Murderer

"Murderer" by Roxy

Hermione Granger--the brightest witch of her time.

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to believe those words, but the lights scrutinize me and I'm more aware than ever that I will never be that person again.

Tears make trails down my cheeks and I take a deep breath to calm myself, but my breath comes out unevenly and my whole body feels weak.

I can feel his lips against mine--cold and smooth. And my arms enclose him because I see how human he is. I can see how he does the right things, loves the right things, and cares for the right things. Is that not what being human is? He isn't like Voldemort, the parasitic entity who tried to protect himself by growing through deception. No, he's not like Voldemort. He's vulnerable, and whenever he looked at me, I could see the truth.

But now... now when I look into his eyes, I only see blank space because there is nothing there.

Nothing.

And I scream at the unjustness of it all. I scream trying to be heard. I scream until I can feel my throat becoming hoarse. I scream because I can't do anything else. And then I stop.

I look at myself in the mirror. My bushy brown hair is the same as it has always been, my mouth, my nose, my eyes. Nothing's changed, and I'm angry because I feel so real and so constant.

I want to sink into nothingness and find him somewhere there, waiting for me. But instead, I sink into everything and I feel like I'm drowning.

"Hermione." A voice echoes in the hollowness of the room, and I can see Harry in the mirror with his ruffled hair and his tired eyes. He looks as if he wants to lay down his life for all wizardkind and get it over with. "Hermione," he says again, more quietly. He takes a couple steps toward me and the rough skin of his fingers brush against the top of my hand, but I don't flinch because nothing affects me anymore.

"Hermione, he was a murderer," Harry whispers, pressing his lips against the top of my head.

Murderer. That word rings through my ears. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. He killed people, so he was a murderer.

"You killed people, Harry," I say in a haggard whisper. "You're a murderer."

Harry stands behind me and his arms wrap around my waist. I hold his hands against my stomach because I feel cold and he's so warm. I know that I hurt him, but nothing affects me anymore.

"They were evil, Hermione. I had no choice," he tells me.

"How can you use those curses, like them, when you don't have any evil in yourself?" I ask him, knowing that I'm hurting him more. But nothing affects me anymore.

Harry's arms tighten around me and he buries his head in my shoulder, and I can feel him shaking. But I don't care because nothing affects me anymore.

"He was a murderer. He was a murderer," he mumbles into my neck, as if he's trying to convince himself that what he did was right. "He killed Hagrid and Neville and... and he killed Remus." He sobbed into my neck and I held his hands harder against my stomach. But nothing affects me anymore.

"No," I whisper. "No. He's not a murderer. Not a murderer. He's not evil. He loved Hagrid. He wouldn't kill Hagrid or Neville." There was a mad glint in my eyes, and it scared me. My words ran into each other, and I said, "He loved Remus. He loved them. He didn't kill them." Tears began running down my cheeks again. "He didn't kill them."

"Hermione," Harry's strangled voice said. He looked up into the mirror, and I can see him begging me to stop.

But nothing affected me anymore.

"You killed him, Harry. You're evil. You're a murderer. You..." I gasp as his grip tightens around me. "... you killed him. You killed your best friend."

I could feel Harry's body shuddering, and I wanted him to squeeze me into nothingness where I didn't have to convince myself that nothing affected me anymore.

"You killed Ron," I whispered. And Harry pressed his body against mine so that maybe he would become me, so he wouldn't be himself because we both knew.

Ron Weasley, a murderer. Harry Potter, a murderer. The words pressed in on me from all sides and Harry wasn't squeezing me tight enough and I hated how he was right and how I was right and how I wasn't a part of them anymore. So with one simple incantation, I became Hermione Granger--a murderer.