Hello Harry
By darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: D/H. A visit, a confession, and a hopeless plea. After Hogwarts.
Warning: Slash, language, and a weepy author (me) :…( Oh, and horcruxes? They're dead to me and not in this fic.
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Obviously. Why would she be writing on a fan fiction site?
"Hello Harry."
It was five o'clock in the evening. He always came five o'clock on the dot every Sunday. Yes, he acknowledged that five o'clock on a Sunday evening was a strange time for a visit, but he followed this schedule for the purpose of avoiding collisions with the schedules of others.
"How are you today?"
He tugged on unruly black hair and smiled sheepishly at the person sitting across from him.
"I'm doing alright, but the Ministry is killing me. I swear I must get more paperwork than the Minister of Magic himself."
A small smile played on his lips as he watched the other. His eyes quickly absorbed every feature of his opposite's face; the slanted cheekbones, the almond shaped eyes, even the specific tint of pink of the lips. A feeling of longing – deep and haunting – filled him; causing the heart in his chest to tighten and his eyes to water.
"Harry?"
He bit his lip as his tears began to brim over.
"Harry?"
He was sick. Sick of these last few months without the one he loved. Sick of mourning for one who was still alive. Sick of mourning in secret, unable to unveil what they had – hiding it like a dirty little secret.
"Harry . . . please . . ."
He couldn't take it. Not anymore. For God's sake, the war had been over for almost a year. Voldemort was dead.
Voldemort.
Even in death, Voldemort had taken everything from him. First his parents; his father and then his mother. The war had taken his godfather. And now, his lover.
On the day that Voldemort died, they found what remained of his body – a disgusting mass of grey and wrinkled snakeskin-like flesh – in the hands of Harry Potter. And the state they had found Harry in . . .
No one had any idea what had happened to the boy, seeing as he and Voldemort were the only ones to witness the event and the green-eyed hero being in no state to explain anything. Harry Potter – savior of the wizarding world, the Chosen One, and the Boy-Who-Lived – was empty. That was the only way they could explain it.
Harry Potter was empty.
And Draco Malfoy was alone.
The Dark Lord had taken everything his young silver-eyed follower. His father, the haughty and proud aristocrat that served the lord as one would serve one's own father. His mother, who had died in the young man's arms; her pale blue eyes pleading for forgiveness that he wasn't sure she could receive. His godfather, the tall, intimidating Potions master that died on his hands and knees like a mere animal before thirteen and a half inches of yew. And finally his lover; the green-eyed prince of his heart.
Harry would have preferred death.
Draco knew it. Harry would not be able to except what he was now. Just mere vegetation before a small window facing the sea to be moved and posed as a doll whenever a mediwizard had the urge to do so.
Draco had so many regrets. So many shameful regrets. He regretted ever being seduced by the Dark Lord's power. He regretted turning his back on his mother, who would have followed him to side of Light despite her devotion to her husband. He regretted that he was too scared to tell the world of the love he and Harry had shared, despite Harry's arguments for it.
Eyes so light that they almost rivaled the transparency of the tears flowing from them looked up into the face that he loved with all his life. Someone had cut Harry's hair since the last time he had visited; it now just barely skimmed the rims of his ears and fell messily across his forehead so that it covered the scar. Just the way Harry liked it. The small smile formed on Draco's lips again as he traced his love's face with his eyes.
Harry's lips were slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss. His eyes were hooded and beautiful without his glasses. In his state, he would never need glasses again, Draco mused sadly. The hero's eyes seemed to be looking just over Draco's shoulder, out the window and into the sea, but Draco could see that the once emerald irises were blank and dulled to the color of wet, corroded copper.
He looked deep into those eyes, hoping and praying that he could catch just one glimpse of the Harry he once loved and who once loved him. "Come on, Harry . . . Please, baby. I need you . . . I love you . . . I need you . . ."
Even if Harry's eyes had responded, Draco would have missed it; his eyes had filmed over with new tears. He shook his head to shake them away, not noticing when a few salty drops fell onto the hands of the dark-haired man that lay motionlessly on his lap. When Draco had composed himself, he stood and gave a lighthearted rumple to Harry's already unruly locks and smiled into eyes he knew couldn't see him.
"I'll be back next Sunday at five," he said unnecessarily. "Goodbye Harry."
The silver-eyed blonde left the room quickly, the door closing behind him with a sharp click.
If only he had stayed a moment longer.
He might have noticed the dark-haired man lift his hand to his mouth and lick salty drops from it.
"Goodbye Draco."
Author's Note: I know, I know. I'm sorry I made Harry insane, but I was sad and I wanted to use the feeling in a story, so I thought of the saddest thing I could (crazy Harry!). Sorry!
Oh! And before I forget, I read an article earlier today that said that J.K. Rowling announced that Dumbledore was gay and in love with Gellert Grindlewald! Yes! I knew it! -DMH