AN: this is another one of my little 20-minute-inspired thingys, brought about by a conversation over who's gonna finally freaking die, Harry or Voldemort. New JK rumors are circulating that Harry could wind up sacrificing himself to kill Voldemort, so this is just a random thing I did in light of that. It's just his vague, random thoughts and feelings as he's dying, and the "she" would be Ginny, because that's not clear. It's a little choppy, but it's worth the read. Def not bad for keeping me occupied for 20 minutes. Enjoy!

He felt his stomach heave dryly at the rush of energy leaving his body.

This was it.

He could feel it.

The figure beneath the limp weight of his body moved under the point of his wand, twisting and contorting at odd angles, trying to emit sound over the roar of his life force escaping him.

The pinch at his side burned him.

The mark of a spell, no doubt.

He could only just feel it diminishing, just ever so slightly, ever so steadily as his power reduced.


Please, Dear God, water.

The sickening feeling of the heaving of an empty stomach echoed inside him, again, and again, and again, arresting his heart in overexertion.

Make it stop, make it stop. . .

His head whirled as all strength, all function caved in, robbing him of all sense, of all sight, of all pain. . .

More. Just a little more.

His arms grew limp, his bones collapsing, muscles imploding from such extreme effort. . .

Just a little. . .

His mind screamed with insanity and frantic, involuntary action as his body lay motionless.

The wand fell from his grasp, plunging into the pool of mud, tears, and blood at his side.

Just. . .




Forever quiet, no sound, no movement. . .

. . .A touch.

Soft, warm. . .

Delicate, caressing the blood from his fragile face. . .

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Inability to recognize words, to form meaning in his mind. . .

Only panic.


"It's over, Harry, he's gone! He's gone, he's gone. . ."


Building fear.

"Harry, wake up! Please, please, Harry, wake up. . ."

A tender kiss pressed to his cheek, new, cold tears grazing his face. . .

"It's over. . . we won, Harry. . . It's over. . ."

Safety as arms embraced him, the pain shooting through his body that he prayed wouldn't end. . .

"It's over."


Sweet triumph of that one, single word easing his mind into a calm, sedated state. . .

Over. Really over.

The remnants of his broken body melting in numbness as pain released from him. . .


His soul caressing its worldly shell ever so carefully. . .

"It's over, Harry. You're safe now."

Breath abandoning him, his mind relishing the fleeting feeling of surviving his last moment on sheer bliss, sheer uncontrollable fulfillment. . .

Over. Finally over.

". . .Harry?"