True Love
By: Etern
Disclaimer: I so not own Harry Potter and related characters, only this depressing story, plot thing. Yeah.
A/N: My friend inspired me to write this, and let me warn you now it's not a happy ending at all. The guy in this story is obviously Draco, and the girl... well, i thought it would be Hermione, but it can really be any girl at all, it's really generic. But I hope you like it and, uh, sorry true love, but i don't believe that you always end happily. This story shows it. Dedicated to my best friend, this is depression central.
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Someone asked me once if I believed in true love. I had no idea how to answer them, really. After all, this had been before I knew about love at all. This had been before I met you, and my life was changed.
True love, or what I had thought it to be, was like in the movies. True love was where you could only feel adoration for the person you were with, true love was where you were willing to do anything at all for one another. True love was…
True love is a lie. True love can't exist, can it? Especially between you and I. How can it exist when nothing between us seems true anymore?
When I look at you, shrouded in black, I wonder sometimes if you're the same person who had held me just hours ago, the same person that had whispered to me that everything would be fine.
Is this what you think is fine?
You know that I love you; I tell it to you a lot, perhaps too much. We both had known from the beginning that it would only bring pain in the end. So why do I keep saying it?
Perhaps it's because no matter what, I can't stop. No matter what, my heart beats for you, true love, even if it destroys me. And we both know that it will. I am the one that seems to be suffering here. As you stand there, eyes turned away from me, I know what is coming; I know that no matter what, our love can not be first. I know that no matter what, we are on opposite sides and no matter what, that can not change. It's too late for us both.
Your father is always at your back; my friends are holding me down. I do not ever regret my role in this war, but you…
You told me once that you would never be like your father. But as I stare at you now, standing next to him wearing the same black robes, the same solemn expression, I no longer believe you. Is there truth in true love?
I can no longer see the truth in your expressionless eyes.
I can not tear my eyes away from you, even now. I can not look away from you, even if you won't meet my eyes. Have I ever told you that you gave me strength? I can not remember telling you and now, in the face of my demise, I want more than anything to say that I love you again. I want more than anything to let those be my last words, words that I hope will set me free even as they condemn you, condemn us both.
Why does love hurt?
True love should not hurt, I had thought. True love was supposed to end happily.
Oh, what a lie every movie told.
I know now, as a dark figure moves in front of me, that in true love, that if I truly ever loved you, I have to protect you. I might be doomed but you aren't, are you? You aren't yet. I love you too much to see you fall with me; I love you too much that I can no longer love you at all.
"Let's get all the information we can out of her," I hear someone whisper, a low, dull hiss. "Maybe she knows where Potter is!"
So this is what I've become, a carrier of information. I can tell by the glazed look in your blank eyes that you are thinking the same thing. Is that what you think of me as too?
I don't know you right now, in this circle of black; I don't know you at all.
And I know, deep inside, that you don't want to know me either.
"So we Crucio her."
"Most certainly. The only question is who will do the deed?"
There are mutterings, shifting. I barely even notice. I am thinking back to what had been between us, outside this circle, outside this hell. I am thinking back to another life, another time when you held me and I leaned into you and it was so perfect that tears now stream silently down my face. I can almost feel your arms around me again, if I close my eyes. I can almost feel your hands running over my skin and through my hair as you take me, as you make me yours.
I think that I will always be yours, in those memories.
But then, they are just memories.
But then, soon I will just be a memory, won't I?
True love can withstand all pressure; true love can cause pain even if it is unbearable.
I think of this now as they all turn to you, a ripple of black, to look at you expectantly. My heart falls even as it starts to beat faster and faster. I watch as you swallow. You know what this means; I know what this means.
Your father's hand looks heavy as it lands on your shoulder. "Son," he tells you, "It's time for you to prove yourself. Show the others that you are willing to do anything for our cause."
Show me that you are willing to do anything to shatter me completely.
I nearly stop breathing as you step forward, eyes down, wand raised. I am hurt, but you know what? Somewhere, I think I understand.
The circle is edging closer as you lift your hand, and somehow you meet my eyes. And now I understand completely.
"Crucio."
The pain is immense; the agony covers me. But even through my pain I can see you, your pale face, your glazed eyes, and I want to smile at you. As my body falls at your feet and writhes I want to take your hand and tell you that everything will be okay, like I have done over and over and over again. I want you to understand that no matter what, I will still love you. You can torture me, because it's enough to know that you're at least the one doing it.
I would rather suffer by your hand then anyone else's, my love.
When the pain recedes there is black edging my vision, but I can still see your eyes. They stare into my soul and I wonder if I am the only one who notices how you tremble. I wonder if I am the only one to see your fear. It makes the pain that much more bearable.
You asked me once, in the dark of night after the passion, if I would ever mind dying. What had I responded with?
Death had never scared me; I remember my lips saying; losing you though, does. Losing you would kill me more than anything.
And do you want to know something? I still feel that way.
"Finish her off," I hear them saying, "Kill her, now."
Your trembling has gotten worse. I can't lose you, you had said to me; you have become my light.
But love, light can live on. Light is so much more enduring than a body; light is side by side with our love. So long as you love me, you will have light. So long as you never forget me, there will be light even in the green of the killing curse.
So go on, do it. My eyes shine at you with all my love, meant only for you to see as you start to shake harder and harder, your eyes locked with mine.
True love calls for sacrifices. The killing curse is but a whisper from your mouth before it hits me, as deadly and heart stopping as our love. There is a smile on my lips. There are tears in your eyes.
Please, don't cry, true love. Even when you die, you will remain.