A/N : This is my first fanfic in English so I hope you'll like it. It is supposed to be a one-shot.
Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter, J.K.Rowling does. It's her story, I'm merely borowing the characters and names. And of course I'm not using it to make any monnay.
Warnings : PG-13 at least, I think it is enough but if you don't agree just tell me, I don't bite. Anst, character death and a bit of yaoiness (don't like, don't read !)
I guess I told everything I was supposed to, so here comes the story !
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Sometimes I dream. I'm back on the outside world, sitting by the lake. You are here, simply sitting with me, a comforting presence. Nothing ever happened. We are together, and you talk about our futur. The house we're gonna buy, the children we'll adopt. Our life.
The day is beautiful, spring sun and no wind. I nearlly allow myself to be happy. But that's the mistake that make everything fall apart. The water suddendly turns blood red, the sky dark and an icy wind is blowing. I look at you, and I freeze. Blood tears are falling from your burned eyes. Your skin is torn and rotten, yet whiter than ever. Your robes are covering the rest of your body, but it doesn't prevent me from smelling it. Death.
I wake up and scream. I scream because I know that it wasn't a dream, but a memory. I have seen you like that. I have seen everything he did to you. And now you're gone. Dead.
How I hate this word !
My parents and Sirius : dead, because they wanted to protect me.
Cedric : dead, because he was in the way.
Ron, Hermione : dead, because they were my friends.
And you ... dead, because you loved me.
He didn't kill you when he learned you were a spy, he only did it when he discovered how much it would hurt me. He wanted to break me. He did.
I don't care about the war anymore. Everyone is dead anyway, now only Dumbledore is left fighting. I have stopped fighting, I just want to die. But he won't let me.
I'm kept in this cell, in the dark (except when he wants to play), fed only once every three days (enough to keep me alive, barely) and mostly left alone with my thoughts.
Happy thougts they are, dreams of you that always end in blood. But my scar is hurting again. He's coming back.
Maybe this time I'll be allowed to die.
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If you want me to write a sequel, just tell me and I'll think about it.