HE
He's running down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower.
Dumbledore is dead.
The only person here, who knew he wanted out of this sick war is dead.
And while he lived, he did nothing to help.
Snape is now guiding him along. No one pays them much attention.
Students on the hallways are confused.
He wants to yell at them to go back to their dorms and lock the doors.
But he can't.
Because that would give him away, and there's no way he can afford that now.
His only way of surviving alive,
keeping his family alive,
is to play this part of obedient Death Eater.
AGAIN!
And by doing that, there's no way to make sure she is safe!
Even if the her who will soon fight in the corridor is not his girl he's afraid that if she gets killed, all of her will stop to exist, ending all hope.
And he has no way to get to her! He has to trust she's safe in another hands.
He hates the idea!
They get to Hogsmeade and apparate to the Manor, his home, that feels so foreign now.
At least his mother is fine, rushing to greet him.
"I'm so proud of you dear!" She whispers to him, and he has an urge to tell her there's nothing to be proud of. He couldn't save them, any of them, even when he tried.
They sit in the drawing room, him and Snape and mother, waiting for news from Hogwarts.
All he wants to do is to go to bed,
to get to their beach,
to go to her!
He wants her in his arms.
Her comforting words.
Her…
Nothing but her.
She'll know what to say.
She'll know how to proceed.
She'll fill the gaping hole in his chest and soothe his raging mind.
She'll keep him afloat!
"I'll never leave you" She'd tell him again. And with that, he'll survive to another day, no matter how dark.
"I'll be with you." She'd say, her hazel eyes shining with sincerity. And he wouldn't feel so alone.
But he doesn't get to sleep that night,
or the next.
After the celebrations of Dumbledore's death he lies in his bed, that doesn't feel like his bed anymore, and listens to Bellatrix's shrill voice sing outside.
They're still singing the songs of victory, planning to take over the ministry.
He listened to that for hours, until it was late enough to make an excuse to get to his room.
Then he lays in his bed, trying to force himself to sleep.
It's not working!
He's still awake, missing her, feeling like he might go crazy!
What if she's waiting for him, and he just can't get to her!?
When he finally falls asleep in the early hours of the morning, he doesn't get to their beach.
Instead, his dreams are dark nightmares of Dumbledore falling off the tower.
Then the old man turns into her.
And she's falling. He's trying to reach her, but his hands catch only thin air.
She falls,
her hair flowing around her,
her eyes wide, fixed on his.
He wakes up screaming.
.
.
.
He lives through the days of the summer like a ghost.
Not seeing, not feeling, not really paying attention to things around him.
Only when he's addressed directly, does he alert himself. Gets his occlumency defenses up and acts like he's listening.
But it doesn't feel like living.
The darkness, that made him jump off the tower once already, swirls on the edges of his mind And the world seems colorless,
pointless,
empty.
She's gone.
And the hope, her mere presence gave him, is gone with her.
The dreams of the beach won't return no matter what he does.
She's gone,
and nothing is worth anything anymore.
Sometimes he sits on his bed in the night and talks to her.
Hoping she could still hear him.
Wishing she'd still somehow be there,
even if he can't see her.
But as days go by the hope dies.
By the beginning of the seventh year he'd be sure she was not real at all, if not for the vial around his neck.
At sleepless nights he sneaks into his mother's study, pours the memories in the small Pensieve and watches the best moments she stored for him.
Her tingling wild laugh as she splashes water on him in the prefect's bathroom.
Her eyes when she looks at him.
Her brilliant smile as she masters a new spell.
Her twirling around in a blue summer dress.
Her irritated face when he made her ride a broom.
Her on top of the Astronomy Tower, fireworks flashing in her eyes.
Her soft lips on his.
Her delicate body moving with his.
Her sleeping in his arms.
Her hand taking his reassuring: We're in this together. I'm with you. I'll never let go.
He could live a lifetime, just watching those memories play through over and over again.
But it has to stop!
He has to collect the memory back, lock it around his neck and go through another day without her.
.
.
.
Going back to school is worse, because a small part of him hoped the dreams about the beach would return once there.
But they don't.
And the rest of her is gone too!
Her and Potter and Weasley, never come back.
So, she is gone in every way possible.
She's out of his life.
And still, the Slytherin common room,
his bed,
the library,
every room,
every corridor and staircase,
every alcove,
remind him of her and the time the reality was only the two of them.
He trashes the Room of Requirement. Smashes the furniture into small pieces. Throws the little glass items to the walls and watches them break.
But it doesn't help.
Won't take away the pain.
And it gets worse by the day.
With Dumbledore gone, the school is a dark place under Death Eater rule. The only good thing seems to be the lines of Slytherin breaking a little.
He sees it in the frowns of his classmate's faces.
In the ways they pretend they've forgotten their wands in the dorm.
When The Carrow twins start to make students torture each other, almost all seventh year Slytherins stop to leave their common room when it isn't necessary.
He doesn't question them.
Tries to follow their example when it's possible.
But it seems almost impossible for him to stand in the sidelines.
The Carrow's know his parents. They think his loyal, so they call him often.
Make him run their errands, perform as the leader of the remaining perfects, monitor the others give harsh enough punishments.
He's trapped, with no one to go to.
The only way he keeps on living are the memories.
Her promise they'll get through it.
He wonders how long can he go on with just the image of her fierce eyes?
But he tries.
Spies on Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley to figure out when their secret resistance gathers, then sends the patrols to the opposite way.
Warns the first year Gryffindors on the corridor when the Carrow's are near. Assures to Alecto Carrow, that the Slytherins are doing an excellent job on keeping the others in line.
Lies to everyone about everything,
and feels like he's just a shell, running on automatic gear.
That's what he told her once: "Pretending is all I do in the real world."
That's what he does.
.
.
.
Pansy is the only one who even tries to get to him.
Theo and Blaise seem to have given up months ago, but Pansy won't let go so easily.
She pushes herself to sit next to him in the armchair, puts her hand on his knee and purrs to his ear: "Why are you always so gloom Draco? We're on the winning side."
Her hand slides to his thigh and he yearns to push it away.
"Why don't we find somewhere more private and I'll make you forget your worries." Her voice drips suggestion.
He moves her hand away, "Not tonight, Pansy."
"Come on, Draco." She licks his earlobe.
He feels like he's going to be sick,
but stays static.
"I know you want to." Her hand is dangerously close to his crotch.
"No." He moves her hand away.
She still doesn't give in, but picks herself up and straddles his hips.
Her puffy lips move close to his and he tries to lean as far away as he can.
All about her is just wrong.
"Anything you want," She whispers and tries to kiss him.
And even though he tried his best to contain himself, he now pushes her to the floor and stands up.
"No, Pansy! What part of that is so hard to understand?"
He leaves her staring behind him as he dashes to his dorm. Draws the curtains around his bed and bends down to breathe.
Pansy might have thought she can seduce him, but all her closeness made him do was to think of Her again.
To remember how she felt straddling his hips.
How her delicate lips moved close to his.
How she laughed breathlessly as his fingers traced her skin.
It makes him think how she'll never do that again,
and the pain feels like he can't take it!
.
.
.
It's her!
In the hands of the snatchers at his home.
Her eyes looking determined to him.
He wants to ask how stupid are they, getting caught like that!?
He wants to rip the snatcher holding her to pieces and send her running back to the forest.
But his father is demanding him to identify them.
And what can he do, surrounded by all these Death Eaters?
So, he nods hesitantly.
.
.
.
It's her, she's screaming on the floor of their drawing room
and he can do nothing to help her!
If he so much as moves, she'll be dead,
he'll be dead,
and his parents would also be dead,
in a blink of an eye.
It's not her, he tries to think.
She isn't the girl,
she's a different version,
it's not her!
But it is her!
From the bushy hair to the form of her body, it's her!
And with every scream, he feels like he might die.
.
.
.
It's her again.
Her brown eyes looking at him in the Room of Requirement.
Her hair wet and clothes torn.
But it's Potter who's asking him questions.
Potter who drags him up to his broom and flies them out of the burning room.
And the whole time he tries to make sure Weasley is still behind them because that's where she is too.
He has to make sure she gets out alive! Even if it's the last thing he does!
.
.
.
It's her eyes that follow him out of the Great hall as he and his mother walk out of the war.
It's her who stands in the trial and defends him because he was just a boy.
It's her!
And it's not!
She's not the girl in his memories.
She is,
but isn't…
She'll never know how much he loved her.
She'll never know what she did to him.
She'll never know him like the girl in his memories did.
.
.
.
With the war gone and his house arrest on, he has time to look for answers.
Because he'll never have peace if he doesn't figure out what happened to him.
What was this vivid year long dream that produced the vial of memories? He's sure it was real! But how could it be real just for him?
Nothing adds up.
Nothing he finds makes sense.
Nothing explains why he remembers events, that seemingly never happened.
Researching is the only time he feels even remotely alive. Other times he goes around his days like a well-programmed machine.
What's the point of living?
Sometimes he thinks of going to her, the version of her that still exists, and telling her everything!
But when he thinks about what he should say, it sounds like he's a mad man!
She gets engaged with Weasley. He stares at their picture in the Prophet.
Rips the page out and tears it to pieces.
It should be him next to her!
He knows her as no one else does! He knows what she's like with all her walls down.
Weasley will never understand her as he does!
She shouldn't be with Weasley! She should be with him!
He belonged to her! And her to him!
No, she didn't! This is not the same girl!
This girl doesn't know him,
and he doesn't know her.
.
.
.
As part of his punishment, he needs to do community service for the ministry.
That means running errands for the Department of Law.
It's fine,
mostly.
Keeps his mind off things.
Allows him to do something without putting his mind to it.
But that's when he finds about the timeline experiments!
Rumor in the cafeteria has it, that they're sending human consciousness to alternative timelines to study them.
He listens, and suddenly it feels like puzzle pieces click together.
Alternative timeline, could it be what happened to him?
But how does it work?
How can he have these memories of it and she doesn't?
Could he have bee there alone?
If she was just a product of a test?
After that, he reads everything there is to read about alternative timelines.
About time loops and mistakes in time.
The more he reads the more certain he is that's what happened to him!
They spent their sixth year in an alternate timeline. Then he got back, but somehow still had all those memories.
And her,
was she real at all?
Or was she left behind?
Nothing adds up with the dreams of the tropic though. Not before he gets a real job in the ministry and gets his hands to the rapport of the timeline experiments.
He finds out the beach is an in-between space when transferring from one timeline to another.
It all makes much more sense now!
The moment the Department of Mysteries starts to seek for volunteers he applies.
But it's not like he wanted it to be.
He gets sent to different timeliness.
Spends hours or days in there and then gets back none the wiser.
She's still not there. No timeline reminds him of their silent castle.
And there's no way he's going to ask about it from anyone! Because who knows what they'd do, if they knew he knows where he's going.
The more time goes by the more worried he gets. What if it takes years or even decades to find the timeline he's searching for?
What if he's eighty before he finds her again?
He walks in the street in the rain thinking that he can't live that long! This can't go on that long!
There has to be a way!
And there is, It catches his eyes the next week: They're searching for more volunteers, and this is his chance to get her to join the experiment!
With shaking hands, he knocks to her office door.
She turns her eyes to him as he enters.
This whole time,
all these years,
He thought she's not the same girl.
But now, as he looks at her, he knows he's been fooling himself.
She's exactly the same girl!
Taking away the memories, won't take away who she is.
She's the girl he loves.
The girl he misses, so badly it feels like missing a limb.
The girl he'd wait for thousand years.
This girl behind the desk looking at him,
it's his girl!
And soon she'll know it too!