Title: Fire and Brimstone

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters of HP, no infringement intended.
Rating: PG-13 I think there's one "fuck" in there
Pairing: Draco/Harry

You stood on the black-shingled roof soaked with rain, frighteningly close to the edge. I wanted so badly to hold you, comfort you and tell you that everything would be fine, and wipe the tears off your face. It didn't help that I was the one who put them there. This wasn't the way it was supposed to end up; I wanted for us to have a future, if not together, at least knowing the other was happy. No, this certainly wasn't what I had envisioned.

I saw a tinge of madness in your eyes, mirrored by sorrow that paradoxically made your irises a brilliant shade of green. I cried inside, knowing that I had inflicted pain upon you, betrayed you by the one person you ever truly loved. Even now, the words resonate in my ears, haunting me, almost screaming 'fire and brimstone!' at my soul. There was no doubt about it now; hell was waiting for me, for I had committed a horrible sin.

I'd broken up with you. Told you that we couldn't be together, because our worlds were never meant to clash. I lied between my teeth, and told you that I never loved you as much as you did me, that it would be best for the both of us if I just left now. You were shocked, but years of Gryffindor instinct forced you to fight back, fight for what you believed in. You believed in us, in a life devoted to each other. I didn't relent, and you raged, and pleaded, and even threatened, but I stood my ground. Our lives could never be intertwined the way both of us wanted; life was never so kind as to allow us our greatest dreams. Even after years of fighting tirelessly for the good of mankind, after defeating Voldemort and single-handedly saving the world once again, you couldn't receive the one thing that you desired the most, above all others. I lamented for the end of our relationship, not because I would walk for the rest of my life bitter and cold, but because you would also.

Torn with grief, you had taken the stairs onto the roof and stood by the side, threatening to fling yourself down if I didn't recant my words. This couldn't be happening, not to me. Other people's lovers committed suicide, but not mine. Not you. I argued with you, trying to convince you that this was all unnecessary, all the while asking myself why I had done it. Why did I estrange myself from you? Because you deserved better. Because all you would receive from me wouldn't be enough. Because I could only bring you pain.

You shook your head sadly, and told me, "Without you, my life is nothing. I can't live...I won't." My head reeled, as if a sheer cloth that had been held in front of my face had been lifted. This was wrong. Nothing that was righteous could hurt this much, I knew. So I moved forward, ready to say I'm sorry, that I had been wrong all along.

And you stepped into the air.

I screamed, screamed and ran forward, desperately trying to grab your hand before you fell. I saw myself from above, and thought that this would turn out fine, because the side of good always won. I would hold on to you, and drag you back over the edge, and kiss you and tell you over and over again how truly sorry I was.

But you fell, and I wasn't there to keep you from falling. I wasn't enough, I didn't have the power, I berated myself. Running down the stairs, I begged to anyone who could hear that you would all right. This almost surreal moment would dissipate in the sunlight when the rain stopped pouring, and you would be fine, and we would laugh at my paranoid nightmare.

In those few seconds, our entire relationship flashed through my mind, and I agonizingly regretted telling you that we were over. I remembered our first fumbling kiss on the Quidditch field in 6th year, after I snatched the snitch right below your nose and won the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin; our first year together, and how we celebrated our anniversary with all our friends and loved ones, our mutual declaration of love, which brought tears to my eyes and resulted in a fuck-fest that night. It was almost the end of our second year together, and I couldn't lose you now, and how could I have been so stupid?

I hit the ground running, and dashed through the pouring rain to find your body, crumpled and huddled in a ball. I threw my body over yours, blocking the rain, and prayed like never before. I cradled you, crooning soft nothings and whispering that you were safe now, that nothing would harm you in my arms. Time stopped, and I was determined that if you were to leave this earth, I would come with you. I promised you in our seventh year that I would never leave you, and I intended to keep that promise now, after realizing that I couldn't live without you either. Then relief burned my veins as I realized you were fine, that you would be well again with some rest. I thanked the heavens you weren't hurt badly, and kissed you over and over again, tears from my eyes dripping onto your face. Too tired to move, I lied down next to you and slept.

I woke just as the sun was rising. It had stopped raining during the night, but you were soaked and felt cold to the touch. I spooned my body against yours, lending you warmth and protection, and fell asleep again.

It was night again when I was awoken once more, this time by an insistent voice. I held you closer and tucked my head into the curve of your neck, hoping the disturbance would go away and leave us in peace. As I drifted back into darkness, I heard a voice above me.

"Draco, he's dead."