- Nameless, PWP (I think)
- Pairing: H/D, (HG/RW)
- Rating: R-ish I guess…
- Warning: dark, angsty moments, strong words. Serious people bashing here… Mostly, Ron Weaseley and Albus Dumbledore. Don't like it, don't read. But just don't flame me allright?!
- Summary: Harry is going to kill Voldemort once and for all, after so many years without being loved, what else is there to lose then your life?
- Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from the books/movies is NOT mine, the rest is.
- Grammar mistakes: Sorry, Dutch here.
- A/N: I broke this rather long one-shot into two pieces. Intentionally it was a song-fic, but wanting to make the history of the song-fic more clearly, it became quite a story. Let me know if I need to post the second part as well… which has the song in it.
~*~
A young student stood on top of the Astronomy tower, one foot supported on the bricks below, his arm resting on top of it, as he looked over the grass fields of the building that he had called home for almost seven years. Once in a while he brought his hand to his face and dragged at a cigarette. He blew out the smoke and watched it whirl into the air.
It was one o'clock; it was time to go down stairs and face his nightmares, to face the nightmare of the wizarding world and kill him once and for all. He smirked darkly. He wouldn't be missed if he were to be killed instead; then he didn't have to see the world once "the almighty dark lord" was through with it. No one loved him anyway, oh yeah, many had tried to capture his heart and tried to love him, but everyone would leave him the next morning if he would wake up screaming in the night. Friends? Tss, yeah whatever, Ron and Hermoine were more wrapped up in each other to even notice the kind of changes he was going through. They didn't notice that he was away for half the evenings, Hermoine had asked once about it and he answered that it was something he had to do, but he didn't get a next question and when he looked up to see why he saw that she was already wrapped up again in a fierce lip lock with Ron. Harry had stood up with such force that the chair he had been sitting in fell backwards and with a loud bang landed onto the ground. Both Hermoine and Ron stopped and looked at him in a frightened way. Hermoine had stood up and wanted to hug him but Harry, angry as he was, shoved her away from him. Ron wanted to curse Harry for what he had done, but Harry was quicker and cursed the living hell out of his ex-best friend. That had been the end of their friendship.
Truth was, he had been, with the help of Aurors and professor Snape himself, practising ancient magic, the core of modern day magic, powerful and above all ruthless. It was said by the spies from the order that Voldemort was capable of such great amount of magic. And so the training had begun, Snape was ruthless as ever, even the other members were ruthless, for weeks he had limped, but his friends hadn't noticed. Having a gift for healing charms and spells gives you the privilege to cover up your bruises and limping.
A breeze swept across the grass fields and up high, blowing his robe away, it billowed behind him. His messy black hair wiped from his face and his scar was visible. His haunted eyes that lay deep in its sockets. He turned abruptly and went inside, toward the classes. By every classroom he stopped and thought about something, a nice memory, he had fun here and there, if he wouldn't be the Fucking-boy-who-bloody-well-lived-through-it-all, he would be happy and making fun, pulling pranks and stuff. But nooo, he had to be savoir of the wizarding world, young and old looked up to him, worshipped him like a god. He was sick and tired of it all. Harry Potter was sick being who he was and being alive. Yes he, the great Harry Potter, officially hated living. He walked down the stairs toward the dungeons.
"Never thought I would find myself here in the middle of the night." He smirked at the thought and stopped before the potions classroom.
'Well, you finally got me where you wanted, Snape, you have won, and I won't be back tomorrow, if I'm lucky. You hated my father, so you hated me, only because I look like him. You fucked up, greasy git.' He muttered. 'Although I liked the lessons, you never noticed that I could do something right. That I was able to make potions without help from anyone, unlike someone else we both know.' He continued softly. 'But truth to be said: you were really the only one I looked up to.' He smirked again 'I even wrote your speech in first year in my notebook.' He clicked his tongue and continued. 'Now you will never know; because you were always too busy with worshipping your own house. Maybe if I didn't plea the silly old hat to put me in Gryffindor, you would actually notice me and see what I was capable of.' He turned and stalked toward the Great Hall. As he did that, someone came out of the shadows, a fellow year mate, but from another house. The person narrowed his eyes, he had heard everything, swiftly and without making a sound the person followed the other boy.
It was a beautiful, yet dramatic sight, when he saw Harry Potter laying his hands on the closed doors and pushed both doors open and walk inside the Great Hall. He wanted to get closer, he needed to get closer, to know what the hero was going to do. Through the shadows he snaked his way alongside of the walls, keeping his face and body out of the light.
The person looked into the Great Hall and his breath stopped, his heart skipping a beat. Before him, in the middle of the Great Hall was Harry Potter on one knee. He had his hands folded to his chest and his head was bent, around him the candles glowed softly, making the whole scene serene, peaceful and almost holy. The benches and tables were swapped to both sides of the hall and were neatly put on each other, making two perfect tall pillars. The boy released his breath, not knowing that he was holding it, until now. The light covering the black haired boy was almost angelic, a fallen angel, praying for forgiveness. His raven-black hair hung before his eyes but he could see, even from the position where he stood, that they were closed. Harry stood up, slowly, carefully. He pulled out his wand and held it up into the air with both hands. He then brought it back down and kissed it. He could see that Harry swallowed heavily. Harry made a cross and turned with closed eyes. He began to walk toward the doors and the person hid back into the shadows. By the door he opened his eyes and was confronted with sky-blue ones and long messy platinum hair. The person raised a brow and Harry did the same.
He opened his mouth for a sneering remark but Harry beat him to it: 'not tonight Malfoy.' He said as he raised his hand.
Malfoy closed his mouth with an audible click.
'Thank you.' Harry muttered and walked toward the front door. Half way there he stopped and asked: 'how long have you been following me anyway?'
'Since, the Western tower, I needed a midnight smoke.' The western tower was the only tower of the four that wasn't used…
'Great, just great, another stalker.' He sneered.
'What are you going to do anyway? Kill yourself out there?'
'Exactly.' Came a cold voice back to him.
'What?' Harry had heard the surprise and a hint of pain but he chose to ignore it.
'I said: exactly, I'm on a suicide mission here, and you can't stop me.'
'Wohh, there, what's going on here Potter?' He rushed forward and blocked the doors.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.
'Don't worry I won't be alone… a few Aurors and order members are going to accompany me, besides, I have nothing to lose, Malfoy, you must be glad that I'm finally out of your hair. I have nothing to give and as I said before, I have nothing to lose.'
'Well, you will lose your life.'
'Life?' He spat as he gave a small bitter laugh, 'what is life without friends and caring parents, Malfoy? Answer me that.'
Malfoy was silent. He had noticed the changes in the Golden Trio as well.
'Ha, no comeback, Malfoy, well I'll let you in a little secret.' He pushed the Slytherin against the wall, with a little more strength then he intended to, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: 'I want to die. I want this to end, I want peace, and damn, I don't want to be the fucking-boy-who-still-lives.' He sneered the last part of the sentence.
'What?' Draco asked, shocked to hear this.
'I don't want this! I don't want the fame, the glory, everyone looking up at me. It makes me sick. And yes Malfoy, I want to die, D-I-E, die, must I really explain a simple three letter word?' He asked furious, his eyes, flaming with every word. He let go of Malfoy and retreated in the darkness.
'So, fighting with you was all for nothing?' Malfoy raged, ignoring the question.
'Well, not exactly, you made me stronger, and I learned quite a few new spells, very good ones actually, may come in handy as I stand before 'the all mighty Dark Lord'.' And Malfoy heard the sarcasm in his voice.
'You really want to do this, right?' He asked, his voice giving away, how he really felt.
Harry crossed his arms and said: 'Correction, I'm the only one who can do this, will you please let me pass?'
Malfoy made room for him and Harry opened the door and stepped out into the midnight air. Suddenly he stopped and turned, his emerald eyes glowing in the dark. He walked back to Malfoy and took something out of his pocket and gave it to him.
'When I'm not back at noon, give this to Dumbledore.' Harry said and looked up a bit to look Malfoy in the eye.
'What is it?'
Harry sighed and sneered: 'a letter, imbecile.'
'I see that…' He snapped. 'But why give it to me, and not one of the Gryffindorks?' He answered.
'Because they're all a sleep. I wouldn't care if you were a pissed off Snape saying that I am out of bed after curfew, deducting even more points, just give the damn letter to him when I'm not back at noon.' He sighed.
'But that is over…'
'Eleven hours, Malfoy, can you just remember these simple orders?' He sneered.
'Look, Potter, I…' He couldn't finish the sentence. Soft, cool, yet demanding lips covered his; a tongue flickered across his lips, demanding entrance, which he was all too willing to give. He opened his mouth and started kissing back, tongues duelled for dominance in both mouths. As quickly the kiss started, the kiss ended and he heard Harry say: 'as I said before Malfoy, I have nothing to lose. Just give it to him.'
He turned and walked away. Malfoy stood there in the door opening and suddenly made a decision. He raced after Potter and stepped before him blocking his way. Harry stopped and they locked eyes and then Malfoy hissed: 'I'll give you something to return to.' He cupped Harrys' face and kissed him with the same passion Harry had kissed him by the door.
'Don't you dare die on me Potter.' He said as he still held his face. Harry smirked and covered Malfoys' hands with his own and pulled them away from his face and passed him. Draco turned and watched him leave with tugging feeling in his heart. Harrys' hand rose next to his head and he waved without looking back leaving a turmoiled Draco Malfoy behind.
~*~
Draco Malfoy lay awake in his bed staring at the ceiling. He should be glad right? Finally the cursed Harry Potter out of his life already dead maybe. But why was there that little annoying bite in his heart? That started somewhere low and ate his way through his whole heart? Why would he have allowed Potter to kiss him like that, when he knew he would not be coming back? Why in seven hells was he so stupid to kiss him back!? Why did he say that? WHY? And why the hell was he so worked up about this?
He stood up and wrapped a towel around his thin frame and stalked toward his bathroom. He looked in the mirror. A hollow face looked back at from the mirror, his eyes stood worried. He glanced at the clock it was seven in the morning, five hours left. Draco took a quick shower and dressed.
In the common room Blaise, Pancy, Grabbe and Goyle were waiting for him to finally show up.
'Finally.' Zabini said as he stood up from the green couch and looked at him.
Draco didn't say anything and walked out of the common room with his lackeys tagging along. It was all too simple, really; a bit of money here, a little threat there, and all of the sudden you had a million friends surrounding you. Okay, he was a Malfoy, he was permitted to do this, but all you really needed was; a poker face and good acting skills, and Draco Malfoy was fairly blessed with both.
When he came into the Great Hall the memory of Harry Potter kneeling in the middle came back to him. It was still breathtaking as he kneeled down and closed his eyes. He walked over to his place and sat down, staring in front of him and ignoring the advances of Pancy Parkinson. The girl made him absolutely sick to the stomach. Couldn't she see that he wasn't interested in her? Hell, he didn't liked girls in general; he found that out ever since his fifth year.
'Stop your idiotic games, Parkinson. How many times do I have to tell you, that I am not interested in you.' He sneered barely audible.
Pancy backed away from him and looked hurt. She locked eyes with him and saw the truth shining in them. She blinked a few times; no doubt blinking away tears and began to butter sandwiches. He rolled his eyes in a disgusted way and stared in front of him once again.
'What is wrong, Malfoy?' A voice came from the left.
'Nothing Zabini.' And looked in the direction of the Gryffindor table. The mudblood and the Weasel were in a fierce lip lock fight and it made him nearly sick to his stomach. He stood up and went to History of Magic, soon followed by the others.
The tone of Professor Binns droned through the classroom and Draco lay sprawled in his seat. Most of the students were asleep and other stared off into space. He couldn't stop thinking about last night. What would Harry be doing now? Would he still be alive? Would he come back to Hogwarts walking or in a black bag? Would he be harmed? Of course he would be harmed, you couldn't walk away from such a fight without getting harmed. Oh how Draco wished he could be there and support him. He hated this feeling. He hated to be in love with the bloody-git-who-fucking-lived. He hated the fact that Harry could make him all wobbly on his legs or make it feel like he had jellybeans as legs! He cursed inwardly and ran a hand through his hair.
'Whoever did this; got you pretty bad Malfoy.'
'Stuff it, Zabini.'
The black haired Slytherin next to him chuckled and said: 'Yeah, we hate him too.'
Draco smiled and then caught himself with shock. Smile? He smiled! Damn Potter for making him smile.
'If he dies, I swear to Merlin, and all the holy figures up there, I will find a way to bring him back to life, and kill him, slow and painful. Mark my words.' He growled softly.
Zabini smirked and closed his eyes again and whispered: 'yeah, love sucks, I know.'
The letter still burning in his pocket, he checked his watch and it was almost time to give it to Dumbledore. The lousy git made a boy of seventeen fight HIS battles! How dare the man?! Oh, how he wanted to curse the old goat into oblivion and maybe even further.
The walk toward the Great Hall was torture for the blond Slytherin. It was five to twelve and if Potter wasn't back over twenty minutes he had to give the fucking letter to the man-who-wouldn't-fight-his-own-battles! Frustrated as hell itself he walked into the Great Hall.
When everyone was seated the doors of the Great Hall closed and for the first time Draco Malfoy lost all hope, that he had left, for a save return of Harry Potter. He took a glance at the Headmaster and saw worry lingering in the old blue eyes of the man. He was staring at the door, willing it to open and let someone in. Five minutes passed, five became ten and ten became twenty. Malfoy chewed his bottom lip and then stood up. Potter was dead, and now he had to give the letter that burned in his pocket. He slowly walked to the teachers' table and stood in front of the headmaster and looked at him. For the first time since he came to Hogwarts he saw how old the Headmaster really looked like. With a face of disdain he took the letter out of his pocket and threw it before him and said in a furious whisper: 'Potter gave this to me, just before he left, last night. He wanted me to give it to you.'
Professor Dumbledore inclined his head and took the envelope from his plate and looked at it; that was all he fucking did. It was for the best that Draco Malfoy forgot his wand or he would rot away in Azkaban for murdering an older and respected wizard. Respected, yeah right, if the world only knew what he had done! What he was capable of doing! The manipulative old geezer! The low life, idiotic-too-proud-with-himself-goat. Seething, inwardly, Draco Malfoy turned and looked at the Gryffindors and walked up to them. He stopped at where Granger and Weaseley were sitting and bent forward and whispered with an ice cold voice: 'and you dare to call yourself friends of Harry Potter, tss…'
'What are you saying ferret, we're not good enough for him?'
'That are your own words, not mine, Weasel. Do you know where he is? Besides, I thought the Golden Trio fell apart, ever since you two started dating.'
'In bed, he's sleeping. And don't you even dare go there.' Ron hissed as he stood up.
'You sure about that?' Draco whispered, his eyes betraying his emotions.
'I heard him snore… I couldn't wake him up. He already slept when I came in last night, he had his curtains drawn so I chose not to wake him.'
'Silly Gryffindor.' He sneered and walked back to the Slytherin table, leaving the Gryffindors with their own thoughts. Hermoine, the people reader that she was, watched him leave. His eyes had been filled with emotions, something he never showed.
'Where were we?' A voice asked, bringing her back to reality. She looked at Ron and then said: 'I'm going to class.'
'But…' He began with a hurt voice. Hermoine rolled her eyes as she stood up and left the Great Hall. Her mind racing with millions of thoughts.
~*~
It was Graduation and Harry Potter was officially pronounced dead. The world wept and grieved for the loss of their hero. He had died in battle with he-who-must-not-be-named, taking the Dark Lord with him as companion in death.
Draco Malfoy looked at the reflection in the mirror and hated what he saw. His parents were sitting in the audience. For him it was just a worthless piece of paper.
'Worthless, yeah, without Harry-fucking-Potter, everything is worthless.'
He had admitted to himself a few weeks before, he was officially in love with the hero… but he would never know now because he was dead! Frustrated he took the dragon shaped gel bottle. turned around and smashed his gel against the wall. The bottle smashed in to a thousand little pieces as it connected with the wall and the gel slipped down making a puddle on the floor. He looked at the glass and found a remarkable comparison with his very own heart.
Graduation came over in a haze. Draco heard his name being called and stood up. He walked toward the stage and took his paper, held his speech and left without saying goodbye to friends or his parents.
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