I do not own Harry Potter in any possible way. This fic is rated PG, for mild swearing. Happy reading.

Liquid Pools of Mercury

By: Roslyn Drycof

Liquid pools of mercury.

I look into the clear waters of the lake and see the smirking face of my memories.

It has been over six months since he left, since I said goodbye to me most hated enemy. My only love. He went knowing he wouldn't return, knowing he was going to his death.

I hate him for it.

I always thought I'd be the one to leave forever, not the other way around. I never thought I'd be the one left.

From the beginning, we knew our love would only end in pain. But we thought we could get through it.

We were wrong.

I am haunted by memories of him. Memories of his smirking face as he boarded the train from the last time. Memories of the tears lying just under the surface, waiting until he knew I couldn't see them fall.

Foolish dragon. As if you could hide anything from me. I could always tell whenever you were trying to be strong. Always.

They tell me I'm better off without him. They don't know anything. They didn't know him. For that matter, they didn't really know me. They just thought they did.

And so I am alone. . .missing him and. . .loving him.

Draco was everything I always wanted. He never saw me as the stupid Boy-Who-Lived. He saw me for me and made sure I knew it. To him, I was just Harry Potter, the four-eyed git who loved getting in his way.

And that was okay. To me, he was the annoying ferret who loved being a pain-in-the-ass.

I loved him. And he loved me. That's all that really matters.

No one understood our feelings for each other, certain that I was just going through a phase. They claimed Malfoy was just doing it it to mess with my head, to make me weak. They never opened their eyes to see that loving Draco made me strong.

Not weak. . .never weak.

But people only see what they want to see, esecially where I'm concerned.

When I defeated old Voldie a few weeks ago, they all blinded themselves to the destruction that battle had caused and simply praised me. Never once were the deaths of many good wizards and witches spoken of. Only praise of my destroying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, only cheers that I had done my duty at last.

I hate them.

All I ever was to them was the Boy-Who-Lived. I was their hero.

And what did I get in return for saving their miserable arses? Nothing, except death and the loss of everything I've ever held dear to me.

Shithole trade, if you ask me.

But has anyone ever asked me my opinion on this not-so-little matter? Nope.

Well, one person did. But he's dead now, just another part of the package of being the savior of the wizarding world.

See, there's one rule about my life that's always held true. Love me and you die.

My parents died. Sirius died. Draco died. All because of me.

But no. I won't be that selfish and lay all the blame on my shoulders. The war is the guiltiest instrument in their deaths.

Why did it have to be this way?

I never asked to be the goddamned Boy-Who-Lived.

I hate it. I hate that name so much it makes me see red.

All I've seen is red for six months.

Red, ever since Draco left. Since he died.

I hope Lucius Malfoy rots in the deepest circles of hell for all eternity.

No, make that beyond eternity.

If that's even possible.

I hope it is.

Sometime later. . .

Will this pain ever ever end?

Probably not.

I miss him so much my heart must surely be a twisted mass of broken pieces. It's been breaking over and over again since he boarded that train six months ago.

I loved him so much.

I think I must be going crazy because I can't think of anything except him. Food holds no appeal. I can't sleep. I've shut myself off from everyone. The only thing I can focus on is him, on his eyes the color of molten silver. His liquid pools of mercury.

I could describe each of his features a million different ways. His hair was blond, silver, white-gold, and so one and so forth. His eyes? Silver. Grey. Mercury. The color of winter storms. I could go on and on and never fun out of words, never get tired.

Am I really losing my mind? I can't tell. I think I'm okay, and then I feel reality slipping away again.

Why did he have to go?

I sometimes imagine that he never left, that he's here beside me. I find I'm happiest when I do.

And then I get shoved back into reality again and the pain comes rushing in.

Why do I have to be the one left?

I was supposed to be the one who died! Not him!

But he did die.

And now I'm here all alone to drift into insanity without him beside me to keep me anchored in the world. Without his love, I have nothing to live for.

I wonder what it would be like to walk into the water and never come out. To go under the surface and let my life float away in bubbles of air.

I imagine it would be better than this farce called my life.

The water is cold. It seeps into my clothes and soaks my skin. Most unpleasant.

Oh well. I walk deeper into the glittering water, my hold on sanity falling to pieces. Again.

"You fool!"

I know that voice. It's one I've heard many times these last six months in my memories. Why am I imagining him now of all times? I'm trying to die here!

"Potter, get out of that damn water right now!"

Why is he being so insistent? Shouldn't he want me to die so that I can join him?

A hand, a flesh and blood hand, grabs my shoulder and drags me back to shore.

I look at my rescuer and can't believe my eyes.

I must be dreaming.

He isn't standing there. Draco Malfoy, my smirking, one-of-a-kind ferret, is not standing two feet away from me with a scowl on his face.

"Potter, are you insane?" he yells.

Amazing. I didn't know figments of my imagination could sound so real.

"You're not real." My voice is a whisper as I stare in shock at him.

One of his eyebrows arches and he smirks. It's the trademark Malfoy smirk.

"Oh really? Then what am I if I'm not real?"

I tilt my head, looking at this not-real Draco. "My imagination."

"Why would I look like this if I'm a part of your imagination?" he says, pointing to himself with a sneer of disgust.

He does have a point. His clothes are ragged and dirty. He is so thin, it's wretched to look at. Scars are visible through the tatters in his shirt. His hair, oh Merlin, his hair is uncombed and completely messed up.

Why am I imagining him in such a horrible condition?

I shrug. Oh well. My mind can be messed up sometimes, this situation right now proof of it.

He glares. "You are a fucking idiot. Remind me why I love you?"

"Can figments love?"

Uh oh. His glare intensifies ten-fold. "I am not a goddamned figment of your wretched imagination!"

His next move astonishes me. One moment we'rejust standing there, they next he has me pressed against a tree and he's kissing me as hard as humanly possible.

Wow. It actually feels quite real.

I begin to doubt myself. Could he be real? But. . .isn't he dead?

When he pulls away, I just stare at him. I know I look stupid.

"But you're dead."

He shakes his head, messing up his once-beautiful hair even more. "My father couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to actually kill his only son. Instead, he locked me up in the cellar and tortured me. I was able to get free yesterday, once I realized that the war was over and my father wasn't coming back."

"It's been over for weeks. Wait. . .he sent a letter, telling me you'd died!" I know my voice is shrill and accusing. My emotions are chaotic and unsettling.

Sorrow shines in his silver eyes. "He lied. He knew it would hurt you, and so he lied."

What he's saying makes sense. But it can't! He's dead! Lucius wouldn't have lied about that. . .would he?

My brain told me Lucius had been one fucked up bastard and it wouldn't have been out of character for him to tell a lie like this.

I can't take this. I feel my walls breaking down.

Can he really be here?

"Draco?"

I hate how my voice sounds so small and pitiful. He simply smiles softly at me.

I know that smile. It's the smile he's never shown anyone but me. It's his smile for me. My smile.

And in that moment, I know it's really him.

I don't care that I'm acting like some lovesick girl as I launch myself into his arms. He's here, my Draco is here.

Suddenly, he's laughing and crying. And I'm laughing and crying.

I think we've lost our sanity.

But that's okay.

We're together.

And I stare into his eyes and can't help but think how much I love those eyes.

When I look into his eyes, I know everything is all right.

He's my anchor, my savior.

I'm okay now. And I always will be, as long as I wake up each morning looking at one thing.

Liquid pools of mercury.

Just a sweet, little fic I had the urge to write. I always wanted to write a oneshot like this but could never get the tone right. I think I actually succeeded with this one. I hope you liked it, even though it's mostly pointless and just a little fluff-fic. Please review, and have a great day!

Roslyn Drycof.