Diary of the End Days

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything Harry Potter, nor do I own "Breathe" which isn't actually in the fic... I'm not making profit so don't bother me about it.

This is my first Potter fic that I'm sharing. Please keep that in mind. Also, I don't have a beta. Corrective criticism is embraced, and feedback is begged for!



January 12

Ginny flooed this morning. I was just sitting down to my coffee with the paper in my hand to see who was in the obituaries section that the Prophet had added when the war with Voldemort had swung into full force.

“Harry!” Ginny’s voice shouting through my apartment made me jump and my coffee spilled across the table. Rolling my eyes at my own jumpiness, I walked into my living room where the fireplace was. Ginny was standing in front of the fire brushing soot from her skirt.

“Hey Ginny, you usually aren’t up this early.” The minute her eyes met mine I knew something was wrong.

“Harry, you have to help me fix it. Please Harry. I don’t love him. I told him I didn’t love him. We both agreed, but the war is getting so scary and it’s so lonely. It’s just a mistake.” Her hands hovered over her stomach and understanding floored me.

“Ginny… No…” I know my voice must have sounded even more horrified to her than it did to me.

Her tearful eyes held mine desperately, “It’s just a little mistake right? You’ll go with me to fix it?”

I sat in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s waiting for Ginny to reappear from the room. I had spent hours trying to convince her that this wasn’t the only option but nothing could change her mind. Finally, I simply bundled her off to where she wanted to go and sat quietly waiting. It was only fifteen minutes before she was back out. Somehow that just seemed wrong to me, shouldn’t it take longer. I wrapped my arms around her and apparated us both back to my flat since she didn’t appear in any condition to do so herself.

As soon as we were back in the flat, she dropped to the couch, “Oh god, Harry. What have I done?” She looked at me utterly despondent. I sat next to her and pulled her head against my shoulder while she cried. I stood to get a tissue and she hunched in on herself as if to block the reality of what had just happened. She cradled her head in her hands as she wept for what was and what would never be.

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April 16

I saw Draco today. Three years ago, he turned on his family when Lucius called him home for the Dark Mark. Since then, he has been one of our greatest fighters, even becoming an Auror once he graduated. I read in the news last October that he killed Lucius in an attack against the Manor. I’ve heard rumors from friends that he seemed to loose his will after that. I was in Diagon Alley for a lunch with Neville and Draco was sitting at another booth in the pub. He had a flask in his hand when I came in and it was apparent that he had been drinking for quite awhile.

Neville noticed me staring and shook his head. “He was released from his duties last week. He’s been a liability since he killed Lucius. I don’t think he’s been sober since maybe October of last year.”

When Neville finally cried off for work, I stood and approached Draco’s table. He looked up at me and recognition flared in his eyes. He wasn’t the same spoiled boy I was in school with. Scars marred his once perfect skin and the light that had been in his eyes was dead. I sat down next to him and we reminisced about our “good old days” at Hogwarts. He smiled at me once, the bright smile that he used to give me when we were together in our last year. It took my breath away the same as the last time I saw it years ago. My arms ached to hold him to me again and hear him whisper all those sweet words that made everything seem ok.

As I stood to leave I paused for a minute, “Won’t you stop, Drake. Please.”

He didn’t look up, “Just today.” He seemed to be speaking more to the flask than me. I shook my head and touched his shoulder and he dropped his head to his hands. I stood with my hand on his arm as he wept for what he had done and what he couldn’t do.


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April 22

Sometimes I look at the carnage around me and I wonder if ending this will make a difference. The lives that ended will never be recovered. The casualties aren’t just the bodies we bury. They are the child that will never breath. They are the beautiful redhead that will never have be able to take back those minutes that killed the child inside of her,and the blonde boy that still sits in that pub drowning everything he once was. Neither of them has escaped anything. The things that they did wrong will never be undone.

Will I be the savior that everyone wants? When I end it,will they look around and curse me because nothing is better? I don’t know and I may never know. Nevertheless, I am going to end this tonight. I have to give them the option for a better life. I just hope they can take it.


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With that, Harry put down the pen he was using to write in his journal. He looked at the words on the pages in front of him and closed the book firmly. He placed the book in an envelope and sealed it. He placed the envelope on the center of the desk with the words facing up. The envelope was marked in bold black: In Case Of My Death. He reached for his wand on the corner of the desk and hesitated. His eyes latched on a picture next to the wand.

Inside the frame, he sat on a couch in the Gryffindor common room. Draco was sitting across his lap with his head on Harry’s shoulder. Hermione was leaning against Ron and little Ginny was on the floor in front of them. Miniature Harry and Draco had smiles for only each other, kissing occasionally. Ginny and Hermione were laughing at something Ron had said.

Harry hung his head into his hands and sobbed for their past and their future.