Title: Please Understand
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: H/D
Disclaimer: Do not own :P
Summary: Even as I felt his blood pour red upon my hands and tasted his screams upon my lips, I still did not believe I could ever truly kill him. Deathfic. Auish, as it ignores the canon of DH.
Lightning crackles across the sky then, within a few moments, disappears, swallowed by its brother, thunder. Hail scatters down, their edges suddenly razor sharp. The sun is dragged out from its hiding place in the clouds, melting the deadly ice before it is once again overtaken by the malevolent clouds. A tornado is sent storming across the land until it collides with a wall of inimitable material, raging fruitlessly against it until it is reduced to nothing.
Two figures suddenly come into view, colliding in the air, only to disappear and reappear on the ground, identical scowls upon their faces, both panting in unison.
"I won't lose, Malfoy." The name is spit out and the dark haired one snarls, wiping the blood dripping into his eyes viciously away. His gaze darts toward the crimson drops flying from his fingertips and they suddenly crystallize into knives of blood, whistling through the air toward its victim, gaining lethal momentum.
Ice gray eyes flash in equal fury, his lips curling back into a sneer. The pale one raises one hand and stops the blood knives mid-air and, with an elegant gesture, sends them away like so many errant house elves. He sweeps his other hand through his hair, grimacing slightly as his fingers encounter dirt, grime, and blood in his once immaculate hair. Grimace and grime notwithstanding, his every move manages to scream aristocratic disdain
He sneers, a scathing reply rising to his lips, only to die there, its death tasting unsweet and unhappy, as a heretofore unknown wound in his side begins to make itself known.
He looks up at the boy facing him and his breath unwillingly catches in his chest as, for the first time since they began fighting, he takes in the sight of Harry Potter
His dark hair is sticking wildly up in a million odd places; one lens of his glasses is cracked and smudged with blood and sweat while the other has completely fallen away, his face has a thousand tiny little cuts, the blood drying on his cheeks tinges his face an unholy red. His T-shirt is ripped across the stomach, on the left side of his chest, and in a long diagonal gash from his right shoulder to his left hip. Somewhere in the battle, he's lost his shoes. Incongruously, he has not lost his socks. He's beaten. He's bruised. And yet.
And yet….
His eyes are as green as they ever were. Flashing fury and hate, they are still the most beautiful sight Draco has ever seen.
Draco's sneer falters and his face softens for a moment, for only a moment. In that moment, Harry takes his chance, screaming out, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and determination, "Avada Kedavra!"
He hears a low chuckle behind him, the sound making the hair at the nape of his neck rise up, "Like it's going to be that easy, Potter."
Harry wheels around, aiming a curse down at Draco's head as he launches himself into the air.
Draco throws up a shield, cursing as Harry's hex breaks through the hastily constructed shield. He propels himself backward and up, speeding forward for a head-on collision.
In moments, both figures has disappeared again, their fight unseen, hidden by the forces both boys have at their fingertips.
There's an explosion. Someone cries out in fury and surprise, the cry swallowed by the sonic boom of the explosion as it swells outward, flattening everything in its path. A thud as a broken boy falls to the floor, swiftly followed by a second thud as another boy lands heavily, the sound of only one person wheezing filling the silence of the aftershock. .
A few moments pass as the boy takes in grateful breaths, filling his lungs with air, his fingernails digging into the soft soil, then a gasp and a gulp. He scrambles up to his feet and drags himself over to the fallen boy, kneeling beside him as tears fill his eyes, and run down his cheeks, pinking the blood on both their faces.
"You weren't supposed to!" A broken sob as the boy gathers the other into his arms, the tears falling faster, his voice choked.
"You promised me a good fight, you-you--"
He begins to slam the other boy's head into the ground, "Come on! You aren't supposed to do this to me. You should be stronger than this! You should be stronger than me! Sit up! Laugh! Hate me! Love me. Don't leave me, please don't do this"
Blood begins to seep out of the dead boy's head, moving slowly and sluggishly as the heart is no longer pumping
He pulls the boy up, feeling more tears coming as the body slumps against him, cold and lifeless.
[please understand
I killed the one I loved. For some psychological reason that I truly don't care to hear, I was in denial about it even as I killed him. Even as I felt his blood pour red upon my hands and tasted his screams upon my lips, I still did not believe I could ever truly kill him. He was so indomitable, he was invincible. I shouldn't have been the one still here.
It's selfish, but I wish that I had died instead. Then I would not have this suffering, I would not have these thoughts, I would stop pushing away my friends and going crazy.
Isn't love supposed to conquer all? But in the end humans are fragile creatures, easily influenced and swayed by visions of power, or of righteousness, or what have you. Every human must have a cause and they will throw away anything, everything for this cause. Nothing is worth killing the one you love. Nothing. Morals, principles, beliefs, religion, ambition, greed, pride; everything has its allure. You can follow dogma doggedly all you want, but never give up love for it. Love is the one true thing we have, the best thing our flawed human natures can produce.
Don't give it up, never give it up. Because, really. It's all bullshit in the end. The only thing that truly matters, in the end, is who is beside you and that you love him.
How I wish I had known this then.