DISCLAIMER: I shouldn't have to tell you that the world of Harry Potter is not mine. This is a FAN fiction and if you don't know that you shouldn't be here. If you decide to sue me anyway I hope you have fun with your three dollars.
WARNING: This is a slash story meaning boy/boy relationship. If you don't like that don't read it. I'm warning you for a reason.
SUMMARY: "You can change it if you start from the beginning." After Draco's death Harry has trouble letting got. When a man in Knockturn Alley gives him a strange potion Harry decides he can bring Draco back if he starts from the beginning.
A/N: This story is the product of me reading too many Harry and Draco fictions. It was inspired by a number of stories I've read. If it is similiar to any other story here that is just a coinesidence and is not intentional.
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Chapter One : May He Forever Be Guarded By His Lion
I miss you
I miss you so bad
I don't forget you
Oh it's so sad-
Harry could see the snitch hovering just inches from the ground. The sun reflected off of its golden surfaces sending a slight glare into his eyes. That's how he first noticed it, the glare had hit his face and blinded him for a second. He wasn't the only one that saw it, however.
They were both racing towards it, neck in neck, both on the fastest brooms money could buy, identical Shooting Arrows. The air stung Harry's face he was going so fast, trying to get to the snitch first. It didn't really matter though, who won, because there would be no hard feelings afterwards, only great celebration sex. Harry was looking forward to that. That's why he had to get to that snitch, not so he could win it for his team, but so that he could end the bloody game to get to the real fun.
He glanced over at the opposing Seeker beside him. His face etched with concentration, the grip on his broom tight. The air had whipped the tie out of his white blond hair so that now it flowed behind him reflecting the sunlight like a golden ribbon of silk. The green and scarlet of his robes made his skin look even paler, while the vertical stripes made him look extremely stupid. Harry loved to tease him about how foolish he looked in those things if only so he could see him looking pouty and irritated as he drawled out, "Malfoy's never look foolish, no matter what they wear. We leave that to the Potter's." That would only make Harry laugh more which usually resulted in being pounced on by the blonde, something Harry didn't mind one bit.
The crowd, that had gone quiet the moment the two Seekers had begun to dive for the snitch, began to make noise once again as they drew closer. Hoots, shouts and whistles of encouragement along with boos and stomps as the fans tried to distract the opposing teams Seeker from the snitch, while knowing, that for each Seeker, the person right beside them was distraction enough.
Just seconds from the snitch both Seekers glanced up at once. Steel grey eyes met emerald green. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment as the other Seeker flashed Harry a quick smile that seemed to fall naturally onto blond's usually blank face. Harry returned the smile, registering the laughter in those steel eyes as his opponent turned back to the snitch. Harry did the same and time crashed back into place, they were mere inches from the snitch and from the ground.
Harry reached out his hand just as the other Seeker did but the snitch darted down lower skimming the grass. For a moment Harry felt the cool touch of the gold on his fingers tips but then the snitch moved a little to the left out his reach. Reacting quickly Harry pulled out of the dive, the tips of his toes skimming the ground just as a sickening crunch sounded behind him followed by a loud thump. Turning his broom around sharply, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.
He was laying face flat against the ground with his blond hair fanned out around him. Crimson red liquid stained the white locks and the green grass. Beside him his broom lay snapped in half. The whole stadium was in an uproar of shouts, officials calling for medi-wizards, fans gasping and whispering, the sound of a dozen pairs of feet hitting the ground, running.
But Harry heard none of this. For him everything seemed to have gone deathly quite, completely devoid of sound as if a silencing charm had been placed on his ears. He was only aware of jumping off his broom and running over to the fallen player. There didn't seem to be a thought in his mind. It was as if, for a second, everything had gone blank for him except for his sight, because there was no doubt that he was seeing.
He reached the other man's side before any of the other players even registered his fall. Dropping down to his knees he flipped the other Seeker over onto his back. His face was pale, his cheek smeared with red, his eyes open but slightly glazed. Harry felt a gust of air escape his chest as he noticed the rising and falling of the other man's chest. The fact that it was more like frantic heaving was not something Harry noticed.
Harry pulled the other man into his lap running his fingers on the pale cheeks in some what of a daze. The grey eyes flickered over to his face and for a second brightened to silver. A pained, lazy sort of smile came onto the other man's face as he looked up at Harry.
"Harry," he said in a soft whisper. For the first time Harry noticed the other man's right hand was balled into a tight fist clutching something close to his chest. Slowly the man opened his hand to reveal a tiny, struggling, golden snitch. "Look, Harry, I got the snitch. I finally beat you."
"You did," Harry whispered smiling as his sight suddenly got blurry. The smile was still on the other man's face when his eyes went off focus and his grip on the tiny ball went lax. The ball fluttered from his fist and up into the air unnoticed by anyone, because everyone was watching, stunned, as a crying Harry Potter-Malfoy leaned over a still Draco Malfoy-Potter whispering, "Draco, wake up."
But Draco didn't wake.
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Harry wasn't listening to whatever it was the ancient Wizard Priest was saying, he didn't really care. All he cared about was the fact that they had put his Draco into a box. Draco would hate it, he never liked closed in places. "It's like being held back," he had told Harry once. "Suffocating, restraining. Like being in a cage."
Harry wanted to rush forward, pull the lid open, and pull Draco out. "Just put him in the dirt," he wanted to scream. "He won't be able to breath in there." It didn't matter to Harry that Draco didn't need to breath anymore, he just wanted him out of the fucking box.
He was vaguely aware of Hermione standing on his left and Ron on his right. Vaguely aware of Narcissa sitting beside Dumbledore a few places away crying softly. Vaguely aware of the twenty or so people behind them watching and crying. None of them really mattered right then, the only thing that mattered was Draco.
It was about an hour later that Harry stood alone in front of the grey stone under the still Whomping Willow tree on the Hogwarts grounds. The stone was rectangular shaped divided in half by carved line. On one side the words "Here Lies Draco Malfoy-Potter loving husband, devoted son and loyal friend. May he forever be guarded by his Lion" were chiselled into the stone. The other side was blank but Harry knew one day it would read, "Here Lies Harry Potter-Malfoy loving husband, loyal friend and devoted saviour. May he forever be guarded by his Dragon". Above the inscribed side a stone lion sat in a guarding position, face fierce and dangerous looking. Emerald green eyes sparkled out from the grey face, staring straight ahead. It's tale snaked around the top of the stone to curl around the spiked tail of the dragon that stood guard over the other half of the grave. His face was also solemn and watching with bright silver eyes. One day Harry would lay guarded under the dragon.
"Where do you want to be buried?" The voice seemed to floating on the cool wind, whispered to Harry from somewhere in the past.
"What do you mean, Draco," Harry asked.
"When you die, where do you want to be buried," the voice answered. Harry thought for a moment wanting to give it a serious well thought out answer.
"At Hogwarts," he said finally. "It was my first real home. Under the Whomping Willow because it's where I first kissed you." Harry could see Draco smile. "What about you? Where do you want to be buried?" Draco's eyes looked at him, dark, thoughtful.
"It doesn't really matter," his voice said. "As long as I'm beside you."
Harry dropped to his knees smiling softly. He reached out and brushed his fingers gently over the engraving as if would somehow help him feel Draco instead.
"Don't worry Draco," he whispered. "I'll always be beside you."
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Inside the Great Hall about twenty-five people sat huddled around small tables, standing in dark corners, leaning against friends shoulders talking softly. They were all dressed in solemn black dress robes. Some sipped thoughtfully from their goblets while others picked wearily at their food. There was no laughter, only the occasional smile as memories where shared with one another.
Hermione looked around at all the sad, drawn out faces. Both the Caerphilly Catapults and the Ballycastle Bats Quidditch teams had been invited. Harry and Draco's teams. Narcissa sat in a corner off by herself, Draco's only remaining relative. Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's only remaining true friends since before the war, stood talking to Ron who was holding his goblet in his only remaining hand. The other, along with his left eye, had been cut off during the war by Lucius Malfoy when he had been captured and tortured for information on Harry's whereabouts during their seventh year. It had been Draco who had saved him. Dumbledore and Snape were the only two professors who had been invited. Snape was sitting at a table by himself seemingly staring at nothing while Dumbledore stood talking quietly to Jacob Dunbar and Lisa Conner, two of Draco's recent friends since graduation. Remus sat talking to three others, James and Marcus Shelsworth and Judy Summers. Hermione stood by the door waiting for Harry.
That was until she say Kevin O'Keath, one of the Ballycastle Beaters, sitting off by himself away from the other Quidditch players. He was staring down at the table, his eyes wide in shock as they had been since the day of the game.
Hermione limped over and took the seat opposite him, no longer wincing from the pain in her leg. She had also been captured by Lucius that night, but Ron came out the worst of the two.
"Hello Kevin," she said softly not wanting to startle him. He looked up slowly until his brown eyes, clouded by his sandy hair, were directed on her. He could see compassion etched on Hermione's usually stern face as she gazed at him. For some reason he knew he could tell her what he had been too afraid to say to anyone else, he thought for sure that she would understand. He knew he had to tell someone and he knew he could never say it to Harry.
"I killed him," he whispered searching Hermione's eyes for anger or disgust. After a moment when the look in her eyes hadn't changed he continued. "I hit the bludger to stop him from getting the snitch. They were going to win and I had to stop him."
"You didn't kill him Kevin," Hermione whispered. "The Medi-Wizards said it was the combined force of the bludger and the impact. If he would have pulled out the dive faster he would have been okay."
"If I hadn't of hit the bludger he would have been okay." Kevin blinked furiously against the onslaught of tears he felt building behind his eyes. "I killed him. I didn't mean to."
"I know," was all Hermione could think to say.
A half hour later when Harry walked in every one looked up but no one moved. They could all see the pain radiating from the man, so much of it, it was hard to look at him without feeling it too. He looked so much older and tired than anyone of only twenty-six should look. No one tried to talk to him because they all knew there was nothing they could say to make to pain go away.
No one was surprised when he walked across the room and took the seat opposite Snape. The two men sat in silence for a long while as people slowly began to leave. Out of the blue Harry looked up at Snape, sadness turning his green eyes dark and shadowed. He studied the older mans face for a moment, taken in the dark eyes and shallow skin that made the two diagonal scars on his cheeks stand out.
"He died happy," he said to the other man. Snape snapped out of his daze to stare at the young wizard. Harry looked right back at him smiling a little. "He caught the snitch and beat me for the first time. He was smiling. He died happy."
Snape just stared at Harry for a long moment with troubled black eyes before he gave a slight nod. Harry returned the nod and then both wizards went back to staring quietly at nothing.
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Ronald Weasley was worried about Harry. It had been six months since Draco's death and he hadn't even started to get better. If anything he seemed to be getting worst. He had moved out of the flat him and Draco had lived in for six years about two months ago to live with Ron and Hermione at their house in the country. He said he couldn't stand the way the walls would talk to him. "They always sound like Draco," he had said. That was when Ron had first started to worry.
Then there were the times he would leave in the middle of the night and not return until sometime in the early morning. At first Ron had dismissed it, thinking Harry just needed some time away. But then it became more frequent, till almost every night Ron could feel Harry Disapparate inside the wards around the house. One night Ron had placed a tracking spell on Harry and followed him. He found him at Hogwarts, under the Whomping Willow, curled up on his side of the grave, his invisibility cloak slipping off of him. Ron had never told Harry or Hermione that he had followed him but he did start to pay more attention to Harry.
He never smiled, he never laughed. He had understandably quit Quidditch but he wasn't even trying to look for another job. Not that he needed one, the Potter and Malfoy fortunes combined where enough for him to live on comfortably for the rest of his life. He rarely came out of his room and when he did it was usually just for meals and at night when he went to Hogwarts.
Ron had gone to speak to Dumbledore one day, letting him know what Harry did at night so at least he would be protected. Dumbledore had agreed with Ron that it was probably best not to confront Harry about it just yet knowing his sometimes violent temper. They decided that maybe he just needed a little bit more time and that they wouldn't intervene until it got too serious.
But then Ron had started hearing the talking. Soft, incitant mumbling coming from Harry's room. At first Ron had just been slightly worried that Harry was talking to himself. He didn't think it was good for Harry to be talking to himself but he figured that sometimes you just have to say things out loud to understand them properly. He hoped Harry was running through some of the things in his mind and perhaps getting a little better, sorting out how he felt.
One day Ron was walking down the hall to his study to look over one of his case files for his job as an Auror. No one would have ever thought Ron Weasley, probably the slowest one out of the Gryffindor Trio, would be the only one to become an Auror. After the war Harry had decided he had seen far too much of the Dark Arts and all the violence and had instead turned to his other passion, Quidditch. Hermione had kept with her charity aims and had become co-founder of a group called LAMC (Liberation for All Magical Creatures), who worked on getting rights for Magical Creatures all around the world. Everyone thought Ron would be the one to end up playing Quidditch but during the war he had changed.
The things he had seen and went through had had a lasting effect on him. He had jumped more into his studies and had actually been tied with Hermione for grades in their last year. But then in Seventh Year he had been caught and tortured by Lucius Malfoy. He had lost his left eye, which had been replaced much later with a magical one much like Mad-Eyed Moody's, and his right hand. He never got a new hand. Some thought he wouldn't be able to be an Auror with those "handicaps" as they called them but that only made Ron more determined to prove them wrong. He had passed all his Auror exams at the top of his class and was now one of the best in the department.
As Ron passed Harry's door he once again heard the mumbling. Letting his curiosity get the best of him Ron cast a spell to make whatever it was Harry was saying louder and listened.
"Please," he heard Harry say. "Please don't go again. I need you here." A long pause and what sounded suspiciously like sobs. "Please just stay a while longer. I don't wanna be alone again tonight. Please stay, Draco." Another pause. "I can't let go, I love you."
Ron didn't hear the last part, however, because he was already halfway down the hall after hearing Draco's name.
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Harry was furious. How dare they tell him he was delusional. How dare they tell him, subtlety, that he was going crazy, that he needed to let go. They had no right to tell him anything because they didn't know. Draco really did come to him sometimes, mostly when he was asleep, but sometimes when he was awake he could hear him. He couldn't see him but he could hear his voice, sometimes feel his touch. And he would never let Draco go. They didn't understand. Draco was apart of him, when Draco died he had died too.
All he had wanted to do was punch Dumbledore who sat there talking to Harry in a gentle, bracing voice as if Harry was on the edge of insanity and could tip in over that edge at any moment. Harry knew he wasn't crazy and he hated the way Dumbledore had treated him like he was. Then there was Hermione looking like she was on the verge of tears, patting his shoulder and cooing over him like he was a child. And Ron. Ron who had followed him to the grave, Ron who had told Dumbledore, Ron who had eased dropped on him when he was talking to Draco, Ron who didn't know how keep his bloody mouth shut.
"Harry," Dumbledore had said. "You have to let go. I know it 's hard but you have to learn to live without him. This holding on isn't healthy. Would Draco want you to continue like this or would he have wanted you to live, really live?"
"Hell if I know," Harry muttered to himself storming down Diagon Alley. "He's dead remember." But he did know what Draco would want because he had told him. Almost every time he came to him he told him the same thing. That Harry was dieing inside, that he had to let go because he wanted him to live. That he would be waiting for him when it was his time.
Harry didn't want to wait though, he wanted Draco now. Wanted to hold him, kiss him, touch him. Wanted his smiling face. His glittering silver eyes. Wanted his drawling voice and sneering lips. Wanted his laugh, his frown, his pale skin and silky hair. He wanted the conversations they had together, the silences they shared, the passions they experienced only with each other. He couldn't get any of that anywhere else, so he had to have Draco.
Memories flew through he his mind. Draco at eleven standing on the stool in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions talking in his haughty superior voice, unknowingly insulting Harry's first friend. Draco on the train holding out his hand. Draco at twelve calling Hermione a mudblood and gloating over the brooms brought by his father. Draco at thirteen sitting on the Quidditch Pitch in black robes after dressing up like a dementor to sabotage Harry's game. Draco at fourteen and fifteen general being a pain in the arse. Doing anything and everything to push Harry, Ron and Hermione's buttons.
And then there was Draco in sixth year, coming back to school with empty vacant eyes and bruises on his face that not even Madam Pomfrey could heal. Draco shunning all of his friends except Crabbe and Goyle while ignoring Harry, Ron and Hermione all together. Draco shouting at Harry in a fit of rage about how his father had disowned him after he turned down Voldemorts offer for being a Death Eater. About how he had to live with Snape because he had nowhere else to go. And then Draco under the Whomping Willow where Harry found him one night. . .
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Flash Back
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked. He had just come from visiting Hagrid like he did so many nights. It was the only place he could go and talk about Sirius without being worried what someone would say if he cried. He had seen Hagrid cry often enough without being scared to do so himself.
He had been looking down at the Marauder's Map making sure no one was any where near the front entrance of the school when he had seen Malfoy's name right under the Whomping Willow. Ever since Malfoy had told him about his father disowning him they had, had a kind of understanding. Not really a friendship but they agreed to leave each other and each other's friends alone and at least be civil.
Harry had found himself walking toward the Whomping Willow without really deciding to do so. Once he realized where he was headed he had told himself Malfoy wouldn't want him around anyway and was just turning around to leave when he heard a noise. A noise that sounded like a sob and it was coming from by the Whomping Willow. Gathering his courage Harry had headed towards the sound.
Draco had been huddled between the roots of the tree, his head dropped forward, his blond hair shinning in the moonlight. Every now and then he'd give a little shutter and drag in a ragged breath.
At the sound of Harry's voice Draco looked up, he eyes wide with fear and surprise. Harry had pulled off the invisibility cloak so when Malfoy saw who it was the surprise was automatically replaced with anger though strangely enough the fear remained.
"What does it look like I'm doing Potter?" he snapped ducking his face to wipe the tears away.
"It looks like you were crying," Harry said amazed. Malfoy's don't cry, Harry told himself but he was seeing it so he couldn't really believe it wasn't true.
"Your observational skill astound me Potter."
Harry took a uncertain step forward. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fucking brilliant Potter. Now what the hell do you want?"
"I just wanted to see if you were okay," Harry said, purposely ignoring Malfoy's harsh tone. Draco looked up at Harry as if he could hear the honest concern in the other boys voice. Grey eyes met green and they both felt a shiver run through them as they saw the others eyes look at them for once with something else other than hate, anger or cool detachment. Without thinking Harry sat down beside Malfoy, who let him do so.
"Is it about your dad?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Malfoy answered. "And no. It's really about my mother."
"Do you miss her."
Draco shrugged and looked up through the branches of the trees at the moon. For a moment Harry was startled by how beautiful he looked with moonlight touching his cheeks and glistening in his hair while his eyes shimmered silver with unshed tears. Harry had never seen his eyes that color before. Grey, yes. Silver, never.
"You must miss her," Harry said when Malfoy didn't speak again. "I mean, I miss my mother and I never even knew her. What's she like?"
Malfoy seemed genuinely surprised by Harry's interest. He looked at him for a long moment and Harry found himself shifting uneasily under his gaze. Finally Draco spoke. "She's not the type of mother who holds you or kisses you. She was never like that, I don't think she knows who to be. Her mother was never like that with her so she didn't know how to be like that with me. But I know she cares, she just shows it differently, more subtilely. Like if I do something that makes her proud or happy she'll smile. It's a small smile, you probably wouldn't be able to see it but it's in her eyes really. They glow. Or when I need to talk to someone she listens, even if she doesn't say anything, like give me advise, she still listens."
Malfoy went silent for a moment, staring off across the grounds, his eyes distant. "We go for walks around the grounds at our house. Through the gardens and down by the lake. We just walk, just me and her. Some of the happiest memories I have are of us walking together. Sometimes silence can say more than words."
Draco voice had died to a whisper and a single tear slid down his cheek. Harry was mesmerized by the sight of it. It was like a glistening crystal against Draco's pale skin. Harry's hand moved and he gathered the tear on the tip of his finger, his skin grazing Draco's. Malfoy turned to look at him, the surprise and fear once again in his eyes and all over his face. Harry stared down at the tear as if he couldn't understand how it had gotten there. Then, slowly, he looked up at Malfoy to find the blond staring right at him.
Harry raised his hand again cupping Draco cheek in his palm as he ran his thumb down the silver path the tear had created. He felt Draco shiver from his touch and saw his eyes flutter briefly. His was vaguely aware that his own breathing had turned slightly faster and heavier.
"W-what are you doing," Draco stammered looking at Harry through heavy lids.
"I don't know," Harry whispered. His eyes dropped to the blond's lips which were slightly parted. Draco's tongue slipped out unconsciously as he licked his lips leaving them glistening. Harry found he couldn't look away and he realized they were slowly getting closer, those lips, as if he were being draw towards them. "I really don't know." And he really didn't.
"Well, you bloody well better figure out and get on with it," Draco snapped, though his voice seemed to lack it's usual arrogance and sounded instead almost breathless.
Harry complied instantly and pressed his lips to Draco's. Harry had kissed only one other person before but he had never kissed another boy. He found it ironic that every time he kissed someone they seemed to be crying, though Draco wasn't as near as bad Cho, at least he wasn't sobbing.
His lips were a little damp from when he had licked them so Harry's slipped slightly against them creating a tingling kind of friction. The tingling traveled from Harry's lips to his neck, to his stomach and then all the way to his toes. It made his stomach feel slightly queasy and his heart flutter but in a good, although slightly terrifying, way. What surprised Harry most was that Draco didn't pull back right away and hit him, or worst laugh hysterically at him and run off to tell the whole school. He just sat there, perfectly still as if he were afraid to move.
The kiss was brief and chaste. Harry pulled back after a moment to look at Draco. His eyes were still closed and up this close Harry could see the tears clinging to his pale eyelashes and feel his breath in quick pants graze across Harry's chin.
"Bloody hell, Potter," Draco whispered as his eyes fluttered open again. "Are you gonna just sit there all fucking night or are you kiss me again!"
Harry could only smile as he leaned in again, this time more certain that Draco wasn't going to hit him or laugh hysterically and run off to tell the school.
That was the beginning of it all for the both of them.
End Flash Back
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Harry was so lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice he had wandered into Knockturn Alley. The street was much darker and narrower than Diagon Alley. The witches and wizard dirtier and more haggard looking. It was night time and the smell of whisky hung heavy in the air. Witches dressed in tight almost see-through robes leered at him through doorways beckoning him to come hither. Wizards shoved all assortment of things under his nose and into his face. Harry was oblivious to it all. His thoughts were still on Draco.
Suddenly someone grabbed him ruffly by the front of his robes and pulled him into a very narrow side alley. The smell of whisky was much stronger there and a little farther down he could see two men in dark robes huddled together passing small leather bags to each other.
"You can change it if you start from the beginning," a wheezy voice from in front of him said.
Harry turned to look at the man who had dragged him into the alley. He was old and hunched over with frizzy grey hair Harry could just see peeking through from under his hooded cloak. His skin was sickly pale, his bright blue eyes slightly bulging.
"Excuse me?" Harry asked, startle and a little confused. The old wizard merely smiled showing off a mouth full of crooked, broken and cracked dirty teeth. He held up one finger and curled it towards him indicating for Harry to come closer. Harry leaned in closer some what interested.
"You can change it if you start from the beginning," the old man repeated. He pulled something from inside his robe and held it up so Harry could see. It was a small flask filled with thick looking dark purple liquid. Harry eyed it wearily before shaking his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what your talking about and I don't have time."
He was already walking away when he heard the voice speak again.
"You could bring him back. Your pretty little husband."
Harry stopped and turned back slowly. "What?"
"You can change it if you start from the beginning." The old man waved the vial invitingly. "All you do is have to drink this before you go to sleep while thinking about the first time you met. Then you can change it. From the beginning. You can have him back."
"How?" Harry's attention was definitely caught.
"Everything you did since the moment you met lead up to the his death. Go back, do things different and you can change it." The old man grinned again. "You can have him back for good." He held out the bottle to Harry watching him with amused eyes as if he could see the thoughts flying through Harry's mind. Harry looked at him skeptically but held out his hand reaching for the vial. The old man snatched it back just as Harry's hand touched the cool glass. He wagged his finger at Harry in mock disappointment.
"No, no, no." His eyes turned cold and his tone brisk. "Fifty galleons."
"Fifty galleons," Harry snarled. "Forget it old man. I'm not wasting my money on some crack pot old potion that probably won't even work!" Harry turned to leave but was once again stopped by the voice.
"If you don't love him enough to pay fifty galleons then you don't disserve this potion. I thought you'd do anything to get him back, I must have been wrong."
Harry was already rummaging in his robe pockets before the man had finished speaking furious that he dare insinuate that he didn't love Draco enough. He loved him more than bloody well he should! Harry grabbed the leather pouched that was filled with galleons and slammed it into the old man's hands without even bothering to count it before snatching the potion away.
"There!" he snapped. "You got your stupid galleons. Go somewhere and waste it all on frewhisky and cheap thrills." The old man grabbed Harry's robe again and Harry thought for a moment he was going to hit him for being so rude. But instead he just breathed into his face, his breath smelling like decay and mold.
"It'll only last until the day after he died. If you change it the right way he'll survive through the day but if you do it wrong he'll only die again. Each time you do something different something will change. You have to keep changing it until you get it right." With that he threw Harry away from him into the wall of the alley with a lot of force for such an old man and then hobbled away into the shadows.
Harry stood for a moment watching the place where he disappeared to. Then he looked down at the vial, shrugged and continued on his walk.
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It was few hours later that Harry Apparated back into Ron and Hermione's house. It was late so he walked quietly down the hall to his bedroom not wanting to disturb them or have them come running out asking him a hundred questions about where he had been.
He shouldn't have been surprised to find them both sitting and waiting patiently on his bed when he opened the door.
"Harry!" Hermione cried jumping up immediately to limp over to him and throw her arms around his neck. "Where were you? We were so worried!"
Harry hugged her back automatically, more out of habit than anything, as he stared at Ron over her shoulder. He looked back at Harry grimly.
"I went for a walk in Diagon Alley and then wandered into Knockturn."
"Harry," Hermione said suddenly pulling back looking slightly frightened. "You went to Knockturn Alley. You know how dangerous it is there for someone like you!"
"Someone like me!" Harry half yelled suddenly feeling angry at them for waiting up for him and telling him where he could and couldn't go like he was some kind of child. "Someone like me. What, someone who help kill hundreds of Death Eaters? Someone who rid the world of the Voldemort? Someone who lost a husband! Maybe that its." He was laughing now, a little hysterically. "Maybe it's not safe for someone as unstable as me. Maybe the worlds not safe enough some whack job like me! Maybe should lock me up in St. Mungo's and get it over with!"
Hermione and Ron both winced visibly at the hard note in Harry's voice. Hermione glanced back at her husband to find him with one of his looks on his face. She had been married to Ron Weasley for three years now and had been with him about seven years before that. She knew each of his looks by heart and this was one she definitely knew better than others. It was the look he wore when working on a particularly hard case or when he was bringing in a criminal. It was a look of determination.
And Hermione knew what he was determined about. He was going to make Harry listen.
"Harry," Ron said softly standing up to stand beside his wife. "We know you loved him but what your doing isn't healthy. We understand that this hard for you to do but you can't hold on like this forever. It'll eat you up inside."
"I didn't love him, that's the thing you don't understand," Harry said, his voice had dropped to a deadly whisper. For a moment Ron looked confused. "Saying I loved him implies past tense. I didn't just love him, I still do." He took a deep breath letting his anger simmer down. He wanted to tell them exactly how he felt so they would understand and to do that he needed to be calm.
"That's what you don't get. I still love him and I'll never stop. As long as I'm here and he's not I'll always be empty. No matter how much I smile or laugh or try to forget it won't be enough because nothing can fill me like him. He made me whole and without him I'll only ever be half living. I just can't let him go because he's already taken too much of me. He's all I have left and if I let him go I'll be gone."
Hermione looked at him with round shocked eyes glistening with tears. Her still bushy brown hair framed her round face which was etched with sadness and worry. Ron looked shocked for a moment at Harry's confession but shock quickly changed to determination once again.
"Look Harry we know you love him and we're not asking you to forget him or anything you had together." His voice was stern and steady. He was going to talk some since into his friend if it was the last thing he did. And if that didn't work he'd have him locked up in St. Mungo's because anyone who talked to a dead person that wasn't a ghost was bordering on insane. "All we're asking you to do is accept that he's gone. He's not coming back. Nothing can bring him back. He's dead but that doesn't mean you have act like you are too."
Harry took a long shaky breath while running his fingers threw his messy shoulder length hair. He let it out in a heavy sigh before dropping his hand back to his side. "Can we talk about this in the morning please," he said. "It's late. I'm tired, your tired. Let's just get some rest. I can't think clearly right now."
"Of course, Harry," Hermione said sweetly while sending her husband a glare that said there'd be hell if he went against her.
"Yeah," Ron said nodding. "We'll talk about it in the morning." They left the room but not before Hermione could give Harry another hug and whisper in his ear, "Get some rest Harry. You look so tired."
And he was tired. More tired than he had been in a long time. Too tired, he knew, to Apparate to the grave to sleep by Draco. Once the door closed behind him he collapsed onto the bed face first letting his eyes shut. He shifted a little trying to get comfortable and felt something dig into his side. Sighing heavily he rolled over and pulled whatever it was out of his robes, meaning to toss it across the room, when his eyes caught onto the light shinning through the purple liquid. The Potion.
Ron said there was no way to bring Draco back, nothing he could do. Even Dumbledore had told him once there was no spell to bring someone back from the dead. But Harry wasn't going to try to bring him back, he was going to make it so he never died in the first place.
But what if it's poison or something just as dangerous, a voice in the back of his head whispered sounding strangely like Hermione. His common since voice had always sounded like Hermione.
His Harry voice however just said, What the hell, if it kills me at least I'll be with Draco again anyway. So with that he uncorked the bottle and tossed the contents into his mouth.
It tasted sour and sweet like lemon juice. Harry scrunched up his face and swallowed several times trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Then he fell back onto his bed closing his eyes to think about Draco, small and pale with his pointed little boy face standing on a footstool draped in black robes. He smile softly remembering the words, "I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been--imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" said it that bored drawling voice. That's my Draco, was Harry's last thought as he drifted off to sleep the small empty vial slipping forgotten from his hand.
-I hope you can hear me
I remember it clearly
The day you slipped away
Was the day I found
It won't be the same--Avril Lavigne, Slipped Away.
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A/N: For all those who are reading my other story I just want to say don't worry I will be finishing it. This idea just jumped into my head and I spent half the night writing this chapter. I like this story line and it just came so easy. I had absolutly no trouble writing it at all. I will be working on both stories now because really my life is so boring I had nothing else to do. Thanks-SlowSister.