Title: Never Again
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Everything has a cost. And sometimes, the price is higher than anyone can bear. H/D SLASH, R for violence.
A/N: This is not my best writing, it's totally messed up. This is dedicated to the first nine reviewers of my first-ever slash story, first-ever well-written piece of HP fanfiction that I was justifiably proud of. Shameless plug, I know. And the other reviewers that reviewed TAT- I love you all, too, but the first nine yanked me back to writing. So if you guys like this, good. If it's worse than anything else in the world, this is completely your fault.
Disclaimer: Am I JK Rowling? No? Well, actually I am, and am writing slash on fanfiction.net because even more people would start screaming that Harry Potter is the book of Satan and I'm a witch (in a bad sort of way). I need to make a living somehow, don't I? Even though I'm rich as the Queen of England? FYI, Draco and Harry both have secret crushes on each other in their fifth year, and I promise the fifth book is coming out this summer. It's not my fault it takes so long to proofread the book and translate it into all sorts of other languages, is it?
So, anyway, don't sue me 'cause I own Harry fucking Potter. Actually, I'm MOI. Who 'me' is, is debatable.
Never Again
by MOI
~*~*~*~*
The ground was muddy and Draco slipped and slid in it as he made his way towards Harry, standing tall in front of Voldemort. Draco could hear the screams of the dying as he struggled to get closer. One man, eyes turned to a jellied mush, reached sightlessly towards him, begging. Draco paused for a moment, indecisive. Then he continued on, leaving the man behind with his ruined eyes.
Draco glanced worriedly at the sky. It had been raining all day, fitting weather for the events. Hogwarts had been attacked at dawn, and it was nearing evening. Glancing down, Draco tied hard not to lose the small amount of food in his stomach at the sight of what he'd had trodden on. A little girl's body, probably a first year. Draco had seen her in the halls occasionally.
Draco hurried, panicking at the sight of Voldemort raising his wand ominously towards Harry. Harry was hunched over, gasping. He slipped on a patch of slime as he reached Harry. Harry's eyes showed blurred recognition.
"Draco! Get out of here! Love, please... NO!" Voldemort had turned glaring red eyes on Draco and was raising his wand again.
"Avada Kedavra!" he exclaimed. Harry, acting without even thinking his movement into action, sprang forward. Draco watched as time slowed to a crawl. He watched, horrified as the green light struck his boyfriend square in the chest. Harry jerked back against Draco, the light going out of those green eyes.
"No, Harry...!" Harry seemed to revive for a moment.
"Love... you... Draco. Forever. Remember." Draco nodded dumbly, tears falling down his face. The sorrow turned instantly to rage as he heard Voldemort's high, chilling laugh.
Draco sprang to his feet, reaching for his wand. Before Voldemort could react Draco was windmilling towards him.
"I hate you! You... you BASTARD! You killed Harry!" Draco's voice rose to a wail.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Heart screaming in agony, Draco lowered his wand toward Voldemort. Before Draco's cold, cold eyes Voldemort collapsed. Distantly Draco could hear someone cheering, but he was numb to the world. Harry- Harry- Draco couldn't bring himself to grasp the idea. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen black-haired boy, and his world came sharply back into perspective.
He sank to his knees, reaching out tenderly towards Harry to touch his face. Draco half-expected Harry to rise and tell him it was all a joke. Draco wasn't laughing, though...
"They're dead." A wizard had come up behind Draco, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Harry's dead, Malfoy." This seemed to finally, finally shake Draco out of his trance. Draco began to sob, pounding his lover's chest with pale white hands.
"Damn you, Harry! You said you'd see me tomorrow! You promised!" The wail of a heartbroken boy broke across the field. "And I never told you I loved you!" The wizard sighed and lifted Draco up, dragging him away. Draco struggled.
"Come on, Malfoy. He made me promise to look after you." Draco suddenly stopped struggling, and let himself be dragged back into Hogwarts by the wizard. He vaguely realized the wizard had red hair and was likely Weasley.
Weasley set Draco down in the Gryffindor dorms. He now lay on a bed directly across from Harry's. He looked inquiringly at Weasley.
"Dean isn't going to need this bed for awhile." They were silent for awhile, Draco reliving Harry's last moments and cursing himself for not taking the curse himself. Weasley spoke again, shifting hesitantly.
"Never thought I'd say this, Malfoy, but we have something in common, now." Ron said heavily. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Grief."
Draco awoke the next morning with puffy red eyes and the urge to cry again. He had wept himself to sleep. Weasley was looking at him solemnly, Granger by his side. She held a piece of parchment.
"Malfoy..." she began. Draco indicated grudgingly that he was listening. "Harry told me to give this to you, if he died." She held out the parchment.
Dear Draco,
A poem I found for you, Dragon.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grains
I am the gentle autumn's rains...
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die.
I don't know who wrote it. If there is a life after death, I'll love you from there. Always remember I love you, Draco. I shall live as long as you remember me.
Love,
Harry
Draco ripped the paper angrily in half, then carefully repaired it. There was an awkward silence.
"Can I design the headstone?' Draco asked finally, thickly. Hermione nodded.
"We gather here on this day to mourn the passing of Harry James Potter, who died defending us all..." The coffin was lowered into the ground and dirt placed over it. Draco watched, dry-eyed, as the ceremony concluded. As the attendants moved away from the grave Draco moved forward, fingers tracing the words.
Harry James Potter
31 July 1980- 3 June 1998
The dragon cries forever for what has been lost.
The words were on a short obelisk. A figure resembling Harry, complete with messy black hair and glasses, folded angel wings out of the way and mounted a broom stood atop the obelisk. Draco stood and, before anyone could stop him, drew out his wand and pointed it at himself. He heard someone scream as he cast the spell.
"Avada Kedavra." Harry, I'm coming, I'm coming, wait for me. I'll be there... Draco slumped forward against the gravestone, head banging against the words. The mourners rushed back, careful, however to stay away from the body. Media cameras clicked on the slight form. Ron Weasley pushed through them, dreading what he knew he would see.
He looked down at his former enemy, his best friend's lover, and cursed softly. He turned to face Hermione, who had come up beside him.
"Damn," she said. "We should have seen this coming, shouldn't we have?" Ron shrugged.
"Get away from him, bastards!" he yelled at the reporters. "God, how vulture-like can you guys get?" The reporters backed away.
A week later, another funeral was held in that cemetery. This time, the headstone read
Draco Malfoy
1980-1998
The dragon weeps no more
A transparent form flitted down towards the grave as the funeral continued. Everyone but the priest, droning on about the greatness of the deceased, gasped at the sight. A black haired young man paused above the grave and seemed to embrace another transparent form, newly arrived. A quickly as they had appeared, they vanished.
Hermione turned to address the gathered mourners- far fewer than the number who had attended a week ago.
"This war has cost us a terrible price. In the spirit of Harry and Draco and oh so many others, let us pledge to never let it happen again. Never again."
And the birds sang in the trees for years after. Eventually another Dark Lord came to power, long after when Harry Potter was a name only for the history books. But the wizards and witches of Britain had pledged themselves one and all to fight against the Dark Lords of the present and future. An ingrained heritage and the renewed memories of the 20th century caused the Dark Lord and all the Dark Lords after to fall when faced with that conviction.
Never again. Never again.
A/N: I realize that this really really really sucks. I swear, this was good when I first came up with the idea. Then I messed it all up. Oh, this story was centered on that poem- I found it in a book titled 'Blood,' a history of blood, blood research and blood products. At least a quarter of the book was about blood in relation to AIDS- that poem was a poem the author of 'Blood' (can't remember the name, sorry) found on the AIDS quilt. I rather like it.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grains
I am the gentle autumn's rains...
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die.
Would someone mind writing that on my headstone when I die?
Random Pleas: I have an idea for anothrer fic... is there anyone out there who has attended a gay rights rally or something similar who would be willing to desc ribe it to me? In detail?If so, leave your e-mail address and I'll contact you, or you can mail me at my_original_intent@yahoo.com. Also, is anyone out there willing to answer questions about what it's like to come out to mildly to severely homophobic people? Same directions for you.
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Everything has a cost. And sometimes, the price is higher than anyone can bear. H/D SLASH, R for violence.
A/N: This is not my best writing, it's totally messed up. This is dedicated to the first nine reviewers of my first-ever slash story, first-ever well-written piece of HP fanfiction that I was justifiably proud of. Shameless plug, I know. And the other reviewers that reviewed TAT- I love you all, too, but the first nine yanked me back to writing. So if you guys like this, good. If it's worse than anything else in the world, this is completely your fault.
Disclaimer: Am I JK Rowling? No? Well, actually I am, and am writing slash on fanfiction.net because even more people would start screaming that Harry Potter is the book of Satan and I'm a witch (in a bad sort of way). I need to make a living somehow, don't I? Even though I'm rich as the Queen of England? FYI, Draco and Harry both have secret crushes on each other in their fifth year, and I promise the fifth book is coming out this summer. It's not my fault it takes so long to proofread the book and translate it into all sorts of other languages, is it?
So, anyway, don't sue me 'cause I own Harry fucking Potter. Actually, I'm MOI. Who 'me' is, is debatable.
Never Again
by MOI
~*~*~*~*
The ground was muddy and Draco slipped and slid in it as he made his way towards Harry, standing tall in front of Voldemort. Draco could hear the screams of the dying as he struggled to get closer. One man, eyes turned to a jellied mush, reached sightlessly towards him, begging. Draco paused for a moment, indecisive. Then he continued on, leaving the man behind with his ruined eyes.
Draco glanced worriedly at the sky. It had been raining all day, fitting weather for the events. Hogwarts had been attacked at dawn, and it was nearing evening. Glancing down, Draco tied hard not to lose the small amount of food in his stomach at the sight of what he'd had trodden on. A little girl's body, probably a first year. Draco had seen her in the halls occasionally.
Draco hurried, panicking at the sight of Voldemort raising his wand ominously towards Harry. Harry was hunched over, gasping. He slipped on a patch of slime as he reached Harry. Harry's eyes showed blurred recognition.
"Draco! Get out of here! Love, please... NO!" Voldemort had turned glaring red eyes on Draco and was raising his wand again.
"Avada Kedavra!" he exclaimed. Harry, acting without even thinking his movement into action, sprang forward. Draco watched as time slowed to a crawl. He watched, horrified as the green light struck his boyfriend square in the chest. Harry jerked back against Draco, the light going out of those green eyes.
"No, Harry...!" Harry seemed to revive for a moment.
"Love... you... Draco. Forever. Remember." Draco nodded dumbly, tears falling down his face. The sorrow turned instantly to rage as he heard Voldemort's high, chilling laugh.
Draco sprang to his feet, reaching for his wand. Before Voldemort could react Draco was windmilling towards him.
"I hate you! You... you BASTARD! You killed Harry!" Draco's voice rose to a wail.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Heart screaming in agony, Draco lowered his wand toward Voldemort. Before Draco's cold, cold eyes Voldemort collapsed. Distantly Draco could hear someone cheering, but he was numb to the world. Harry- Harry- Draco couldn't bring himself to grasp the idea. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen black-haired boy, and his world came sharply back into perspective.
He sank to his knees, reaching out tenderly towards Harry to touch his face. Draco half-expected Harry to rise and tell him it was all a joke. Draco wasn't laughing, though...
"They're dead." A wizard had come up behind Draco, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Harry's dead, Malfoy." This seemed to finally, finally shake Draco out of his trance. Draco began to sob, pounding his lover's chest with pale white hands.
"Damn you, Harry! You said you'd see me tomorrow! You promised!" The wail of a heartbroken boy broke across the field. "And I never told you I loved you!" The wizard sighed and lifted Draco up, dragging him away. Draco struggled.
"Come on, Malfoy. He made me promise to look after you." Draco suddenly stopped struggling, and let himself be dragged back into Hogwarts by the wizard. He vaguely realized the wizard had red hair and was likely Weasley.
Weasley set Draco down in the Gryffindor dorms. He now lay on a bed directly across from Harry's. He looked inquiringly at Weasley.
"Dean isn't going to need this bed for awhile." They were silent for awhile, Draco reliving Harry's last moments and cursing himself for not taking the curse himself. Weasley spoke again, shifting hesitantly.
"Never thought I'd say this, Malfoy, but we have something in common, now." Ron said heavily. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Grief."
Draco awoke the next morning with puffy red eyes and the urge to cry again. He had wept himself to sleep. Weasley was looking at him solemnly, Granger by his side. She held a piece of parchment.
"Malfoy..." she began. Draco indicated grudgingly that he was listening. "Harry told me to give this to you, if he died." She held out the parchment.
Dear Draco,
A poem I found for you, Dragon.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grains
I am the gentle autumn's rains...
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die.
I don't know who wrote it. If there is a life after death, I'll love you from there. Always remember I love you, Draco. I shall live as long as you remember me.
Love,
Harry
Draco ripped the paper angrily in half, then carefully repaired it. There was an awkward silence.
"Can I design the headstone?' Draco asked finally, thickly. Hermione nodded.
"We gather here on this day to mourn the passing of Harry James Potter, who died defending us all..." The coffin was lowered into the ground and dirt placed over it. Draco watched, dry-eyed, as the ceremony concluded. As the attendants moved away from the grave Draco moved forward, fingers tracing the words.
31 July 1980- 3 June 1998
The dragon cries forever for what has been lost.
"Avada Kedavra." Harry, I'm coming, I'm coming, wait for me. I'll be there... Draco slumped forward against the gravestone, head banging against the words. The mourners rushed back, careful, however to stay away from the body. Media cameras clicked on the slight form. Ron Weasley pushed through them, dreading what he knew he would see.
He looked down at his former enemy, his best friend's lover, and cursed softly. He turned to face Hermione, who had come up beside him.
"Damn," she said. "We should have seen this coming, shouldn't we have?" Ron shrugged.
"Get away from him, bastards!" he yelled at the reporters. "God, how vulture-like can you guys get?" The reporters backed away.
A week later, another funeral was held in that cemetery. This time, the headstone read
1980-1998
The dragon weeps no more
Hermione turned to address the gathered mourners- far fewer than the number who had attended a week ago.
"This war has cost us a terrible price. In the spirit of Harry and Draco and oh so many others, let us pledge to never let it happen again. Never again."
And the birds sang in the trees for years after. Eventually another Dark Lord came to power, long after when Harry Potter was a name only for the history books. But the wizards and witches of Britain had pledged themselves one and all to fight against the Dark Lords of the present and future. An ingrained heritage and the renewed memories of the 20th century caused the Dark Lord and all the Dark Lords after to fall when faced with that conviction.
Never again. Never again.
A/N: I realize that this really really really sucks. I swear, this was good when I first came up with the idea. Then I messed it all up. Oh, this story was centered on that poem- I found it in a book titled 'Blood,' a history of blood, blood research and blood products. At least a quarter of the book was about blood in relation to AIDS- that poem was a poem the author of 'Blood' (can't remember the name, sorry) found on the AIDS quilt. I rather like it.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grains
I am the gentle autumn's rains...
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there. I did not die.
Would someone mind writing that on my headstone when I die?
Random Pleas: I have an idea for anothrer fic... is there anyone out there who has attended a gay rights rally or something similar who would be willing to desc ribe it to me? In detail?If so, leave your e-mail address and I'll contact you, or you can mail me at my_original_intent@yahoo.com. Also, is anyone out there willing to answer questions about what it's like to come out to mildly to severely homophobic people? Same directions for you.