Warnings: tragedy, death, etc.
A/N: Hey everybody. I was on a website dedicated to a boy who recently died and I was inspired to write this story. I hope I conveyed Draco's feelings well. I also hope that this doesn't end up being too cliché. I just consider this an exploration of emotion in response to tragedy. I would say that I hope you enjoy, but in all actuality, I hope you are sad when you're done reading this. It would mean that I was successful.
Oh, by the way, for those of you who have read the first two chapters of Undercover Queers, I fully intend to continue with the story. In fact, I have written some scenes from much later in the story. I'm just having a little bit of trouble with chapter 3. It's writer's block, if you will.
Well, on with the story!
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Here I Am
Here I am, sitting in my favorite armchair, alone in my own home.
A lonely house elf is my only companion. No father. No mother. No children. Nobody.
I never married, though everyone thought I would. Everyone thought I would marry a beautiful rich pure-blooded girl and we would live happily ever after and we would have tons of little blond-haired brats running around the manor. That never happened, though. I never wanted it to.
Except once.
Only once.
A very long time ago.
I stare into the fire and imagine nothing. I imagine what life would be like with nothing in it. But then I stop imagining because I know, I know what life is like with nothing in it. I know what it's like to live alone, without companionship. I know what it's like to lose the world, to lose everything that ever mattered. I know what it's like to lose your soul. I know what it's like to lose the one and only person you ever loved. It's emptiness after that happens. I know what Nothing is.
The fire angrily crackles and spits at me. It is telling me to get over my grief and move on with my life. But it doesn't understand. I have no life left to lead. Even after forty years, I cannot forget him. I don't want to forget him.
All I can do is watch the yellow and red flames consume the wood, burning it to ashes. And think about the one I loved. The one I still love.
I hold his letters in my hands. There are many of them. They've been opened and read so many times that the writing has almost entirely faded away. But that's okay if they fade. I have them all memorized anyway.
I feel tears trickle down my cheek as I hold his letters and I move my gaze from the fire to the first one he ever wrote to me. I read the words carefully and imagine that he is here with me, reading them aloud.
Dear Draco,
I know that I see you every day, but I wanted to write a letter to you anyways. I don't really know why. I guess I've just always had this romantic fascination with sending someone a love letter of sorts. How would you like to meet me at Michelle's this Thursday for a wonderful French dinner? I've already booked the reservation for six. Meet me, because I've got a surprise for you.
Harry
I can still remember that night so well. It was about the most romantic thing he ever did for me.
"Draco! There you are!" I turned at the sound of his voice and smiled at him as he approached me. "Come, I've got the best table in the place!" He grabbed my hand and led me to the table set with candles and flowers that was near a warm, crackling fireplace.
We ate a wonderful dinner. Harry had learned enough French to communicate with the waiter and he insisted that the waiter speak French, even though he was more than capable of speaking English. I was quite impressed but I didn't say anything.
After the waiter had left, Harry pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to me.
"What's this for?" I asked. I felt very happy just then.
"Well, I thought that since Dumbledore is sending me on a mission soon and I'll miss our anniversary, I'd celebrate it with you before I had to go."
"I didn't get anything for you."
"That's okay." He squeezed my hand reassuringly.
Smiling, I opened the envelope and pulled out a rather nice card. I opened it and something fell into my lap. I gasped when I saw that it was two tickets to Greece. One was in my name and one was in Harry's.
"Oh my God."
"I know how you've always wanted to go to Greece and never had the chance. In fact, it's one of the few places you haven't been. Anyway, I thought you might like it if you and I went away for a little while. The trip will be long, and we'll have to stop at some Apparition checkpoints on the way. But don't worry about the time. I already booked off work for you." Harry looked at me as though he were afraid I wouldn't like his gift. Truthfully, I would have normally gotten angry at him for just manipulating my life without my knowledge like that, but I was too in love with him to be angry. All I could feel was happiness.
"Thank you so much, Harry," I said. "I love it and I can't wait to go on the trip with you."
"I'm glad," he said. He leaned across the table and kissed me softly on the lips.
We had so much fun on that trip. It was best week of my life. Touring Greece, eating Greek food, being unable to understand anybody, and having the best sex of our lives. I remember thinking that if this was what our first anniversary trip was like, what would our honeymoon be like? Back then, I was certain I'd marry him. I was young and foolish. Things like happiness never last. Especially when the Dark Lord was rampaging across London and murdering Muggles on an enormous scale.
The next letter in the pile was like a stake in my heart. Harry wrote it to me after our largest and last fight. He had returned from a particularly dangerous mission for Dumbledore and was severely injured when I saw him. I voiced my opinions and concerns and it escalated into a rather brutish fight.
Draco,
I'm so sorry for all those things I said to you. I want you to know that I never meant them, that it was all the heat of the moment. But Draco, I can't stop what I'm doing. You need to accept that. I can't give everything up. As much as I want to, I can't abandon the world. You must understand that.
Please come back to me.
Harry
But I didn't. I couldn't go back to him. It hurt too much.
"Please, Harry! Listen to me!" I found myself pleading with him to stop. "You don't need to put yourself in danger like this." Harry had come home from a mission gone awry and was severely injured. I was so afraid that he would die.
"What do you want me to do, Draco?" Harry's voice was rising with each word he said. "I can't just abandon the world! It's my responsibility!"
"No, it's not." Why couldn't he understand? I needed him to be with me. "You can do something else. We could run away together. Elope. Just hide ourselves away. Don't you want to be with me?"
"Are you so selfish that you would place yourself above the rest of the wizarding world?" Harry's voice was no longer loud but it had lost all traces of kindness. It was like we were enemies at Hogwart's again. His words made me angry and I retaliated.
"Are you so vain that you actually think that you're the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord?" I regretted my words as soon as they left my mouth. I knew about the prophecy. I knew that even if we ran away, the Dark Lord would never stop hunting us down. I knew that Harry was right. But at that moment, I didn't want to acknowledge it. In fact, I didn't acknowledge it until much later, when it was too late.
"I can't believe you." Harry's eyes looked at me with complete contempt. It hurt.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said that." I knew I had made a mistake. "I'm only worried about you. I can't imagine life without you.
"I love you." This was supposed to be the part where Harry said he was sorry too. Where he would say that he understood. Where I would say be more careful. Where he would say yes. Where he would say 'I love you.' Where we would kiss and make up.
But none of that ever happened.
My heart broke instead.
"You'll never understand." Harry looked at me with indifference. He didn't care anymore.
"Please, Harry! Tell me you love me! I'll stop bothering you about this. I promise! Just don't leave me! Tell me you love me!" I ran towards him and grasped his hand. Everything went blurry as my eyes welled up with tears.
"I can't. I can't anymore, Draco. I've had enough." Harry's voice contained no warmth and he sounded sad and hurt. Was it my fault?
He pulled his hand out of my grasp and walked away from me. After hearing the door close behind him, I let out a yell. I couldn't hold back my tears any longer and they poured down my face.
For hours I lay there. He never came back.
Four days later, I received his letter. He said he was sorry and that he wanted to be with me. I wanted to go back to him, I really did. But it hurt too much.
It hurt too much to love him.
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He sent many letters after that. I never responded to him. I still loved him but I just couldn't go back to him. I was too afraid of what would happen if he died. I just wanted to forget him but I couldn't do that either. He was always in my thoughts and in my prayers.
Eventually, I just stopped opening his letters. Instead, I put them in a desk drawer and forgot about them. I only ever opened that drawer to put a new letter in.
He never came by to try to talk to me in person. I guess he was just as afraid of love as I was.
I thought that one day he would stop sending letters but they never stopped. Not once. The strange thing is I never wanted them to. But one day they did. It was a dreadful day in November.
Here I am, sitting in front of the fire, an old and lonely man whose love was tragic. I shift through the pile on my lap and get to a newspaper clipping. It represents the worst day of my life.
The only thing I can read nowadays is the headline. Anything after that and I burst into tears.
Harry Potter sacrifices himself and saves the world
The world celebrates the death of the worst wizard of our time and mourns the death of the greatest hero of all time
I still remember seeing this headline for the first time. I remember feeling the blood freeze in my veins. It felt like somebody had gripped my heart and squeezed it until it beat no more.
I remember rushing to Dumbledore, asking him if it was true. I remember the sad look in his eyes when he told me it was.
I remember his funeral. No one went to work that day. It was an international day of mourning and there were ceremonies for Harry around the world.
The one held on Hogwart's grounds was the one I went to. Hundreds of chairs were on the lawn. It was chilly but nobody cared.
Harry's body was on a marble table at the front. People had the opportunity to approach him and pay their respects. I didn't though. I was too afraid of looking into his eyes that used to contain so much life and spirit. Now, I was sure, they contained nothing.
Only emptiness.
Words were spoken, songs were played, people cried.
But not me.
I never shed a tear. My grief was so deep that my body chose to no longer function. I couldn't cry. Everyone around me was crying. But not me. I didn't even cry when flames shot into the air and ensconced Harry's body in a white marble tomb, never to be seen again.
I went home that night, silent and melancholy. When I reached the manor, I told the house elf to refrain from disturbing me, no matter what happened.
I went straight to the den and threw my jacket on the desk chair. I opened the drawer and was met with the sight of dozens of letters, all addressed to me from him. Only a few of them were opened.
I searched through the pile for the last letter he wrote to me. It was dated only one week earlier.
I opened the envelope and pulled out the last words he ever wrote me.
Dear Draco,
I want you to know that I love you. I know I never really told you before – I was too afraid to tell you, afraid of love. But it's true. I do love you. You are the most important person in the world to me. I would do anything for you.
Even stop fighting Voldemort.
I understand why you're so angry with me, Draco. I said some things I didn't mean. But I hurt you, and I want you to know that I'm sorry.
Draco, I love you. I'm not very good at expressing myself, but I have never felt anything like this before. My feelings for you are overpowering. You're all I can think about. Please, come back to me.
I know you haven't replied to any of my letters, but I want you to reply to this one. If you want me to stop sending letters, just say the word and you'll never hear from me again. If you tell me to stop fighting Voldemort, I will run away with you and we can live far away from here. If you tell me to love you, I will make you the happiest man in the world. I will shower you with affection, marry you, raise children with you, grow old with you, die with you.
I'd do anything for you.
Because I love you.
Just say the word.
Love Harry
Finally, I cried. Our love was too late. We were both too afraid, and our love was tragic. So I cried. And I didn't stop. Because I loved him.
Here I am, sitting in my favorite armchair in front of a roaring fire. I am crying again. I am holding his last letter in my lap and my tears fall onto the old parchment.
My regrets surround me and I imagine death. I imagine seeing him in heaven. I imagine being together with him for all eternity and I want it. I want death.
I get up from the armchair. All his letters fall from my lap onto the floor. I shuffle to my desk and open the drawer where I keep his letters. I pull out a knife and examine its blade. Never stained, this knife has been waiting in my desk for years.
I life the knife to my arm and touch it to my skin. It's cold. Comforting. I am about to press down and slice when I suddenly think of him. What would he say? He would be disappointed in me. He would be sad for me. And I would regret even more.
I slowly put the knife back and close the drawer. No, I can't face him now. It's much too late. I wouldn't be able to bear seeing the disappointment in his face. I'm too afraid.
I walk back to my chair, lean down and gently gather up his letters. I sit down in the chair again, and think of nothing. Because I know what Nothing is.
Here I am.
Alone.
La fin
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To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.
