Title: Time and Fury
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Angst, Character Death
Summary: He could feel the tears, see the red and sense the fury. He wanted them Dead. He wanted to join his beloved. HPDM implied. ONESHOT.
Warnings: SLASH, CHARACTER DEATH, ANGST
Disclaimer: The author does not own Harry Potter and associated characters, nor are they making money from this piece of fiction.
A/N: Oh. Look. I posted something. _deadpans_
Terribly sorry about the massive length of time between me actually doing something, but I'm currently experiencing a huge HP writer's block. Everything HP related is just…sort of….stopped. It's sad, I know, and horrible! Nevertheless, I found this sitting on my external hard drive and figured you guys deserved something for your patience. And, I would like to thank everyone who's PM'd me and given me tips on getting past this problem. You might not see anything HP from me for a while yet, but I do have something I want to post up to see how it goes.
And so, without further ado (because I think I put you guys through it enough already!) I give to you the very first HPDM fic I ever wrote!
He could feel the tears, rolling down his cheeks in a silent parade of pain and sadness. He could feel the tight clenching of his chest, the way his heart beat erratically. He could feel it, the way the world was closing down, how his sight was narrowing until all he could see was the pale man lying motionless on the floor. He could only see the pale blonde hair, dyed red with blood. He could only see the way the grey eyes closed, the light in them dimming as they did.
He could see red. Not just blood. Fury.
"You killed him," he whispered. His voice was deadly, a warning plain to hear.
"It needed to be done."
"You killed him, because he wouldn't do what you wanted."
"He was killed because he was leading you to the Dark, Mister Potter."
He stared down at the man he loved, the man who had made him feel alive like nothing else before. This man had made him feel like he could fly, like he was king of the world. This man had meant absolutely everything to him, had been his everything.
He was gone.
"I won't forgive you."
"I don't expect you to. But it was meant to be like this."
"I wasn't meant to love."
"No, you were not."
"It's my choice. I chose to love."
"And that choice has caused his death."
He closed his eyes, swallowing against the anguished scream trying to rise up from his throat. He squeezed them shut, willing the tears to stop, willing the burn to go away and leave him. He wanted to open his eyes and see their home, see where all the happy memories had happened. Where he had been able to smile with freedom and pure joy for the first time.
"What if I wanted to stay with him, to live and grow old by his side."
"Then the same thing would have occurred. This cannot be changed, no matter how many ways you look at it."
"But I wanted it. How is that bad?"
"You would have fallen into the Dark. Think of this as motivation. If Voldemort did not exist, you would have been free to live with him."
He opened his eyes, the sight of the man he loved dead and motionless making something in him burn. He hated those responsible, wanted their blood on his hands, their souls ripped from their bodies, their lives utterly destroyed.
He wanted them dead.
"I swear, I will not leave this be."
"You must. Life moves on."
"But your life will not."
Green. It was a beautiful colour, like his mother's eyes, his eyes and the favourite colour of the man he loved. He felt no qualms about the colour of the curse, the way their faces would be endlessly surprised until time ripped those faces away and rotted through their flesh. He felt no regrets in their life's end. They had stolen his love's life, had stolen his happiness without even thinking of what it would mean to him.
They deserved this. He didn't mind having their blood on his hands, their lives etched into a belt in his mind. They had killed. He had simply returned the favour.
He reached forward, a shaky hand touch the cold and pale cheek of his love. There was no life left in the body, the warmth seeping away in death and the soul escaping to somewhere hopefully more beautiful than the world they had been born into.
He could feel the tears tracking down his cheeks, the way they flowed in tidy rivers of liquid pain. They were hot against his skin and he smiled sadly. Time was beginning to slow for him.
He lay down beside the man he loved, closing his eyes and turning his face towards him. He could feel the cold slowly creeping through his veins, freezing his limbs until his chest grew tight and his breath laboured. His heart pounded weakly in his chest, trying to provide what he no longer wanted.
Time stopped.
A/N: This is the first one-shot I've ever done. I'm quite proud. And it's possibly the most angsty piece of writing that isn't about my life, he he. Please let me know what you think!
:hinthint: that nifty little review button down there is useful :hinthint: