Yeah... this is a fanfiction I wrote ages ago. It's pretty bad, but I enjoyed writing it, so I'm going to put it up here.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters, places, situations, spells, etc, etc, belong to JKR, not me. I have no rights, no claim, and no profit.
Warnings: M-preg, slash, character death. I'd rate it pg 13, so it's teenager safe..
Also, the poem at the end, known as the Anzac Ode, is not mine. I didn't write it. I just used it... so don't sue me for that one either.
LEST WE FORGET
Draco was humming happily as he stirred the pasta filling the saucepan, which was on the stove of the modern kitchen in his small home. With another stir, he began to sing. His happiness and contentment was evident. It seemed as if it was vibrating in his voice.
Taking the saucepan off the stove, he strode into the frilly dining room, immediately placing the hot pan on the hot mat laid out on the small, round table. He sighed contentedly as he straightened, and his eyes were caught, as always, by the pictures lining the opposite wall.
There was quite a montage. Many of him, as well as a few of his partner, and more so of them together. As well, in the wall display, were pictures of his partner's best friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. And in every photo, he was standing between them. His partner, Harry Potter.
He smiled fondly at the pictures of himself and Harry. They showed no unhappiness, but the world full of joy that they had experienced since the downfall of the Dark Lord. Snapping out of his trance, he want dazedly back to his chores, as always, absent-mindedly patting the slight bump in his stomach while moving through the brightly lit house.
The reason for his largeness was not, in fact, over eating, but pregnancy. He was 3 months pregnant to his beloved, Harry. The child had been conceived the last time they had seen each other. In one of Harry's few breaks in being an international auror. And, as far as he had been told, Harry was coming home that night.
It would be their first time speaking since Draco had found out, and he couldn't wait to see the look on Harry's face when he told him. He had wanted to tell Harry as soon as he found out, but the conditions of Harry's work did not allow for contact, in case he should be discovered during action. Draco was so excited, he had cooked dinner especially.
Draco jumped when he heard a knock on the red oak door. He rushed to it, smiling as if he had won an extremely large lottery. As he opened said door, he spoke. "Hello, Har-" He was cut off by the sight of Hermione Granger in front of him. She was standing there, hiccuping quietly, eyes red and puffy, and hair disshevelled.
Draco gaped momentarily, before quickly regaining his composure. "How may I assist you, Ms Granger?" He had made a promise to Harry that he would at least use titles before his friends' names, and he had no intention of breaking it.
"It's... him. Harry. Harry- Harry's- he's..." She started to cry profusely.
"He's what, exactly?" Draco's exterior was as cool as ever, but inside his stomach had filled with the proverbial butterflies.
"He's... Dead!" She whimpered, before crying even more profusely.
"Draco just didn't know what to think. His mind was racing in directions he didn't even know existed. There was only one thing he was sure of. He shut the door in Granger's face. He then walked to the bedroom he and Harry had shared. Whenever he was home, of course. Lying down quietly on the bed, he dreamed... of Harry.
They shall not grow old, as we who are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning.
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.
That's it... my bad fanfiction... but why not write a review anyway?
