Trapped Blank
They were all counting on him.
Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Dumbledore. Young and old. Light and dark.
It all depended on him.
Harry can go on for hours, listing everyone who relies on his strength, needs him to do it… to kill Him once and for all.
But as soon as he sees the curse flying through the air, he knows he's failed. As the bright white light curls lazily around him, he vaguely hears panicked cries rising above the cacophony of screams and yells. Then Harry's flying, flying, soaring, and all he can see is a pair of icily fearful grey eyes—he knows them from somewhere—and then…
He stands in an empty room. Across from him, leaning heavily on the opposite wall, is the owner of those grey eyes.
Draco Malfoy.
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Harry puts his head in his hands.
They are trapped.
He is trapped.
Trapped in an empty room with none other than Draco Malfoy.
"This is entirely your fault, Potter."
Harry groans. "Shut up, Malfoy."
The drawling voice continues on. "I don't know how you managed this one, Potter. I simply cannot fathom how you do it."
Brilliant green locks with furious grey.
"We will get out of here, Malfoy, I promise you."
Harry spits out the words, chewing them out thoroughly before flinging them at his enemy. Nothing's really changed.
Malfoy just snorts. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
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Sometime after that they figure out how the room works. If both of them concentrate hard on something, it appears almost instantly.
When Harry jumps, startled, Malfoy simply rolls his eyes and scoops up the little bundle of food that somehow pops in.
But no matter what they think of, they can't get out.
Resigned green avoids frustrated grey.
Later, after they wish up all of their necessities and get into bed, Harry allows himself to grieve over, for, with… he isn't sure exactly… his friends—who are either dead or think he is dead, and Harry doesn't know which is worse.
Harry hears soft sobs echoing from Malfoy's bed.
He turns over and does nothing.
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Eventually they learn how to get along. They sit in comfortable chairs, sharing stories about their lives. Their past lives, Harry thinks, because existing here isn't living.
They form an unspoken truce that grows stronger by the day. Surprisingly, neither has broken it at all, though it takes Malfoy a while to get used to the idea that he can get along with Harry Potter.
There's nothing else to do, anyways.
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Amused green catches laughing grey.
Malfoy gasps, paralyzed with laughter. "He turned your cousin into a pig? Oh, the irony!"
Harry grins. "You should have seen his face…"
Malfoy smirks right back. "Did I tell you about the incident with the Muggle hel… hel… helicopter? So, I was just about to…"
And existence continues.
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Overwhelmed green and understanding grey.
They know more about each other than anybody else.
Their entire lives laid bare—truths unspoken, spoken; lies untold, told.
And they agree that now they are friends.
How could they not be, now?
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Panicked grey with horrified green.
Harry knows something is wrong, feels the niggling itch in the back of his head that tells him he has forgotten something. And that was exactly it. He had forgotten… something. Everything.
Harry asks Draco about it, and Draco agrees. They both have that nagging, persistent feeling of something itching up their necks.
Harry isn't sure when Malfoy becomes Draco, the same way Draco isn't sure when he becomes Harry.
Sometime Harry says they're living a lie. None of their stories strike chords of familiarity within either of them. Harry still says the words, but he can't remember the names, or the places, or the memories—they're just that—words. Draco becomes hysterical one night, screaming that he's going insane, and cries himself to sleep in Harry's arms. The next night, Harry feels he should remember—he tries, he really does—he spies a flash of bushy brown hair, pale skin and a crimson gaze, and red freckles, but mostly just blond, blond, blond hair and grey eyes.
Harry cries himself to sleep, Draco whispering comfort and reassurance in his ears in a reverse of their positions from the previous night.
They fall asleep in the same bed that night, both having cried themselves to exhaustion.
Neither sleep alone nor speak of before again.
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Wanting green and needing grey.
All that exists for Harry now is Draco. His voice, face, smiles, presence… He is Harry's world now. Draco murmurs the same to him as they kiss, a sweet caress that tells them both just how dependant they really are on each other. Harry knows he would never survive a day without Draco. Draco seems to know what he is thinking and smiles into the kiss.
Harry still has a feeling of loss, but pays it no mind.
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Emerald green and stormy grey.
Neither of them know how much time has passed. Neither care.
The only thing that matters is that they are together. They are safe. Harry knows he'll exist forever in this blank room with his love, muttering fevered promises of forever.
They fall asleep entwined together like they always do, have always done. Hands grasp as they clutch at each other, each the other's lifeline.
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When Harry opens his eyes, tired, bright green meets sleepy, loving grey.
"You'll stay with me, Draco?" Harry murmurs, reaching out and caressing Draco's face. He can't imagine anything else existing beyond his love.
Draco leans forward and captures his lips with his own.
"Always."
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Green and grey.
More time passes.
Harry isn't sure what time is anymore.
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Harry holds onto Draco as Draco clutches to him as they whirl through bright light once more. They slam to a stop, standing, swaying, before crumpling to the ground.
Harry sees people, things, standing, staring. He sees bushy brown hair; lots of red; white hair and beard; a spinning eye set deep in a scarred face; pale skin and black robes, all now yelling, shouting, screaming, 'HarryHarryHarryHarry!'
He should remember, should try at least, but Draco's here. As long as Draco's here, the world is perfect. And Harry knows he will always be with Draco, so he will never need to remember.
Harry tunes the noise out.
He smiles at Draco and they look into each other's eyes, caring emerald locking with worried grey.
"Harry?" Draco whispers, clutching his hand. The people in the room, he thinks they're people at least, grab at him, trying to tear them apart. Harry growls and just holds Draco tighter.
"Love, will you… stay… with me?" Draco asks him. Harry knows he is scared of him leaving, he can feel it, knows neither can live without the other, so he leans down and kisses him softly.
Not noticing the disappointed glare of an old, old man, ignoring the betrayed looks of the red-haired clan, paying no heed to the sudden silence filling the air. All that matters to Harry is Draco. All that will ever matter to Harry is Draco.
So later when they try to pull Harry away, to tell him he is needed, that he is something to the world, he repeats his promise and escapes away to join his other half, without which he can't feel complete. Draco is the only one who knows who he is. He is Harry, and he has Draco the way Draco has him. That's all they'll need.
So when Draco asks him to stay, Harry knows what his answer will always be.
"Forever."
And it is.
~finis
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