“Harry, please answer me!”

Harry glanced up from staring at nothing to try and concentrate on Hermione, but his eyes wouldn’t focus properly. Everything was out of focus as if he was watching the scene from a distance without his glasses on. It hurt to move, his bones felt so thin and frail he thought they would break at any moment. He grimaced and bit his lip until it bled; harsh lines were etched on his face, as if he were hundreds of years old. The bitter, metallic taste of his own blood seeped onto his tongue. He scowled as he spat out the vile taste and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Harry had changed a lot since his sixth year when he was still in the safety of Hogwarts. He could laugh there and would only have to worry about petty problems such as whether he would be able to finish his essay in time or if he would be able to win the next Quidditch match. He was naïve back when he was still at school. He didn’t know about the true horrors the three of them would have to face in their mission to destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Back then it seemed that the mission was an almost surreal dream, something that wouldn’t be too difficult to do like when he destroyed the diary in his second year. He wouldn’t call himself completely naïve, he had seen and experienced more than most adults twice his age, but compared to now, he was. The events that had happened since he turned seventeen had changed him completely. He had become more powerful than he would have ever dreamed about; every shred of news telling them about Voldemort’s evil activities had motivated him to work harder, to push himself past his own limits. But now, he felt like he just wanted to give it all up. He’d had enough.

“Harry, please eat something.”

He couldn’t eat, not after what happened. Food was tasteless to him; every mouthful he ate made him feel even sicker and the stale, rank smell made him retch. No, he was better off staying where he was. Maybe no one else would get hurt. There was a very quiet creak as the door opened and a red head stumbled in, instantly walking over to Hermione and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Has he done anything?” Ron whispered. His voice was gruff and scratchy. Hermione shook her head and held onto Ron tighter, tears budding in her eyes.

“No, he won’t move, he won’t eat, he won’t speak, nothing!” Hermione replied, slightly hysterically. Ron’s response was to squeeze her hand reassuringly and place a kiss on her forehead.

“He’ll be okay…I hope,” Ron replied, his voice cracking, his hands trembling. He wanted to do what Harry was doing, just to crawl into a ball and wait for death to claim him. But instead, he gripped onto Hermione tighter and looked at the huddled figure in the corner, what was left of his best friend. They were all he had left after what happened. He felt completely weak and empty, unable to eat, unable to sleep. Because whenever he closed his eyes, he saw it. The death, the destruction…the end. They all did. No matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, it wouldn’t leave them alone. They could still smell burning wood and could still feel the thick smoke hit their nostrils and eyes as clearly as they did that night.

“But he won’t eat, he won’t even move, Ron, I’m so afraid, what if-”

Hermione was now crying fully, her already puffy eyes screwed up as she started to sob into Ron’s chest, something she had come quite accustomed to in such dark times.

“I am here, you know.”

Harry’s voice sounded alien to them, hoarse and gruff… and hard.

“Harry…” Hermione cried, holding onto Ron’s hand so tightly he was starting to lose feeling in it. Sluggishly, Harry stumbled to his feet and turned to face them. He, like Ron and Hermione, was very thin: lack of food and appetite caused them to lose lots of weight in a very short amount of time. He had blue bruises under his eyes; even his hair seemed lifeless and limp. His clothes hung off his thin frame, the skin on his arms was starting to become tight, displaying his bones. But his eyes that were usually so recognisable, were darker, hollow, bloodshot and red ringed, which made him look sinister. It was like he was a different person. Hermione rushed forward and threw her arms around him, just happy to hear his voice again. A moment later, Harry pushed her away. Slightly confused, Hermione went back and stood next to Ron again.

“Don’t act like I’m not here,” Harry said, his tone bitter but weak from lack of food and sleep.

“We’re not acting like you’re not here, its just-“

Ron was cut off when Harry’s harsh voice cut through the air again like a knife.

“I’m not a child you need to look after or a time bomb that could explode at any minute,” Harry muttered, the darkness still clear in his voice.

“We’re not, we’re just worried about you,” Hermione said almost timidly.

“I’m just fine, yeah, I saw almost everyone I care about die in one hit last week, but I’m just dandy,” Harry snarled, turning around and kicking the chair, causing it to crash onto the wall and collapse in pieces. Ron suddenly went very still, his face was cold like stone. Hermione started to sob again as the memories washed over her yet again.

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s in pain right now? Don’t you realise that I just lost my parents and virtually all my siblings and my friends, with one of my brothers who-knows-where, all in one day!” Ron shouted, suddenly filled with anger. He was visibly shaking.

“Of course I know that! But don’t you realise that it’s entirely my fault? It’s my fault that Voldemort went after them - he did it to get at me!” Harry yelled back, his fists were clenched and tears were falling from his eyes. He was reliving the time when they Apparated back to the burning Burrow and saw the corpses. The only reason they weren’t there at the time of the attack was because they were out destroying one of the last of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Witnessing the individual deaths of those he held dear paled in comparison to seeing everyone left that he loved losing their lives in the space of a few seconds.

Shortly after they had found the Weasleys, Harry had left and tracked and destroyed the last Horcrux apart from Nagini all on his own, in pure fury.

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’s not your fault they-” Ron stopped as his throat constricted, but he forced himself to continue, because he knew that what he was saying was true. “They knew the risks when the joined the Order in the first place - they knew they could have died!”

Harry looked at them with a mixture of madness and amazement, a look that clearly meant ‘How can you not see it?’

“Haven’t you got it yet? Don’t you understand - this my fault, it’s because they knew me! He could have killed Aurors or other threats to him, but he knew how close I was to them, how much I loved them!” Harry felt like he was going to explode from the guilt and grief. They were all gone…Mr and Mrs Weasley…the twins…Bill…Lupin…Tonks …Ginny…. They were never going to come back. He was never going to see them again, just like his parents and Sirius. He would never get to say sorry, or say goodbye.

“Harry-” Hermione began, but Harry started to speak again, his voice more bitter than ever now.

“I’m cursed! Whoever I touch - whoever I get near to - dies. Anyone that shows the slightest affection towards me has signed their own death warrant. I’m destined to be alone, like I’ve always been.”

“What about us? We’re never going to leave you, ever,” Hermione said, feeling hurt after Harry’s last statement. Harry shook his head violently.

“Not for much longer. I want you to leave - flee the country, get as far away from me as possible. It’s the only way you’ll be safe. I’ll be able to handle it alone: I’ve handled him alone before,” Harry whispered, but his voice was determined. There was a sort of sinister glint in his eye, a look of madness.

“No. We told you before, we’re not leaving,” Ron replied fiercely. The only thing Harry had said to them after the attack was for them to leave. Every few hours, they used to hear him mutter, ‘Leave now…get away,’ but had chosen to ignore it. And Ron was starting to get sick of it.

“Are you dumb or something? You stay here, you die, and I don’t want anyone else to die because of me!” Harry shouted.

“We get it, Harry! You might have pushed Ginny away in a stupid attempt to try and keep her safe, but-”

“Don’t you dare bring Ginny into this!” Harry hissed in a deadly whisper.

“Why not? You thought that if you didn’t date her she’d be safe, but your plan failed, didn’t it? She’s dead! Or was your reason for dumping my sister so that you wouldn’t have to feel guilty if something like this happened?”

In a flash, Ron felt himself being pinned to a wall with a wand poking painfully into his neck. Hermione screamed.

“Don’t you dare say that, I wanted to protect her!” Harry hissed furiously. He looked angrier than Ron had ever seen him, his eyes were slits as he glared murderously into Ron’s eyes. They were merely inches away.

“It didn’t work though, did it?” Ron snarled. Harry dug his wand deeper into Ron’s neck, looking ready to kill.

“Harry! Please stop, don’t do this!” Hermione shrieked, ripping Harry’s wand arm away from Ron’s throat. Reluctantly, Harry gave into Hermione’s pleas and stepped away from Ron, still glaring at him furiously.

“I can’t believe you said that, Ron, I thought you were my friend,” Harry said angrily, shrugging Hermione away and stalking off to the other side of the little hut they were staying in. The look in his eyes scared Hermione more than anything in her entire life. For a second, Hermione thought Harry would lash out and actually hurt one of them. It was as if they were now with a different Harry, not the same lovable, too-noble-for-his-own-good Harry Potter that Hermione and Ron had known ever since they were in their first year and grown to love. He was now a hard, cold, bitter man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. A burden he should never have had to bear.

A burden that was destroying him.

“Suddenly, I feel like I don’t know you anymore,” Hermione whispered, shaking her head and stepping away from Harry and into Ron’s protective arms. Harry stayed silent and his eyes wandered around the dusty old hut, looking at the dirty cobwebs and the rotting wood, refusing to look into his best friend’s eyes. The stinking, rotten wood was making his noise tingle unpleasantly and he instinctively screwed up his nose. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. The love he felt for all his deceased friends was killing him. At that moment, he wished that he was like Voldemort, that he couldn’t feel any love so he wouldn’t have to feel the agony he was feeling now. He wouldn’t have to go through heartbreak again and again.

“No, Harry, don’t think like that. Love is what makes you you,” Hermione said desperately. Harry focused his attention on Hermione, his eyes wide.

“I know you better than you think,” she said softly, interpreting his expression with a pained look on her face. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. Instead, he glared at Ron again and cursed under his breath.

“I just don’t feel like love is such a good thing for me anymore. Whoever I love dies. If I don’t love anymore, people won’t die and I won’t have to go through the same pain over and over again!” Harry exclaimed angrily.

“No, please don’t do this, Harry, please don’t give up on love. Without love, we wouldn’t have all been born! Without love, there’s only room for hate. You have to believe that love is worth fighting for. One day, it will all be over and you’ll be free from your burden to live a normal life!” Hermione said. Her voice was strong but her eyes were pleading with the man in front of her. Harry shook his head.

“Do you really believe that one day I’ll be able to have a normal life? I’ve got a destiny to fulfil, something I’ve never had a choice about. But maybe when this is over, you’ll be able to have a normal life,” Harry muttered darkly.

“No, Harry, you’ll be with us, we’ll all work together and beat him! You’ll see, everything will sort itself out!” Ron exclaimed.

“How? If you two are anywhere near me, you’ll be dead, too. It’s as simple as that. Voldemort won’t stop - only I’ll be able to stop him on my own!” Harry half shouted, his eyes filled with anguish.

“But we’ll help you!” Hermione said, distraught.

“No, you can’t! I’ve got to do it alone! I’m the chosen one, the only one with the power to defeat him! Where in the prophecy does it say his two mates are helping out in the background as well? My destiny is to be alone, why can’t you see it? Maybe I shouldn’t have become friends with you in the first place, then all of this wouldn’t have happened!” Harry’s hair was now skewing out in all directions, his emerald eyes had turned dark.

“That doesn’t say you can’t, Voldemort will have his Death Eaters there, too,” Ron said, trying and failing to calm himself down. Both he and Hermione had flinched at Harry’s harsh words but stood their ground. Harry shook his head.

“No, I know Voldemort. He won’t let them interfere even if he’s losing - he has too much pride and the Death Eaters are too cowardly to go against his wishes. Now I want you to leave. Now.” Harry was no longer shouting, but the tone of his voice now was much worse than if he was screaming at the top of his lungs. Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads at the same time. Harry sighed and looked at the floor. A moment later when he lifted his head, his features seemed twisted inhumanely and when he spoke, he sounded eerily calm yet detached and unfamiliar at the same time.

“Then you leave me with no choice. I will do what I have to.”

Ron and Hermione stared at the man in front of them. This was not the Harry Potter that they knew. The look on his face was one of a tortured man: a crazed man. The voice seemed far away, unknown. In that instant, Hermione and Ron suddenly felt like they had to leave.

But it was still Harry Potter.

He was still their friend.

Clenching their teeth, they got prepared for whatever Harry was going to say to them next. But nothing would have prepared them for Harry’s next move.

 “What the hell are you doing?!” Ron yelled as he and Hermione crashed onto the floor as they dodged the very dangerous spell Harry had just thrown at them.

“If this is the only way to get you to leave, then I will do it,” Harry said, his wand pointing at them threateningly. Hermione and Ron paused for a moment, their heads spinning with confusion and shock. Hermione took one last look at Harry, directly into his eyes. Then with her own eyes filled with tears, Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm tightly and Apparated away.

“I know this will be temporary,” she whispered as everything dissolved away. They didn’t see the raven haired man smile, pocket his wand, and collapse into a chair. It was just him and Voldemort now.

The final battle was near, he could feel it.

*******

“Hermione, why did you do that!” Ron snarled, ripping his arm away from Hermione’s grasp and jumping to his feet. He glanced around the room, as if he expected Harry to be there as well. Instead, he found a clean bedroom, with light pink walls and a large bookshelf. There was a sweet flowery smell to the room, a complete contrast from the musty, putrid stench from the shack.

“No, listen to me, Ronald, we can’t go back there! Harry’s not himself, who knows what he’ll do! He’ll probably maim us!” Hermione hissed, reattaching her hand on Ron’s arm.

“But he needs us!” Ron retorted loudly.

“I think the best thing we can do for him right now is to leave him on his own. We can’t force him to accept our help,” Hermione said, pausing for a moment before continuing, her voice a lot quieter, “and to be honest, I’m getting tired of him pushing us away, saying he’s strong enough to do it alone.”

Ron looked at Hermione, his clear blue eyes watering slightly. Then he seemed to sag and leaned into Hermione’s embrace, sighing.

“You’re right, you’re always right. I can’t take any more fighting right now. He needs to be alone, to think, we all do. I know were haven’t slept properly for ages - maybe being separated might help,” Ron said, nodding and wrapping an arm around Hermione, drawing comfort and reason from her.

“It’ll only be temporary, though,” Hermione added. Ron nodded again.

“Only temporary,” Ron echoed. Then his eyes wandered around the room again and he looked at Hermione questioningly.

“This is my parents’ house, it’s the first place I thought of. I’d better go and explain this to them,” Hermione said quietly, kissing Ron on the cheek before heading towards the door. Just before she left, she turned towards Ron again and added, “There are some dreamless sleep potions under my bed. I left some with Harry as well, hopefully he’ll use them. And I’ll bring some food. We have to eat.”

_________________________________

A couple of days later, Ron and Hermione felt quite a bit better. They had awoken after over twenty-four hours of constant, uninterrupted sleep thanks to the potion, so they had the best sleep they could remember. They had also eaten proper food, something they hadn’t had since they were at the Burrow before they left to look for the Horcruxes. It felt good to have proper food in their stomach; they had grown accustomed to the dull ache in the pit of their belly caused by the small, unhealthy amount of food they had eaten as they travelled. The food was delicious, every mouthful flooded their whole body with warmth. Their bodies were completely drained from their extreme use of magic before and after the attack, the lack of sleep, and the lack of food.

However, the row with Harry rested heavily on their chests and they knew they had to go back, even just to make their peace with him. Now they had a much better perspective on the situation and they realised that they had gotten too angry too quickly. But even now, they knew that what they thought before still stood. They would have to leave him alone - they were tired of being pushed away.

Hermione’s parents were even starting to get worried about the two teenagers when they didn’t awake and were relived that they were okay, at least physically. Hermione had explained briefly and tearfully about what had happened at the Burrow and with Harry. They had been very understanding and sympathetic, but had also expressed their concerns for their burdened friend, convincing them to go back and sort out their issues, and that running away wouldn’t help. Hermione and Ron agreed with her parents, and with the rations from Hermione’s parents, they got ready to Apparate back to their friend.

But as soon as they arrived back to the old shack, they knew something was terribly wrong. Interlacing her fingers with Ron’s, Hermione cautiously entered the shack, her observant eyes quickly searching for anything suspicious like a trap, but she found nothing. The shack was just as they had left it, the all too familiar stench of something rotten hit their nostrils as soon as they walked in the room. Nothing seemed to have changed in the room… But suddenly, they felt their stomachs drop out of them. As they walked in, they had automatically scanned the room for their raven haired friend, but he wasn’t there. And there was no sign of a struggle. Cautiously, still holding hands, Ron and Hermione searched the shack, hoping that their first suspicions were wrong, that they had just missed him, that he was asleep in a corner hidden from view. But Hermione’s sharp intake of breath and her sudden shaking confirmed the worst for them. Turning toward Hermione, he almost let out a strangled cry when he noticed the letter clasped in Hermione’s trembling hand. He instantly recognised the untidy scrawl as Harry’s. He had a sudden urge to rip the letter from his girlfriend’s grasp and set it alight, but his common sense kicked in and he wrapped an arm around Hermione. With his other hand, he indicated for them to sit down on the old abandoned furniture ignoring the creaks from the floorboards and the dust that attacked them as they sat down.

When they first arrived at the small shack that reminded them all distinctly of the Shrieking Shack, Hermione had cleaned it up a bit to make it more liveable for the short time they would stay there. But like Harry was a magnet for trouble, the place was a magnet for dirt - it just seemed to appear within minutes. Ron had a sinking feeling that he knew what his best mate had done, what the letter contained, and they would need to sit down for it. With shaky hands, Hermione opened the envelope and slipped the letter out. She was visibly shaking as she saw the familiar writing all over the page. Ron considered taking the letter off her, but he knew that his hands were in no better shape than hers. Silently, the two of them read:

Dear Ron and Hermione,

I know that by the time you read this, it will be too late to stop me. Firstly, I want to apologise for the way I acted when we last saw each other. I was completely out of order, you’re the only people I have left, the only people who really know who I am, but I still think you should leave. I couldn’t bear it if either of you got hurt or killed.

To save you two from looking for me everywhere, because I know you will figure it out, I’ll tell you. At least then you won’t end up risking your life just to find me. I’ve gone to finish it, once and for all. I’m probably fighting as you’re reading this. Don’t worry, I took that dreamless sleep potion and ate the food you left - I wasn’t going to give Voldemort any more of an advantage. I’m not going to go down without a fight; if Tom thinks he’ll finish me off easily, he’s mistaken! I don’t care if I live or die as long as Voldemort never lives to see another day. I’m not going to allow him hurt anyone else or let him rip apart any more families.

I also want to thank you for always being there for me through my mood swings and for accepting me for who I am - not ‘the chosen one’ but just plain Harry. I couldn’t ask for better friends. You prepared me for this last bit - without you, I don’t think I would have even made it to my second year. Whatever happens, stay together, don’t lose each other. If I do die, I have one request. Don’t mourn me, I’ll be with everyone I’ve lost. I’ll die doing what’s right, but I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to bring that murdering piece of filth down with me. But who knows? One day, I could be the best man at your wedding or even the godfather of your first child. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. Hermione, thank you for always being patient with me when I was moody and teaching me so much. Ron, thank you for being such a loyal friend - you were always able to make me smile when I was down. I’m just sorry I never got a chance to be annihilated by you one more time at chess.

Harry

P.S. If you run into Dudley Dursley one day, kick him where it hurts for me.

Ron let out a half hearted laugh as he read the last line of the letter. That was his best mate, all right. He felt a dull ache in his chest and suddenly it felt impossible to breathe.  He had never really thought that Harry would actually die, he had always managed to survive anything thrown at him. Just the mere thought of him not making it through made his chest constrict. He didn’t even realise that his cheeks were moist from tears. He could imagine his best friend standing in front of him telling them this. Hermione was quietly sobbing. The two of them sat in a trance for over ten minutes, unable to move or speak or even tear their eyes away from the parchment. It made it final, real. There was no going back now. Eventually Ron spoke.

“What shall we do?” His voice sounded scratchy and thick. Hermione paused for a second, then took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I don’t know…Harry clearly wants us to stay away…and…and…” Hermione stopped and looked at the floor.

“You think that he could be right - we should just let him get on with it, to fulfil this destiny,” Ron finished, his voice emotionless and barely above a whisper. Hermione looked up at him with startled eyes, and nodded ever so slightly. “I know, I sorta think the same…”

There was a tense pause when neither of them spoke, both of them still trying to process the information.

“But, Ron, wouldn’t it take Harry days to locate Voldemort’s position, I mean, he would always be on the move and Harry wouldn’t be able to Apparate very close if he did find them, Apparation makes him disorientated, not to mention loud… maybe we could find him and show him our support?” Hermione said almost desperately. She couldn’t leave it this way, not after everything they’ve been through. For a moment, Ron considered saying no, that Harry would push away like before and he had enough of it, but the other part of him just wanted to see his face, even if it was just for a second. After a quick nod, Hermione slipped the letter into her pocket and the two concentrated solely on Harry. After having so much contact and closeness, the trio had realised that they were able to Apparate to each other if they concentrated hard enough. Within a minute or two, the two teenagers Disapparated.

When Ron and Hermione felt their feet on solid ground again, they realised that not only did their entire body hurt, but they were lying headfirst on the hard ground. Something seemed to have gone wrong in the middle of the movement and the two of them were seeing stars.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Ron moaned, rubbing his head as he sat up unsteadily.

“I’m not sure…” Hermione muttered, also rubbing her head, then wiping off the piece of slime that had attached itself to her cheek. Squinting through the stars, she scoured around her, looking for the familiar black haired man. He wasn’t there. Suddenly, Hermione realised exactly what had happened, she remembered reading about it years ago.

“I know what’s happened!” she exclaimed, terror invaded her as she realised what it meant. “Harry’s inside an Anti-Apparition ward, one that must have just been cast as we tried to get in there.”

“But why would - oh no!” Comprehension dawned on his face and, jumping to his feet, he stared in front of him. All he could see was a large clump of trees about a mile downhill.

“We could we get there if we ran?” Ron asked, not sounding at all convinced at his words. Hermione shook her head.

“There’s no point. Harry wants to do this part alone…he needs to do this part alone. We can just hope he’s right: that the Death Eaters won’t play dirty and curse him behind his back. It’s all up to Harry now.” Hermione’s voice ended as a whisper and she bit her lip.

She, along with Ron, were squinting in vain, for hope of seeing their brave friend, but to no avail. The two of them automatically drew closer to each other as the wind stung their faces; slicing into their eyes and making them water. The wait was killing them. For the first time in the war against Voldemort they didn’t know what was going on and it was torture. If they had any indication, any sign… Hermione gasped loudly as the forest was suddenly illuminated unnaturally. They could sense the magic radiating off that small area like a sudden heat wave. Hermione shuddered as the clouds rolled in and gathered around the woods, growing darker by the second. There was a clap of thunder and suddenly they were drenched. But they didn’t move. The floods of water barely registered with them because they were so intent in watching what they could see of the final battle. That was all they could do now. The woods were blazing with colour.

“Priori Incantatem,” Hermione whispered suddenly, remembering what Harry told her in their fourth year. She forced back the tears as she remembered previous years with Ron’s family. Minutes felt like hours and after a lifetime or two there was a shift in the power.

The lights in the forest disappeared after one final, blinding flash. Everything was quiet, even the thundering rain seemed to slow. Hermione felt numb and not just because she was soaked to the bone. It was so cold that they couldn’t even shiver. They felt frozen, both numb and aching at the same time. Ron broke the silence and uttered the two words that both warmed and chilled them.

“It’s over.”

The two didn’t know what they would find as they made their way toward the now quiet clump of trees. They could go down into the depths of the forest and find Harry standing triumphantly over the crumpled heap formally known as Voldemort. They might find two bodies, both of the most powerful wizards, who finished each other off in the end. Or they could have walked into their end, where Voldemort had finally killed the chosen one, the only one who could destroy him, the only hope for the wizarding world. Whatever happened, one of the many prophecies that resided in the Department of Mysteries had finally been fulfilled.

The sun was setting as Ron and Hermione pulled apart the last few branches that held them between the most powerful wizards in existence, marking the end of a day and the end of an era, for whatever happened in the final battle, the world as they knew it would have been changed forever.

For better, or worse.