Never Forget

A lithe figure with pale blond hair and eyes gray as death, and just as empty, stands alone in a graveyard staring at the headstone of one buried not too long ago. He looks at it, yet he sees nothing. He can read it, yet he cannot comprehend. He can mouth the words, yet he cannot speak them. For buried beneath this patch of land is 'The Boy Who Lived' and standing there above him is his still living lover, Draco Malfoy.

It's been four months since the final battle. Four months since the Dark Lord's supporters lost to the white hats. Four months since Harry Potter was buried with the others who died in battle.

Draco closes his eyes, feeling the wind lift his hair and his spirit, if ever so slightly. Gray eyes opened and turned to the sky, studying the clouds, as if searching for something. Or someone. Seeing nothing but the grayness of his own eyes and soul, Draco looks back at the headstone.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, then began to speak. "I know I should have come sooner, to say my good-byes, but I couldn't bring myself to, love. I didn't want to say goodbye to the one good thing that had ever happened to me. I just couldn't . . .

"It hurt, you know. It still hurts. It hurts just as much as that day on the battle field, when I held you to me. Nothing could ever hurt me like you did. And I doubt anything ever will.

"My world ended the day you died. I watched it tremble and cave in on itself when you fell to your knees. Hermione and Ron had me stay at their place afterwards. The trio is lost without you, you know.

"I realized later that you knew, you bloody KNEW you weren't going to live to see the end. You knew and didn't say a bloody word to me!"

Draco kneels, to tired to keep standing.

"But I understand. I understand why you had to be on the field. I even understand why you had to face the Dark Lord. But I don't understand why you had to die. Just killing him ensured our victory, why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave me here, then order me to live with your final breath?

"Oh yes, I'd heard what you'd said. You had said it so softly, it was barely a whisper, but I'd heard it. Well, I will.

"I may not like living in this world without you. Hell, I bloody well know I won't. And I may not find anyone to love as much as I loved you, but I'll live. Because you told me to, I'll live. I'll live for you."

Draco looks up. The sun was setting, making the clouds a deeper gray tinged with gold on their edges. The temperature was dropping but Draco ignored it as he looked back at the headstone.

Standing up, he said, "I won't forget what you taught me, love, and I won't forget you. Ever."

Turning around, he walked to the open gates of the cemetery. Stepping through, he took one last look back, then closed the gates and walked away, leaving tears as the only sign that he'd ever been there. Harry's voice floats on the wind, "Never forget me, love . . ."

Here lies Harry James Potter,
'The Boy Who Lived'.
He will forever be loved and missed
but never forgotten.
July 31, 1980 - May 14, 2003
Rest in Peace
Surrounded by Death's Sweet Embrace