Harry was awoken by the sounds of a fevered, whispered argument a few feet to his right. He reached for his glasses but, upon opening his eyes, realized, that they were still on his face. Come to of think of it, Harry couldn't remember lying down to sleep at all. The last thing he could remember was wondering if Kreacher could bring him some sandwiches up in his dorm room. A quick glance at the curtains drawn around him confirmed that Harry was, indeed, in the Gryffindor Seventh Year Boy's Dorm, although he couldn't find any sandwiches.

"Couldn't manage a Muffliato, eh, Ron?" Harry called to his best mate as he sat up to an immense pain in his chest; sharp, stabbing, pounding, and throbbing all at the same time. He gasped inaudibly in pain, which sent a vague feeling of grief and dread coursing through him, as he managed to draw back the curtains to see Ron looking towards him sheepishly, his arm around a smiling, blushing Hermione. At first, it didn't register with Harry how tightly Ron was holding Hermione, or how Hermione was regarding Ron with a loving gaze. Then Harry's two greatest friends broke him out of his reverie.

"All right, mate?" Ron asked him, speaking first.

"We were so worried, Harry," Hermione admonished, although it was a half-hearted scolding at best. "You didn't even make it through the portrait hole before you started to droop. We sat you down by the fireplace and you mumbled for Kreacher, who was up in a flash, and then gone in another after you asked for some sandwiches. We couldn't have looked away from you for more than a handful of seconds to light the fire, but you were slumped over on the couch, dead asleep, before Kreacher even came back. He levitated you up the stairs and onto your bed."

"Not that we blame you or anything," Ron explained, shooting a look at Hermione. "After everything that happened, we shouldn't have expected any different."

Harry looked at Ron, stricken as memories of the previous day came flooding back to him. How could Ron be speaking to him so calmly? All Harry could see were the images of little Colin Creevey's body in the Great Hall, of Tonks and Remus, and of Fred. Fred. Harry felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't stand to be in the room with the two of them any longer, and so he did the only thing he could think of. He ran.

Harry flew out of the portrait hole at full speed, letting his legs carry him of their own volition, ignoring the searing pain in his chest. When he stopped running, Harry looked around and noticed where he was and felt an odd sense of peace fill him. This was where he deserved to be, Harry thought, it was fitting. He walked over to the wall and reaching under his shirt for his mokeskin pouch, removing the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak. He pulled his wand out of his pocket with one hand as he unfolded the map with the other. Touching the tip of his holly wand to the parchment, Harry muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The web of lines spread out from the tip of his wand as Harry searched for Ron and Hermione's names. He'd have to be ready to throw the Invisibility Cloak over him if they made their way to his current location. Harry found them as they were moving from the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall. Just seeing the map's rendering of the hall sent a chill down Harry's spine. Ron immediately ran into Neville, to whom he seemed to speak for a moment before rushing over to Luna not too far away. Hermione ran over to Molly Weasley first, who almost immediately was scurrying all over the hall, stopping momentarily at every name in the vicinity. Hermione continued up to the staff table causing the names indicating Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt to come around and stand next to her, obviously speaking to her before they rushed off in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

"It's McGonagall's office now," Harry mused to himself. "You just spoke to Dumbledore at the limbo between life and death not twelve hours ago. He's perfectly dead and perfectly content, at that."

As Harry's eyes continued to follow Ron and Hermione around the Great Hall and out onto the grounds, he didn't hear the door open. He didn't hear the footsteps growing closer to him. He did, however, hear the familiar drawl as it called out to him.

"Potter? Potter, I know you're up here. You might as well come out from under that cloak of yours," Draco Malfoy called, as he searched for a sign of Harry, who muttered, "Mischief managed," just as Malfoy yanked the cloak off of him.

"The Astronomy Tower, Harry?" Malfoy began, shock gripping Harry at his nemesis's use of his given name. "How quaint. Planning to throw yourself over the side? Can't stand to be back in the land of the living, the world of those unfit to stand in the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived , no, the Boy-Who-Won?"

This got a rise out of Harry, who stood, his wand thrust under Draco's chin, poking at the pale skin of the blonde's neck. "I'm glad you find all of this amusing, Malfoy. I'm sure your father is already planning to weasel his way out of the charges against your family for harboring Voldemort at your house," Harry snarled, although his voice was wooden and his normally bright eyes looked deadened and hollow.

Malfoy flinched at Harry's use of the Dark Lord's name, although, to his credit, he managed to stay calm. "Speaking of weasels, shouldn't you be down in the Great Hall with Slug Boy and the Mud - er - Granger? He just lost his brother, I'd have thought you'd be comforting him and that sister of his," Draco said, relieved he had caught himself before falling back into calling Hermione a Mudblood. He didn't see it coming when Harry let out scream of rage, sending Draco flying across the top of the tower and hit the stone floor with a thud several feet from Harry.

A groan of anguish erupted from Harry's throat as he rushed to Draco's side, dropping to his knees next to the other man's head. "I can't believe I've killed someone else!" Harry babbled after casting a Reviving Spell.

"Someone else?" Draco whispered in a strained voice, causing Harry to gasp in relief. "Who could you have killed, Potter? You didn't even cast the curse that killed V-Voldemort."

Harry took some solace in Draco's renewed use of his surname, and even more in his use of the name Voldemort, instead of the Dark Lord, although he still was not comfortable with the direction of this conversation. Harry looked down at his hands as if he could see blood on them as spoke in the lowest, softest, most pitiful voice Draco had ever heard from him. "I killed Colin and Tonks and Remus and Fred. I killed my best mate's brother, Draco! And that's just last night. Don't forget Moody and Dobby and Hedwig. Oh, Merlin! Oh, Hedwig! Hedwig didn't even understand what was going on!" Harry let out a strangled sob and threatened to break down.

Draco reached up and gripped Harry's arm painfully. "Are you mad? You didn't kill any of them. They were all killed because of Voldemort! This Gryffindor nobility of yours will be the death of you." Draco stood and brushed himself off and made his way to the stairs that led down to the corridor beneath them. He turned back and caught Harry's eye, before speaking. "If I took the trouble to come up and find you when I heard Weasley and Granger were looking for you, just imagine how upset the pair of them are right now. And don't forget Ginny," Draco said, making a point of using her name as opposed to Weasley.

Harry scoffed as Draco left. Surely they didn't really want to see him. They were probably just making sure he really had left. That must be it. No one could want to spend time with him, not with what he had done. Harry made his way over to the edge of the tower, thinking of what Draco had said earlier. Would it really be better if Harry just threw himself over the edge? Voldemort was gone. There was no need for Harry in the world anymore.

At this thought, sparks shot up in the air over Hogsmeade, enraging Harry. "How can people be celebrating now? People are dead! Families have been ripped apart! Teddy Lupin is an orphan! AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" Harry shouted into the night until he collapsed into a heap of anguished, heart wrenching sobs.