Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Anything you recognise belongs to JK.

AN: This is a Harry story. And a Hermione story. (I ship them, but that isn't the main focus of the story). There's quite a lot of Ron. It's a story I wanted to read, and I wasn't sure if it existed, so I decided to write it. It involves quite a few characters, a bit of a conspiracy and betrayal.

I should mention that this story will probably paint a not-so-great picture of what's left of the Order. Kind of. Sorry. And I wouldn't go so far as to say I don't like Dumbledore. I was pretty gutted when he died. What I don't like is that Harry was just part of a grand plan. This story draws on that idea; the idea that Dumbledore's plan continued long after he was dead, and long after Voldemort was defeated. Do enjoy!

Chapter One

For Harry Potter, being a wizard was everything. It was who he was, right to the very core. It was what connected him to his parents. Every fibre of his being existed to be a wizard. He was convinced. So when he lost his ability to perform magic, he didn't handle it very well. In fact, he didn't handle it at all.

In the weeks that followed the great Battle of Hogwarts, Harry managed to alienate all around him. Ginny was the first one to have it with his brooding and broke up with him quicker than the grass could begin to grow on the graves of those they had lost.

She claimed that she couldn't sit by and watch him wallow day in day out. She deserved a better boyfriend, and he needed to get over himself if he was ever going to be that for her, so she had ended it. It merely added to the emotional downpour he found himself wading through. He just didn't see a way into the clear.

Harry didn't hold it against Ginny. He wouldn't want to be with him either. He was nothing if not a wizard. And who would want to be with a nothing?

Harry didn't feel all that much after the war. It was as if he was numb. It was that, or he was constantly being bombarded with every emotion all the time, and he could barely register anything new.

Ron was next. He'd lost his patience with his best friend when Harry didn't show the right amount of excitement for Ron and his new position as an Auror in training. Harry had barely registered the red-head had been mad at him until Ron just stopped coming around. That relationship was over and, with it, the rest began to fall. Everyone already had their own grief to deal with, and Harry moved to the back of their minds. How could they help someone who wouldn't help themselves?

It was Hermione who stuck with him the longest. Even after Ron had given up, she still visited him at the apartment he opted to rent in Piccadilly Circus in London. It was a mess of a place, raggedy and very unlike Harry. Well, the old Harry. It appeared to be very like the new one now. There were empty food containers strewn all over the floor and a worrying amount of beer bottles.

Hermione's first thought that last time she visited was that the entire situation deeply hurt her. He was her best friend and, somehow, he had managed to dull himself to a quarter of the person he once was. She hated to see him drift away from them, as if the sight of them was a burden. She just couldn't understand.

Then again, she didn't know what she would do if she ever lost her ability to do magic. It was too much to think about, which was why she was probably the last person Harry knew who was still trying to understand. If she didn't, who else would?

Hermione found Harry passed out on his grimy couch, dressed in only boxers, a stained t-shirt and dirty white socks. He looked a right mess. She couldn't stop herself from thinking that it was downright shameful for him to be acting this way. He was the wizard that saved them all; probably the most famous wizard alive, and yet he was sulking away his days, as if he would take back his sacrifice if someone were to give him the option.

She supposed that was where the problem was. All his titles carried the word 'wizard' with them. Now all he was was a teenage boy, as normal as they came. Only, the magical world had never come across a wizard so willing, so able, and so powerful.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" Harry asked, coming to, from the sound of Hermione trying to clean up as best she could. "How did you get in here?"

Hermione watched in mild reservation as he gingerly sat up and allowed his eyes to adjust to the light. Without much thinking, she said, "Do you really have to ask that?"

Harry sat up fully and dropped his feet to the ground. "Oh. Right. That whole witchcraft thing," he said sourly. "How could I forget?"

Hermione shook her head, more in irritation with herself. Magic was a tense subject with him. But then, it shouldn't have been so difficult to have a conversation with her Harry. Because that's who he was; who he would always be. She could see the boy she knew hidden in his dark and tired eyes. The horrors of the Battle were trying to claim him, and he was allowing them to. She had to be someone he could hold onto. She had to.

"I repeat: what are you doing here, Hermione?"

She moved to stand over him, fighting the urge to touch him. A part of her entertained the thought that she could transfer some magic to him. It was stupid and childish but she couldn't help herself. She'd to anything to bring him back to them. "What kind of question is that, Harry? I'm here because I want to help."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't need fixing, Hermione."

"I didn't say you did." She took a breath. "And you haven't been responding to my letters," she said pointedly.

"Muggles don't use letters the way you do, Hermione," he said just as pointedly. "Maybe you should try calling next time you feel the need to drop by unannounced."

"Maybe I will," she huffed. No. She didn't want to get angry with him. This wasn't him. This was just how he was dealing with it. "I came by because I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"About things, Harry. I know you've had a rough time of it lately, but you don't have to be holed up in here by yourself all the time, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't?"

Hermione found herself irritated but she managed to squash it down. "I got back from Australia yesterday," she said. "And my parents are fine, thanks for asking. As expected, they weren't too happy with me. I told you all this in the letters I sent, but you don't seem to have read them." She indicated to the pile of unread letters sitting on the counter in the kitchen area. She suspected at least one of those letters was from the Ministry.

"I've been busy," he lied.

"I can see that," she said, humouring him. "Quite a record you've got going for you here, I see. How is the Muggle beer treating you?"

Harry didn't respond.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, by the way. It couldn't be helped."

"We didn't do anything," Harry said. "It was just a normal day. You didn't miss anything."

There was a moment of silence that passed between them. Usually, their silence was a comfortable one, but Hermione felt severely out of place and under scrutiny. Ron wouldn't like that she had actually gone to see him. But for different reasons to the fact that Harry didn't seem to want her there either.

"Were you ever going to reply to me?" she found herself asking, even though she had promised herself she wouldn't. She liked to think she were one of the more important people in his life, and that meant that he would answer the affirmative to her question.

Only, he didn't. "Probably not."

She could tell it was the truth. Who he was was so far scarred by the losses of the Battle that he wasn't even trying to spare her feelings.

"Look, I don't need you checking on me, you know," he said, attempting to get to his feet and failing. He fell back onto the couch and let out a long breath.

"I know. I'm not here for you."

"Then why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you, Harry. Why would you think I wanted something from you?"

Harry let out a rather sickening laugh, which sounded so foreign on his lips. "Isn't that why everyone comes here? Everybody always wants something from me, Hermione. All people do is take and take and take. Well, now I haven't got anything more to give."

Hermione had to remind herself that this wasn't Harry. It was probably a hangover talking.

"When are you just going to leave?" he asked, looking right at her. "Like everyone else. They want nothing to do with me. I'm just a Muggle now; not worth their time."

"You know that's not true. It has nothing to do with your abilities and everything to do with the way you're handling all of this."

Harry rose to his feet, even stumbling slightly. "And how exactly am I handling it?"

"You're not!" she said hotly , raising her voice for the first time. "I mean, honestly, Harry, magic isn't everything in this world. You spent eleven years without it. Are you forgetting that you're alive? You're alive. With or without magic, that counts for something."

"Well," he said, sounding defeated; "I'd rather be dead."

She shot him a look. "You don't mean that. You take that back right now."

Harry said nothing.

"Stop it! Dammit, just stop it! I'm trying to understand but I can't. You have so much going for you, Harry. You can do so much. You're alive. Why are you wasting it?"

"What do you suggest I do, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes boring into her with such intensity; she was sure it would start to hurt her physically. "Am I supposed to, what, become an Auror like Ron? Because I can't. What? Should I go back to Hogwarts like you intend to? Oh wait, I can't do that either. I'm not a wizard. Can't you see? There's nothing left for me in this world of yours."

Before Hermione could argue any further, Harry continued.

"You just don't get it, do you? My entire life led up to the very moment Voldemort and I battled. Everything I ever did was for that moment. All the training, all the fighting. Even the fact that I was a wizard led up to the moment we came face to face once he was mortal again. And then, lo and behold, I did it. I, a seventeen-year-old boy wizard did what the prophecy said: I defeated good old Voldy. I did that. And what did I get in return? What, Hermione? What did poor Harry Potter get?

"Every person I've considered family is dead. Dead. My parents. Sirius. Lupin. Dobby. Hedwig. Gosh, I even got Fred killed. Tonks. Colin. They all died so I could be the one to defeat Voldemort. And I did it. After all of it, it was done. And I was left with nothing. I'm powerless without my magic. I'm nothing if I'm not a wizard. I'm nothing. I have nothing."

"You have me," she found herself saying, her voice dropping so low, she couldn't even be sure he heard.

For a moment, Harry's eyes softened. Through it all, Hermione had been by his side. Even now. Even with his entire world falling to pieces around him; she was still there. Hadn't he ruined her enough for one lifetime? For many lifetimes.

"You should go," Harry said, fighting the ache the words caused him. He never wanted to be the person to hurt her, but he couldn't see himself ever being the boy he once was. The magic was gone, and so was he. "Leave, Hermione, and never come back."

Hermione blinked a few times. "What?" she whispered.

"Just leave like the rest of them. You're going to end up doing it anyway, so you may as well just get it over with. Leave, Hermione. Go. Go. And don't come back."

"Harry? You don't know what you're saying."

Harry shook his head, as if he was steeling himself for his next words. "If you want me to get over this so badly, you'll leave me alone, Hermione. I don't need you or anyone else reminding me what I've lost. I want you to go. Forget about me or who I was. You already know that I'm not the boy I used to be, and I'll probably never be."

"Harry?" she practically pleaded.

He shook his head. "If you care about me at all, you'll go. Live your wonderful magical life. I'll be all right. Just go."

"Harry?" she pleaded once more.

"Go!" he yelled, convincing himself that this was the only way. "Go! Now, go!"

Hermione was so surprised she stepped back. When Harry yelled, he was usually serious. Or in pain. Or so convinced that there was no other way. "So that's it then?"

"I guess it is."

"Just like that."

"Just like that."

For the most part, Hermione was convinced he was going to take back what he was saying. He was going to apologise and tell her that he was acting crazy and he didn't mean it. Only, he didn't. All he did was look at her with his striking green eyes, daring her to defy. She didn't.

It was over. Their entire friendship brought to a head in this very moment; it was over.

And all because he'd lost his magic. He didn't think he deserved anything else. Not friendship, not kindness and not love. He was willing to throw it all away and she was willing to let him.

Before she left, Hermione looked at him once more; the shell of the once great wizard, Harry Potter. There was a moment when their eyes met and, for a moment, Hermione thought that she understood.

But then she didn't.

She walked out, feeling a mixture of emotions. She wanted to be angry with him, but all she felt was pity. It was painful. She'd never wanted to pity Harry Potter, and she was sure he wouldn't want her to. They'd all come so far for it to be like this, and she convinced herself that all he needed was time. She would give that to him; she would give him as long as he needed.

It just never crossed her mind that Harry Potter would consider that time to be forever.

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.