Disclaimer: The characters and places contained within this story are the property of J.K. Rowling and the various entities that they are licensed to. They are being used here without permission. No money is being made from the publishing of this work of fanfiction.

Warning: This is a death-fic.
Rating: R for death

Summary: Draco takes his relationship with Harry to a new level. It's a bittersweet effort, hopelessly romantic, and ultimately devastating.

A/N: If you like happy stories, turn back now. This one is pretty sick. I'd appreciate any kind of feedback on the writing and style or any other comments you'd like to give me, positive or otherwise.


Poison the Empty Skies

by Adenosine, sophia3b@yahoo.com


There was a reason why Draco Malfoy was Professor Severus Snape's favourite student.

For one, he was a Slytherin. It was taken for granted that Snape had always been (and would always be) partial to members of his own House.

On the other hand, there were rumors circulating around the student body of a past relationship of some sort between the Good Professor and Lucius Malfoy (Draco's affluent father), the resulting sentiment composing the primary motive behind Snape's fondness for the boy. There was also the one where either Lucius Malfoy was paying Snape off, or Draco was doing the Professor sexual favours. Or Lucius was doing him sexual favours and Draco was blackmailing him, or both were doing him sexual favours, getting him drunk, and changing the grades themselves.

However it was spun, always the assumption was that Draco's grades were bought and sold. Harry knew this theory to be false. He also knew the main reason -- the real reason -- Draco was Snape's favourite. It was simply because he was good. Draco was good at potions, and he did his work brilliantly.

So when Malfoy told him that he could brew a potion, any potion Harry wanted to perfection, the black-haired Gryffindor knew it was the truth.

They had been together for nearly a year and a month now, he and Malfoy, beginning in the middle of sixth year. They had survived the summer apart and started up again in September, and after four months they still remained. It was secret...no one knew, and that was how they both preferred it.

There hadn't been so much activity for Harry in the past three years of his schooling. There were no great adventures and daring rescues. And Harry was glad, because it meant no innocent deaths and pointless destruction. And bloodless fear.

But when he first found himself with Draco -- because found himself was the correct term...it hadn't been so much a conscious effort on either of their parts but just happened somehow...a glance, a touch, a coincidence, an accident -- it had felt like an adventure, it was the excitement and adventure he'd been missing.

He was Harry Potter after all, and he had come to expect a bit of the unexpected in his dealings with the world. It was times like these when the Gryffindor in him shone through the weariness, his experience. And he took that blind leap into the unknown with all the bravery that everyone everywhere lauded him for. Where Voldemort had left him free to be a normal kid for the remainder of his school years, Draco made him special and extraordinary again.

But because of this period of calm, the Ministry had still to acknowledge that Voldemort had indeed returned. The press had sided with Dumbledore at first, and it had seemed pressure from the media might persuade the Ministry to change its views. But after three years of nothing -- no attacks, no insurgence of suspicious behavior or criminal activity, no break ins or dark objects in the black market, and no Death Eaters -- even the Daily Prophet had declared Dumbledore a senile old man wanting to stir up trouble for his own benefit. The Ministry had no more reason to investigate the matter and was decidedly in denial.

Harry knew better. Draco had become a Death Eater. The Mark burned on his arm every few nights, and he told Harry that there were others as well. Voldemort was only bidding his time to regroup and recruit new members, to make their numbers strong again, replace the portion of his following that had been decimated by Auror activities and Ministry interference during the time of the first rising.

Draco had told Harry that it was only a matter of time. Draco told him the time was nearing -- the end of their seventh year. Draco told him that he must be ready; Voldemort would come for him.

Draco was a spy. And Harry was very proud of him.

"So what do you want Harry?" asked Draco serenely. "You heard Snape the first day of class...you can do almost anything with a potion. Brew fame, glory...stopper death."

Harry thought for a moment longer. He had been pondering the question for nearly two days. It was his Christmas present from Draco, the potion was. But he was having difficulty deciding.

"Though I suppose you've already got enough fame to make Lockheart foam at the mouth. And glory...you are our 'saviour' after all. The great and powerful Harry Potter. Righteous and good. And death -- you laugh in his face, don't you? The Boy Who Lived...." Draco bit out the words sarcastically, his pointy face twisting into a sneer of the sweetest kind. He might have been screwing Harry, but Draco never did get over his jealousy, the dark-haired boy noted often.

He scowled. "You know, you don't have to do this. I didn't even ask for anything from you. If I'm so unworthy...."

"I'm doing it 'cause I want to. Now shut up and tell me what the fuck you want."

"Don't tell me to shut up. You aren't the only one who can brew a potion you know. If I wanted one I could just go to Hermione...."

Draco smirked. "Maybe she can do it Potter, but you know she won't."

Harry sighed. Of course Draco was right. If he asked Hermione, she would only tell him to make it himself. If he didn't have a good reason, she wouldn't bother. He'd probably have to beg.

"Fine. Invisibility. I want to be invisible."

"What? But you already have that stupid cloak. Can't you think of anything more interesting?"

"What's wrong with invisibility and besides, I'd like to do it without the cloak for once, like Dumbledore does."

"That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. Is your imagination really so limited Potter? Well. Here, think of something you like to do...something you love and see if you can't improve on it."

"Something I like to do and love...well you come to mind. Fancy taking a personality altering potion?" Harry asked with a lop-sided grin.

Draco sniggered. "Nu-uh. There's nothing wrong with my personality...you yourself have told me numerous times that I'm perfect. Besides, can't do it. The potion has to be applied to you. It's part of the rules."

"Don't you make the rules, Draco?"

"All the more reason to follow them Harry, luv."

Harry rolled his eyes and offered the blond a shrug. "Okay. Well the only thing I love as much as you would have to be Quidditch."

Draco clamped his hands together gleefully, a smile permeating his usual smirk. "That's it! Flying! Have you ever wanted to fly Harry? I mean without a broom or a levitating charm or anything at all. Just be able to kick off the ground and float away from all the world?"

Harry grinned. "That sounds perfect Draco."

Draco smiled back. "Then 'tis done."

Harry leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the boy's pale cheek. "Thank you," he whispered in Draco's ear before gently turning his head to capture the boy's lips with his own.

Draco pulled back from the kiss and smiled at the Gryffindor, burying his face in the crook of the other boy's neck so that his feathery platinum fringe tickled at Harry's throat.

They both sighed into each other and watched the evening hours slip away as they sat, mingling, molded, one to the other, together in the Quidditch stands. As the dark enfolded them, they kissed, illuminated by a haze of contentment. And with soft caresses and glowing warmth, they kept the moon company all throughout the rest of the night.

* * *

Harry sighed in relief as he sat on the couch in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. It was the end of another long day of classes, and all he wanted to do was go to bed. He sighed once more as he thought of the unfinished homework sitting in the bag at his feet. The fact that it was their last year -- it would all be over soon -- was his only comfort.

Harry heard the portrait swing open and twisted around to watch as Hermione Granger climbed clumsily through the entrance with a towering pile of books in her arms.

The boy smiled and rose from the couch. He hurried over to the girl and took half of the stack into his own hands.

"Thanks, Harry," she panted as she dropped the books on the nearest table and collapsed into one of the chairs.

Harry laughed, "What is all this for, Hermione?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she sighed, waving her hand wearily at him.

Harry dropped down in a chair next to her. "A bit of light reading?" he asked raising an eyebrow at her, causing the girl to giggle.

"It's for an Ancient Runes project. The due date is only two months away!"

Harry sniggered, "Since you're cutting it so close, I hate to bother you, but I was wondering something."

"Sure, what is it?" asked Hermione, her nose already buried in one of the thicker tomes.

"Have you ever heard of the Transgloria potion?"

Hermione marked her page and looked up at him. She thought for a moment, biting her lip lightly. "Hmm...I might have, I'm not sure. It sounds quite familiar. Why what is it?"

Harry shrugged. "It's just something I heard someone talking about. It makes you able to fly without a broom. It might be Dark magic. I don't want to give you extra work, but do you think you could try to find out about it for me?"

Hermione smiled warmly. "Sure, I'd love to! Despite evidence to the contrary, I'm not really that busy and I always like a chance to further my knowledge. Besides, this sounds quite interesting -- a flight potion. I think I recall reading about a potion that allows one to defy gravity...I don't remember what it was called, and yes, I think it was Dark Arts. I'll get a pass from Hagrid or Professor Vector for the Restricted Section."

"Thanks Hermione. It might come in useful sometime."

Hermione nodded with understanding, and with a grateful smile Harry left her to get back to her work.

* * *

"Here you are. A homemade potion brewed with care and love, just for you Harry." He handed Harry a glass vial filled with a deep amber liquid, sparkling and fizzing cheerfully. "Don't worry it's not hot or anything...it's just in it's nature to be very energetic...it won't hurt you."

Harry nodded and shook the container in front of his face, sloshing the light misty potion around a bit. "It's pretty."

Draco nodded, "Just like you. Try a sip."

Harry nervously brought the vial to his lips and took a tiny bit of the potion into his mouth. "It tastes like Butterbeer."

"Yes, I know. I mixed some in so it wouldn't taste too bad...the potion is pretty stable and hydrophobic as well, so it won't do anything to its effectiveness. Besides, I thought it might help your courage if you were a little light-headed. Light-headed. Get it? Light headed. Light, as in flying. Get it?" Draco sniggered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I get it Malfoy. Mmm...I can taste some of the ingredients too. I like it. It tastes earthy, a little like you."

"It tastes like me? Wait a second, you can taste the potion? Really? That's odd." Draco reached out and corked the potion as he took it from Harry's hands. He held the glass container up against the light, cocking his head curiously as he examined it. "It looks all right. You shouldn't be able to taste anything but the Butterbeer suspension. It was probably your imagination Harry. When you've been dining on such an unforgettable delicacy such as me for so long, everything starts to taste like Draco Malfoy doesn't it?"

He smirked pleasantly as Harry's cheeks gained an adorable pink tinge. After carefully setting the potion flask down on the stone barricade of the tower where they stood, Draco took Harry's hand in his own and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

"You know what I like about potions," he mumbled as he drew Harry into his arms and nibbled at the soft dip of skin below his ear. "They're so natural. You don't need a wand, and they don't leave their mark on you like curses." He trailed light airy kisses along Harry's neck and jaw moving up to his lips mumbling affectionately the whole way, "You could take a potion to clear your acne and no one would be able to do any kind of Priori Incantatem on you to tell that you had." He let his lips rest lightly against Harry's as he spoke, pressing gently in between the words in soft whispers of contact, "The magic just does its job and gets absorbed into your own and becomes a part of your very being. It's very raw. Potions remind me of you sometimes."

"Really, and why is that?" asked Harry, pulling away a bit. He arched an eyebrow playfully and slithered from Draco's arms, hopping back from him a step and leaning casually against the battlement wall. "Why do I remind you of potions? Considering I'm getting only a 70% in the class and Snape hates me. Not to mention I'm just complete bollocks at that subject."

"Well...for one thing, you made me fall in love with you," replied the Slytherin, arching one of his own pale eyebrows.

"So I'm a love potion am I?"

"And sometimes you taste sweet and sometimes you taste bitter and salty, but it's always pleasant in it's own way."

Harry laughed and took a step forward to wrap himself around the blond boy, allowing Draco to demonstrate just how good he really did taste. "More..." he said breathlessly as Draco bit down lightly on his neck.

"You're hot and cool at the same time, and your skin feels like it's burning. And you melt like liquid in my hands...you make my insides burn...you make my stomach feel funny whenever I see you...you tease every sort of reaction from me whenever I take a bit of my Harry Potion."

"Mmmm," Harry sniggered softly.

"And we're absorbed into each other. And I melt, and I become a part of you. And you take me in, and you absorb me Harry. And I make you burn...." He pulled away to look into Harry's eyes blazing like the green fires of the Slytherin dungeons.

"Sounds to me like you're the one who's the potion Draco," said Harry.

"I'm poison." Draco smiled dangerously at the boy, but Harry only let out a soft snort of laughter.

"A good kind of poison. A cleansing kind of toxin. Sometimes you have to die a little death to see the bigger truth. I know that from experience. It's a good kind of pain. Sometimes you need to drink the poison..."

"And what if you drink the poison, and it kills you?"

"I would wish to be resurrected once more just so it could kill me again, a million times over."

Draco shook his head and sighed. "You're so hopeless Harry."

"I'm not the only one."

Draco bit his bottom lip and shrugged. "It's getting late. You still want to have your present don't you?"

"Having you here is perfect enough, but yeah. Sure, why not."

"Good, here." He picked up the vial and handed it to Harry. "You just take it and step off the edge and don't worry, it should start kicking in before you become a Potter Pavement Pancake," Draco grinned widely.

"Nice imagery Malfoy, clever. You always do have such pretty thoughts. And gee, I feel much more secure now too." Harry gave him a sardonic kind of smile before uncorking the potion and absent-mindedly swishing it around its container.

Draco shrugged and gave him a half-smile.

Harry sighed. "Are you coming too?"

"Harry, luv, it's your present. You go and enjoy yourself. I know how you like time alone. Just try out your wings and have a bit of fun. Then I'll join you on my broom and we can ride the moonbeams together."

"That's sounds very romantic. Sap." Harry's eyes twinkled and teased as he grinned at his boyfriend.

Draco blushed and smiled softly. "You made me this way you know."

"Did I?" Harry affected shock. "I would never have thought that The Great Draco Malfoy would ever change himself for anyone, let alone little old me."

"Only you Harry. I'd be anything you wanted me to be, if it meant I could stay here with you forever."

Any hint of mischief disappeared from the Gryffindor's face as he trained his sad eyes to the moist stone beneath his feet. "You can't be what you're not though. I'm sorry if I've ever tried to force you to be a certain way Malfoy. I'm sorry if I've ever pushed you."

"Harry, it's all right. I'm glad to have you push me. Besides, it's not as if I haven't pushed back from time to time." Draco poked him in the ribs, getting the other boy to raise his face and meet the blonde's eye. "Really, Harry," he said with a reassuring grin.

Harry tried to smile for Draco, but it was difficult. "You know what's going to happen," he croaked, his voice breaking slightly. "You've heard Him say it. It's me He's holding off for...after school...I don't know if I could offer you forever...."

Draco smiled sadly, wrapping Harry in his arms and resting his head on the boy's shoulder. "I know Harry. I know," he whispered.

Not a moment after they'd embraced, they separated again and looked at each other thoughtfully. Another moment and they broke into shy laughter.

"Enough of that. It's Christmas! Unhappy things are not allowed," said Draco authoritatively.

"Another one of your rules, Draco?" laughed Harry.

"No. Just a Christmas wish. I wish that we'll always be happy."

"Now, it's no good!" protested Harry with a becoming pout. "Everyone knows that if you tell someone your wish it won't come true."

"Shut up Harry you great lummox. I'm Draco Malfoy. I always get what I want," said the blond poking the other boy in the ribs once more.

"Not always." said Harry batting the finger away. "Remember third year? You wanted a Firebolt, and your father refused to get you one until you won at Quidditch against me."

"Potter, you're such a prat," Draco sneered. "Leave it to you to open old wounds when I'm trying to give you a present. Do you even know the meaning of tact? Besides, I'm allowed to wish, aren't I?"

Harry only laughed. And Draco found it difficult to be mad when The Boy Who Lived a horribly dreadful life was looking so very happy for once. Harry's mood was quite catching, and Draco's petulance melted into a genuine smile.

Harry choked back the last few vestiges of humour as he coughed to catch his breath. "Speaking of present, shall we do this now? We've been up here, God knows how long. And I'm fucking freezing. You must be too...you're shivering." He laid a cool hand on Draco's flushed cheek

Draco nodded, turning in to the touch and sighing. "You're right. Let's get this over with."

He gave Harry a playful shove and the boy stumbled to the edge of the castle. Harry looked back over his shoulder and winked at Draco, before downing the whole flask of potion. He hopped up onto the low battlement wall and gazed out over the horizon.

Harry turned, weaving to keep his balance, and offered Draco a pseudo-glare. "If this doesn't work, I'm going to kill you."

"You couldn't, luv. It's at least ninety feet up. You'd be dead." He smiled sweetly.

Harry snorted and swallowed nervously, turning back around. He could feel the alcohol in the Butterbeer kick in, and suddenly he felt a bit sleepy and a bit unsteady up on the narrow wall. It was now or never. Before he passed out or something. He felt like he could... with the height, the beer, Draco's kisses...everything mingled together to make him quite dizzy and not just a little bit woozy. He looked down and gulped.

The path leading from the entryway to the school grounds was the only thing that wasn't completely covered in a layer of new snow. It shone like a large black snake, winding and stretching out before him, leading away and into the white wintered grounds. Harry had a good view of the lake and the setting sun. It was quite nice. Maybe Draco and he could fly up there on the knoll to sit in the snow and watch the day fade away.

So as not to lose another moment to the cold evening, Harry lifted his foot, took a deep breath, and stepped off the battlement wall and into the chill of the atmosphere.

And suddenly Harry was in the air. He was amazed at how it felt, with nothing holding him but the magic imbued in his veins. There was nothing below his feet, no cushioning support of a broom to cling to. It was an amazing feeling. So freeing. Draco would like it. And that was his thought before he fell.

Draco watched as Harry plummeted from the tower, a delayed scream permeating the thin air half way down when it seemed Harry realized what was going on.

The Slytherin bit his lip and brushed away the initial tear that pricked at his cheek as he listened to the scream and then the silence. He stood blank for a minute, scratching his forearm where it burned insistently. He would have to leave soon, before they came, but for a moment he needed to rest. And so he curled up on the frozen stone floor next to the wall and closed his eyes as tight as he could.

A potion could do almost anything. But a potion could not erase the past or secret away one's regret. A potion could not make you fall out of love.

He shuddered and gasped and felt himself break, as the drops leaked easily from his eyes, shut so tight though they were.

And as the snow began to fall across the empty winter skies, Draco Malfoy died a little death.

* * *

Hermione crawled through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room. She spotted Ron sitting on the couch in front of the fire.

"Hey Ron, have you seen Harry anywhere? I need to tell him something," she said, walking over to the redhead.

"No, I just got back from the prefect's bath. I haven't seen him since morning. What did you need to tell him?"

She sat down next to Ron and sighed. "Oh, he asked me earlier about some potion that was supposed to make you fly, and I said I would look into it. Funny thing though, I got up the gumption to ask Snape, and he told me that there are potions for levitation up to twenty feet, but it's impossible for a potion to result in the ability to defy gravity to such a degree that would allow one to fly. There is no such thing.

"Actually the name Harry gave to me, Transgloria, means something along the lines of 'passing glory' when you break it up, but Snape said it's not a potion at all, just a part of a common Latin saying, if anything. I feel pretty dumb because I actually knew that, I mean it's basic Latin and really common, but I had forgotten I guess. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi -- 'Thus passes the glory of the world.' The old git told me to go study my Latin. And then he took five points from Gryffindor for asking stupid questions," she said dejectedly. "So, you haven't seen Harry then?"

Ron shrugged. "Nope. Sorry."

"Oh well, I'll tell him later. It's not urgent."

Ron nodded.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him as he quite suddenly broke out in a wild blush. He turned to her nervously, twiddling his thumbs. "Um...so Hermione...I was wondering if you maybe...you might like to go with me and take a walk outside or something? It's not too cold tonight and there's a new dusting of snow...."

She smiled warmly, noting his adorably unnecessary shyness. "Sure Ron. That would be lovely."

Ron grinned and stood, offering Hermione his hand. She took it. And together they headed down to the Hogwarts grounds.






end.



Postmortem: Draco's death was figurative if you were wondering...I just re-read it and found that it might be confusing. If you're curious, this is my fourth Harrycide fic. It's quite therapeutic, killing Harry. I like the betrayal and guilt issues. Though, frankly, this one makes me slightly ill for some reason. Every sweet thing they say to each other is like torture because it's so obvious from the very beginning what's going to happen. I know the quote doesn't really fit, but I was watching Rushmore and I felt like...well, nevermind. If you liked this, go read my other story "The Darkest Day". Thanks for reading and reviewing if you do.