Nothing to Lose by mizzy_2k@yahoo.co.uk
Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, this is a fan fiction, by a fan for the fans.
Summary: Do you see the fear in my eyes? When you lose everything, do you always lose yourself? Or is everything as lost as it seems?
Warning: Don't ask my mum for directions, she missed out entire countries.
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Do you see the fear in my eyes?
You'll notice I'm not afraid
When you've lost your reason for living
You've got nothing to lose.
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Hermione was scared.
This time it was not childhood fantasies that plagued her thoughts. It wasn't the thought of errant bogeymen hiding beneath her bed. It wasn't the trivial thoughts of evil shadows behind doors. It wasn't a psychological or physical problem like agoraphobia or acrophobia.
It took her a while to realise why she was scared, why the faint unease that unsettled her stomach and made her feel light-headed and nauseous plagued her like it did. The answer came like a thud to her chest, leaving her winded and breathless. Her mind spun and her heart slammed against her rib-cage like a caged animal. She couldn't breathe properly, couldn't think, couldn't function.
She'd known something like this would happen eventually. It all lead up to the final confrontation, the final battle between good and evil. The final neutralization that would wipe both out.
It wasn't Harry's fault, indeed things like that were never anyone's faults in the first place, apart from the evil that corrupted the soul of the Dark Lord in the first place. It was just a complete nightmare that good, innocent people could be swept up in the unbelievable torrent of evil and darkness.
In her heart she heard the death knoll. She knew why Harry hadn't come back this morning. She knew the lightness of the place was due to the fact that the Dark thing that destroyed so many lives had destroyed one more in its dying breath.
She felt sick. The happy smiles and light banter passing between her classmates and social equals sickened her more. Didn't they feel what had taken place? Didn't they know the shallow emptiness of the bitter victory? To her morbid fascination only one other's expression mirrored the appropriate expression for the events and atmosphere.
It wasn't Ron. That fact made Hermione want to scream at the redhead until she firmly reminded herself he really was possibly one of the densest boys in the world. Harry had once said he wouldn't know a sarcastic comment from an honest comment even if you dressed it in Quidditch robes and spray painted it neon-pink.
The one person that was looking as sick as she felt was Draco Malfoy. The blond, although normally looking pale, looked as white as a sheet. His pointed face was downcast and his eyes seemed dead to the world. Some part of Hermione immediately leapt to the conclusion that he knew the Dark Lord had indeed fallen and he was disappointed. Another part of her niggled away at her already frail conscience. His body language was not that of a defeated man, but of a scared and anxious boy.
Moving her gaze away she caught the flat stare of the frail headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore looked somewhat withered and more than confirmed Hermione's suspicions when he softly got to his feet after exchanging a soft glance with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.
Hermione watched Dumbledore first approach the Slytherin table and observed the blond's trembling reaction to the Professor's whispered words. She clinically noted the Slytherin had tremblingly got to his feet and was actually being supported out of the hall by their Astronomy teacher, Professor Sinistra. She was so busy watching Malfoy leave that she didn't notice that the fleet-footed Headmaster had made it to their table already.
"Ron, Hermione, I need to have a word with you two privately. Follow me."
Ron flickered a quizzical glance in Hermione's direction and Hermione caught the troubled glance, dully observing as he passed his gaze over her as they followed the frail Professor out of the hall. Hermione's state seemed to jerk Ron's brain into action and he suddenly went pale, mouth working silently.
"Harry," he whispered hollowly.
Hermione caught the whispered words on the air and nodded gently, screaming at herself inside, no, no, no, no, no, it can't be true, it can't be true… It won't be true…
She was too busy with the clinical self-views and expressions that she barely registered the fact they were now in Professor Dumbledore's office and that Draco Malfoy was also there, slumped in one of the chairs looking completely distraught and destroyed. Ron, similarly shattered, didn't notice. His eyes had masked over into fixed ignorance as he impassively watched the Professor sit down.
Hermione's gaze didn't falter, only to flicker disinterestedly to see Draco move off the seat and tremulously stay upright, before it remained steadily fixed on the headmaster's weary face. Death hung on the air, a bitter taste in her mouth.
Professor Dumbledore indicated for them to sit down. None of the three complied. The grey-haired teacher sighed and rested his head on his hands.
"Two days ago Harry went off without our control to face Voldemort on his own territory," Professor Dumbledore said. His mouth seemed to be moving involuntarily, the wretched words spilling out one after another in a frenzied confession. "We know from our sources that Voldemort is dead."
"And Harry?" Ron immediately asked, a small spark of hope flaring in his unreceptive eyes.
Professor Dumbledore hung his head. "No body found… On all accounts he was killed alongside Voldemort. I'm sorry."
Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
The words spun around Hermione's head, leaving her dizzy and shaky. The twins said they were sorry for breaking a glass. This compared with that amount of sorrow?
Sorry…
She heard a thud and remotely raised her gaze, noticing with detached shock that it was Draco who had slumped to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.
"No…" The startled words slipped unbidden on the Slytherin's lips.
"No?" Suddenly Ron was ablaze, red hair blazing and cheeks crimson. "Your almighty Lord and Master died. Our best friend has died."
"You don't know that!" Suddenly, Draco had leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing. "He's not dead!"
"Of course Voldemort's dead, can't you feel it? Or are you that dead to your emotions?" Hermione wildly demanded, hot tears spring down her cheeks with such abandon that later she would wonder where all the liquid for them came from.
"He promised he wouldn't die…" Draco whispered, clenching his fists. "He promised."
"Please, Mr. Malfoy…" Professor Dumbledore looked all his years and more, almost wraith-like in the gloom of his office. "There's still the chance he's alive. We can but hope."
Draco didn't respond. He only clutched his hands into fists and slid down against the desk.
"He promised," he repeated. "He said he'd never ever broken a promise before… I believed him, can you believe that? I believed him."
"You can believe in him still," Professor Dumbledore pressed on gently. "I know this is a loss to you, but you have to see you have to keep on going. He would have wanted you to."
"Will you stop talking like he's already dead?" Draco was once again on his feet, dull eyes blazing with anger and self-humiliation.
"Draco, you have to remember that there is a strong chance that he is gone," Professor Dumbledore said softly.
"I don't get it," Ron said, completely puzzled. "Voldemort's gone, I can feel it in my bones, but Harry… My heart says he's still alive. I can feel him."
"As can I," Hermione said softly, damned if she could but damned if she was giving up hope just yet. No body found could mean a hell of a lot of things.
"See? Take courage from his friends, Draco. They still believe. You can too," Professor Dumbledore said softly, the pain and anguish evident in his eyes.
"Do the others know?" Hermione asked quietly, her voice hushed.
"Minerva is telling them now," Professor Dumbledore said distractedly. "We thought it best that his closest friends be told separately."
"Then what the hell is he doing here!" Ron exclaimed angrily, flicking a hand towards Malfoy. The blond clenched his eyes shut and looked down, his shoulders shaking gently from the repressed desire to cry.
"Please, Mr. Weasley, now is not the time –" Professor Dumbledore started, tears forming in his eyes too.
"When is the fucking time!" Ron wildly demanded, hands akimbo and eyes darting brilliantly.
"Ron!" Hermione said; aghast. No-one had ever sworn before in front of the headmaster.
"The rest of the day is being declared as a holiday… For people to reflect on what happened. I trust you to be quiet and not cause too much of a disturbance," Albus said simply, as if ignoring Ron's outburst. "You're now dismissed."
Numbly Hermione followed Ron and Draco out of the office, in complete shock despite her previous predictions on what had happened. She was completely unaware of Ron's fists clenching but was totally responsive as Ron launched against the blond and slammed the Slytherin into the wall.
"WHY?" Ron demanded, his face pressed close to Draco's own. The Slytherin looked away ashamedly. "WHY??!!"
"I don't know," Draco whispered softly. Ron's rage grew and he bunched up his fists. Grabbing the other boy by his shirt he flung him up against the wall again.
"How could you be so concerned with Voldemort when Harry's dead?" Ron demanded hoarsely, slamming Draco against the wall again.
"I'm NOT!" Draco yelled back, finally. "And he's NOT DEAD!" His gaze slid down to the floor. "He promised he wouldn't die…" he added softly, his tone mournful and elegiac and melancholic and lamenting all at once. Ron dropped him to the ground in shock, his horror growing by the second.
"Harry promised to you that he wouldn't die?" Ron looked completely stunned. "Why?" His repeated question came as a whisper but Draco, on the ground and looking completely defeated, hung his head and acted like the redhead had yelled it again.
"He promised he wouldn't die," Draco repeated softly. His gaze lifted up and Hermione reeled backwards from the pain-filled glance. "He promised…" It was almost a plea from the depth of the very bottom of his soul. "He promised…" Now the words ended up almost as a plea to himself, the notion entrenching itself in his heart that if he repeated the words enough they'd become reality.
Without knowing exactly what she was doing, Hermione approached the shaking blond and knelt down next to him.
"Hermione," Ron hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"
Hermione steadfastly ignored Ron and held out her arms, feeling oddly empty as the blond fell into them, clutching onto her as if there was no tomorrow. Finally Draco began to cry, his body shaking uncontrollably with the ragged sobs and his face was flushed uncomfortably.
"There, there," Hermione soothed, her voice catching. "He's going to be just fine," she added; willing the words to be true. Oh, anything, anything, please let him be all right…
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Fate, in all its cruel glory, is never a pretty thing.
Draco reflected on this as he stood there in the gloom; soaked through completely from head to toes as the rain fell down.
It was the day of the funeral. The day the Wizarding world stood still, literally. The entire Wizarding world was stunned that Voldemort was gone, and that their hero had left along with it. The rumours were already spreading - Harry had transcended to a higher life form. He'd been disintegrated in the battle which none quite knew about, only that Voldemort was truly gone. All the rumours were there. Some even withheld with Draco's stubborn feelings that Harry was still alive.
Of course, the funeral had been over for… What was it now… Four hours? Five? Twelve?
Draco didn't know. His knees were hurting from kneeling but he didn't care. The rainwater had mixed with the mud around his knees and had caked on his trousers but again he felt no remorse for this action. Nothing mattered. Of course there was no body, but there was still the grave, and the gravestone…
Harry James Potter
Born - July 31st 1980
Missing In Action – October 24th 1997
We will remember the Boy Who Saved Us All
Boy Who Lived. That was his previous title. Then why couldn't it be true now? Why?
Why. The question that plagued and tormented him at every turn and twist until it became a roar in his ears and he couldn't concentrate at all. The rain had changed, a different level of cold was biting at his cheek and he softly recognized the white forms falling as snowflakes clumped together. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. It was all stupid, really…
Gods…
If Harry was dead, then he wanted to die.
He knew he couldn't, not while the slim chance lay of Harry being alive, but it didn't make the living part of that deal any easier. As the days went on and the hours dragged on, Draco steadfastly clung onto the one hope that was left to him, the promise Harry had made…
"The promise I intend to keep."
Draco's head lurched up and realised his mind was playing tricks on him again. He heard Harry's voice often in his head, taunting him, playing with him, destroying him a little more every hour…
"Why do you taunt me still?" Draco asked, still kneeling in the mud and getting turned into a snowman with every passing moment.
"You're a complete wreck you realise, that mud will never come out."
"I know," Draco said softly. "I know. But mud is kind of inconsequential in the whole scheme of things."
"I'm guessing the promise is the most consequential then."
Draco's head hung down and more tears fell onto the ground, mingling with the lying snowflakes, the warmth melting some of them.
"Guess I'd better keep it then."
Draco almost looked up at the real sounding voice but knew the bitterness of disappointment. He'd lifted his head all too many times over the last few days and been frustrated when he'd realised it was just his mind playing tricks on him again.
"I… I guess I have to go," Draco said softly, numbly trying to get to his feet.
"Don't be so daft."
In the cold, Draco closed his eyes and sighed bitterly as two arms encircled his waist and he got to his feet. Then he paused and snapped open his eyes, whirling around in the grasp.
"Who are yo—" Draco paused and didn't know what to say. "I…"
Harry blinked at his owlishly, covered in scars and charred clothing but still standing there before him.
"How? I mean… I mean… Gods Harry…" Draco fell silent.
"I had to keep a promise," Harry said softly, still standing there detachedly from Draco. "Did you know there's a whole new place out there, a whole new dimension? It's amazing, it really is, there's no war, no fighting, no disagreements, no illness, no death… It's perfect. Yet I gave it all up. Do you know why?"
Numbly, as if thought that if he made a noise then the delicate creature of his dreams would dart away, Draco shook his head. This had to be another of his daydreams… Sighing disappointment, he sighed. "No."
"Because I made a promise, and I always keep my promises," Harry said gently but firmly. He moved forwards and encircled Draco's waist with his hands, whispered softly against his ear.
"Does this feel like a dream to you?" Harry asked, tears starting to fall. "Believe this. I'm real. It's real."
"Hallucinations always say that."
Harry pulled back and looked at Draco quizzically, brushing snow off his love's eyes. "Do hallucinations also say that you look an idiot like that? And ask for help moving a very unnecessary gravestone?"
Draco blinked fiercely, tears and snowflakes clouding his vision. He reached out one trembling hand. "It's really you," he said softly, his voice catching.
"Let's just say the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated," Harry quoted, smiling soothingly. "Come on. There're some people I want to scare half to death."
"Wasn't scaring me half to death enough Mr. Potter?" Draco asked, clutching desperately at the raven-haired teenager's shoulder. Harry studied Draco appraisingly before leaning over and pressing his lips to Draco's, feeling with sadness the coldness of the others lip and pressing some of his own warmth into Draco.
"I love you so much," Draco added raggedly as they pulled apart. Harry looked at him, startled. He'd never said that before. "I love you so fucking much. Don't you ever do that to me again. Please."
"I promise," Harry said, laughing quietly. "I love you."
Draco blinked suddenly turning away. Harry was slightly upset and shocked by this until he saw tears splashing onto the snow below which was getting thicker by the second.
"Are you going all sentimental on me?" Harry asked lightly. Draco sniffled and brushed a hand over his eyes.
"Of course not, you daft lump. Now let's go give Granger and the Weasel the biggest shock since they found out we were going out," Draco said, grinning through his tears. His world had turned topsy-turvy and then had now righted itself again. Draco wondered at the boy's talent of doing that to him, making everything seem all right. Making everything all right.
Harry just smiled as he grabbed hold of Draco's hand and pulled the blond along behind him.
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Hermione looked up from beside the fire in the entrance hall of the flat she was sharing with the other mourners for the duration of the funeral. Her thoughts stopped on the last words. It wasn't a funeral, Harry wasn't dead… He wasn't… She stubbornly repeated the words out loud.
"Thanks. That means a lot to me."
Hermione's mouth dropped open; her entire world grinding to a halt in the moment she turned around.
"Harry! You're alive I knew you were, I knew it!"
In the next few seconds everything happened. Harry felt himself being knocked over as Hermione launched herself onto him, the door slammed open from where the majority of the guests were in the small hall next to the entrance hall were gathered and suddenly everyone was in the vestibule. Oaths were uttered, startled exclamations abounded and Harry was snowed under by more people than should by the laws of physics fit into the room.
"Harry, but how?" Ron asked, when everything had quietened down and all the people Harry knew were literally staring at him in complete amazement and happiness. He felt most keenly, though, the quiet penetrating gaze of the blond leaning against the doorpost, eager to stay in the background and let Harry shine as always.
Harry repeated what he'd told Draco, of the other place after life which was filled with wonders and happiness. Of the offer he received. Of the chance he was given in thanks of ridding this world of the darkness which should have never been there before; the complete darkness of man's heart. Of the chance he took in returning here.
Their gazes were held stock still in complete fascination.
"If it was perfect, how come you left?" Hermione asked, her bottom lip quavering. Harry had described how this place of light had been almost impossible to leave.
Harry smiled once and exchanged a glance with the blond over the crowd, getting the vague impression only a few even now knew of the relationship but asserting the fact they'd let everyone know soon and the sooner the better. He turned back to Hermione and smiled as he explained to all those present who were hanging off his every word.
"I made a promise."
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"I can tell you but one factor of life and the life we have beyond. Promises mean everything, because promises are the only things truly made to last."
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A/N: One of these days I'll write a fic that doesn't have an annoyingly sappy ending. Or perhaps Hell will just freeze over.
Addendum: Hell froze over. Dagnammit.