Walking at twilight, Harry took wary steps, not minding where his feet led him or that he was walking on nothing but thin air. Everything was silent, he couldn't even hear his own breathing. He attempted on screaming but no noise came out— or he just can't hear? Alarmed, he started running, running towards the never ending darkness; trying to take hold of anything just so he can be certain he's going somewhere— anywhere. After what seemed like hours of running, he stopped, gasping for air; looking frantically around for any sign of advancement on location. Then just a few meters away, he saw a faint light. It was too faded that he might not noticed it if it weren't for the pitch black background. He started moving, desperate to reach what was beyond. It's glow spreading the closer he moved, then the brightness was too overwhelming, he had to close his eyes, trotting blindly into nothingness.
"Avada Kedavra!" he heard the muffled scream of Voldemort, then the bright light collided with him.
He dared open his eyes, surprised that he was still in his living room. The tightness between his fingers issued him back into reality. He turned to look at Draco, whose expression was hard, eyes boring into the healer' Harry could open his mouth, the blond started to demand and ask for explanations— or maybe even a misconception.
"Are you sure those are Harry's?" he bellowed, veins appearing on his neck.
"Positive," she replied a bit too quiet.
"And why did this come out all of the sudden? Harry had 37 sodden years to be informed about this!" he prompted, unaware that he was crushing Harry's hand.
"We've had a mix-up on the files— and there were more cases that need to give attend to," she answered, clearly having her response ready. "Mr. Potter's, however, was already worked on, just as he was confined at St. Mungo's after the war. He suffered emotional trauma and a couple of minor casualties in his thinking, which—" she flipped onto the third page of the paper. "—then resulted to a tumor in his brain.
"We wanted to be assured by what we have researched— and to not risk the possibility of its increase in size due to stress and depression."
"Well, that doesn't sound fair. Hiding it from us after all these years." Draco said harshly, making the healer look down sheepishly.
They stood there, letting the silence fill in.
Harry decided for a moment, uncertain if he wanted to know just yet, but all was already said.
"How much long?" he croaked, feeling Draco's grip tighten.
"24 hours."
A tumor... in my skull... Harry established in his knowledge. Who knew the boy who defeated the darkest wizard of all time would die because of the seaming-less killing o a lump in his head? It seemed absurd— preposterous, even. When all was going well, a bulk decides to selfishly take all those away. Unless he pretends—no—unless he believeshe doesn't have the disorder, he'd live a normal life like it should be.
"Get out," Draco spat, his words filled with venom.
She hurried out of the room, retrieving the envelope and headed directly to the door, turning around all of the sudden. "It was nice meeting with you, Mr. Potter," she smiled solemnly. And with that, she opened the door, shut it, and the familiar cracking noise of apparition echoed throughout the whole house.
She always did say the same phrase whenever Harry went to an appointment with her. He couldn't stop thinking of the probability that this would be the last time she'll state it.
Then Draco lunged for Harry, capturing him in a bone-crushing embrace. Harry could do nothing but return it, then he didn't want to let go, ever. The heaving of chests and tears spilling onto Harry's torso wasn't helping at all. Grief was a sign that what awaits him is very much real and will occur— in less then 24 hours. And he loathed it.
"Draco, shh..." he withdrew, wiping the tears from Draco's cheek. "It's alright. Shh... calm down. I'm here. Stop crying... You'll ruin your elegant features." he tried for distraction.
"You know you're more important than that of my hair nor my features," Draco sniffed. "Why is it that I'm the one crying and you're not?"
"Because nothing's going to happen to me, Draco." Harry said stiffly, still convinced by his theory.
That made his lover cry even more, his swollen lips wobbled and choked out incoherent words. "Harry... I know this isn't easy for you— for both of us... But restraining facts won't help you, now—"
It was too much for Harry. He brutally kissed Draco square in the mouth to stop words from spilling out. The kiss was needy, exchanging comfort through soft whimpers and gentle touches of the hands.
He remembered his first kiss with Cho in 5th year. He had been too confused and desperate. Yearning for someone to share the sorrow with, because he knows deep inside that he can't stand agony alone.
They stopped, resting their foreheads onto each other as they breathed for air. Much to Harry's disappointment, Draco started crying again.
Harry lifted his face using both hands. "I'll be fine, Draco. You know I always turn out safe."
"But..."
"Listen to me," Harry looked at him straight in the eyes. "Everything will turn out okay, yeah? We'll have a new life— right here. Then we'll be head Aurors, and have enough money for us to go to that place you wanted to visit. What was that? France? We'll go there as much as you want. Or better yet, be professional Quidditch players. You and me, on different teams competing for the Quidditch World Cup. Seaker to seaker just like in 2nd year. Do you understand?"
But none of those will ever happen, none, Draco admitted bitterly. He'll never have a new life, a decent work, or even a status because all that urged him to hold onto life was Harry.
Who managed to drive Draco mad? Harry did. Who inspired Draco to do better? Harry did. Who saved him from the flames? Harry did. Who accepted him when no one else did? Harry did. Who loved him for who he was and completely forgetting what was left behind them? Harry did.
And the thought of losing the one who molded him into someone who can start anew made something inside him falter, and it's not something that can heal with time— or with anything.
Nonetheless, he nodded. Inflicting damage more to himself rather than Harry. It took every once of him to lie— to his lover whose time was limited. And it made him to succumb to the feeling more harshly.
Harry smiled and engaged a kiss that Draco received eagerly; savoring the last moments with him. Making him feel more alone before Harry even had to depart this mortal life.
What if you could wish me away
What if you spoke those words today
I wonder if you would miss me when I'm gone
It's come to this, release me
I'll leave before the dawn