Disclaimer: I... Well, I don't own anything this time around! The characters all belong to J., and 'Knights in White Satin' belongs to someone else... I forgot who, but the version that inspired this is from Celtic Thunder.
I felt the urge to write a bittersweet Drarry that actually followed Canon... mostly, anyhow. It completely disregards the Epilogue, because, really, I can't STAND Ginny Weasley. Well... with Harry, anyway. I just really think she would've gone so much better with someone else. Same for Harry. But... that's just me.
Anyway, enjoy~
Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.
'Cause I love you, yes I love you, oh how I love you.
Harry crossed his legs, still taking in the fact that Draco Malfoy was dead.
Dead.
It seemed as though it couldn't be true; that it wasn't possible. Draco Malfoy couldn't be dead.
Except, he knew it was true; there was no two ways around it. He gently sipped on his tea, glancing at the fireplace every few moments.
He'd been in love with Draco. Hopelessly, really, and it was pathetic. He dreamt about him, thought about him day after day… even talked about him more than he probably should have. And now, to find out that he was dead… it broke his heart.
It broke it into a million pieces.
But he wouldn't cry, no; he couldn't. But it seemed that no matter how much he may distance himself from others, the ones he loved- the ones he couldn't live without always seemed to simply vanish from his life.
His Mum, Dad.
Albus.
Snape.
Fred.
Sirius.
And now Draco.
It was the greatest kind of torture, he realized, to seek solace so terribly… but never find one to offer it. When the one you wish to cling to, to cry with most is someone you can't reach… it tears you up and breaks your heart, and leaves a scar on your soul that only two hands can soothe.
He tried to swallow a lump that simply wouldn't go down.
Then, a knock on his door made him start, and he looked over at it. He stood slowly and walked over, opening the door with slight caution. A man was standing there with a small cigar box that bore a Slytherin crest on it.
"Mister Potter?" He asked. Harry nodded. "These… are addressed to you." Harry slowly took the box in slightly shaking hands and nodded to the man.
"Thank… Thank you." The man tipped his hat-
"No, sir, my pleasure. Good night."
-and walked off.
Harry slipped back into his home, walking to the couch with the box. It rested on his lap, and he took the lid off gingerly.
He gently took out one of the old envelopes from the box, looking at the careful script that spelt his name.
'Harry J. Potter'
He gently flipped up the tab on it, pulling out a letter.
'Dear Harry,' it read,
'I don't entirely know how to say this, but... I don't hate you. I never did. I never will. I know that I have no intention of sending this… but… I guess I just… needed to write it down, or something. Put it in a form where it was impossible for me to take it back. But, if you ever do see this… Now you know.
Sincerely, Draco L. Malfoy'
Harry gazed at the paper for minutes after.
Were… were these all from Draco…?
…For him…?
He swallowed a bit, picking up the next one. It was dated on the envelope, fourth-year.
'Hey, Potter… Come to the Yule Ball with me? DM'
Yes, yes, he would've gone with him! If only he'd sent this…
The next ones were from the same year, congratulating him on each task, just generally saying hello… Stating that he didn't really hate him, just like the first one.
The next were from Fifth-year, kept hidden should Umbridge find them.
'I'm not part of this force to hurt you, or your friends, Potter… I want to protect you. If I were to try joining that… damned army of yours… nobody would believe me, and we'd both be in more danger than I'd like to admit.'
The following ones… Sixth-year. One, that only had two words to grace its body, was dated after Dumbledore'd been killed.
'I'm Sorry.'
But it was the last one… the last one in the pile that was so recent, crisp and… cleanly written. It was from mere weeks before, and was addressed to simply 'Harry'.
'Thank you, Harry.' Was how it started.
'Thank you. I… don't know exactly what else to say. Thank you for being who you've been for my life. It's… bittersweet, huh? You… You kill the most dangerous wizard in the world, but lose so many people along the way.
I guess I'm on that list now.
If you're reading this, I'm finally dead.
I remember your last words to me. 'I love you.' I must've… just killed you inside when I just… walked off.
I'm using this to say 'I'm Sorry'… since I'm too much of a bloody coward to say it to your face.
I guess I should get through this fast as possible… save my dead self a little humiliation.
To be blunt, Harry… I miss you. I miss us being… friends. And to a degree, that's what we were.
Remember the time we were in Hogsmeade together…? We were there, looking at the Shrieking Shack… then that… huge rainstorm started? I had no idea you were so afraid of thunder…
We managed to get back to the Hog's head… then we just… talked.
It was nice.
No other real word… just, nice.
I liked being able to talk to you like that; just talking. No hatred, no threats, no flying hexes. Just you, me, two glasses of Firewhiskey and pleasant conversation.
When we finally separated, I was… Sad. I can't think of any other word.
We somehow continued to meet up like that.
Then you told me.
I was scared…
And… that was the last night I saw you.
I'm sorry.
I was just… too scared to tell you the same.
Yeah, I'm sure you're interpreting that right.
The one thing I haven't said in the letters I've written... never meaning to send.
I love you, Harry James Potter.
I always have, even if I never realized it. I always will, even if I'll never see you again.
But… If you ever need a reminder that someone still loves you, with all their heart…
Well, look in the bottom of the box I had Zabini give you.
And just remember…'
The letter, grasped tightly in Harry's hand, trailed off at that. He dropped the paper, gently picking up the box to find a wrapped item in the bottom. He took the wrapping off and pressed the silver button in the centre.
The little box-like item sprung open, revealing an image of Draco. It glowed slightly in the darkness of the room, the fire long burnt out and the only light in the room coming from his wand.
Draco was smiling at him, his old muffler tied around his neck as delicate snow fell on him. He just gazed at Harry for a moment, smiling brightly before he said the words:
"I love you, Harry."
He heard them; in Draco's voice!
Even if Draco was gone, it made him melt, and forget for a moment-
"I love you, too, Draco… I love you…"
"And… Be happy." Draco's image said a few moments later. "It's all I want for you." He then held up a simple piece of paper, which was scripted with the words, 'Love, Draconis Lucius Malfoy'.
It would hurt, to never be able to hold Draco's hand.
Hug him, Kiss him.
Tell him he loved him ever again.
But… he knew Draco loved him. Was watching him.
Would always love and watch over him.
That, for just a moment, made him forget about his sadness.
And he was happy.
...Yeah, I tried to write something deep, I failed.
But hey, I hope someone'll like it.
Reviews are love, and flames just kindle the fire in which I bake my Pocky~
-StrawberryPockyStix