Darkness cometh
Characters: Harry/Draco friendship story
Genre: Drama/Horror
Ships: Ron/Hermonie
Rating: PG-13 and up
Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or anything having to do with the Harry Potter stories… this just a story that I came up with... please do NOT sue me.
Prologue
I think that everyone has a purpose. A reason for living per say. That somewhere there lays a book that has your name in it and the things that you are to do before you die. I believe that even I have a purpose. A little secret that is locked away in my mind that even I can't touch or see. It scares me, because in my heart I know that it is evil. And in my soul I know that it is something I will do no matter what. But you want to know what scares me the most about it?
That I can't wait to find out what it is.
My mother often tells me that with time my purpose will become clearer to me. That the reason I have been brought to this plane of existence as she calls it will reveal it. I can't help but wonder what she is talking about. At times I believe that she isn't my real mother. Her hugs and kisses are so cold and forced as if it is a program that was placed in her mind to interact with me. But it is all I have. I don't have a father, or a memory of a man like figure that would act as my father. Mother says he died so long ago that I hadn't even been one month when he passed. She said that she was going to tell him when she found out he had died. She claims him to be a great man. I think she is telling me half of the truth.
I keep getting visitors everyday. Strange people that claim they used to know me or that at one point in time they knew my father. They shower me with great stories of how smart he was and how perfect his idea of the world was. They too give me the idea of half truths. One man in particular comes to see me everyday. He smiles at me with a full smile. He gives me gifts, very expensive gifts. He is an odd sort of man, always smiling and always carrying a cane of some sort. I don't know why but I think there is something very familiar about him. The unnatural color of his hair is something I am sure I have seen before. But as I look at him I feel that secret box in my mind swell and then it is gone. That feeling that I have seen this man before. That maybe I had known him. Sometimes I get the feeling that I know some of the visitors for some time now. Like I get glimpses of them when they were younger. This doesn't make sense because some of them can be my father's supposed age.
I have dreams at night of two boys, one with green eyes and the other with gray. They glare at me with hatred and then disappear. Suddenly I see a green light and then red eyes. Those eyes scare me. But I too know that in those eyes is a half truth. I must go now.
Mordes