The champagne high has fallen down/You're left to hang on the waiting ground/Life isn't what it used to be/But it never was, you were just flying high on memory

She slowly turn the paper over. Shit.
Shit.
Had that seen the grade very clearly after she first looked at it, but it took her brain several minutes to register it’s meaning.
Shit.
She slowly clenched and unclenched her hands. The paper still sat turned over on her desk, the grade hidden. But the red marks that cover the back page could be easily seen.
Harry leaned over and showed her his test, making a face at the grade. "67. Sucks, doesn’t it?"
She nodded numbly.
Harry shrugged. "I’ll do some extra credit."
Ron arched his neck and glanced at Harry’s grade. "Ha! I beat you! 72." His face fell. "Mum’ll kill me though... But not if she doesn’t find out!"
The teacher was talking. "There will be no curve. You should have studied more."
But I did study. I read the book. I really did.
Didn’t I?
She had read the chapter once, done the homework problems, and never looked back at them again.
What’s wrong with me?
How had it been so easy before? She had done minimal homework all year and made perfect marks.
Or had she been deluding herself? Had waiting caught up with her?
Had being a Prefect changed her? Had getting so many OWLs inflated her ego so much she no longer studied as she used to?
Or was it just the missions?
She helped him. Supporting him emotionally, doing research, just being there.
Except...
She stared at the paper on the desk. 78.
That would drop her grade four percentage points, from 96 to 92. She shivered. That was bad. That was very bad.
She could just drop everything and cram for the next test and make 110, but...
The missions would come. Harry would need her. Ron would need her.
And she did love them both.
The missions would go on without her. Harry would do his part, and Ron would seek his future in Magical Law Enforcement, but...
She knew they depended on her emotionally as a friend...and more.
Would it make that much of a difference?
She could drop the mission. Focus on her schoolwork. Focus on what needed to be done.
And what is that?
What was more important, her small contribution to the war against Voldemort or the grades that would determine her life?
And what do I want?
I want Harry. And I want Ron. And I want to be happy.
Happiness now, misery later.
Misery now, happiness later.
What did she want?
What did she need?
I want...
"Harry..." She squeezed his hand. "I love you."
He looked at her with surprise. She normally didn’t say things like that in class. "I love you, too." He scrutinized her. "What’s wrong."
"Nothing. Everything. I don’t know."
"Herm?"
"I just...I’m sorry."
The bell rang.
She picked up her books and quills and papers and left. She didn’t wait for him.

How can you catch the falling/When you’ve already fallen/And the world is spinning at your feet/The shattered pieces of your heart will fling apart

The Forever Potion was hard to buy, harder to make.
She made it. It took her five days without sleep.
She knew what it did, but what choice did she have? Harry needed her. Ron needed her. And she needed to be who she was.
But the papers required writing, and the homework needed to be done. The books had to be read and the 100’s had to be made.
She swallowed it.
The potion was irreversible.
From that moment on, she would be awake for the rest of her life without being sleepy or tired.
But everything comes at a price, of course.
The potion would drain her ‘life force’, as the book had called it.
She would die young.
She would, excepting some tragedy, live to about as long as the average Muggle.
She would die before Harry reached middle age.
It was worth it, wasn’t it?
Now she would have time to do all the things she needed to. All the things she wanted to.
Except grow old with Harry.
But sacrifices had to be made.
She needed the time now, not later.
Harry wouldn’t hate her. He would thank her.
But she couldn’t tell him now. He’d be mad.
No one would ever know.
Until it was over.
But then again, it was over a long time ago.

Time is priceless but so is love/The final ending is being written/So make your choice and sacrifice/And the dedication will say desperation















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