moment he was only a little boy; a scared, ashamed little boy.

And Arthur Weasley knew that this was the first time Harry Potter cried since Ron’s death.

“Shh, Harry, let go...let go, my boy,” Arthur said quietly. “Let go of all this sadness inside you. I said I hated you that day. I wasn’t lying. But seeing you after ... observing your pretending. Your lips might have smiled, but your eyes ... your eyes are sad, almost like Hermione’s. Obviously it would be an honor to have you as an in-law. Ginny always cared so much about you but-”

Harry broke the embrace. “That can’t happen. I love Hermione. I always have.” He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “T - That night - that night with her was - was the most amazing night of my life. I never felt so complete, so fulfilled. I never slept with anyone else after that. Not even Ginny,” he added with a shy whisper. “Something inside me - my heart - never let me.”

“But then why, Harry? Why did you leave her there?”

“I was stupid. I was scared. When I woke up that morning and saw her beautiful naked body lying against me.… I knew I couldn’t live without her. I realized what my heart knew since forever.… I loved her. But I couldn’t live with her, either. I loved her too much to risk her life. I preferred to take the risk of losing her friendship.… That wasn’t supposed to happen, Mister Weasley! I couldn’t allow myself to love her!”

Harry’s breathing was increasingly erratic. He was pacing now, back and forth in front of Mister Weasley.

“But then everything changed in a blink! She saw Ginny kissing me ... Ron died ... and I blamed her. I blamed her for his death; I blamed her for being alive. I blamed her for this pain in my heart; this pain that never goes away.”

“There’s someone else with a pain in her heart that never goes away,” Mister Weasley observed. “Are you man enough, now, to do anything about it?”

*~*~*~*

It was late at night when Harry stood nervously in front of Hermione’s apartment’s door. Soon after his talk with Mr. Weasley, Harry left the Ministry and wandered around Muggle London. He still had much to think, to cry.

He knew he had to break up with Ginny. The proposing, those five years...everything- everything had been a mistake. He had taken her as something safe. And she had seen in him an ideal of man - a hero - that he never would be.

He would speak to Ginny the next day... He would ask Arthur to speak to her as well….

Now...

He sighing, staring at the wooden door.

“What a Gryffindor I turned out to be!” he muttered bitterly. Finally he knocked.

And knocked.

And knocked.

Nobody answered; not even when he called her name.

“Hermione, it’s me, Harry!” he decided to call one last time before went home. Like the other times there wasn’t an answer, however, but there was … something. Harry could swear he had heard a weak whimper coming from inside.

“Hermione?”

Without thinking twice, Harry whipped out his wand and muttered, “Alohomora.” Then then he entered the apartment.

“Hermione?” he called again, more urgently as he crossed the living room. The apartment was dark, cold. “Hermione! It’s me, Harry!”

Then he heard the whimper once again. It was coming from a bedroom; at least he thought it was a bedroom. He knocked lightly on the door, before opening it and stepping inside.

At first he couldn’t see anything, only the darkness. But as soon as his eyes started to adjust to the dark, he saw her.

Hermione – lying on the floor, her body balled up in a fetal position, trembling. Harry ran towards her and fell down by her side.

“Hermione!”

“H-Harry?” she whispered, looking at him. “Did you come here to mock me – to deny me for a third time?”

“No!” he cried. “I want to talk.” Harry leaned closer to her and touched her midsection causing her to wince. He promptly backed off.

“Hermione?” he asked concerned. “I’m afraid that talking won’t be enough right now. A-Are you alright?”

“Just … go. Leave me alone, Harry!” she hissed through her teeth.

Harry looked at his wand and around the dark room. ‘Stupid,’ he thought, ‘are you a wizard or not?’ He said out aloud, “Lumos!”

Nodding slightly to himself, he turned again to Hermione. He wanted to see her properly. He wanted her to see him properly. He wanted her to see his eyes as he asked her for forgiveness, as he told her about his love.

But all he could see was blood. On her stomach, on her hands, on the floor...

The wounds...

“Oh Merlin, Hermione!” Harry cried, as he began to unbutton her blood-soaked blouse to get at whatever wound had to be beneath it. During his Auror training he had had some Healing classes. Thank Merlin for those classes. Probably he had to take her to Saint Mungo’s but he could control the bleeding at least.

“N-No...” she whispered. “Stop! I don’t want you to touch me … ever again! I-I can’t stand the light. Take off the light. L-Let go off me...l-let me go...L-Leave me alone. L-Leave me alone in the dark.”

“But I can’t see anything in the dark, Hermione!”

“I don’t want you to see anything, especially me. I want the dark...let me die alone in the dark, Harry,” her voice was shaking, incoherently. “D-Don’t stop the bleeding ... just allow me to die, Harry, as fast as I can.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I already killed you once. I won’t let it happen again.” He began to work, quickly and increasingly confidently.

Despite her harsh protests, it seemed that once she realized what he was – and was not – trying to do, she calmed down and let him do it.

“I will take care of you.” To his surprise and never-ending thanks, the bleeding began to slow down. Maybe there wouldn’t be the necessity of taking her to Saint Mungo’s after all – at least not on an emergency basis.

“Here, Hermione, drink this,” he instructed. “It’s a Healing Draught. I’ve tried to improve it. It’s not only got phoenix tears in it … but some of my own, too. I’ve been collecting them since I realized how wrong I’ve been all these years….”

That seemed to work too. Amazingly … wonderfully, she was improving. It was as if she had taken a look into the abyss and decided to step back and give life another chance.

Seeing that it wouldn’t be a risk to move her, Harry carefully took Hermione in his arms and lay her to the bed. She was painfully light.

“Y-Your bra is soaked through with blood,” he said quietly. “I-I will take it off...Do you have any other shirts so I can dress you?” Hermione just sighed and closed her eyes, her tears dropping very fast.

A little nervous, Harry took of her bra with a spell, revealing her bare breasts to him.

Just like his dreams.

He shouldn’t be thinking this now.

Sighing deeply, he forced himself to get up and went to her wardrobe and took a clean shirt from it.

*~*

“Why, Harry?” he heard her mutter as he was finishing buttoning her up. “Why kill me and then….”

Harry laid down by her side and began to stroke her cheeks, softly. She looked so fragile, so small. How could you, Harry? “Because I loved you,” he whispered, “because I love you.”

“If you love me.… If you ever loved me.... Why did you leave me that morning? Why, Harry?”

“I was afraid...I was afraid that I was putting you in more danger....” God, how silly this sound now! How weak!

“Then why did you sleep with me to begin with, damn you? Why?! If you were so afraid of putting in more danger why did you shag me in the first place?!”

“I-I...” He didn’t have an answer for that. Especially because there wasn’t one. “I-I think I was afraid of myself...of my feelings for you...I-I don’t know! I was stupid! I was a fucking stupid prat!”

“Yes , you were,” she hissed without pity. “And then you kissed Ginny...”

“No, she...it was she...”

Hermione let go a dry and painful laugh. “Don’t you think it’s a little unworthy of you, Harry? Be a man and don’t blame Ginny herself...you did take part of that kiss.”

Harry looked down, and then nodded ashamed. “Yes, it takes two for a tango...” He sighed heavily. “I think the most honorable thing I can say is that was a mistake...a stupid mistake. Kissing Ginny was a stupid mistake.”

“You blamed me for Ron’s...”

“I did, and I’m so sorry. So sorry. Mr. Weasley told me everything. God, if I could go back!”

“But you can’t, Harry!” She started to sob. “You can’t make all those years go away! I despised you so much, Harry! But I hated even more myself. I hated to know that despite everything I still loved you- I still love you.”

“D-Do you ?” he asked quietly.

“And why should that matter?” she replied with surprising vehemence in her weakened state. “You came here, and you’ll just hurt me over and over again. Just like you did last time, and the time before that. You turned on the light, you stopped my bleeding. For what? For you to leave me in the dark again when I wake up tomorrow, for you to make me bleed once more?”

Unable to control himself, he leaned his head towards hers and kissed her softly on the lips. He knew that was as mistake- that was too soon...He wasn’t there for that. The kiss started tentatively, almost shyly, and before it could get any far, or even she fully kissed him back, Hermione broke it.

“Not everything can be solved with a kiss and a shag, Harry,” she said looking straight into his eyes. “Some wounds are too deep. Too deep.”

He sighed sadly, wrapping his arms around her. “I know. I know,” he whispered; her head against his chest, his fingers making random patterns across her back. “But we can start to heal together.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her body against his.

He knew that there still were many things to be discussed; profound wounds to be healed; intense damage to be overcome.

Nothing would be easy, but they would try.

The first light was already turned on.

“Together,” he repeated, hopeful that someday they could be happy again.

Someday.

+++

Here it is. Not exactly a happy end, but some hope. I know that Harry’s reasons may sound silly and even a little ridiculous- that’s exactly the tragedy of all this.

Maybe I write a sequel, I don’t know.

Happy Three Kings’ Day.