Disclaimer: BORROW! It's the end of the road for this story. I know it was a sad, tearful journey. But hopefully this chapter will somewhat make up for it. THIS DOES NOT END IN THE WAY MOST OF YOU WERE HOPING. I will tell you that right now. Alright, thanks for reading this. Maybe my next story will be a bit less desolate. Anyway, review? Please?


A gust of wind, blurred surroundings, and a bout of nausea later, I was home again. I looked around at me and Hermione's rooms, and it was too much. Everything screamed her. Everything brought back the happy memories, memories that were presently unwelcome for they hurt to recall. I couldn't do it, I needed to do something. I went to the bathroom and, after much digging through the cabinets, found my old familiar razor, the one that had been dormant since the first date of Hermione and me. Slowly, I brought the razor to my forearm and dragged it across my skin, relishing in the pain it gave. The recognizable sting felt fantastic, and I watched the crimson liquid run down my arm, contrasting greatly with the white floor.

I tried to cut the pain away, slicing my arms over and over until I felt unconsciousness stroking and caressing its way over me. Finally! There was so much blood on the floor around me, but I didn't think twice about it. I fell to my knees as everything began to blacken.


I woke up around noon the next day, in our—my bed. Unaware as to how I was able to get there, I realized I didn't really give a damn. The funeral would be soon.

I still had my clothes on from yesterday, so I got up and walked out the door, not bothering to change. I felt the dried trails of tears on my cheeks, but didn't bother getting rid of them. I knew there would be more tears during the ceremony, so what was the point? I made my way slowly through the castle. I came across a few people, students and teachers alike, but none bothered to try and talk to me, or even looked in my direction for that matter. For that I was grateful. I was in no state to converse rationally.

I reached the exit to the castle and walked slowly down to the gathering crowd near the Great Lake. Walking a few paces in front were two older witches, both of whom I was unfamiliar with. They were speaking rather loudly, so I decided to eavesdrop.

"Such a tragic ending!" one of them said. Obviously talking about Hermione…

"Tell me about it, first she dies, and then him! Poor dears," the second one announced. Maybe not so obviously…? Someone else died? Who's him?

"Self-inflicted, it was. A suicide," the first one said, and I was unable to hear the rest of the conversation.

I reached the crowd and stood towards the back. I didn't want to be near anyone. I could see two caskets, but was unable to see the second occupant. Perhaps Weasley's guilt caught up with him?

Minerva and Poppy came and stood in front of me, with no acknowledgement from either of them. That's was odd…

"Oh, the poor thing. Finally has happiness served on a silver platter, then it comes crashing down," Poppy said quietly. What?

"I knew he wouldn't be able to do this. He kept repeating it in the waiting room, 'I can't do this, can't go back to life before…need her.' I knew it was only a matter of time," Minerva replied. My jaw went slack. Could they be talking about…

For the first time since waking up, I took a look at my forearms. Clean. Unmarked. No cuts at all. Oh god.

I walked closer to the second casket, and suddenly everything made sense. There my body lay, paler than usual and completely unmoving.

I killed myself? I slit my wrists...I hadn't really meant to, but I needed to do something. I needed to be with her…

My eyes widened as I felt a hand slip into mine, and intertwine our fingers. I looked up to see Hermione standing next to me, looking at my casket.

"Oh Severus…" her ghost whispered quietly.

"I'm sorry Hermione," I said, "I wasn't looking to kill myself. I just needed to get rid of the pain," I squeezed her hand. "But I'm glad I did, because now we can be together. I don't have to live without you."

She smiled at me. I looked down at our clasped hands to see the silver engagement ring on her ring finger.

"We're together again," she said happily. With one last look at the caskets, then at the crowd, she said, "Let's go."

And we turned our backs on the past, on the lives we had, and the bodies we once belonged to. We walked away from it all, and were ready to start whatever it was that happened in the after life. It didn't matter, because we would forever be together. And we would face together whatever death held in store.