I Hate Myself for Losing You

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Anything that you don't recognize however, is mine, and if caught stealing, you will be reported.

Author's Scribbles: A song-fic one shot to Kelly Clarkson's I Hate Myself for Losing You.

I Hate Myself for Losing You

hermione278

PG

Warning(s): character death, post-HBP, slightly AU

Ship(s): Harry/Hermione

Summary: ONESHOT. Harry feels guilty for Sirius, Dumbledore, and Ron's deaths. On the first anniversary of his defeat of Voldemort, he reflects back as Hermione comforts him.

At the end of the war, Harry Potter was feeling quite satisfied: Voldemort had been vanquished. Sure there had been deaths, Ron's being the most painful, but Sirius and Dumbledore's hit close to home as well. Harry had never forgiven himself for their deaths, but well, he had learned to cope. Their deaths were not the price he wanted to pay for the end of Voldemort's reign of terror, but since the being who had caused so many people so much pain was gone, Harry was happy that at least the deaths of Ron, Sirius, and the Professor hadn't been for naught, even if they had died in vain. But he still hated himself for it.

I woke up today,

woke up wide awake

in an empty bed

staring at an empty room.

I have myself to blame

for the state I'm in today

and now dying doesn't seem so cruel.

And oh, I don't know what to say

And I don't know anyway,

anymore.

I hate myself for losing you,

I'm seeing it all so clear.

I hate myself for losing you,

What do you do when you look in the mirror

and staring at you is why he's not here.

“Harry?” said a small voice behind him, causing him to turn around.

“Hermione,” he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't think that he could have handled it had it been anyone else. Hermione was the one that had been with him when Ron was murdered. Hermione had was the one who had helped him get back on track. Hermione . . . oh, Hermione had been his shoulder to lean on during the whole ordeal, in addition to being the brains behind the whole systematic plan to find the Horcruxes and to finally kill Voldemort, something for which he could never repay her for.

“How're you doing?” she asked.

“Not to well,” he admitted, “I'm kind of depressed. I wish that Ron could be here and that Sirius' name could have been cleared before he died. We have Pettigrew's body now. Then there is Dumbledore, who would just have been happy to know that his efforts for the Order had not gone to waste.”

“Oh Harry,” she pleaded, “Don't talk like that. We know you miss them - everyone does. But today is a day for celebrating.”

“I know . . .” he struggled to continue, “But I just think that if I had been more cognizant and less stubborn, they'd still be here today.”

You got what you deserved,

hope you're happy now

`cause every time I think of both of you

it's killing me inside.

And now I dread each day,

knowing I can't be saved

from this loneliness of living without you.

“Harry, don't talk like that!”

“I can't live with the guilt anymore Hermione. Just remember, I have always loved you.”

“Harry, no!” she cried, dropping to her knees.

“Avada Kedavra!” he pointed his wand at himself, and a brilliant flash of green light hit him squarely on his chest.

“Harry!” Hermione began to cry, “I love you!” And with that, she completely broke down.

And oh, I don't know what to do,

Not sure that I'll pull through

I wish you knew.

I hate myself for losing you,

I'm seeing it all so clear.

I hate myself for losing you,

What do you do when you look in the mirror

and staring at you is why he's not here.

I hate myself for losing you.

The day of Harry Potter's funeral was grim and bleak, which was how the wizarding world was feeling. Only a year after the defeat of Voldemort, Britain had lost her greatest hero, one who had given so much to the cause, and yet had received so little in return. At last, Hermione understood.

And oh, I don't know what to do,

Not sure that I'll pull through

I wish you knew, I wish you knew!

And oh, I don't know what to say

And I don't know anyway,

anymore.

Oh no!

I hate myself for losing you,

I'm seeing it all so clear.

I hate myself for losing you,

What do you do when you look in the mirror

and staring at you is why he's not here.

What do you say, when everything is said

Is the reason why he left you in the end

How do you cry when every day he said

Don't ever bring him back again!

“Oh Harry,” Hermione whispered, at last allowing those tears to fall that she had not shed at his funeral.

She thought she heard a whisper on the wind, “I love you.”

I hate myself for losing you.

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