Disclaimer: All things HP belong to Rowling. Dracana is a character of my own creation.
Okay, this is about twelve years after the end of Harry's seventh year.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry shook his head, silver tears detaching themselves from his cheek to fall on the carpeted floor. There was no one left, no one at all, they had all died in the war. Everyone. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Black...Draco...
It was wrong. They were supposed to be here with him after the battle, they were supposed to celebrate and live on happily ever after.
Draco was supposed to raise their daughter with him.
The gift he had given Harry in the desperation held in the hours before the final war.
Amour Vincent Omnia dammit, omnia...
Harry took the gold band off his finger He wished for the bearer of it's companion, the man twelve years dead, who would never see his daughter off to Hogwarts for the first time, who never even saw her at all. She had his eyes, those storm gray eyes that held the whole world in their depths. He could never let her see him cry, he had an illusion of perfection to hold for her sake, and quite possibly his own. Dracana. Named after her father. How he wished he could have seen her, He would be so proud.
The man pushed his long hair back. He hadn't bothered to do anything with it for the past eleven years and it had grown ridiculously long. Dracana had braided it for him once before. It had stayed that way for a month.
The house was so empty without her. She had gone off to Hogwarts weeks ago. He missed her. She was all
Harry had left now, his daughter.
And memories.
`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`
Draco just stood there. Staring. At Harry. In bed. Without a shirt. A silver flask in his limp hand.
He frowned.
Harry shouldn't be drinking. Yes he should. He had nothing left. Poor man.
Draco stood next to the man's bed, staring at his sleeping figure. He missed him. A lot. The blond leaned across the unconscious man and gently lifted the flask from his hand. He placed it on the bedside table and looked back at the man he loved. Something his eye, glittering. A ring of gold. His heart leapt and he idly fingered his own. He still wore it. That, or he had moved on. Draco's heart sank. He probably had.
He leaned over him once again and this time he removed the ring from Harry's hand. He straightened and held the ring up tilting it slightly to read the inscription on the inside.
Amour Vincent Omnia.
It was his. Draco smiled and returned the ring.
"Harry, you are such a silly boy, you never let go of dreams, do you?"
Draco smiled sadly. He wanted to be with Harry again. He wanted it so bad. But he couldn't. Voldemort was still looking for the both of them. It was too dangerous.
"If only, right?"
`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`
It wasn't that he was a bad father, he really did try, but he often forgot things. Like feeding her. Or picking her up, which was why Dracana had asked one of her schoolmates to take her home. She had owled her father twice reminding him that she was to return home for the Christmas holiday. He must have passed out again.
He did that often, drank until he passed out. She assumed it was over the mother she had never heard of, but obviously had. She hated her mother, not that she had ever met her to know how she actually was, but what she did to her father... No one deserved that.
She must have loved him at one point, Dracana was alive, but something had obviously gone wrong for him to be alone and so heart broken. Still. After at least eleven years.
Dracana was smart; she knew her mother couldn't be dead. He father still wore his ring, he hadn't moved on. The only people Dracana had found in his bed were people he had accidentally picked up while drunk, usually blondes who left when Dracana showed up drag them away before her father awoke and did something drastic.
People told her she should have been a Ravenclaw with her intellect, others seemed disappointed that she had not followed in her father's footsteps. At least the potions master was glad to have her in his house, somewhat at least.
The dark haired girl sighed as she stepped from the car onto her from lawn. At least her father was alive; someone had told that it was only temporary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For those too slow, the war thing was the last battle versus Voldemort and took place right after the end of thier seventh year.
Okay, this is about twelve years after the end of Harry's seventh year.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry shook his head, silver tears detaching themselves from his cheek to fall on the carpeted floor. There was no one left, no one at all, they had all died in the war. Everyone. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Black...Draco...
It was wrong. They were supposed to be here with him after the battle, they were supposed to celebrate and live on happily ever after.
Draco was supposed to raise their daughter with him.
The gift he had given Harry in the desperation held in the hours before the final war.
Amour Vincent Omnia dammit, omnia...
Harry took the gold band off his finger He wished for the bearer of it's companion, the man twelve years dead, who would never see his daughter off to Hogwarts for the first time, who never even saw her at all. She had his eyes, those storm gray eyes that held the whole world in their depths. He could never let her see him cry, he had an illusion of perfection to hold for her sake, and quite possibly his own. Dracana. Named after her father. How he wished he could have seen her, He would be so proud.
The man pushed his long hair back. He hadn't bothered to do anything with it for the past eleven years and it had grown ridiculously long. Dracana had braided it for him once before. It had stayed that way for a month.
The house was so empty without her. She had gone off to Hogwarts weeks ago. He missed her. She was all
Harry had left now, his daughter.
And memories.
`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`
Draco just stood there. Staring. At Harry. In bed. Without a shirt. A silver flask in his limp hand.
He frowned.
Harry shouldn't be drinking. Yes he should. He had nothing left. Poor man.
Draco stood next to the man's bed, staring at his sleeping figure. He missed him. A lot. The blond leaned across the unconscious man and gently lifted the flask from his hand. He placed it on the bedside table and looked back at the man he loved. Something his eye, glittering. A ring of gold. His heart leapt and he idly fingered his own. He still wore it. That, or he had moved on. Draco's heart sank. He probably had.
He leaned over him once again and this time he removed the ring from Harry's hand. He straightened and held the ring up tilting it slightly to read the inscription on the inside.
Amour Vincent Omnia.
It was his. Draco smiled and returned the ring.
"Harry, you are such a silly boy, you never let go of dreams, do you?"
Draco smiled sadly. He wanted to be with Harry again. He wanted it so bad. But he couldn't. Voldemort was still looking for the both of them. It was too dangerous.
"If only, right?"
`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`
It wasn't that he was a bad father, he really did try, but he often forgot things. Like feeding her. Or picking her up, which was why Dracana had asked one of her schoolmates to take her home. She had owled her father twice reminding him that she was to return home for the Christmas holiday. He must have passed out again.
He did that often, drank until he passed out. She assumed it was over the mother she had never heard of, but obviously had. She hated her mother, not that she had ever met her to know how she actually was, but what she did to her father... No one deserved that.
She must have loved him at one point, Dracana was alive, but something had obviously gone wrong for him to be alone and so heart broken. Still. After at least eleven years.
Dracana was smart; she knew her mother couldn't be dead. He father still wore his ring, he hadn't moved on. The only people Dracana had found in his bed were people he had accidentally picked up while drunk, usually blondes who left when Dracana showed up drag them away before her father awoke and did something drastic.
People told her she should have been a Ravenclaw with her intellect, others seemed disappointed that she had not followed in her father's footsteps. At least the potions master was glad to have her in his house, somewhat at least.
The dark haired girl sighed as she stepped from the car onto her from lawn. At least her father was alive; someone had told that it was only temporary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For those too slow, the war thing was the last battle versus Voldemort and took place right after the end of thier seventh year.