New hope

Chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A/N: This is my first time trying to write a fanftction, but I hope you enjoy this small story either way.

«Harry, how come you still look like you're no older than 20?" asked Hermione, with an air of profound puzzlement. Harry really couldn't blame her, for he was wondering that himself. He looked at Hermione, now in her mid-30's. He looked at her bushy hair, she still had not managed to get it under control. Her chocolate brown eyes, now with small wrinkles around the edges, studied him. He shrugged, "No idea, Hermione. Good luck…?" he answered, a half-smile on his lips. She huffed, clearly not satisfied with that remark. Suddenly feeling a little awkward, Harry changed the subject.

"Well, how's things at your place? The kids went to Hogwarts yesterday. How is it without them in the house?" he asked. And she was off. She went into a full rant about how much she adored her children, how much she already missed them and how the house simply didn't feel the same without them running around driving them mad. Harry only half-listened, just enough for him to nod and murmur something incoherent at the appropriate time. His mind was wondering about the question Hermione had asked, as well as other oddities in his life. Harry had noticed that people sometimes avoided to walk to close, or look directly at him. This had puzzled Harry, but now Harry had turned into something of a recluse, only going out for food, and occasional meetings with Hermione or Hagrid. He and Ron had had another falling out a few years back, after Harry and Ginny had ended things. And Harry had somehow managed to lose contact with all his other friends from Hogwarts. And as such, rarely saw other people, and avoided crowds all together.

It had been 19 years since Harry had defeated Voldemort, and Harry felt utterly alone. And this feeling only intensified once he had said goodbye to Hermione, and she had disapparated back to her own place, leaving Harry alone in his two-bedroom house. He walked back in, looking for the book he had been reading, wanting to disappear into another world again, away from his own.

Emptiness. Numbness. A black hole in his stomach.

Harry was standing at a graveyard, looking at a headstone. The headstone of Hermione Granger-Weasley, right next to her husband, Ron Weasley. Harry knew that the grave of his first love, Ginny Weasley, lay just a few headstones away. But Harry could not make himself go over to it. He just continued to stare at the headstone straight in front of him, unable to move. Hermione. His last friend in this world. She had lived a long and happy life, dying at the age of 109, three years after her husband. In the last few years, especially after the death of Ron, she had become a little demented. She had forgotten about Harry, forgetting that he simply did not age, simply saying that he looked very much like a friend she used to have. This, more than anything, broke Harry. Seeing Hermione, the smartest person he had ever known, except possibly Dumbledore, reduced to an old, wrinkled woman. He still looked like he was about twenty years old, despite the fact that he was nearing 109 himself. In fact, he was turning 109 in just two months. Sighing heavily, Harry turned around, and walked away, and out of the graveyard. Back to his house, right next to the sea.

Just a few hundred meters away from his house, there was a cliff standing straight out of the sea. Harry had always liked standing there, looking out at the uncontrolled and powerful masses of water. Now he was standing there again, looking over the storming sea. There was a storm raging, and Harry felt the wind pull and drag him, trying to shove him off the cliff, into the grey water. He was standing there, thinking about his friends. All of them were now gone. The last of them gone just recently. Laid to the ground a week ago, with nobody telling him. He had only found out previously that day, when he had tried to visit he once again. Only to be told that she had passed away in her sleep. Now there was nothing left for him. Harry had stopped aging, still looking as the day when de had killed Voldemort. Only his eyes showed that he was older than he looked. They were solemn, and deep in his skull. They showed pain and suffering. And even though they were still the startling green colour, they seemed dulled, as though a mist had been laid over them. They were, in fact, very disconcerting to look in to at this point.

Harry was staring down at the raging sea, wondering what would happen if he finally jumped. He had wondered this often over the last few years, but never doing it because of Hermione, the only person he had contact with. But now that she was gone, there was nothing stopping him anymore. Thinking longingly of finally being able to die, Harry let the wind take him. He plummeted towards the water, not frightened, but looking forward to the black nothingness that would soon follow. And then he hit the water, and everything went dark. And Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, knew no more.

Well, that's it for this time. Leave a review, I want to hear what you thought of this!