Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Nope.
"Merlin knows I love you, Harry, but that just isn't enough anymore."
That's the last thing I ever heard her say, you know. God...if I could've just opened my stupid mouth and stopped her...if I could've called her back, promised I'd change...she wouldn't have walked out the front door and into an avada kedavra meant for me.
She left me, and she died, because I'm an auror. I was so caught up in my work that I took her for granted, so she left. And a vengeful brother of a dark witch I'd caught was there at the wrong time, and killed her.
It's my fault.
She wasn't the only one to die. I killed the bastard that murdered her. I beat him to a pulp and broke his neck without ever using an ounce of magic. And even then, I didn't stop until his corpse was almost unrecognizable.
I killed her, and I killed her murderer.
And that's why I, Harry Potter, the Man Who Defeated Voldemort, am being sentenced to Azkaban for the next two years.
There. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that fucking headline material?
The reporters watched in a stunned silence as Potter was led away.
"I'm thinking," one of them finally quavered, "that maybe next time we accept 'no comment' as a valid answer."
Her colleagues nodded mutely.