Title: Save Me
Pairing: Draco/Harry; Drarry
Author: Wobble
Rating: PG-13 (ish)
Warning(s): angst, violence, major character death.
Summary: In the end, you couldn't save my life.
Author's Note: Thank you to Hailey for the French translations. Inspired by the song "Save My Life" by Pink; lyrics are irrelevant. Thank you for reading - please leave a review even if you think it was crap.
Mais ferait vous épargne ma vie?
(But you could you save my life?)
I am lying on the floor. I can hear myself dying.
I know that you are out there - in the world - and you're laughing. I don't know why you are laughing, but you are. You are laughing without me.
And I thought you loved me. And I thought you would always be there for me. And I thought that life would always be as it was when we were 15. And I thought you would die long before I would, because you were so courageous.
But I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.
I was pressed up against the door. His eyes were on mine. He was pulling me away - slowly, pulling me away from everything I knew. Pulling me down a corridor. Pulling me into a cave. Dragging me, kicking and screaming. Slowly, he was killing me.
The tip of his wand dug into my chest painfully, but he just smiled. I knew him too well. I knew that he would not kill me so simply. I had betrayed him. I had betrayed every goal and dream he had ever had for me. I had destroyed the walls that he had built around me. And I didn't care. I didn't care that he was angry. I didn't care that what I had did tore him apart. I didn't care that I had destroyed my own life. I didn't care at all.
His other hand was on my shoulder, digging his claws into my bare skin. He muttered my name to himself, under his breath, as if he was trying to remember what it meant. My name - it had meant something, a long time ago. But now, it meant nothing. I was no longer his blood, I was no longer his flesh, I was no longer his dream, his idol, his little angel. I was his enemy, no longer his son.
My fingernails scratch the wooden floor, as I lay on the floor, bleeding and leaving. Not phased, but defiant - like I have been since you entered my life. And he's in the corner, staring at me, wondering what to do now. Because I'm dying, but I'm not crying, I'm not begging.
He never wanted to kill me.
He just wanted to change me.
But what does he do now? Now that I don't care what happens? Now that I am just letting myself die, letting myself slowly bleed to death?
My eyes meet his and he smiles, because he's just realized -
Just realized that, yes, I'm waiting - waiting for something, someone, somehow...
Panic fills me - how does he know? How can he know?
"You're waiting for him," he whispers.
His footsteps are loud and hollow as he crosses the room. He is in the hallway. He closes the door. The click echoes in the darkness of the room. Light streams in through the window.
I am dying and the door is locked.
I was waiting for you to save me.
Your eyes flutter open in the bright light. You smile softly, your dark hair splayed across the pillow. I touch your forehead with my index finger, sliding it down over your brow, your nose, your cupid's arrow, your top and bottom lip, your chin, and down, your neck and your Adam's apple, diving into your white top.
"I'm happy," you whisper.
"Me too," I say back.
My hand lingers on your neck, my fingers curling softly. I'm feather white and you are the color of sand. My pale hand on your dark neck, you smile sweetly and touch my wrist, letting your fingers curl around it.
"I don't think anyone has ever been this happy," you whisper.
"I know."
"If they have -"
"They've probably fallen out of it."
You smile at my words. "We'll never be unhappy again."
Silent tears stream down my face. My hope is fading, fading from sight like memory fades with time. I'll be nothing but your memory soon, nothing but a glimmer in the back of your mind. And you'll forget me someday. You'll forget me.
Is it strange -
That my last thoughts -
Are of you?
Even though I know -
That you are somewhere else -
With someone else -
And you aren't thinking of me?
You close your eyes for just a moment and there are mine. You snap them open again to stare at the face across from the table.
"What's the matter?" He asks. His voice is deep and soothing, so unlike mine. His skin is dark and he is handsome. So unlike me.
You begin to panic. Your hands are shaking.
"I - I ... have to go."
You stand up too quickly from the table and your chair falls backwards. The restaurant falls silent, staring at you, but all you can see is my face -
My face, streamed with blood and tears. My eyes, vacant and glazed. My mouth, curved and saying your name.
All you can see. All you can see.
And I close my eyes for just a moment and I feel myself being lifted - as if invisible strings are pulling on me - my heart, my limbs, my hair, my eyes. And I'm coming off of the ground and I'm smiling because at last, I am as happy as I was back then.
But I am still waiting for you. I can't say why. I can't explain it. I just see your face, panicked and sweating and damp and beautiful, your emerald green eyes close to tears and puffy red. And you're still beautiful, even though you know you've failed at one thing in your life -
One thing, Harry. That's not that bad. You've failed at one thing.
I'm insignificant. You've accomplished so much. You had to have one thing go wrong.
You don't know what to do, as you stand outside in the middle of the walkway. You don't know where to turn or where to find me. And you're scared for me, you're scared for you. Who can you trust now, now that they've taken someone from you?
But you let them take me from you. Going out with that handsome man to spite me. Finding someone prettier, knowing that I would retreat to the place where I came from. The place that is now killing me - the place that was killing me before.
You know. You know where to find me. You know you can help me. You know it's too late...
Don't you?
You could always give me happiness. You could always give me love. You could always take me by the hand and smile softly. And I would smile too because I was in love. Love is strange -its almost like a weeping willow tree. Heavy and burdening, it brings both joy and sorrow at the same time.
You could make me laugh. You could make me want nothing more in the world than to see you safe and to see you the way you saw me - beautiful and happy. You could give me happiness for the rest of my life, so I would not go back to that time before. And I could do the same for you. Because we were the same - broken little china dolls with nothing but our painted on smiles and smirks to save us in the end.
You could give me what I never had. But could you give me what I wanted? Could you give me what I had always had, but I am currently losing? Could you, can you, Harry, win this last battle for me please? Could you, can you, be my hero boy now, Harry? Can you be a hero for me now?
You could give me anything and everything.
But could you save my life?