TITLE: Broken
RATING: R
PAIRING: Draco/Harry
WARNINGS/AUTHOR'S NOTE: Deathfic! First posted Harry Potter fic, be gentle! Constructive criticism welcome!
Speech = "words" Thoughts = --words--
SUMMARY: Something horrible has happened to Harry. Short fic on how he deals with it (not very well, unfortunately).
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its characters, locations and scenarios belong to J K Rowling. Any correlations with the work of someone else are purely coincidental and I apologize for any insult.
***
--Dead.--
The thought drifted slowly across Harry's consciousness, finding no resting place in the unnatural calmness of his mind, the eye of the storm. Outside, he was aware that Professor Dumbledore was peering worriedly over the tops of his half-moon glasses, his gaze heavy with sorrow, another line added to the already numerous creases of grief on his forehead. But inside. . . inside he was numb, cold, unfeeling.
--He's dead.--
Slowly the concept sank in. Panic unfurled deep in his stomach, his fingers twitching, forming claws, and then fists. Dimly, he heard weeping from his left, and recognised the tortured, distorted voice as Hermione's.
Calmly, he stood, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair, pushing himself up with forced slowness, refusing to acknowledge anything except this action.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, raising a hand to restrain him, but choked off the sound when Harry's eyes swung to him, something in their depths warning him not to break the fragile calm that smothered him.
"Excuse me," the Boy Who Lived said softly, and turning, walked slowly, purposefully treading, one foot after the other, out of the headmaster's office. He pushed his way past the gargoyle before it had a chance to fully leap out of the way, breaking into a run once he reached the hallway, blinded by the tears now spilling from his eyelids and coursing down his cheeks.
--Dead. . . never see him again.--
His eyes snapped shut at the pain that thought produced. --Never touch him again, hear him laugh, make him smile. . .-- A broken, tortured sob wrenched its way out of his gut and he blindly turned, feeling his boots impact on stairs, his robes catching the rough stone of the narrow corridor.
Breathing in harsh pants, he found himself in the Astronomy Tower, and collapsed, pressed up against the wall below the enormous window.
--Dead.--
Whimpering he clutched his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth as pain more agonising than Cruciatus flowed along his veins. His muscles seized up; voice growing hoarse and eyes sore as the salty liquid poured relentlessly down his face.
***Flashback***
The clash of thunder outside the tower made Harry shudder and clutch at the warm body lying curled protectively around his on the bed. A soothing hand stroked down his spine in response, causing the suddenly tense muscles to relax and a contended sigh to escape the Gryffindor's mouth.
A warm chuckle sounded next to his ear, and his lips curved in response; he so rarely got to hear his playfellow laugh.
"What would you do without me, hmm? So jumpy, you'd probably have a heart attack at every loud noise," the warm voice teased.
Harry grew still, not for the first time imagining life without his companion. A deep seated panic gripped him at the thought and he raised his head, *needing* to see those eyes, full of reassurance, and once he did, he released a breath, and confessed quietly, "I wouldn't be able to breathe."
The orbs gazing into his widened in slight shock and then stared at him questioningly.
Harry smiled gently, and lifted a hand to smooth the other's hair away from his eyes, "You're my very life, my reason for being. I couldn't live without you, and every time I think of it, I swear my heart stops, just for a second. This world, even with all the people whom I care for, would mean nothing without you. It would be lifeless, pointless. How can I live it to the full without the other half of myself? How can I feel joy when I only feel it with you?"
The other boy lifted his hand, fingers grasping and entwining with Harry's own, and just stared sadly into Harry's eyes. "I would never willingly leave you, Harry," he whispered. "The thought of *that*, of being alone and bitter for the rest of my life, makes me want to cry, and rail at the unfairness of it all. I can't possibly even begin to imagine not feeling you cocooned in my very soul, not hearing your heartbeat when we sleep," he brought their enjoined hands and pressed them against Harry's chest, right over his heart, "not listening to those quicksilver thoughts, not seeing you smile," and he traced Harry's trembling lips, "not falling asleep curled around you and not waking up next to you the following morning." He smiled beautifully, his voice catching, and brought their mouths close for a sweet kiss, the Gryffindor sobbing silently in his loving embrace.
The boy carded his fingers through ruffled black hair and continued tenderly, "You complete me in a way I never thought was ever possible, and knowing that I might not be here to protect you someday, that I might have to suffer seeing your grief from a place I can't touch or comfort you terrifies me." He drew in a ragged breath, his gaze blurring with tears. "I want," he paused, gathering himself, "I want to always be there for you, to be the one you *know* you can rely on, I want to watch you grow old, I want to adopt children together," he cuddled the precious bundle closer, tucking him under his chin, "I want to drink champagne at our wedding, to toast those wonderful friends, to dance to any song you like," and his voice broke as he buried his face in Harry's hair.
Breathing deeply, he continued, "I want to graduate, to watch you receive highest honours. I want to live in the country, in a cottage with a dog and a rose garden, I want to always wake up to the smell from that garden and to the feel of your arms around me." Smiling, he drew back, lifting Harry's face from where it was pressed into his neck, and tenderly kissed the tears away, his lips caressing the swollen eyelids, tickled by the damp lashes. He watched glisteningly joyful, tear-drenched emerald eyes open, "Remember this, please love, remember that I love you, that you complete me, and that if I *ever* have to go away, that I will *always* come back to you, without fail. I *promise*, Harry."
***End flashback***
He stood unsteadily, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the wide windowsill.
--Dead. . . dead. . . dead. . . dead. . .--
"No," he moaned, "Please, come back!" He glared up at the moon, seeming to mock him from her position high above, "You promised!" he shouted up, his voice cracking under the strain. "You promised you'd come back," he whispered desolately, slumping tiredly against the stone, his forehead lowering to press against its surface, smooth from the countless visits by the lonely and the unloved.
--Dead, dead, dead, never see him again, again, again. . .--
Harry drew in gasping breaths, hooking his leg up onto the sill, clambering awkwardly, haltingly, until he was sitting, legs hanging over the side, chin pressed against his chest, shuddering with his tears, his pain.
"No. . ." he whispered, shaking his head, "No! Please! Bring him back!" he pleaded desperately. "I can't. . . can't live, I can't breathe. . . please. . . I need him, here, with me. . ."
--DeadDeadDeadDeadDeadDead. . .--
"No!" he screamed, falling against the wall, the edge of the sill. He felt himself shatter, felt his heart splinter, the pieces exploding in different directions as the scream left his mouth, the stones in the tower rumbling ominously, the windows in the next breaking, their fragments shooting outwards, falling, like stars, to the ground. Clouds covered the sky, the very world itself responding to the force of Harry's grief.
But soon, the scream faded, and Harry was left curled in a ball on the floor, hands clasped over his tears, rocking back and forth, back and forth, face pressed into his knees as silent sobs shook his body.
"Draco. . ." he murmured brokenly. "What am I going to do now? I can't. . . I can't go on, it's not worth it, not without you. . . Please, come back, I'm not whole. . ."
***
The next day, the Great Hall was buzzing with chatter and gossip about the night's events, along with the conspicuous absence of the Boy Who Lived, although the other two thirds of the Gryffindor Trio were there, Hermione with eyes puffy and red from crying, Ron slightly grey, his hand shaking as he reached for the sugar.
Silence reigned as the Headmaster stood up. Sadly he surveyed the students, his eyes marking each and every one, mentally preparing himself should he have to report their death, or should they have to receive the news.
"I am afraid that Mr. Potter will not be returning to classes at Hogwarts, ever." He said softly. Immediate protests and questions burst from the mouths around the Hall, quieted when he raised his hands. "He will be escorted to a secure location, where he will resume his studies in time, after his recovery from the ordeal of last night."
Noise again, the Weasley twins foremost, "Professor! Professor! What happened? What's wrong with Harry?" they demanded.
Dumbledore's eyes closed momentarily, the hall quiet as it waited for his answer. Finally seeming to reach a decision, his eyes opened, gazing sorrowfully at the mischievous duo, and his voice was unbearably broken as he replied, "He lost the other half of his soul," before turning and exiting the Great Hall.
***
Unnoticed in the chaos that erupted after the Professor's announcement, Ginny Weasley slipped between the heavy oak doors and ran after Dumbledore. "Professor!" she called breathlessly, halting at his side as he turned and looked down at her.
"Ah, Virginia Weasley, and what can I do for you, child?" he asked tiredly, though still benevolently.
The youngest Weasley stared up at the headmaster, "What really happened, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed, "It is as I said, Miss Weasley. Harry lost his soulmate."
"Who?" she whispered, licking her lips.
Dumbledore smiled sadly, "Draco Malfoy, child, Draco Malfoy."
***
300 years from that day, and the gravestone of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy still remains in the cemetery behind Hogwarts, commissioned to commemorate the dead of the Dark Lord Voldemort's second war. The headstone remains clean and white, the words still perfect, unaffected by the ravages of time and weather, the flowers in everlasting bloom, in pride of place at the centre of the site. If you look closely, you can almost see the magic dancing around the marker, the two souls joined in death as they were in life.
*Draco Lucius Malfoy* *31st June 1980 - 9th May 2000* *Taken before he had begun to live*
*Harry James Potter* *31st July 1980 - 9th June 2000* *Even heroes are human*
And underneath both inscriptions:
*Together forever, one soul in two bodies* *Rest now, your task is done*
RATING: R
PAIRING: Draco/Harry
WARNINGS/AUTHOR'S NOTE: Deathfic! First posted Harry Potter fic, be gentle! Constructive criticism welcome!
Speech = "words" Thoughts = --words--
SUMMARY: Something horrible has happened to Harry. Short fic on how he deals with it (not very well, unfortunately).
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its characters, locations and scenarios belong to J K Rowling. Any correlations with the work of someone else are purely coincidental and I apologize for any insult.
***
--Dead.--
The thought drifted slowly across Harry's consciousness, finding no resting place in the unnatural calmness of his mind, the eye of the storm. Outside, he was aware that Professor Dumbledore was peering worriedly over the tops of his half-moon glasses, his gaze heavy with sorrow, another line added to the already numerous creases of grief on his forehead. But inside. . . inside he was numb, cold, unfeeling.
--He's dead.--
Slowly the concept sank in. Panic unfurled deep in his stomach, his fingers twitching, forming claws, and then fists. Dimly, he heard weeping from his left, and recognised the tortured, distorted voice as Hermione's.
Calmly, he stood, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair, pushing himself up with forced slowness, refusing to acknowledge anything except this action.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, raising a hand to restrain him, but choked off the sound when Harry's eyes swung to him, something in their depths warning him not to break the fragile calm that smothered him.
"Excuse me," the Boy Who Lived said softly, and turning, walked slowly, purposefully treading, one foot after the other, out of the headmaster's office. He pushed his way past the gargoyle before it had a chance to fully leap out of the way, breaking into a run once he reached the hallway, blinded by the tears now spilling from his eyelids and coursing down his cheeks.
--Dead. . . never see him again.--
His eyes snapped shut at the pain that thought produced. --Never touch him again, hear him laugh, make him smile. . .-- A broken, tortured sob wrenched its way out of his gut and he blindly turned, feeling his boots impact on stairs, his robes catching the rough stone of the narrow corridor.
Breathing in harsh pants, he found himself in the Astronomy Tower, and collapsed, pressed up against the wall below the enormous window.
--Dead.--
Whimpering he clutched his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth as pain more agonising than Cruciatus flowed along his veins. His muscles seized up; voice growing hoarse and eyes sore as the salty liquid poured relentlessly down his face.
***Flashback***
The clash of thunder outside the tower made Harry shudder and clutch at the warm body lying curled protectively around his on the bed. A soothing hand stroked down his spine in response, causing the suddenly tense muscles to relax and a contended sigh to escape the Gryffindor's mouth.
A warm chuckle sounded next to his ear, and his lips curved in response; he so rarely got to hear his playfellow laugh.
"What would you do without me, hmm? So jumpy, you'd probably have a heart attack at every loud noise," the warm voice teased.
Harry grew still, not for the first time imagining life without his companion. A deep seated panic gripped him at the thought and he raised his head, *needing* to see those eyes, full of reassurance, and once he did, he released a breath, and confessed quietly, "I wouldn't be able to breathe."
The orbs gazing into his widened in slight shock and then stared at him questioningly.
Harry smiled gently, and lifted a hand to smooth the other's hair away from his eyes, "You're my very life, my reason for being. I couldn't live without you, and every time I think of it, I swear my heart stops, just for a second. This world, even with all the people whom I care for, would mean nothing without you. It would be lifeless, pointless. How can I live it to the full without the other half of myself? How can I feel joy when I only feel it with you?"
The other boy lifted his hand, fingers grasping and entwining with Harry's own, and just stared sadly into Harry's eyes. "I would never willingly leave you, Harry," he whispered. "The thought of *that*, of being alone and bitter for the rest of my life, makes me want to cry, and rail at the unfairness of it all. I can't possibly even begin to imagine not feeling you cocooned in my very soul, not hearing your heartbeat when we sleep," he brought their enjoined hands and pressed them against Harry's chest, right over his heart, "not listening to those quicksilver thoughts, not seeing you smile," and he traced Harry's trembling lips, "not falling asleep curled around you and not waking up next to you the following morning." He smiled beautifully, his voice catching, and brought their mouths close for a sweet kiss, the Gryffindor sobbing silently in his loving embrace.
The boy carded his fingers through ruffled black hair and continued tenderly, "You complete me in a way I never thought was ever possible, and knowing that I might not be here to protect you someday, that I might have to suffer seeing your grief from a place I can't touch or comfort you terrifies me." He drew in a ragged breath, his gaze blurring with tears. "I want," he paused, gathering himself, "I want to always be there for you, to be the one you *know* you can rely on, I want to watch you grow old, I want to adopt children together," he cuddled the precious bundle closer, tucking him under his chin, "I want to drink champagne at our wedding, to toast those wonderful friends, to dance to any song you like," and his voice broke as he buried his face in Harry's hair.
Breathing deeply, he continued, "I want to graduate, to watch you receive highest honours. I want to live in the country, in a cottage with a dog and a rose garden, I want to always wake up to the smell from that garden and to the feel of your arms around me." Smiling, he drew back, lifting Harry's face from where it was pressed into his neck, and tenderly kissed the tears away, his lips caressing the swollen eyelids, tickled by the damp lashes. He watched glisteningly joyful, tear-drenched emerald eyes open, "Remember this, please love, remember that I love you, that you complete me, and that if I *ever* have to go away, that I will *always* come back to you, without fail. I *promise*, Harry."
***End flashback***
He stood unsteadily, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the wide windowsill.
--Dead. . . dead. . . dead. . . dead. . .--
"No," he moaned, "Please, come back!" He glared up at the moon, seeming to mock him from her position high above, "You promised!" he shouted up, his voice cracking under the strain. "You promised you'd come back," he whispered desolately, slumping tiredly against the stone, his forehead lowering to press against its surface, smooth from the countless visits by the lonely and the unloved.
--Dead, dead, dead, never see him again, again, again. . .--
Harry drew in gasping breaths, hooking his leg up onto the sill, clambering awkwardly, haltingly, until he was sitting, legs hanging over the side, chin pressed against his chest, shuddering with his tears, his pain.
"No. . ." he whispered, shaking his head, "No! Please! Bring him back!" he pleaded desperately. "I can't. . . can't live, I can't breathe. . . please. . . I need him, here, with me. . ."
--DeadDeadDeadDeadDeadDead. . .--
"No!" he screamed, falling against the wall, the edge of the sill. He felt himself shatter, felt his heart splinter, the pieces exploding in different directions as the scream left his mouth, the stones in the tower rumbling ominously, the windows in the next breaking, their fragments shooting outwards, falling, like stars, to the ground. Clouds covered the sky, the very world itself responding to the force of Harry's grief.
But soon, the scream faded, and Harry was left curled in a ball on the floor, hands clasped over his tears, rocking back and forth, back and forth, face pressed into his knees as silent sobs shook his body.
"Draco. . ." he murmured brokenly. "What am I going to do now? I can't. . . I can't go on, it's not worth it, not without you. . . Please, come back, I'm not whole. . ."
***
The next day, the Great Hall was buzzing with chatter and gossip about the night's events, along with the conspicuous absence of the Boy Who Lived, although the other two thirds of the Gryffindor Trio were there, Hermione with eyes puffy and red from crying, Ron slightly grey, his hand shaking as he reached for the sugar.
Silence reigned as the Headmaster stood up. Sadly he surveyed the students, his eyes marking each and every one, mentally preparing himself should he have to report their death, or should they have to receive the news.
"I am afraid that Mr. Potter will not be returning to classes at Hogwarts, ever." He said softly. Immediate protests and questions burst from the mouths around the Hall, quieted when he raised his hands. "He will be escorted to a secure location, where he will resume his studies in time, after his recovery from the ordeal of last night."
Noise again, the Weasley twins foremost, "Professor! Professor! What happened? What's wrong with Harry?" they demanded.
Dumbledore's eyes closed momentarily, the hall quiet as it waited for his answer. Finally seeming to reach a decision, his eyes opened, gazing sorrowfully at the mischievous duo, and his voice was unbearably broken as he replied, "He lost the other half of his soul," before turning and exiting the Great Hall.
***
Unnoticed in the chaos that erupted after the Professor's announcement, Ginny Weasley slipped between the heavy oak doors and ran after Dumbledore. "Professor!" she called breathlessly, halting at his side as he turned and looked down at her.
"Ah, Virginia Weasley, and what can I do for you, child?" he asked tiredly, though still benevolently.
The youngest Weasley stared up at the headmaster, "What really happened, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed, "It is as I said, Miss Weasley. Harry lost his soulmate."
"Who?" she whispered, licking her lips.
Dumbledore smiled sadly, "Draco Malfoy, child, Draco Malfoy."
***
300 years from that day, and the gravestone of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy still remains in the cemetery behind Hogwarts, commissioned to commemorate the dead of the Dark Lord Voldemort's second war. The headstone remains clean and white, the words still perfect, unaffected by the ravages of time and weather, the flowers in everlasting bloom, in pride of place at the centre of the site. If you look closely, you can almost see the magic dancing around the marker, the two souls joined in death as they were in life.
*Draco Lucius Malfoy* *31st June 1980 - 9th May 2000* *Taken before he had begun to live*
*Harry James Potter* *31st July 1980 - 9th June 2000* *Even heroes are human*
And underneath both inscriptions:
*Together forever, one soul in two bodies* *Rest now, your task is done*