TITLE: My Love For You is Endless
AUTHOR: Lurkinshdws
RATING: M
GENRE: Romance, Tragedy
WARNING: DM/HP, Character Death, Sexual References, AU
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, J.K. Rowling does.
This story was inspired by a short story from the novel, Krik? Krak! It takes place in an alternate universe where Draco is a solider and is separated from Harry, his lover, and both have promised to keep a journal while they are apart.
UPDATE: I've tried to keep the both Harry's and Draco's "journal passages" apart, but FF is being stubborn.
They say darkness can only be overcome by light. I know that's true- how else could you fight darkness? The others apparently realize this as well. The Manor is hardly ever lit, as if the shadows along the wall will protect them if we are attacked. I have to rely on the weak sunshine to see as I walk down the corridors.
There are people here whose names don't matter to anyone but themselves. They pledge themselves till their dying breath to Voldemort. I can see their foolishness- the Dark Lord will dispose of them when their usefulness is complete.
I look at the sky and I think of you. I see you crying, the way you cried when that snake bit you and I had to carry you back. I loved you then. I still do.
I don't know how long I'll be here. This was my home, but now it's a resting place for weary and battle-worn soldiers. There are forty or so other souls residing in the Manor now. They run around and ignore me. I am thankful for that.
I thought of you as I laid in bed last night. I thought I could still smell the sweat and innocence lost to those sheets. I looked up and I thought of you and all those times you refused me. Sometimes I felt like you wanted to, but I knew what you wanted was for me to respect you. Your eyes were always so expressive- a fleeting hint of desire that became swallowed by your increasing nervousness. You thought I was testing you, but all I wanted- all I've ever wanted- was to be near you.
I'm afraid I'm going to start having nightmares. I'm alone here and all I see are battle scars from the others who come back. The ones who don't return aren't as bad- those I don't have to see.
Everything's the same. Nothing has changed and it makes me cross and irritable. I'm tired of the whole mess. I pass the time by organizing the books in the library. Or I clean the dishes, or some other mundane task. There's always something to be done.
Papa asks me to stay in the house. I don't talk to anyone anymore. Everything makes me mad and the others don't understand. So I don't talk to them.
Albus doesn't come by. Papa says he's busy now, that he let things get to out of hand before stepping in. That's all right though. Albus doesn't understand you, which means he doesn't understand me.
Sirius and Papa found my pictures the other day. You know, the ones of us from when we were younger? I grabbed them before Papa could burn them. He nearly came after me but Sirius stopped him. Thank Merlin I saved them. I can't hear your voice, or touch your face, or feel your arms around me anymore. But I can see you smile.
I overheard them later after I saved the pictures. Papa was asking Sirius, Do you think the boy's dead? Sirius said he didn't know. I think they both regret the way the treated you. Treated us.
Do you remember what you used to say to me? We have our whole lives ahead of us, together. But things are different now.
Bellatrix was here. She came on orders of the Dark Lord. She winked at me when she walked by. I turned and left before she could say anything.
I'm grateful for my limitations in magic. I'm glad that I cannot perform the simplest of healing charms. It would break me if I had to be around these people constantly. Looking into their faces would remind me of what I have yet to see.
I used to read a lot. I can't tell when the library became such a haunting place for me like it is now. But I go in and I see you and my memories. I cannot sit without thinking that your face will come through the fire to greet me. So I avoid it, like I avoid the gardens and the halls, and places where the others collect.
You know I am not religious. Still, I pray every night that we won't be attacked. When I do manage to sleep, I dream that it's you leading the army to my home, wave after wave of attacks that make me sit up from sleep.
I know that I might die. I haven't completely accepted it, but I know it might happen. I am no good to anybody dead, but if that is what's coming, I know I cannot just scream and hide from it. I hope that if my death comes, it comes when I am on the battlefield. Not defending the Dark Lord. Perhaps defending others, even if from my insane aunt.
I think the others are hoping that the Dark Lord will come and place this manor under his protection again. But again I see the truth- the Dark Lord has already taken those who are useful to him. The people who remain here are the ones that are too broken to fight.
If only I could fight. If I was able, I could stop these tragedies from occurring. A group of teenagers were taken today and killed publicly. The enemy left the bodies in the street afterwards. There was nothing I could do when they were brought to me- the life within them had left many hours before.
I keep wondering where you are. Another thing that makes me angry, not knowing where you are. I wish I could know for sure if you were fighting or not. But there is no way for me to know. Instead, I keep my promise. I keep on writing. You keep writing too, okay? And then when we see each other again, it will seem like we haven't lost any time.I knew it would happen .The faces around me are no longer the ones of the sick and wounded. Now, the faces are ones of battle. During the day it can be so hot and cold and wet and horrible.
At night, some of the men tell stories to appease any hunger or hurts we feel. Still, I look at the sky. At night, the land and the sky are one. The stars look so faraway and distant. Even the moonlight looks like it doesn't reach us. At times, I reach out and cover the moon with my hand. It comforts me to know that you see the same sky.
I want to stop thinking of you. It makes me feel like crying, and there is no other way to look weak in front of these men than to cry. But my love for you is endless, and so you continue to haunt my dreams. Once you have been out here for a couple of days, all you can see are the flashing lights of spells that you managed to avoid. And the flashing lights and the sight of your face brings to mind more nightmares I can't escape from.
A man woke up screaming the other night. We had spent the day avoiding an enemy party before stopping and taking shelter. One of the leaders struck him across the head and the screaming man fell silent. After that I just sat there. We all did until dawn. I cannot help but wonder how long I can hold out.
I want to escape. Papa thinks I'm crazy, holding onto the stuff you left behind with me. He wants to leave. He pesters me, and I'm desperate to leave him. He can go where he wants, but I can't leave you.
I can make myself useful with the knowledge I know. There are others who could use an extra hand at healing. I don't want to go to battle though. If it came down to it, I couldn't stand against you.
He pushed me against a wall yesterday. Papa, I mean. He was worked up and yelling and he didn't stop till Sirius came and pulled him away. I know Papa is upset. This war reminds him of the first war against Voldemort. I imagine that he's scared of losing me like he did my mother. I wish I could leave him, but how can I? He's my Papa and this is too hard on him.
Sometimes I forget where I am. If I keep daydreaming like I have been, I will walk right into a trap or worse, a fight.
The other night I dreamed I died. I could see you and not touch. There were flashing lights, but instead of attacking you, they danced around your head and made your hair shine with color. You were close to your father, and he kept moving between us, keeping you from me. I tried to talk to you, but no words came from my mouth. Instead I kept reaching and you kept moving farther and farther away.
Sirius cornered me today and asked about you. I told him that you had gone back to your home. He asked why you didn't stay. I told him you had a father and a mother. He didn't know what to say after that.
Later he came to me again. He said you were going to make a good man some day, that you were strong and proud. I think he's proud to have you as a cousin. But he said that Papa did not want you for me because you couldn't do much better for me than he could. Papa wants to find me someone who can keep me safe and protected in this society.
I snorted when Sirius said that and I snort now as I write. No one can keep me or anyone else protected anymore. It doesn't matter. You are all I want and my love for you is endless.
The sun will set soon. I had hoped to use the light from it to write by, but now it seems like it's too late.
For many days now I have fought my way through houses and attacked people I might have once called friends. Every time I raise my wand, all I want to ask is if they've seen you, heard from you, or know where you are.
Knowing your father, he has you locked up in the house and I can't be upset with him for that. It would have to hurt you to see what I've seen already. I wonder if your father has already found someone else for you. I was never good enough.
There is a girl with me now. She came into my care not longer after I left Papa and came to one of the safe areas. They brought her after finding her in a burning building.
Her name is Hermione and she is a Muggleborn. She would have been in school with us if Hogwarts was still open. Her face has scars running across it and she is pregnant. I try and get her to eat but she only nibbles.
When I am not with the girl I spend my time healing others or carrying out miscellaneous tasks. There is always something to be done.
I fear that I cannot return to you like I promised all those days ago. I am different now. If I am truthful about it, I have been different this whole time.
My love for you is endless and so despite this, I still keep one promise. I still write. I don't know if I should hope that you're writing too. If you're writing, it means you still love me. If you're not, you've moved on and found someone else.
Maybe if I cannot return to you, I can still give you this notebook. That way you can know that my love is still yours, but I cannot simply be with you after everything.
I have heard from others that Papa has been searching for me. When I left, I left a note saying that I couldn't stay locked up with him anymore. Surely he knows where I've gone and what I've been doing?
I thought about sending him a letter, but I find it useless. I can only bring myself to write to you.
The Muggleborn girl is approaching her last month of pregnancy. She still eats very little and I find myself thinking that the baby won't be healthy. She spends her time talking to me about nothing important. All it does is reminds me of how much I miss your voice.
Despite her willingness to talk to me, I can't get her to tell me of the baby or why she was in that building. I have my guesses and rumors circulate about it over and over again. But Hermione remains quiet when I bring it up and will only resume talking when I change the subject.
The others have watched me write in this book many times. There are other men who write as well- letters to families and wives, friends, or journals like mine is to you.
One of the new men asked me about it. His questions angered me because I don't know how to answer them. I want to tell him that I write to you. But is that even true? I know now that you might never see this. But it is nice imagining that you are here to talk to.
I was left alone after he tired of repeating his questions.
I hope my parents are alive. I'm sure my father is, even if I never hear any news about him. The man is too much like his master, always managing to survive despite the damage.
I doubt my mother is. She reminds me of you. Neither one of you are made for this long, drawn out war with its quick and intense fighting. If I am honest, neither am I but I don't have a choice in being here.
Hermione had a girl. She was beautiful, but was still born. The girl took her baby from the midwife who assisted me and clung to the little body.
I could make myself tear it from her grasp, so I left the mother and dead child alone while I took care of others.
I returned to her a few hours ago. Hermione was still holding the baby in her arms. She surprised me by telling how she came to be pregnant. The girl had been seized by the enemy many months ago. Her cries and whispered words tugged at my heart when she told me about the nights they came to her and hurt her. I won't go into detail- I'm sure you know how they view Muggleborns. She had been left in that building for several days before the soldiers came. She couldn't remember how the fire started but she did remember praying to her childhood god for death. I can't help but feel that her magic was trying to grant her that wish.
In return, I found myself telling her about you. I told her about our dreams, our love, and how much I missed you. I told her about your pale blond hair, and the arrogant way you act, and how sweet you are when we are together. It made me upset to talk about you.
I left her again with her daughter so I could come write. I know that you have most likely seen enough things with this war, but I couldn't help but tell you about her.
I dreamed of death again. This time there were no flashing lights or family members in the distance. I saw you. There was no one else.
I wanted to run my fingers through your hair. You refused. Instead, you took my hands and pulled me down with you to the ground. I recognized the look in your eyes. It was the same one you got the last time we were together. Your eyes had been filled with tears before I even entered you, and they remained in your eyes as I pushed against your skin and clung to you like a lifeline.
When I woke, I knew what the dream meant. And so now I prepare to go to them, Mother and the others who have died on the battlefields. Today must be my last day and I'm glad that I spent my last night with you, even though it was only in my dream.
My love for you is endless, even in my death.
I know now that you will never read these writings. When I woke yesterday, I was sure my dream was foreshadowing my death. Now I know it was foreshadowing yours.
I want to scream and cry and fall on my knees. I want to shake you. I want you to breathe. I want to apologize and most of all I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
This will be my last writing. After I saw your body among the others, I knew I could never write again. I know what you were doing- I found you in a building that can only be described as an infirmary. I should have known that you would come and heal those fighting.
I love you Harry. My love for you is endless, even in your death.
Confused? Feel free to ask me any questions if you don't understand what happened.
Reviews would be lovely :)