One Life, One Love.

This was written for the hghp_ficexchange on Live Journal with the recipient wanting angst and character death. It assume that the wizarding world's laws have remained in the dark ages with adultery being a crime.

One Life, One Love

They looked at him strangely, The Boy Who Lived standing stoically in front of his best friend's grave, staring down at the dirt-covered casket and not shedding a tear. Most would think him cold and unfeeling; the young wizard who had so much despair and death in his life, losing the one witch that had been by his side for as long as he could remember.

Many tried to draw him out, but were shot down by his angry emerald eyes. Who was he angry at? No one knew. Some thought it was the world, others thought himself for not being able to save the young witch, but most were of the belief that he was angry with Hermione Granger. Her life cut short in the most cowardly way possible, taking a lethal potion and leaving no explanation to her husband and his family for her act.

To an outsider looking in on the inner working of the former Golden Trio, everything looked perfect, all were married and happy, amazing jobs, family and friends and enviable lives. But to an insider it was a very different story, the happy faces of Hermione and Harry were more often than not, forced, and their time spent with family was awkward and had guilt spiralling through their bodies. For they held a secret, one that was punishable in Azkaban for their crimes, an act that would never have been accepted and would have tarnished their good names forever and cause indescribable pain to their families.

What had started off as an innocent kiss during the hunt for Horcruxes quickly escalated to a full blown love affair that they kept secret from everyone, wanting to savour their time together, to kiss and touch, not to be judged for who they were letting down. They promised each other the world and more. Dreams of a family together, loving until the end of time was cut short by a devastating final battle and the realisation that sometimes obligations outweigh what we truly want in this world.

Ron had been almost fatally injured by a stray curse and Hermione had helped nurse him back to health. Harry in a promise he made over five years before to Ginny, felt pressured to fulfil the girls dreams. Not wanting to let the Weasley's down and feeling immense guilt for the deaths of Charlie and the twins, he consented to the marriage and watched his true love slip out of his grasp and into another's.

He had asked her once why she married Ron when her heart belonged to him and she had just given him a wry smile and kissed him hard, whispering that they all had scars to bear and hers was that Ron would never be able to have children but at least he could have her. Something that in his mind, the Boy Who Lived would never have.

Never once in their relationship had he felt more guilt than when he had taken her that night, it was desperate and needy, skin touching skin, kissing sweet and languid yet filled with passion and desire. He loved her completely and that night he promised he would find a way for them to be together. That was almost three weeks ago; two days later she would take her own life, leaving a note for her lover who found her body underneath the cold water in her large bathtub.

He had cried so desperately when he'd pulled her out of the water, trying to resuscitate his love but failing, her lips blue, hands clutching the glass vial, and a note laying on the vanity, a small note, that would kill his mind and taint his soul. They both knew the fine line that they had been walking, precarious and dangerous, every step they took and every stolen kiss and touch they grew closer to being discovered. A forgotten contraception charm in the heat of the moment stopped her life, destroyed his and broke apart a family that had grown closer than ever before. She had been carrying his baby, his child growing inside her beautiful body, their souls and blood mingled together to create a new life.

Harry knew that had they been discovered, both would have spent many years in Azkaban. Escaping to the Muggle world would have been impossible, as after the war the Ministry had instituted tracking devices on all its citizens to ensure that another Tom Riddle wouldn't be allowed to rise to power, their spells were registered every time their wands used, magical signatures logged whenever they went somewhere. Had Harry and Hermione decided to flee they would have been found within a matter of days even hours considering they were war heroes and their disappearance wouldn't have been taken lightly.

Hermione would have never been able to live with the guilt or the betrayal she would have caused her husband and his family. Harry was at the stage in his life where all he wanted was his lover, he wanted to be selfish and hold her every night, to watch her stomach grow with his baby, to see the happy smile on her face after reading together in front of the fire. To go out in public and hold hands, to kiss her, touch her with everyone watching, and not be condemned. It was a life he wasn't destined to have, cursed to live with a witch he cared nothing for, to sleep with her and see Hermione's face, to talk about their futures and picture Hermione by his side.

Harry's heart had broken the minute her life was truly gone, unable to handle the utter desolation in Ron's eyes when he saw his wife's body, cold and blue on the tiles of their bathroom floor. He tried to feel sorry for his best friend, he really did, but something stopped him, the unfairness in losing the girl he'd come to think of as his witch, losing his baby, being given a life that he didn't want to have. Forced to play happy families when his heart lay elsewhere. He had cried for a solid week, no one understood why he was taking it so hard; no one seemed to care as he walked out of the house and was gone for two days and no one noticed when he bought his release.

Now standing at her grave he could see the entire Weasley family and several of their close friends milling about the graveyard, for a brief moment he felt bad for what he was about to do. Harry couldn't live in a world where Hermione wasn't, couldn't wake up every morning knowing she was dead, knowing he would never hold her hand or hear her say she loved him.

Closing his eyes briefly his hand closed around the cool metal in his pocket and he sighed deeply, a sense of peace washing over him, finally a feeling of completion, there was no world on his shoulders, no dark lords, no wife, no best friend, just him and his soul. With an eerily calm smile he pulled the gun slowly from his pocket and held it to his temple, blinking slowly as the world seemed to move into slow motion, screams of `NO!' and a sea of red hair running towards him was the last thing he saw as he pulled the trigger and ended his life. Finally, reunited with those that had left him behind, to see his love again, his parents and his beloved Sirius, to belong in a world where hurt and pain didn't exist…only love.

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