Harry was the Boy Who Lived, and Draco was the one to save him.
Harry held Draco's limp body in his arms, afraid to let go. If he let go, it would make the situation all the more real.
Blood pooled around them both, warm and deeply red. It soaked through Harry's cloak, and felt uncomfortably hot and sticky against his skin. It streaked against Draco's abnormally white face like war paint and caused his hair to stick up like it had been gelled. His clothes were ripped, showing the open wounds that were clawed through his chest.
Harry still didn't move, though, cradling Draco like a baby and sobbing into what was left of his shirt. Like he wasn't the bleeding one. Like he wasn't dead.
Behind him, he couldn't bring himself to see Hermione and Ron looking at him in silence. To see Dumbledore and the other teachers vainly pushing all the other students back, the students pointing in awe. To see Hagrid's large figure slumped and sobbing, apologizing over and over again, as if sorry's would make this all go away. Like they would bring Draco back.
But despite all of them being behind him, Harry could only focus on Draco. On his love, dead, because of that imbecile. Because of that imbecilic Hagrid and his imbecilic dragon. Because his dragon was going to murder Harry, and Draco had to jump in the way. Another death that Harry caused. Another life he had to live without. The only life he couldn't live without.
A crack of thunder came and rain started falling; the sky was crying for Harry and his deceased. The wind started catching up, throwing Harry's hair back and causing him to wrap himself more tightly around the dead figure. Harry blinked against the rain that was falling into his eyes, not able to let go.
This could be a dream, he thought, This is a dream. Wake up, Harry! Wake up!
His eyes kept on defocusing and focusing, as if that would help him come out of this dream. This nightmare. The grass was beginning to get muddy, and splatters of rainwater mixed with the blood surrounding the Boy Who Lived, and the One To Die.
Hermione came over quietly, padding her feet on the mushy grass, and gently laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. He twitched slightly, but didn't meet her face.
"You should go inside, Harry. We'll take care of Draco," She whispered softly, trying not to sound too insistent.
Harry was even quieter, "Fix him," He breathed, almost inaudible against the pounding of rain.
Hermione waited a beat, "I-I can't, Harry. He's...He's already g-gone…"
Harry threw Hermione's arm off his shoulder and jolted up, letting Draco's body fall to the ground.
"FIX HIM!" He screamed at her, not caring as everyone stopped to stare at him.
Her eyes widened; she was afraid of him, "Harry I'm so sorry,-" She started to sob, "- I can't."
Ron ran up to Harry before he could hurt her and put his hands on his shoulders.
"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" Harry screamed, and Hagrid tried to back away. Hermione tried to crawl away, but the ground was too muddy and slippery.
Ron pleaded with his eyes, "Stop Harry, just calm-"
"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN RON!" Harry tried pushing against him, but at that moment, he was to weak. At that moment, he was too wrapped up in the death of Draco to fight any longer. Ron didn't let go of Harry until he was sure Harry was too tired to fight with him anymore. If he let go, Harry would have to know that it was because he trusted him, not because he was afraid. When Harry stopped fidgeting, when he stopped fighting, when his tears were too much, that was when Ron let go.
Harry sank back down to his knees and crawled back to the lifeless body. Ron helped Hermione to her feet, and she cradled herself in his shirt, crying at what she couldn't do, who she couldn't save. Harry disregarded her and wiped his face on his sleeve. Blood and water came back, but Harry didn't know if it was because of the rain or his tears. If it was his blood or….
Maybe this was a trick. Maybe Draco would wake Harry up right now, and would tell him that it was just a bad dream. Harry would look up at his magnificent eyes and curl up against his warm chest. He would hear Draco's heart beating to the rhythm of his own, and would allow him to ruffle with his hair. He would allow his well and alive lover to squeeze Harry into his embrace to would breath in his heat until Harry fell asleep. Draco would finger the bracelet he got Harry for his birthday as he let the boy fall asleep in his arms.
His bracelet. A small wristlet with green and red coloring and a clean silver lightning bolt pendant, engraved with 'H+D'. Harry loved that bracelet. He was wearing it now.
He slipped of the bangle and softly took Draco's cold, wet hand. He fastened the bracelet to his arm and kissed his frozen, bloody knuckles. He held the hand and put his head to Draco's chest, expecting the warm pulsation of his heart. There wasn't one; just the cool emptiness of death. Harry laid down, his head still on Draco's chest, his clothes now fully sopping with crimson. He, uncomfortable, but exhausted, closed his eyes and let himself drink the rain pouring down above him. In his mouth, it tasted like blood and salt and dirt. Unforgivingly, he let himself imagine a world without Draco, without his savior. He let himself shed a few more tears before he ran out of tears to cry.
He let himself slip away.
