Because we loooooooooooove Harry, this is the happy ending. But you shall fear it anyway.
The angst is coming. There will be no mercy. I'm really sorry I haven't had time to get this up, or write the second ending. I'll try to get it up soon. *bows*
I don't own any of the characters, but I would like to. Please send them to me. J.K. Rowling does, and all of those happy companies do too. I don't own the Christmas carol, "Good King Wenceslas", but it's one of my favorite Christmas songs. If you don't know it, if you've seen the trailer for 'Love Actually', it's what Hugh Grant sings to the little kids. Any spell that isn't real came from an online Latin dictionary.
[Peccata Mundi] - Scripture Two : Blessing
"Malfoy, what is it?"
"It's some old book belonging to a Monk, who was obviously also a wizard. He must of worked on it for ages and ages. Surprised it didn't get burned or destroyed. How the hell did Potter get this?"
"I'm not sure. I've never even seen it before. A Monk? Isn't that a bit ironic?"
"Look - it's how to revive 'The Living Dead'."
"Zombies?"
"No, you prat. As in people who are in comas. This book is Potter's lifesaver."
"You can get Harry back?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure how reliable it is. It's an old spell, and obviously one that's probably never been used. Spells used for the first time are dangerous."
"Ron, he's got a point."
"I don't care! We haven't got anything to loose. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. Right?"
"No. It could kill him. And, it says right here that the person in the coma will not wake up right after the spell is cast. It could take years for him to wake up."
"Malfoy, just try. For Harry."
It's very dark where I am. My only company is a blazing phoenix, but even his light doesn't reveal anything that my mind can't see.
I feel like this is somewhere in between a dream and a nightmare.
I've felt the presence of other people, almost like sensing their ghosts and shadows. Sometimes I think I see Ron or Hermione, but they don't say anything, and just look at me with sad eyes and transparent bodies.
Even more odd is the reoccurring presence of Draco Malfoy. I've always assumed him to be the ideal Slytherin, you know, all serpents and green and silver - but his presence is much more like a lion than anything else. He's been stalking me, daring me to try and run away, because he'll catch me anyway.
His eyes aren't sad. They're the same as they've always been - daring me to try and find my way out of this nightmare.
But he fades just as quickly as everyone else.
"Resurrectio, Victus Mortis…" Draco whispered, and a small pile of magical dust, silver and gold in color, appeared in his hand. He threw it over Harry, and the dust settled, appearing to have no effect on him.
Not even Draco noticed the light in Harry's eyes become brighter, or the smile that ghosted across his lips.
---
It was late autumn, or early winter. Draco was sitting on the couch, watching TV. He'd grown rather addicted to it, but didn't seem to like any shows in particular.
He had his sunglasses on, except he had found a spell to make them look like normal glasses, so he didn't look ridiculous. Wearing sunglasses in the winter? Right.
Ron was to his right, almost totally absorbed by the deep and squishy couch. He had a bowl of popcorn on his lap, and was devouring it in seconds.
"Ron, save some for me!" Hermione begged, as Ron grinned and ate another handful. "What are you two watching, anyway?"
"The Mummy. You'll like it, Mione. It has Ancient Egyptian magic." Ron grinned as Hermione's eyes were suddenly locked on the screen, and she absently mindedly almost sat on Ron when she moved for the couch.
They all sat in silence, shifting their positions every so often.
---
At the end of the movie, Hermione stood up and stretched.
"I'm going to go make some tea. Draco, come with me. You're much more help than that Weasley."
Ron spluttered, and Draco could only laugh. The blonde boy stood up, and followed Hermione into the kitchen.
---
The phoenix, who has stayed with me for as long as I've been here, suddenly takes flight, as gold and silver dust began to fall from what I assumed was above me.
I reach out, and try to grab a hold of it's legs, hoping that will take me out of this darkness.
But I miss again, and start to fall. The blackness beneath me has given way, and I can feel my stomach drop.
Something grabs my wrist, and tries to haul me up. I try to find something to hold onto, but this world I'm in is nothing but an endless abyss.
I almost hear words, like he's talking to me from far away. Lifting my other arm, another hand grabs it.
Light bursts behind who - or whatever is helping me, and he lets go.
There isn't that falling sensation, but a floating one.
Pain, a feeling I haven't felt for the longest time, shoots up my back, and I cry out.
---
Hermione yelped, dropping the cup she was holding. It smashed against the tile floor, and Draco looked to the hallway that lead to Harry's room.
"What the hell was that?" Ron calls from the other room, and Hermione turns to Draco with wide eyes and shaking hands.
"What did it sound like, Weasley? It was a scream." He responds, his voice cool.
Rom grumbled, and joined the two in the kitchen. Hermione had already fixed the shattered cup, but she was still collecting herself.
"Was that Harry, Draco?" Hermione dares to hope, and Draco shrugs, indifferent.
"Could have been Potter. Probably starting to wake up. If not, we either have a banshee problem, or some Dementors."
Ron sighs, and runs a hand through his fiery hair. It's been two years since Malfoy did that weird monk spell thing on Harry, and he personally had almost lost hope.
Malfoy, as he always was, seemed neutral on the subject. He still called Harry "Potter", still made fun of him and Hermione (perhaps more teasingly than insulting, though), and still had the same smirk and glare as he always did. However, Ron noticed he seemed to cough when he was irritated. Must be some thing he learned from seven years with Snape.
They're just playing a waiting game, against the all of their biological clocks. Every day is another lost hope, but every tomorrow is a brighter one…
---
Draco Malfoy was lounging on the couch, spread out like some prince.
Ron grunted, and shoved his legs away, and the other scowled. He chucked the remote at Ron's head, but it fell too short and landed by his hand.
Smug, the Weasley channel flipped until they rested on some Muggle news channel.
Yawning, Draco sat up, and promptly marched out of the room, mumbling something about tea and giving him a piece of his mind.
Ron snickered, and changed the channel.
However, he didn't seen Draco come in through the other doorway, snatch the remote out of Ron's hands, and sit down on the couch again.
Ron pouted, and Draco just watched the TV, as smug as ever.
---
"Malfoy, please, tell me what you've gotten me! I know you've put a disillusion charm on it. I'm probably sitting on it." Hermione huffed, acting like she was fourteen again. Draco smirked, and shook his head.
"It's a surprise, Granger. You can't rush Christmas."
However, Draco wasn't sure if his present would arrive on time.
---
"Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how.
I can go no longer!"
It was Christmastime all over again. That damned Wizarding radio played in his head until he fell asleep, and it followed him everywhere. Ron and Hermione were singing to it constantly, which didn't help with Draco's mental stability one bit. His glasses were sliding down his nose, and he pushed them up irritably.
"Oh, shut up!" He screamed, and heard giggles and laughter from the kitchen. However, the two just continued their verse of 'Good King Wenceslas', Ron's tenor voice booming.
"Ark my footsteps good my page, tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shalt find the winter's rage, freeze thy blood less coldly!"
Draco rubbed his temples, and prayed for mercy. Hermione came in, laughter evident in her voice.
"In his masters steps he trod, where the snow lay dented,
Heat was in the very sod, which the Saint had printed."
The two seemed to take a break for breath. What the ex-heir to the Malfoy Manor didn't expect, though, was the humming that came from the other doorway.
Turning his head, he met the sleepy green eyes of Harry Potter. A smirk twitched on his face, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,"
Harry looked towards the kitchen, smiling at the happy, out-of-tune voices of his two old friends.
"Miss me much?" He took a seat next to the blonde haired young man, who rolled his eyes, still lounging like a spoiled Persian cat.
"Hardly. Took you long enough." Harry laughed at this, but it was quiet, as if he was trying to remember how.
The two in the kitchen burst into their finale, their voices suddenly powerful and in-tune.
"Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing!"
The entire house was silent for a moment, before Ron and Hermione burst into laughter.
"Weasley," Draco called casually, as if asking what day it was. "You know those ever so fashionable glasses you gave me a few years ago?"
"Yes Malfoy, of course, you are a ravishing beast."
Draco grinned at Potter, who was holding back laughter. He put a finger to his lips, and Harry agreed to be silent for now.
"Yes, I know about that, Weasley, you tell me every day, but can they sense ghosts?"
"Don't be a prat, Malfoy. You know they can't do that." Ron sounded irritated, but not badly. Good, because he was going to give them both the best present they could ever hope for.
"Well then get your arse over here, and tell me who's sitting next to me."
"Malfoy, are you hallucinating again?" Ron appeared in the doorway, but recoiled when he saw who was sitting next to him. His mouth slackened, and he paled.
"H-h-hermione?" He stuttered, and Harry laughed. "Please come here and tell me I'm not crazy."
"You and Malfoy, Ron? I hope it's not contagious." She appeared next to the taller boy, and she followed Ron's eyes to the figure sitting next to the blonde man. She gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
"Isn't he precious?" Malfoy tugged at Harry's cheek, and the 'present' rolled his eyes. "I thought he'd be perfect, but I didn't have time to wrap him. I hope that's okay."
-------------
Pergo?
(Continue?)