The End of Hogwarts

After all these years, Draco Malfoy had finally cracked. He had finally pushed himself too far, and now he was suffering for it. Harry James Potter secretly hoped that Draco was suffering in the depths of Hell. In fact, Harry often imagined Draco sitting at the Devil's right hand, little horns sticking out of his silvery hair, and a pointed tail whipping around his backside, with his pitchfork resting against a nearby wall. Hermione Granger shuddered whenever Harry told her this, but she took it to be the imaginings of a giddy boy now rid of his archenemy. Hermione was slightly wrong.

To be honest, Harry would say that Hermione was completely off target. These imaginings were not made out of glee, but of anger. Harry had lost a loved one because of something that Harry had always tried to fix. Ever since that night in the Astronomy Tower during their fifth year, when Draco finally spilled about why he was so hostile towards Harry: Draco was only mean to Harry to hide his feelings of love and caring.

At that time, Harry had wanted to regurgitate any meal that had ever been in his stomach, including the meager meals the Dursleys fed him. But then again, another part of him wanted to take the Slytherin boy into his arms and kiss his luscious lips until they bled. Unfortunately (or was it fortunately?), Draco beat Harry to the punch and gently kissed the Gryffindor Seeker.

Their relationship had to remain a secret. That was at least one thing they first agreed on. The media would have fun with this if it ever got out. And, of course, Harry was a bit untrusting of Draco. After all, this was the same boy who had been whispering all sorts of secrets into Rita Skeeter's ears (Or should I say antennae? Harry wondered) during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

But Draco had promised that he would keep it all under wraps and silenced the dark-haired boy by passionately kissing him. Then, Draco had led Harry to one of the abandoned storage rooms on the upper floors and their love for each other began to soar.

And now he's dead, Harry thought, unknowingly vocalizing it.

"Did you just discover that, Harry? Where have you been?" Ron Weasley asked, staring with curiosity and compassion at his best friend. Harry wouldn't meet Ron's eyes, instead making up some story about wanting to go have some time alone. Probably to celebrate, Ron thought to himself, picturing Harry with Hermione upstairs, dancing dangerously close to the beat of a Muggle song.

Ron was closer than Hermione, perhaps. Harry had gone to celebrate, but he wasn't celebrating the death of his longtime archenemy. Oh no, he was celebrating Hermione's birthday. After all, she was the only one left to him. Ron would never in a million years understand Harry's attraction to Draco. But Hermione would.

And so, Harry marched out of the Great Hall, and headed towards the Gryffindor Common Room with renewed determination...

...Hermione sighed and pushed her homework away. How could she concentrate on her Potions assignment during a time like this? True, Snape had been a bit lenient. All things considered, Snape had lost his favorite student, and he had been the one to find the body. He's been dealt a heavier blow then any of us, Hermione thought, absently scribbling on her parchment.

Oh, stop kidding yourself, Granger! She mentally scolded herself. She had lost the one reason she still attended Hogwarts for. Hermione Granger had long since passed her N.E.W.T.s, unbeknownst to most of the student body.

On a whim, Professor McGonagall had given Hermione a leftover test. Hermione had aced it, and after begging and pleading with both Dumbledore and Minister Fudge, she had been allowed to take her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. And passing both with flying colors, Hermione added.

So, the only reason she attended Hogwarts anymore was to be with her secret lover. Oh, don't get me wrong; the press did almost discover us, Hermione thought to herself as she remembered the news was everywhere and they had both fervently denied it. After awhile, the hubbub died down, and they fell into a routine of secret rendezvous and dashes into unused classrooms for a quickie. Hermione could only imagined what ran through her teachers' minds as she ran into the classroom just before the class started, her cheeks flushed with passion and her eyes dancing with pure ecstasy. Surely none of them had the courage to confront her, or her lover. Besides, they probably never even knew who he was. They probably imagined her grabbing random students and dragging them into some vacant classroom. Hermione laughed at the vision that filled her mind, and stood up.

She had come to peace with her past, and now it was time to come to peace with Draco's death...

...Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room only a few minutes after Hermione walked out. Oddly enough, the genius had left her homework carelessly tossed on one of the tables. Examining, Harry discovered that on a piece of scratch parchment, Hermione had written, "Room 334, midnight". Perhaps she had left a message for him. Harry's hopes began to rise.

Maybe, Hermione had felt that using the room where Draco died would stir her emotions enough to admit it! Good job, you clever fox you, Harry congratulated himself, dashing up to the boys' dormitory in an attempt to catch up on his sleep before midnight...

...Hermione opened the door to Room 334 with extreme caution. Any abrupt noises could make the sleeping people below her jump to attention. Rumors were still flying about Draco being killed by a murder, still loose in the school. Many of the younger Slytherins who had looked up to Draco refused to believe that Draco would simply just up and kill himself. But Hermione knew that something else had pushed him to do it.

Hermione sat down next to the spot where Draco had last sat, leaning against the wall just as he had the previous night. Her hand reached out to make sure that Peeves wasn't hiding there, waiting for someone to sit down, then jerked her hand back in sudden pain. Her fingertips had a neat even line across them. Concentrating on the floor, Hermione discovered a Muggle razor blade next to the spot where Draco had...said his good-byes. Roughly carved on one side was the word, "Blade". Was this Draco's? Was he the one who had named it Blade? Or did some Draco-wannabe come up here and slit his wrists as an offering to the dead boy?

Sighing, Hermione played with the blade in her hands as she listened to an old clock chime the time: midnight.

Harry breathlessly ran into the room, startling Hermione and nearly extinguishing the few torches along the walls.

"What the hell are you doing here, Harry?" Hermione asked, standing up and clutching the blade in her hand. She winced as the blade sliced through her soft skin and warm blood began to slowly seep through the wound.

"I found the note you left in the common room. It said, 'Room 334, midnight'. So, here I am, in Room 334 at midnight." Harry replied, smiling as if he had just found a cure for cancer. Hermione sighed again, and slipped the razor into one of her robe pockets.

"Harry, that was just some thing I doodled. It has no significance whatsoever." Hermione explained while making sure that the hand she used to gently touch Harry's cheek was her good hand. His face fell and Hermione knew that he had thought she was going to tell him something. "But, since you're up here, I do have something to tell you." Harry's face glowed with delight.

"Draco and I were...secretly boyfriend and girlfriend...I'm sorry..." Hermione said, fingering the blade in her pocket, as though this was the only thing she had left of Draco. Harry was very visibly in emotional pain. He slowly began to nod.

"Yeah...me and him too...except we were secretly boyfriend and boyfriend." He said, chuckling at his own joke. Hermione tried to silence her laughter, but a few chuckles of her own escaped.

The silence that suddenly filled the room was both unbearable, and understandable. The two friends had just shared parts of them that had obviously been meant to be a secret. Hermione was the first one to make a move towards the door.

"I'm sorry Harry. I don't know how to put it any other way. But remember that I lost a loved one too. I'm suffering here, too." Hermione said quietly before leaving. Harry stood alone in the room looking around. He felt as if he suddenly understood why Draco had decided to end his life. Who would want to stay alive in a place where your relationships had to be kept a constant secret, where no one acknowledged you in the corridors for fear that you would deck them, and where you were expected to become something that you had always hated and feared yourself.

Harry reached into his pocket and made sure his razor was still next to him. He smiled, recalling how each lovemaking session wouldn't be complete until they compared their scar-riddled arms and took the other's blade and created a new one. Subconsciously, Harry ran his hands over his arms, feeling the fabric of his robes stick to the fresh cut he had made only a few minutes before dashing up the stairs.

Slowly turning, Harry took out his wand and magically blew out all the torches in the room. He closed the door, and began to chant. Magically, stones like the surrounding ones hid the door. It was Harry's wish that no one should ever step into Room 334 ever again. No one should ever fall under its spell of death and self-destruction. And smiling, Harry readied his wand as he walked back towards the Gryffindor dorms. He had a lot of writing to get done...

...Hermione set aside her finished parchment. She reread it, and congratulated herself. It was an amazing piece of literary art. She smiled as Harry laid his own parchment next to hers. Their letters would be found lying on the table, together. The two fifth years had also requested to be buried on either side of Draco Malfoy.

Harry turned to face Hermione. He gently cupped her chin and leaned down, giving her the sweetest, gentlest kiss. She kissed him back, but he stopped her before she could go any further. This was their final decision, and if they let anything get between it and them, their regret would be worse than the results of their double suicide...

...Dumbledore examined both of the suicide letters. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter had written them only a few minutes before they committed suicide with Avada Kedavra. But at the end, both had written in their respective handwriting the following:

Don't fall away and leave me to myself.

Don't fall away and leave life bleeding in my hands again.

And I watched as you turned away, you don't remember, but I do;
you never even tried.

Curiously enough, Minerva later informed him that they were lyrics from a Muggle song called "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)". It seemed interesting to the elderly Headmaster that Hermione and Harry had somehow managed to get their hands on such a song. Ronald Weasley later came forward, but it was only a matter of weeks until he too was found dead of self-inflicted Avada Kedavra.

Hogwarts was falling apart. Many parents had already pulled their students out, sending letters to the Headmaster that their child, or children, would not be attending Hogwarts again. With all this in mind, Dumbledore saw no other choice.

The world mourned the apparent suicide of Albus Dumbledore. The world had lost its only hopes of protection from the Dark Lord Voldemort. The world, both Muggle and Wizarding, would soon know the full extent of Voldemort's powers.