Harry Potter was sitting at his apartment home, sipping on his coffee, looking into the fire as though thoroughly immersed in thought. He brought his lips to the mug again, but was not greeted with the bitter-but-at-the-same-time-sweet sensation of the beverage. He looked into the mug. Empty. After retrieving his wand from the uncomfortable position of it being in his back pocket, Harry magically filled up his mug with coffee. He was about to walk out of the kitchen when he stumbled upon a large leather bound book with a Muggle Post It adhered to the front. A purple Post It. He smiled, knowing that Ginny must have put it there with an eye catching color to get his attention, but still hold that touch of feminism. He held his mug in one hand and the book in another, and he stepped into the living room where he sat back into his armchair in front of the fire. He looked at the Post It.

Harry,

I found this at the Burrow last night in the attic. I thought you might want to take a look at it. It made me think a lot, and I hope it does you good, too.

Love, Ginny

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek and thought for a moment before opening the book. Should he? Usually things associated with the Burrow were full of emotions and feelings he really didn’t want to possess at the current time.

Harry Potter was the kind of guy that was prepared for anything and everything the world had to offer. Having eliminated the darkest wizard in a century only a year previous, he learned to always be on his guard, always carry his wand with him, even in his own home. He grew up in the darkest of times, and so he was taught indirectly to always take care of himself, but nothing in the universe would have prepared him for what happened next. He was not going to let a book intimidate him.

Harry opened the book to the first page. His heart sunk all the way down to his feet as he saw the familiar, untidy scrawl that used to be his handwriting when he was in school.

Harry Potter
Year 6

There was a photograph above the writing. It showed him, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger standing by the lake. Hermione was sandwiched in between Ron and Harry, who had their arms thrown around her as she laughed, all their eyes sparkling in playfulness. Every once in a while, Ron would ruffle through Hermione’s hair, thus making it even more bushy than usual. Harry put his mug down and looked at the picture closely, his throat tightening. Hermione had that necklace on, that Gryffindor locket. It was sixth year, alright. Harry remembered giving her that necklace for Christmas that very year. And it seemed that the more Harry observed the picture, the more absorbed in it he was until he closed his eyes and was practically warped back into the time.

*~*~*

Harry sat by the large beech tree by the lake, watching Ron swim in the lake and Hermione fix up a Muggle camera by the shore. Ron was swimming rather quickly, doing laps, it seemed. Harry watched Ron destroy the calmness of the water by rushing through it, creating ripples in the water. Hermione’s groaning penetrated his thinking.

“Hermione, that camera will blow up if you don’t calm down,� Harry said, smiling at her.

Hermione shot a glare at him. “No, it won’t. I know perfectly well how to power this thing.�

Harry laughed. He didn’t remember ever being this happy before. Ever.

Ron finally came out of the water, summoned a dry towel, and began to dry his hair with it. He walked over to Hermione and looked at the camera.

“Why can’t you just sit still and do nothing, for once?� Ron asked, taking a seat next to Harry on the fresh spring grass. “Just sit with us, Hermione.�

Hermione tapped the camera once more and stood back, smiling triumphantly. She pushed a button and stood in front of it. There was a flash, and a photo slid out of the slot. Hermione jumped into the air.

“Ha, it works!� she said. “Come on, guys, let me take a picture of you!�

Ron and Harry shrugged and walked up in front of the camera after Ron put his shirt back on. Hermione stood in between them and Ron threw an arm around her. Harry did the same. Hermione waved her wand and the camera began clicking.

“Cheese!� Hermione, Harry and Ron said, laughing.

The camera took the picture. The trio sunk to the floor by the tree. Harry put his head on Hermione’s lap and Ron continued to dry his hair, sitting with his knees to his chest.

“You guys,� Hermione said, smiling down at Harry. “We’re going to be best friends forever, right?�

Harry and Ron looked at her like she was mad. They had already had this discussion last term. They were always going to stick together. “Of course, ‘Mione,� the both said calmly.

She bit her lip. “And we’ll always have get togethers at Hogsmeade on weekends?� she asked in a murmur.

Ron looked at Harry. “Sure, ‘Mione,� he told her.

“And our kids will be best friends forever, just like us,� she said.

Something made Harry think Hermione wasn’t with them any more. Maybe it was the glassy look her eyes possessed, the way she was staring out over the lake, the way her hand was absent-mindedly picking at the grass. After a few, long, silent moments, she finally broke into their thoughts.

“And we’ll go to Quidditch all the time, even if I’m not very fond of the sport....�

Ron chortled. Harry glared at him.

“And our kids’ kids will be best friends, too, right Hermione?� Harry asked, smiling.

Hermione smiled down at him. “Absolutely.�

Ron snorted. Harry glared at him. Hermione carefully pushed Harry off of her lap and walked over to Ron, smiling dangerously. Ron raised an eyebrow at her. And, in the blink of an eye, Hermione unsheathed her wand out of her pocket like a knight would a sword, and waved it. And, in an instant, Ron was back in the lake, fully clothed and scowling, his red hair falling over his drenched face, making him look like an angry cat. Harry and Hermione doubled over in laughter. If Harry had ever felt better about himself, about his friends, his life, it was then, at that moment, laughing himself hoarse with his best friends.

***

Harry closed his eyes. He also closed the book. He put it on the table by his armchair. He put his head in his hands and thought.

How could Ginny think this could possibly do me any good? He thought, an annoying lump forming in his throat as he bit back stinging tears.

He looked into the fire again. He looked at the orange flames with a hint of red and a bit of blue. He wondered what would happen if he were to stick his hand in it, right then. Well, wise guy, it would give you a burn, said a bored voice in his head.

No, first it would get scorched, then the skin would start to come off, then it would be classified as a burn, another retorted smartly. That must be the Muggle half of him.

He opened his eyes. He had just realized that his hand was only an inch from the fire. He yanked it back and unknowingly laid it onto the album. He took a look at it. He had to be strong; he had to keep flipping through it. He couldn’t just live like this forever. He was twenty years old, damn it, he was a man. A man who couldn’t handle a few painful memories....

He picked the book up again and opened it to a random page. There was a small photo of Harry and Hermione standing next to each other, all smiles. Underneath the photo was a caption written in Harry’s indecipherable handwriting that read in bold, as if he had gone over it several times with a quill until it stood out on the page enough for his liking, “Harry and Hermione, best friends for life.� Harry sighed and flipped the page. There was another photo, but of Ron and Hermione, holding hands and whispering into each other’s ears. Unbeknownst to them at that time, Harry had snapped a picture of the priceless moment. He smiled briefly as he remembered the scene. He closed the book.

It was too much. He wasn’t supposed to be looking in here anyway. Ginny didn’t know what she was doing, this book would inflict upon him nothing more than unendurable pain, and he had had his share of unendurable pain to last a lifetime. Or two. Or three.

Harry closed his eyes. Yes, the scene was still fresh in his mind. He knew it would haunt him till his dying day.

Or beyond that, even.

*~*~*
Hermione was still crying. He could hear her. He could feel her body shaking next to his. He then realized that he was too crying. Ron and Ginny were as well. He took a shuddering breath and looked out the window of the common room. Darkness cast its deathly shadow over the Hogwarts’ grounds. The stars were there, but they refused to shine. The moon was there, but it refused to glow. Their vacancy in the night sky acted as a mirror to the four’s mood. If Harry had blown out the candle in front of him and the others, they wound all be submerged into complete and utter darkness. A depressing darkness they felt in the depths of their souls.

He looked at the clock. It was 12:05 a.m. They had gotten the news exactly three hours and five minutes prior. By owl. Three hours and five minutes ago.

Three hours and five minutes ago, Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron had received news by owl that Hermione’s parents, Mr. Weasley, Charlie Weasley, and Remus Lupin had been murdered by Lord Voldemort.

Harry looked into the fire. My life is over, was rolling through his head over and over again. It’s over. That’s it. Everyone’s gone. It’s the end. Next, it’ll be me. I’m going to die. It’s all over.

Hermione suddenly stood up and walked out of the common room. Harry followed her without a moment’s hesitation. She was walking through the halls as if in some kind of trance, just walking, still weeping silently. She didn’t seem to notice Harry at all, who was approximately six feet behind her.

Hermione walked out of the castle and onto the ground. Harry followed, immediately regretting not bringing along a cloak. It was freezing cold. Harry could see his breath coming in small clouds. He amused himself for a moment by puffing out clouds into the freezing night air, his mind numbing for only moments, and then he remembered why he was out in the first place.

Hermione was standing by the lake, crying silently, whispering something into the water. She still hadn’t noticed Harry, who was now standing directly behind her, listening in.

“....And I love you, Harry, I always will, even in death, because you are and always will be my best friend, and I love you, Ron, more than just a friend would love a friend, and I love you Ginny, my best girl friend, and mum and dad, I will always love you, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Charlie....�

Hermione’s voice faded away because of her bouts of tears making way down her cheeks. Her speech was so rugged, Harry understood no more. Instead, he tapped her shoulder lightly, but she jumped as if he had kicked her.

“Hermione, what are you doing?� Harry asked. “Come inside with me, it’s freezing out here!�

“Harry, there is nothing left,� she whispered hysterically. “My mum and dad, and Mr. Weasley, and Remus—“

“Hermione, don’t say that,� he said, feeling a twinge of guilt as he did. He felt some hypocrisy nag at him, for he had been thinking the same not too long ago. “Hermione, you have me and Ron and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley and—“

“V-Voldemort will get you and Ron and Gin—“

“No he won’t Hermione, we’ll be fine, we’ll make it—“

“And I’ll be all alone with no one to keep me company.... nothing but my shadow—“

“Hermione?� Harry said, looking her in the eye. She wasn’t making any sense. She wasn’t the optimistic Hermione he always knew to lift his spirits. It was as if she were a completely different person.

He reached for her shoulder, but she wrenched away from his grasp and walked towards the shore of the lake. She began stepping lightly into the frigid waters. Harry grabbed her arm, but she blasted him with her wand. He fell back into the freezing, cold water on the lake’s shore, too weak to move, the pain of his friend’s angst weighing heavily on him, with nothing to do but watch her.

“Hermione!�

Hermione didn’t answer. She just continued to walk into the lake. Harry tried to stand, but his legs swayed and he fell again. He looked up. Hermione was waist high into the water. Harry began to panic. He reached for his wand, which was usually in his pocket, but not today. Today, it was left forgotten in the common room with Ron and Ginny. He swore loudly.

“Hermione, don’t do it! Please,� by now he was crying loudly. “Hermione, no, you’re my best friend, please, I love you!�

Hermione was up to her neck in water. Harry couldn’t watch. He stood up successfully, but he couldn’t walk. And he couldn’t swim in the freezing water.

Hermione was no where to be seen. Harry screamed in anguish.

“HERMIONE!� he shouted hopelessly, sinking back down into the water. “Hermione, no.... please.... I....

“I love you....�

Harry watched in horror as she placed her wand to her head, muttering an incantation he could not understand, then disappear into the depths of the lake.

*~*~*~

Harry realized that he was crying. He didn’t care, though. The scene was eating at his heart the same way that the fire would have eaten at his hand if he had stuck it in the fireplace. It would slowly disintegrate and burn away.

Hermione was his best friend, and, even if she had done something wrong to herself, she wouldn’t want Harry to mourn forever. She would want him to move on with his life. She would have been proud that I married Ginny....

A bright light suddenly illuminated the inevitable darkness Hermione left in him after her passing, and he opened the scrapbook again, intending to look through each and every picture and caption. He had finally found the beacon that was egging him on, telling him to get on with his life. He had finally moved on.

::FIN::