Harry slowly tries to open his eyes, believing that he is in hell. He cannot lift his head, and he feels a pain shoot through his body. His forehead continues to drip blood, and it throbs endlessly. He cannot move his legs, and he cannot move his neck. Horror arises in his belly.
The sun's ray peak from beneath the dark bed of clouds still scattered in the sky. Everything Harry sees is in disaster, though he cannot see much. He tries again to lift his body, and he slowly lifts his head. Grass sticks to his face and in his open wounds. His wand lays on the ground beside him, and it is covered in dust. He grips it with blood caked hands, putting it in his back pocket.
Everything is ruined. He limply looks around in a full circle, and even notices the castle caved in on itself. The entire quidditch pitch is completely demolished, and the forest's trees are all burned. He tries to find any bodies or any survivors, but finds nothing.
Then he remembers.
He searches for them, struggling across the field to various piles of wood and smoke, lifting them in a vain search attempt. Then he sees them across the field, where he woke up, and he runs numbly to their bodies.
He grabs his wand and whispers a spell to elevate the tangled corpses. He sees his friend's bodies, which are decaying and stuck together. Sobs escape from his throat, and he falls to his knees, grabbing their bloody feet and pressing his face into them. He hunches his back and cries in anguish, rubbing their icy toes over his face.
"It wasn't worth it." Harry whispers, "It was not worth it." Hot tears spill over his cheeks as he looks up at their tormented faces.
He sits back on his feet, suddenly aware of what he wants to do. He takes his wand, and lowers their bodies. He falls on all fours and crawls beside where they lay; the blood dripping from his open wounds and from his forehead. He falls ontop of Ron, his face coming close to Hermione's. He looks at Ron first, and his stomach lurches from the sight. Chunks of his stomach are missing, and his arm is bent in a strange direction.
"I'm so sorry, Ron." Harry hugs Ron's corpse to him, then he looks at Hermione.
Her skin is grey and dead, and her one eye stares aimlessly. There are deep wounds on her chest and arms, while scratches litter her entire body, mostly her neck and face. Punctures from the demon's teeth are deep in the center of her neck, and he can see through the holes to the earth beneath her. Her clothing is almost completely ripped off, just shreds of dirty fabric mold to her. He whimpers silently as he brings his hand to her shoulder, then up her torn neck to her cheek.
"We would have been beautiful together." He says in a silently whisper only to her. "I'll see you soon." He strains his neck and places his wet lips on her dead ones. With a powerful wail he takes his wand and whispers the words of his death. A beam of light emits from the tip of his wand and penetrates his chest.
The prophecy is fulfilled. The war is over. This is the end of Harry Potter.
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Finished. I just wanted to say that this is my first story I wrote, and I know it's short, strange, and gory. I actually completed a story, and that's a big start for me. I love to write, but the hard part is actually finishing something. I hope you didn't hate it. I know it didn't end the happiest, but that's what I think about Harry Potter right now since the sixth book. Don't worry--I will write much happier things about Harry/Hermione. [my favorite couple] They deserve it. Let me know what you think.