Title: Red

Author: xxForgotten

Pairing(s): HP/DM

Setting: Sometime post Hogwarts, wizarding community.

Warning(s): Character death, slash.

Disclaimer: Oh how I wish everything was mine. The truth is painful sometimes.

Summary: "I look down again, and a million colours explode in front of my eyes. It's beautiful, in a morbid kind of way. Like you."

It's getting dark outside, Harry. It's cold too, but maybe that's just me. Maybe. I can hear the waves splashing outside. Is a storm coming? The tide is strong, and water splashes into my cell, forming a tiny puddle on the floor of my cell. My very own little piece of freedom. The dim light from the corridor outside allows me to see a reflection inside it. Did you know that when I look into the mirror, I see your face? You found me when I lost everything, when I lost who I was. I can see your face now, grinning at me. It's nice to see your smile again. The inmate in the next cell looks ready to start a row with the guards. He does, and your reflection shatters. Kind of like how you crumpled when... when...

I hate you. I swear that I hate you. I hate every part of you, from the small crease between your eyebrows to the way your eyes catch the sun in the most amazing ways. I hate them, and I hate you. You did everything on purpose, didn't you. Didn't you. I know you did. I'm scoffing at myself now, Harry. I'm scoffing at how I let you manage to take over me so completely. You had my heart, you know. One squeeze and I'd have done anything, just anything.

Sometimes, at night, when the neighboring inmates' complaints and fights make it impossible to sleep, I stare out at the moon and wonder if you're looking at it too. I'm being silly. I know. Only you're not here to hit me and grin about it.

God my arm hurts.

I look down, and all I can see is red. Red, red, red. I hate that colour. You would know that, wouldn't you Potter? Your Gryffindor scarf was still wedged under my mattress at home the last time I checked. I wonder if it's still there. Try to force it on me once again, Potter, and I'll... never mind. Bloody Gryffindors.

You never did listen to me, did you. You never did care. You never did listen when I told you that your bloody courage and idiocy would be your downfall. You once told me that I was like a dream to you; a dream come true. Well, I guess that was true to some extent. A nightmare does count as a dream. You fucking pitied me, didn't you Harry.

It's pitch black dark now, and all I can think about is that that's the colour of your hair. I'm laughing at myself, really. I can't count the times I ran my fingers through it, but now when I reach out, all I grasp is darkness and the cold. See what you've done to me Potter? I do hope you're happy. I can't count the times I tried to make you happy just because I wanted to.

It's getting colder. I feel like a fish out of water. I never was cold with you, you see. You were always there, a constant warmth. But now when I think about it, it burns me like dry ice. It burns me in a kind of addicting way.

This place stinks of death and desperation. And every time I think of you, I take a little step further towards the welcoming madness. You know, Lucius was right. Love is weakness. He told me that my love for you would kill me eventually. Well. Who'd have thought? But now is not a time for what ifs and regrets. Do I regret loving you? Maybe. Just maybe.

Remember the penknife you gave me last year? I never told you, but it's the best present I've ever received. Really useful too.

I feel strangely lightheaded. I haven't felt like this since I first met you. Haven't felt like I could jump right up and dance across my tiny cell, singing cheesy songs about loving someone until the world explodes and the stars shatter and fall like rain or something like that. Maybe less violently. I've been using maybe a lot lately. Maybe. I just don't know anymore. Don't know what's certain and what's not. Don't know what's real and what's not. You took away everything that was real to me, Potter. Everything.

I like the feeling, though. It makes me happy. I think I like that. Do I?

I stare at the puddle again, and I see you in the dim light. Your messy hair, your damned gorgeous eyes, your lips, grinning at me crookedly. Is it such a wonder that I, Draco Malfoy, fell for you? It was just so easy... too easy. I should have known.

Maybe this is what the muggles call karma. I don't know. Don't know, don't care. Maybe it's penance for who I am. Not that I know whoever the heck that is anyway. Draco Malfoy, son of famous death eater? Malfoy jr., heir to Malfoy fortune? Bloody ferret, Hogwarts bully and (maybe) sex legend? Draco, godson of Severus Snape, ex- lover of Boy Who Lived? Just another criminal everyone's happy to have inside Azkaban's walls? Or maybe me, just another hurting person out there trying to survive.

I don't think I'll ever forget you, Harry. I don't want to, and I doubt I ever will. Even when..

It was you, who taught me the hardest lessons in life. You, who helped me to the top. But you weren't there to catch me when I lost my grip.

You promised, Harry. You promised.

But it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does. It never did, even when I was so blind as to think that there was a meaning to it. I was blind, and I know it. I still am. But it doesn't matter. I've been crashing into walls so much all my life, and still I've managed to survive. Are you the wall that's finally going to kill me?

I know that one day I'm going to get out of here. One day soon. I know it. I can feel it under my skin. I can feel my wings itching to come out. And one day, I'm going to fly away from here. Away from you, away from this world, away from pain. Then I'm going to be able to feel lightheaded, and sing cheesy songs as loud as I want, for as long as I want. I'm going to find my own happiness. Away from you. I never quite got over that time you complained about my singing, you see. It's perfectly fine to me. That's why I'm going to find my own happiness. My very own.

Then you'll see me. You'll see me, and I'll be happy.

Without you.

I used to think you were out of this world, that I was the luckiest person alive. But you turned out to be just like them- made out of flesh, cold blood, bone and lies.

The waves are still sloshing about outside. I think it's getting wilder now. There's a small boat on the horizon, I think. It's bobbing along like a cork on water, like my heart right now. I miss the sea. I miss it, even though it's right outside. Just like I missed you, even though you were standing right in front of me. I still do, in fact. Life sucks sometimes doesn't it.

I look down again, and a million colours explode in front of my eyes. It's beautiful, in a morbid kind of way. Like you.

Then the colours fade away and there's only red. Crimson, in fact. It's fascinating. Mesmerizing, even. It's almost impossible to look away.

The little puddle turns red too, along with your face. Ugh. Thank goodness you didn't end up with the Weaselette. If this is an indication of how your children would have looked, I'd rather go throw myself out of a window. Which reminds me, I don't have any windows that are possible for me to throw myself through. Reality check.

You're so much better off without me, Harry. You deserve so much more.

They were all right. All of them. We were the only ones who were blind. Or maybe... I was the only one. I've been alone all my life, Harry. All my life. It doesn't hurt. It never did. As a kid, when I tripped down the stairs and skinned both of my knees, it didn't hurt. I'm not who you think I am, Harry.

Gosh, it's freezing.

I can hear a bird's call from outside, over the rolling waves. It cuts through the silence, through the cold.

I can hear it calling me.

Harry Potter looked up from the cold stone floor, eyes shining. Draco Malfoy's body lay a few feet away, and aurors stood behind him. The ground beneath them shone scarlet from the writing on it. On Draco Malfoy's left arm was a deep, smooth cut, and his right hand fingers were all red from his own blood. A sharp and unpleasant rusty tang hung in the air, and the party watched on, solemn, as the saviour of the wizarding world wept over Draco Malfoy's body.

Draco Malfoy, son of famous death eater. Malfoy jr., heir to Malfoy fortune, had found his wings.

"He was still breathing when we got here," Harry's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"He was too far gone, even then. You know that, Harry," Remus put a comforting hand on the distraught boy's shoulders.

"I don't," Harry whispered. "I don't,"

Harry

He was beautiful.

And he was right, the crimson was mesmerizing. Though some of it had already dried to a dull brown, the contrast between the red and Draco's pale skin was stunning, in a twisted way. It was both breathtaking, and terrifying at the same time.

He'd always been beautiful. It's just that I never told him. And as I looked at him, I dearly wish I did.

I regret a lot of things. There are things that I'd give anything to change. But loving him never was one of those. The biggest mistake of my life was, undoubtedly, believing that those fools in the ministry would keep us safe. Being as stupid as to have thought that they'd risk their golden boy's name for a death eater's son. When I'd looked into their eyes and seen their disgust, I should have known.

But I've never thought of myself as gay. The name sounds strange to my ears, when passerbys spit it at me. To me, it was only him.

Dear Merlin, I do miss him.

There's always been some kind of magic in the way he looks at me. And that sudden lack of... of life, in his eyes, is heartbreaking.

The aurors stood in silence as Harry knelt, staring at the crimson walls.

"Say it," His voice was cold. "Say it. Say that I'm a fool for crying over a man who tried to kill me. Laugh at me for not listening to you when you told me he would be the death of me. Tell me that everything was a lie."

And with that, he reached out, gently closed those empty grey eyes, traced a finger along slightly smiling, peaceful lips, stood up, and walked out into the dark and the cold.