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Author's Chapter Notes:
disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

inspiration: "Tomorrow, Lost" a picture by Myrafur
Harry doesn't know he's dying.

The blood on Hermione's hands can't be his. He leans against her and she's not supporting him, he's cradling her, giving her his comfort along with the weight of his body.

“Don’t cry,” he says and his voice is shaky. He’s not used to begging and that’s why he sounds so strange. “You’re going to be fine, Hermione.”

She just shakes her head and cries harder. Her fingers spread blood on his shirt; it’s thick and sticks to his skin and he doesn’t know how she had that much blood on her hands.

His wand sags in his hand and his fingers go numb. He tells himself it’s because he can’t save her, because he’s failed to protect someone else he cares about. His mum and dad and Sirius and now Hermione too.

Harry cracks his elbow against the floor when he falls, but he can’t feel the pain. He tries to smile and promise that he’ll tell the world about how much Hermione helped him, but the words get stuck behind his teeth and coat his tongue.

Hermione holds him tight. She doesn’t have the strength to waste, Harry thinks, not when she’s wounded. He should tell her to let go, that he’ll find help.

Harry doesn’t know he’s dying when the blackness takes him.


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