Disclaimers: I own nothing.
I sat there, in my home. Everything is over. Voldemort is gone and yet, I wish I had gone with him. My friends betrayed me. Every single one of the bastards. They all left, those Griffindor, and they say they are brave. They ran, leaving me to face the battlefield with the Order. I'm still young. Didn't they understand? And what made it worst was that if they had stayed, maybe, just maybe my love would have lived. I realized that Dumbledore was using me, its okay if I die but not anyone else. Everyone else died in vain but not me. Everyone else died noble but not me. If I died, it was because I was supposed to.
Voldemort took the one friend I had left by the time of the battle. He took my Draco Malfoy. We had grown a relationship after his father was captured. He said he was able to show his feelings for me after his father had left. But that was a short relationship we had. I am now dropped out of Hogwarts. There is no point in me returning for my 7th year. I don't care anymore. If I looked at any one of the Griffindor I would puke, they were responsible for Draco's death. I don't even blame Voldemort. No, Voldemort was evil but it was not his fault he cast the spell and it hit Draco. Draco protected me. While everyone else ran, Draco stood there, by my side. Before he was hit he told me that no matter what he was not going to let anything happen to me. I believed him but I didn't know to what extent he would keep this promise. Then Voldemort hit. Voldemort appeared and pointed his wand in my face. I was blank for a while. I didn't know what to do. Draco caught on and when Voldemort shouted Avada Kedavra Draco jump in front of me. He took the shot for me. Why? Why did he jump? Draco saved the world. Not me. I don't care how many times those bastard Griffindor tell me they are sorry or how many times they say they were scared or how many times they said they were glad I lived through it. It was their fault and they knew it. They just don't want to admit that their idiots. Those dumb fucking idiots. Took my Draco from me. The one thing I loved more than anything in the world. Nothing could ever bring him back to me.
Ron ended up being one of Voldemorts spies. Too bad we all thought it was Percy. Ron, that bastard, he lived through it all. He said he loved me, he said he loved me more than anyone in the world and when he saw Draco and me together he couldn't take it. He had to put a stop to it. He said he would never see me with anyone ever again and he was right. I would not take anyone else either than Draco. I loved Draco. Draco was my love, my strength, my soul.
I stay up in my empty home, what made this feeling worst was that it was so big. Draco and I set it up together. We planned to move in together after our 7th year. We were going to be together. We loved each other to no end. And it was ruined. They left me, they left Draco. When Draco died, Voldemort died. When Voldemort died, so did my soul.
I loved Draco, all those nights we spent planning our attacks, our moves, how we would protect the world from Voldemort's wrath. They were beautiful. It was like we were moving in silent and verbal communication. In some ways, it was even more beautiful than our lovemaking. When he would kiss me and let my wounds heal. When he would enter me and the world was filled with light. He chased my darkness away. He was my light, even though he was surrounded by darkness, he showed me that I didn't need to be the boy who lived. He showed me that when I was with him, I could simply be Harry Potter. He showed me all this.
I still wonder how someone so beautiful, so innocent, so pure could die such a horrible death? He died a death that basically could never be brought back with however many wonderful memories Harry tried to remember. Harry tried every which was possible. He pretended that whenever he would turn he would see Draco, but he was never there. Harry pretended that whenever he would wake up that Draco would be right by his side, but he was never there. Harry pretended that the pictures of Draco could bring back all the happiness, but it wasn't there. The pictures were not the same. They looked like Draco, they acted like Draco, they spoke like Draco, the cared like Draco but they weren't the same. Harry needed the real Draco. This was driving Harry insane thinking about it. He needed the real Draco. How could Harry have been so careless and lost the one thing he loved the most.
When Draco died he heard the words echo in his mind. He heard the words repeated befor he slept, he heard them when he was dreaming, he heard them when he woke, he heard them when he cried. He would never forget the last words Draco spoke. 'We will see each other one day, but for now, keep living, live not just for yourself, but for the both of us.'
"I CAN'T!" Harry screamed. "Not without you Draco, not without you."
It was the truth. Harry couldn't keep living for the both of them when he himself died with Draco. Harry couldn't live for anyone, not even himself. He didn't care about anyone else who died in the battle. Not Hermione, not Lupin, not Tonks, not Moody. He didn't care. He wanted Draco back. They were his friends, of course but he couldn't care about them. Not because he didn't want to but because he could no longer feel. He could not longer care for anyone. It wasn't a choice he was making. It was a light that was gone. He loved them, but he didn't have enough strength to mourn for anyone but Draco.
I sat there, in my home. Everything is over.
I sat there, in my home. Everything is over. Voldemort is gone and yet, I wish I had gone with him. My friends betrayed me. Every single one of the bastards. They all left, those Griffindor, and they say they are brave. They ran, leaving me to face the battlefield with the Order. I'm still young. Didn't they understand? And what made it worst was that if they had stayed, maybe, just maybe my love would have lived. I realized that Dumbledore was using me, its okay if I die but not anyone else. Everyone else died in vain but not me. Everyone else died noble but not me. If I died, it was because I was supposed to.
Voldemort took the one friend I had left by the time of the battle. He took my Draco Malfoy. We had grown a relationship after his father was captured. He said he was able to show his feelings for me after his father had left. But that was a short relationship we had. I am now dropped out of Hogwarts. There is no point in me returning for my 7th year. I don't care anymore. If I looked at any one of the Griffindor I would puke, they were responsible for Draco's death. I don't even blame Voldemort. No, Voldemort was evil but it was not his fault he cast the spell and it hit Draco. Draco protected me. While everyone else ran, Draco stood there, by my side. Before he was hit he told me that no matter what he was not going to let anything happen to me. I believed him but I didn't know to what extent he would keep this promise. Then Voldemort hit. Voldemort appeared and pointed his wand in my face. I was blank for a while. I didn't know what to do. Draco caught on and when Voldemort shouted Avada Kedavra Draco jump in front of me. He took the shot for me. Why? Why did he jump? Draco saved the world. Not me. I don't care how many times those bastard Griffindor tell me they are sorry or how many times they say they were scared or how many times they said they were glad I lived through it. It was their fault and they knew it. They just don't want to admit that their idiots. Those dumb fucking idiots. Took my Draco from me. The one thing I loved more than anything in the world. Nothing could ever bring him back to me.
Ron ended up being one of Voldemorts spies. Too bad we all thought it was Percy. Ron, that bastard, he lived through it all. He said he loved me, he said he loved me more than anyone in the world and when he saw Draco and me together he couldn't take it. He had to put a stop to it. He said he would never see me with anyone ever again and he was right. I would not take anyone else either than Draco. I loved Draco. Draco was my love, my strength, my soul.
I stay up in my empty home, what made this feeling worst was that it was so big. Draco and I set it up together. We planned to move in together after our 7th year. We were going to be together. We loved each other to no end. And it was ruined. They left me, they left Draco. When Draco died, Voldemort died. When Voldemort died, so did my soul.
I loved Draco, all those nights we spent planning our attacks, our moves, how we would protect the world from Voldemort's wrath. They were beautiful. It was like we were moving in silent and verbal communication. In some ways, it was even more beautiful than our lovemaking. When he would kiss me and let my wounds heal. When he would enter me and the world was filled with light. He chased my darkness away. He was my light, even though he was surrounded by darkness, he showed me that I didn't need to be the boy who lived. He showed me that when I was with him, I could simply be Harry Potter. He showed me all this.
I still wonder how someone so beautiful, so innocent, so pure could die such a horrible death? He died a death that basically could never be brought back with however many wonderful memories Harry tried to remember. Harry tried every which was possible. He pretended that whenever he would turn he would see Draco, but he was never there. Harry pretended that whenever he would wake up that Draco would be right by his side, but he was never there. Harry pretended that the pictures of Draco could bring back all the happiness, but it wasn't there. The pictures were not the same. They looked like Draco, they acted like Draco, they spoke like Draco, the cared like Draco but they weren't the same. Harry needed the real Draco. This was driving Harry insane thinking about it. He needed the real Draco. How could Harry have been so careless and lost the one thing he loved the most.
When Draco died he heard the words echo in his mind. He heard the words repeated befor he slept, he heard them when he was dreaming, he heard them when he woke, he heard them when he cried. He would never forget the last words Draco spoke. 'We will see each other one day, but for now, keep living, live not just for yourself, but for the both of us.'
"I CAN'T!" Harry screamed. "Not without you Draco, not without you."
It was the truth. Harry couldn't keep living for the both of them when he himself died with Draco. Harry couldn't live for anyone, not even himself. He didn't care about anyone else who died in the battle. Not Hermione, not Lupin, not Tonks, not Moody. He didn't care. He wanted Draco back. They were his friends, of course but he couldn't care about them. Not because he didn't want to but because he could no longer feel. He could not longer care for anyone. It wasn't a choice he was making. It was a light that was gone. He loved them, but he didn't have enough strength to mourn for anyone but Draco.
I sat there, in my home. Everything is over.