Disclaimer: not mine. This came over me during my history final, and I had to write it. It's not very good nor does it make much sense, but I have a demanding muse. Hope that it didn't confuse you too much.
Auld Lang Syne
Kyra
His feet echoed quietly in the still air, the soft tapping they made muffled by the gently falling snow. It covered his tracks, hiding the signs of his passing. He did not look back as he walked, intent on reaching his destination. His breath misted in the cold air, forming white puffs as he breathed. Nothing else moved; there was no sound but the muffled tapping of his feet and the rhythmic puffing of his breath. He was alone.
He finally reached his destination. Oblivious to the snow on the ground, he knelt, his robes billowing momentarily out around him and then settling down again with a soft sigh. He looked at the marker in front of him for a long moment, his green eyes unblinking, his strong hands unmoving. Utter silence reigned.
Then, with a muted hiss, he reached up and touched the marker, his fingers brushing the snow off the pale gray surface to reveal the words beneath. His lips moved soundlessly as he spoke the words to himself. He closed his eyes, his fingers still glued to the words on the marker, and remembered.
He was seventeen, newly come to adulthood and eager to make his own way in the world. His nemesis had been defeated; his life could begin at last. Yet he was not truly happy. He knew that he lacked something in his life, knew that something was missing, yet he did not know what it could be. He had the support of friends and family – the Weasleys having officially adopted him only months before – and he should by rights have been content. After all, he had just saved the wizarding world from horrible death. Surely that was cause for celebration!
He walked around the Burrow, wondering just what it was that he longed for. His eyes travelled across his room, resting at last on a single snapshot. He winced as he saw it, knowing who it was and not ready to acknowledge it for what it was. He wasn't strong enough yet to accept what had happened.
And then he knew. As he eyed the snapshot once more, he knew what he lacked in his life. Closing his eyes, he Apparated away.
He arrived in a graveyard, startling several people and causing many others to stare. He did not pay them any attention. Striding through the grim sanctuary, his mind was fixed on one single thing: to end the conflict within him and deliver the spirit who still lingered, waiting for his tears to be set free.
He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands in supplication. The wind picked up and he knew without looking that the one he had called had arrived.
"Hello Harry."
It was his voice, soft as a whisper, yet still instantly recognizable.
Without raising his eyes, Harry answered, "Draco."
"Have you come to torment me yet again with your anger?" The specter's voice was bitter and Harry felt himself flush with shame. How could he have done this to his friend, to the one boy he loved? The pain of anger was still evident between them, and Harry knew that, unless he fixed it, it would remain forevermore.
He shook his head and took a deep breath. "No. I've… I've come to apologize."
The utter silence that greeted this pronouncement was enough to prove to Harry just how much he had shocked the other.
"I was wrong. I… I'm sorry for that. Please Draco. Will you accept my apology? Will you let it set you free?"
He felt a chill run through him as Draco's ghostly hand passed through his shoulder and looked up. Draco's shimmering face was wet with insubstantial tears, the first Harry had ever seen him shed. "Yes," Draco whispered and, as the word crossed his lips, an expression of utter peace flickered into place. He closed his eyes and allowed the wind to blow his form away. As Harry watched him go, he knew that Draco had finally found his peace.
He opened his eyes and smiled. Getting up, he whispered the words on the gravestone one last time. He would return next year, would remind himself that there was peace to be found in this world so broken with pain and hatred. He glanced at the gravestone, alone and dull amid the snow, and turned his back on it, carrying some of the serenity with him back to the real world.