Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: It's a strange feeling, knowing you're going to die. :Oneshot, Character Death, HD Slash:
Authoress Note: I hate it when plot bunnies hit me at midnight….1st person point of view, Draco
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What Matters Most
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It's a strange feeling, knowing that you're going to die. It starts off as a deep, soul-reaching calm that penetrates through your entire being, not depressing, not happy, but a melancholy emotion that is nigh inexpressible. Gradually, it shifts to an almost-depression, bordering on the thoughts of worthlessness and self-hatred until it numbs you completely from the inside out.
Most people never notice. There's a mask on your face that you keep up for everyone to see to give them hope, courage, strength to get through the nights of wondering when that final, inescapable battle will be. But there are a few that see the truth, who know the dark confessions whispered to us in the middle of the night when you think we're asleep.
That night you told me you were scared of dying, a whispered confession meant to fall on deaf ears, was the night that my heart started to crumble.
You didn't think I was awake at the time, but I heard every word, each syllable emblazoned in my mind the moment you had spoken it. We were in your room, sprawled lazily over the bed with your head in the crook of my arm, your fingers trailing gently over my chest. Everything was simply so perfect.
"I'm going to die," you murmured, your breath ghosting over the soft skin of my neck. "I'm going to die tomorrow…I can feel it."
Silence settled in around us again, and your breathing slowed; it felt as though you had fallen asleep.
"I'm scared," you said. "I'm scared of dying…I don't want to lose you, or Ron, Hermione…even Neville. I don't want to die…"
There was a wetness on my shirt where your tears melded with the fabric. I wanted to hold you, to comfort you, to reassure you that nothing would ever happen to you as long as I was there.
But I didn't move, too afraid that any movement aside from the steady rise and fall of my chest would disturb the moment, that perhaps you'd hate me if you found out I was listening. So I remained silent, sitting there with my eyes closed, and my breathing slow to give the illusion of sleep. It was hours before you finally feel asleep in my arms, after a few moments when you paced the floor in our room, a nervous habit you developed when you lived with the Dursley's.
The next day was the day that we all knew would come soon; the day you finally confronted the Dark Lord, the day on which the Final Battle happened. It was a day that no one would ever forget.
You gave me a shaky smile, right before it began, and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. A smile sprung unbidden to my face, breaking through the mask of discontent that had taken up residence. I reached for you, pulling you into a bone-shattering hug, smothering your neck and jaw with feather-light, desperate kisses. You laughed quietly, returning the embrace and whispering a soft, "I love you," into my ear. We separated, each going to our respective commands, hoping, wishing, praying that'd we'd see one another at the End.
The battle raged on for hours and hours and hours, each second feeling like a decade. Spells flew every which way, their casters not even caring who it struck as long as it struck someone. People dropped left and right, friends, enemies, comrades, each falling pray to that one, ghastly spell: Avada Kedavra.
The moment the spell caught my chest, my eyes locked with yours, everyone else vanishing from existence in that one moment. That serene peace washed over me like a wave, and I smiled at you, murmuring a quiet, "I love you," into the noise of battle.
I was above my body then, floating high above the raging war on the ground. I could see you, fighting desperately to make your way to my mangled body, all concern for your own health left behind. All that mattered was getting back to me, getting to my side.
"No, no, please, no…wake up, you idiot, wake up!"
You didn't even notice when He came up behind you, didn't notice as he pointed a wand at the middle of your back and his vicious mouth curved into a wicked smile.
Your warm, oh so warm mouth closed around mine, and that vicious spell hit you square between the shoulder blades, sucking the life from you instantly. Your body crumpled on top of mine, our hands entwined even in death.
And suddenly, there you were, right beside me and smiling. Our fingers found each other, and curled into a tight knot, before our eyes found the battle again.
In the end, after a long, gruesome confrontation, it was Neville that ended up killing Voldemort. Purely by accident, of course, but killed him nonetheless. The once-powerful Dark Lord was taken down by the Sectum Sempra curse, the blood from his body seeping out into the ground and staining it a muddy crimson color. I always thought that his blood would have been black, like his heart.
I didn't see what happened after then, because you pulled me away, pulled me towards that infinite light at the end of the tunnel, with a soft, content smile on your face and your green eyes bright with happiness. We were together, and that's all that mattered.
-Owari-
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Done! Quick little one shot…if you see any mistakes, let me know so that I can change them! Review and I'll give you a COOKIE!