Quicky, nothing much, no timeline, I don't own Harry Potter, review please!
The figure by the window was slim, almost frighteningly so, to the point where from some angles you could entirely overlook him. His dark hair was limp and lifeless, his eyes locked to a point outside the window and blinking in what looked like painful intervals.
"It's hard to believe it's over," he rasped in a hoarse whisper.
There was wind outside the window, making the trees bow to the bow, matching the people groveling down below. He glared at the people, dead green eyes narrowing slightly, hardening.
"Fuck ups," he murmured.
The boy watching him from the opposite corner was nearly as slim. He was tall, filled out, strong. His blond hair was pulled into a lazy ponytail, wisps fluttering in front of his vibrant silver eyes.
"Can you blame them?" he hissed, his voice lower than boy at the window remembered it being. It had been so long since they had spoke. "You're a fucking hero."
The boy at the window scoffed, lips curling into a practiced sneer. His leg was hanging off the ledge, spinning idly clockwise. "There are no heroes here," he spat, still gazing out the window. "You're a fuck up, too, Draco," he muttered after a moment, his voice breaking from disuse.
"All right." The blond, Draco, accepted this with an easy shrug. He realized that the boy at the window couldn't seem, but he didn't seem to care. "But if I'm a fuck up, what does that make you?"
The boy at the window barely resisted the urge to turn. He would not give in. "A killer. What do I look like?"
The blond sneered, again, an easy transition. He moved as though he was made of water. The boy at the window hated this, feeling himself as though he was made of lead. His legs stopped twirling and he started it again, going counterclockwise.
"A king," Draco hissed.
"I wouldn't presume!" the boy at the window admonished, but sarcasm laced his words.
"A king," Draco continued bitterly. "A king who doesn't care at all about his subjects."
"You think I should have let him win? You think he'd be any better?" The boy growled, his body tensing.
"He was killer, right?" Draco sneered. "Same as you. Might as well have let him win. But in a way he did."
At this, the boy at the window did turn to him, eyes dangerously small. "Oh?" he hissed, his leg stopping abruptly.
"Yes," Draco said simply, the sneer slipping off his face. "There are no heroes here," he murmured, a sad look filling his eyes.
"Get out!" cried the boy, facing outwards again, at the people who adored him. At the world which loved him. A world he couldn't stand. The blond stood slowly, and moved elegantly to the door.
"Get fucked," the blond spat and was gone.