Let Go

Let Go. That's what they tell you when something bad happens to you. Let go. Let go of the pain, of the despair, of the tears, of everything that's ever hurt you or brought you down or made you so mad you lost control. Let go. Don't they understand how hard it is to let go? Don't they think I would have tried? If I had been able to let go I wouldn't be sitting here right now, holding this blade to my wrist, holding my breath, killing myself.... If I had been able to let go....

It all started when Sirius died. Well, at least that's when I really noticed it. The despair and pain was there from the moment Cedric died, but it was brought to the surface with the death of Sirius. Lupin was the first one to see that. He was the one who started paying more attention to me when he was around, the one who took me aside to ask me how I was without anyone else interfering, the only one to actually make me feel like he cared.

Now I know it was all an act. Just another ploy by Dumbledore to make sure I was still around when it came to killing Voldemort.

Next Hermione started paying more attention to me. I guess I was getting worse then. Soon I was sick of all the extra attention, of being asked how I was doing and if there was anything I needed to talk about. I wanted to shout that if I wanted or needed to talk, I would have, but I didn't. I held myself back, somehow knowing that if I blew up like that I'd have someone else on my case.

Eventually Ron started acting the same as both Lupin and Hermione. After Ron, I got daily letters from Mrs. Weasley. Then Ginny started taking an interest again. Soon it was all of the Weasley family, the professors, most of the Order and even Snape. Too much of a well-intentioned thing can have disastrous consequences.

No one seemed to think that I might have been able to take care of myself. Hell, I'm 18 years old, not to mention I did just defeat Voldemort. I have no life, I'm sick of the press, and fan mail is getting old and repetitive. I have nothing. There's no reason for me to be here, I don't have anything I want to do with my life...yada yada yada.

Hence the reason I'm standing here right now, heavily bleeding from my left wrist and attempting to cut open my right. However, the knife keeps slipping from my bloody fingers and I can't get a strong enough hold on it. I'm trying to hurry this up a bit. If I'm not dead in ten minutes, I'll be spending a lot of time in the hospital wing.

The knife dropped again and I sat down on the floor rather than just bending down to grab it. I put it to my wrist and pushed down, trying to get it to cut, but I had no strength left in my arm. Maybe I cut the tendon or something....

The door to the bathroom opened. I stared up in shock--had it really been ten minutes?--and Ron stared down at me in horror.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he yelled. I flinched and realized how dizzy I felt. I blinked a few times, blackness beginning to enfold me in its warm darkness. I swayed where I sat and finally slumped over, too weak to hold myself up. I let the darkness take me as I felt my heart pound furiously.

This is what happens when everyone thinks that the only way to save a person is by paying close attention to him. This is what happens when a person doesn't want to be saved in the first place. This is what happens when you're only seventeen and are faced with the fact that you're the only hope for the survival of the world and that if you don't kill the threat everyone is going to curse your name from now until eternity. This is what happens when the world is put on the shoulders of a boy who is an orphan because of a prophecy that involved two people. This is what happens when you can't let go....

"...kill himself?" someone was asking. I didn't catch the beginning of the conversation. I'd been drifting in and out of consciousness all morning.

"I'm afraid so," a male voice answered. He sounded old. Maybe it was Dumbledore, I'm not sure.

"Why would he do that?"

"Can't let go," I whispered before someone else could answer for me. My voice sounded foreign to me. It was raspy and dry, it cracked and sounded so...it was like a demon from a Muggle horror movie.

"Harry?" someone asked. It sounded like Hermione.

"Harry?" Was that Ron?

I felt someone grab my hand. Whoever it was was cold and clammy. She (at least I think the person holding my hand is a she. The hand is too small to be a he) shook and lifted my hand. I felt her kiss my hand.

Confused, I opened my eyes. Hermione.

She began sobbing. "Thank God you're awake," she whispered.

I brought my left hand to my head and rubbed my eyes. As I moved my hand further away from my face, I looked at my wrist. These stupid, starchy, itchy, ugly hospital clothes I was wearing covered it. I took my hand away from Hermione and pulled down my sleeve. A scar. That was what I had to show for my desperation--a scar. A bloody scar. What use do I have for another scar?

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

I sat up and glared at Ron. "What were you thinking?" I demanded. "What did you save my life for?" I nearly yelled.

Ron wore that horrified expression again. I wanted to slap him. I didn't want to live, that's why I tried to kill myself.

"Harry I--"

"Shut up," I ordered.

I looked around the room and saw Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin standing in the background.

I stood up, everyone looked at me fearfully--you're not supposed to be standing yet is the message I got from them. I didn't care. Let me die. I haven't got the will to live. Let go. I wish they'd just let go of me. I wish that they'd let me die and go on with their lives.

"Harry, you need to lie down," Hermione said, trying to guide me back to the bed. I shook her off and walked to the door of the room. Without a so much as a goodbye, I opened the door and walked down the hall to the exit. So what if I wasn't wearing my own clothes.

I Apparated to Hogsmeade. One for sure place to kill yourself is the top of the Astronomy Tower. That's where I was headed. I want to die, dammit, why can't they understand that? Why can't they let go?

I stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower and looked down. Below me I saw the walls of the castle and a courtyard I hadn't ever given much thought to before. I leaned out far and let go.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I saw him as he fell. I hadn't even reached Hogwarts yet but I saw the black form falling and I knew it was him. Harry had jumped from the one place he knew we couldn't save him from.

If I could have brought him back to life, I would have killed him.

We sorted through his things the next week, after his funeral. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and Harry had so little. His Invisibility cloak went to me, as did the Marauder's Map. His books were donated to the Hogwarts library. All but one.

As it turns out, Harry had a journal. Something that he wrote in late at night when he knew no one was watching. Being that I was the closest person to him, I kept it.

Ron took his Firebolt. I almost wish I had kept it. Maybe....

Maybe nothing. I wasn't Harry's wife; I was his girlfriend. Well, fiancé, if you want to get technical with me. Why he thought he had to die, I don't think I'll ever know.

I opened the journal when I got home. I went to the last entry because I had to know why.

I'm going to kill myself, he wrote. I don't know when or how, but I know I have to. As long as I'm around, there will be a power Voldemort can get a hold of, and I can't risk that. I can't risk losing Hermione to the darkness that has invaded my soul. If I don't end my own life, I know I'll be the next Voldemort, and I'll be even more powerful, more vicious, more unforgiving than he was. And it'll be easy for me--already a hero and all.

And besides, what have I got to stick around for? Being with Hermione will only drag her down. She'll be more without me around; she'll be a better person. Maybe she'll even hook up with Ron and he can be happy.

And I'm sick of their mollycoddling. Everywhere I turn, I've got someone asking me how I am and all this stupid shit that I just can't take anymore. I swear, if one more person asks me how I am, I'll kill myself in front of them .I can't take this shit anymore.

I started to cry. He thought he was keeping me from being happy? And we worried over him to the point he killed himself. Dear Merlin, Dumbledore, what did you do?

I showed the journal to Ron the next day. That last entry. He looked at me in shock. "We did this?" he whispered.

All I could do was nod.

That was when I went to Dumbledore. I screamed at him, yelling at him that he did this. He was the reason my baby would grow up without a father.

"You never told him," he said. It wasn't a question.

"No, I never did," I whispered.

"I am not the only one to blame, Hermione," he said softly. "You could have saved his life."

The next day I applied for a time-turner. When they asked me why, I said it was to save Harry's life.

My application never went though the normal waiting period. It was pushed and approved that very day. I was gifted with a Week-Turner, instead of an hourly one.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I sighed as she walked out the door. She was going to her see her mum for a few hours, so I went back into my study and pulled out my journal and a knife. I stared at it for a while before I forced myself to put it back down. I picked up my journal and picked up my quill to write when I heard the front door slam.

"HARRY?"

Confused, I walked back out into the front room to see Hermione.

"What are you doing back so soon?" I asked.

"Saving your life," she muttered, walking up to me and pulling me into a vice-like hug. "Don't do it," she whispered.

"What?" I asked confused.

"Kill yourself," she whispered.

I pushed her away from me. "How--"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, crying. "This may sound a little weird, but I used a time-turner to get back here. Harry I can't lose you and in two weeks you're going to die. Promise me that you won't kill yourself, please!"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm your fiancé, Harry," she cried. "Look!" She pulled the time-turner from her shirt. "Please, don't make me go through what you did. You're not going to be the next Voldemort, Harry, you're not holding me back from being happy, and I promise you, if you live, we will leave you alone. No more asking how you are every five minutes, no more mollycoddling. Harry I swear!" she sobbed, dropping to her knees. "I swear!"

She held her head in her hands and sobbed. She began to choke and I couldn't help but believe her. I rushed to her and tried my best to calm her down.

That was when the Hermione of this time walked through the door.

"Harry?" she asked. I looked up at her, freaked out by having two Hermiones in my house.

She looked down at the Hermione at my side and gasped. "What am I doing here?" she asked me.

Future Hermione looked up at herself and let out a sob. "Tell him," she ordered. "Tell him before it's too late."

"Too late?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

She stood and walked over to herself. "You have two weeks to change," she said softly. "Two weeks or you'll lose him forever. Tell everyone to leave him alone, tell him what is going on, tell him everything you've ever wanted to say. Don't end up like me," she said. "Tell him, Hermione. Tell him or you'll lose him forever."

"What do you mean?" my Hermione asked again.

"In two weeks, Harry's going to kill himself. First he'll slit his wrist and Ron will catch him before it's too late, but when he wakes up the next day, he's going to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower and jump. If you don't tell him, you'll regret it more than I do because you'll have known and you'll have had the chance. Please, do this for me. Do this for the future."

My Hermione nodded and looked passed Future Hermione to me. "What are you going to do?" she asked her future self.

"I don't know. I've never actually changed the past before. I think I'll just...I don't know what I'm going to do. But if you do what I told you to do, it wont matter what I do."

The Hermione of the future walked out of the house then, hopefully never to be seen or heard from again. I don't think I like the news I was gifted with.

"I don't want you around any knives or high places," Hermione said after a little while. Her arms were folded across her chest and her gaze was fixed on the floor near the door.

"Hermione, I won't kill myself."

"Apparently you do, Harry," she nearly yelled, finally looking at me. "I wouldn't have come back in time if you hadn't so obviously there's something neither of us knows. Why do you want to die, Harry?" she asked desperately. "Am I not worth living for?"

"It has nothing to do with you, Hermione," I said desperately. I can't lie about this anymore.

"Than what am I doing or not doing?" she asked.

"Just leave me alone," I said. "Quit asking me how I'm doing every five minutes, quit all this mollycoddling. You're not my mother, you're my fiancé!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just that.... I can't lose you Harry," she whispered. "Not now, not ever. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

"No I'm not!" I insisted. "Hermione you can do so much better than me!"

She shook her head. "I don't want better," she said. "I have the best! There's no one else I can think of that I would want to be the father of my children."

"What?" I asked, shocked. She wouldn't have said that unless...

"I'm pregnant," she revealed. "Twins."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks. That's what I said when I went back. Well, it's been two weeks, and so far Harry's still alive. I told everyone to back off. I told them that Harry's life was at stake and they all reminded me that that was why Dumbledore had us start looking out for Harry in the first place. That was when I told them that if we didn't back off, we were going to lose Harry.

Now Harry only gets asked once when he walks into a room.

He says he's doing great, that he couldn't be happier.

He finally chose a date for our wedding.

He's finally beginning to live.

He's finally letting go.