Warnings: Major character death, slash. If I say any more the story will be ruined.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to that British woman who I loved until I read the last book. The house elf, and the plot, is mine. =D
There is a muggle saying I've often heard. You never know what you have until it's gone. I never really believed that saying until today. Pansy murmurs sympathies into my ear but I brush her off. 'It was my fault.' I tell her, and her eyes widen in confusion. She begins to shake her head but I have no time for her games; I know without a doubt that this time it was my fault. I walk briskly to the floo and am gone in a whoosh of green flame.
I stand before the fireplace a moment, wondering what it would be like without it. I take so many things for granted. I had never realized. I walk to the garden and wander slowly, allowing myself to think of the day.
He had looked gorgeous, though he always did. I had never thought boys could be beautiful, not until I met him. He had changed a lot of my beliefs. But that was before I messed up. Somehow this short memory has taken hours and it's dark and drizzling as I return to the warmth of my home. My home. I use to value those words so much, and now they simply cause me to ache. It should still be our home. But I messed up.
Ritty pours me a glass of wine and hesitates only a moment before he vanishes. Even my house elf can tell how badly I screwed up. They all look at me with pity in their eyes. Look at him. They seem to say. His one chance at happiness and he blows it. They will hate me eventually, for hurting their hero. But what they do to me will be nothing I don't deserve. I down the glass and pour another, downing this one as well. It's some expensive brand I'm sure, but I can't be bothered to check the label. He had always laughed at my wine habits. If he could see me know, treating it like some common bottle.
I stumbled into bed, collapsing onto the scarlet comforter he had convinced me to buy. He probably wants them, wherever he is now. I shut down that thought and curl underneath them, clutching the other pillow to my chest and ignoring how the smallest shift brings about a chill that shouldn't be there. Because he should be here, warming the cold spot on the other side. At some point, I fall into fitful slumber.
The water is too warm as I gasp under it, clutching the tiled wall desperately. My hands shake as I pour in shampoo and then conditioner, both muggle things he had to have. Now I don't think I could live without them. His things still lie on one of the built in shelves, and I allow myself to remember the dream. I scream, just as I did this morning when I awoke and stumbled in here, tossing up stomach acid and then showering in too hot water. My skin is turning pink but I don't get out. I turn it hotter. I deserve worse for what I did.
Severus calls it some fancy name that basically means depression. He says I'm heartbroken, but that I can't keep going this way. He says it's killing him to watch me torture myself over something I didn't even do. He doesn't understand. 'It's my fault!' I shriek this at him, throwing a vase as he hurries to the door, frowning with concerned eyes. I sink to my knees on the plush carpet after he leaves, my eyesight blurry. By the time I realize where I am again, the fire is nothing but ash. Not a single ember can be seen for the blackness, and I almost smile. It reminds me of myself.
There is never a fire anymore, and I don't allow the elves to clean the ash out. They wring their hands and call for Severus once more, who comes again and again with potions and words and pity. 'He needs your pity.' I yell, but he says nothing and leaves once more, the potion bottles as full as when he came. They try next, eyes teary and angry and I hope I get what's coming to me.
They hug me, murmuring sympathies and sympathies and more god forsaken sympathies. Even they don't understand, and that burns more than I can say. They don't duck as fast as Severus, and the elves have to clean blood off the floor before ironing their hands for disobeying. I told them to leave it there.
Empty frames hang on the walls, some of the glass cracked. I almost smile at the memory of being shoved into it, his mouth hot on mine and- I stop the thought there. He isn't here. I have no reason to remember happy times because I hurt him. He left me but it was my fault. My fault, my fault, my….
The room is the same as it was six months ago and I stagger to my knees in shock. The dark blue walls seem oppressing; the hard wood floor cold and unforgiving. Exactly as I deserve. But the smell I can't handle. It smells of him, of them, of her. So beautiful but so painful; so bitter but so sweet. I crawl backwards, the door closing behind me and I sob onto the floor for the first time. I don't move until Severus is once again there, murmuring and forcing the potion down my throat. I drift.
When I awake I am alone and outdoors and very, very confused. I look around, and then I look down. My heart stalls in my chest. My breathing picking up in the same instant. For the second time I hit my knees. 'I should have fought harder.' I mumble, shaking as I trace the carved letters softly. 'My fault.' The memories come unwanted, just as the dream had so long ago.
'Congratulations.' Draco smiled brightly at the young healer, gripping the hand held in his. He turned to the other man who was as teary eyed as him. 'We…we…' Draco broke out into happy laughter and nodded.
Harry was crying when he arrived home and Draco went to him immediately. 'Harry?' he questioned softly. Harry reached for him, curling into his lap and placing his hands on his stomach. Draco was confused until he felt it; the smallest movement. 'I'm pregnant.' Harry murmured in shock. Draco nodded. 'We're gonna have a family.' His expression softening, he kissed him slowly. 'We already are a family.' He said when he pulled away. Harry glowed with happiness.
'Complications?' He questioned, shaking. The mediwizard looked helpless and exhausted. It didn't mollify Draco one bit. 'We don't understand it really, but this is a special case. We don't often have such events occur…' He trailed off, running a hand through his graying hair. Draco sank down into one of the nearby chairs as a warm hand rested on his shoulder. 'We're doing everything.' He nodded numbly.
The firelight reflected off his glasses, showing the tear tracks clearly. Draco wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind, kissing his head softly. His hands moved to rest atop the others, circling his belly. 'They'll be fine. We'll be fine.' He murmured, and Harry nodded with a soft smile.
'It's four months too soon!' The shouting didn't register with him as he was pushed away from the bed. His eyes were staring, horrified, at the pale and strained face. His heart dropped. 'What do you want us to do?' They questioned him. 'He can't make a decision.' He knew what he would want, and he knew what choice he could live with. They were both very, very different things. 'Harry.' He made his dry mouth say. 'Save Harry.' They rushed into action.
It was hours later that they came to him and he knew. 'We tried to save Mr. Potter as requested but he was too far gone.' Draco swallowed dryly. 'And…?' He shook his head. Draco dropped his head into his hands as a thin wail forced its way out of clenched teeth. Sobs wracked his body. 'My fault.' He moaned as hands circled him. 'My fault.'
Draco repeated the words, gazing at the tombstones before him. Harrys' was large; black marble. His picture waved cheerfully from the middle, his name and the dates below. The stag at the bottom reared it's head and pawed at the false ground in a mimic of anger; nervousness. Draco looked away. He shuddered at the smaller graves that seemed to draw his eyes, each baring a name and a single date only. It had seemed wrong to do anything else.
His hand lay across the top of each, head bowed as tears mingled with the dew he only now noticed. If only he hadn't made the wrong decision. If only he had chosen differently. His Harry would be alive. His twins would be alive. My fault…
If only, his mind mocks. If only. If only he had done something, anything, different…..he would be alive.
Severus Snape watches silently from the iron gate, his face pinched with suppressed emotion. He watches, and he wonders when he will be planning another funeral.
A/N: So, mpreg. I imagine it's possible but dangerous. After all, even if they are wizards they still have the same bodies as muggle men, no? I have two different endings I thought of that may or may not be put on as extra chapters. I also have some lovely little moments I'll get around to adding, also as extras.