1 Chapter 15
Staggering into Harry's house, he collapsed into his usual sofa. Harry didn't look up.
"You're late, Mr Malfoy," he said, his tone light and amused, the exact opposite of what Draco felt. "You've never been late before."
"I'm sorry, I had a visitor."
"Oh really? What visitor could have been so important that you were late for me?" asked Harry in a jovial tone.
"Oh, nobody you know," replied Draco with a dismissive wave of his hand. As he did so, he noticed a very crumpled and old looking piece of parchment lying on the table.
"What's that?" he asked. Harry followed his gaze. He dropped his eyes to the floor.
"That's Christian's last letter," he replied quietly. "I was reading it earlier, thinking some things over." Draco was silent for a moment, thinking. At last Harry spoke.
"Could you do me a favour, Draco?"
"Of course, what?"
"Could you write down a shopping list for me as I read out what I need? I normally do it going through the fridge and then have to go and write after everything I find it, but that takes twice as long."
"No problem," said Draco, forcing a grin. I just hope I can still hold a quill, he thought. Catching sight of himself in the mirror across the room, he wondered how Harry had not noticed that something was wrong; he looked so pale. As Harry went through the fridge calling out things as he went, Draco let his mind wander and wrote the list automatically. He considered whether or not to tell Harry the truth about the letters he'd written for Christian, but couldn't make up his mind. Why cause Harry more grief, when he himself was about to die in a few minutes? He didn't know why he'd gone into a public toilets to clean himself up a bit before he came to Harry's, he didn't know the reason that he wouldn't tell Harry he was dying. I guess I'm just a coward, he thought. He started as Harry came over to him, taking the list off the table in front of him.
"Thanks a lot for doing this Draco, it'll make everything…" he trailed off, and stood for a moment looking from Draco to the list. Slowly, not taking his eyes away from Draco's, he moved over to the table and picked up the letter. He opened it slowly, then stood looking at the shopping list and the letter. He looked up at Draco sharply.
"The writing on these two pieces of paper is the same," he said. Draco looked at the floor.
"It was you, wasn't it?" Draco shook his head feebly.
"No.."
"It was you! All the time, all the time you were pretending to be my enemy, and then when you were my friend, you were in love with me!"
"No, Harry, Christian was the one who loved you!"
"You loved me, Draco! You still love me! Admit it!"
"No, Harry, I'm not in love with you!"
"Your protesting is growing old, Draco! Why didn't you tell me before? And why, now, have you finally decided to tell me?" Slowly, Draco lifted his hand from his t-shirt and pulled it up, revealing the bloody wound were the dagger had entered him. Harry gasped.
"Draco! What happened?" Harry asked frantically.
"My father stabbed me," replied Draco faintly. "You must warn people that he's still alive." He laid his head on the back of the sofa.
"Draco!" cried Harry, shaking his shoulders. "Draco, I'll call an ambulance, or something, I'll.."
"Don't," interrupted Draco, putting his arm on Harry's. "It's too late."
"No!" wailed Harry, his eyes filling with tears. "You can't die Draco, I love you!" Draco looked at him.
"I love you too, Harry," he replied. He smiled one last time at Harry, before closing his eyes and letting his head fall backwards.
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Har de har I'm evil, I killed everybody off!! I'm not too keen on this story, but somebody asked me to put it back up on the website so I did. Personally, I prefer more cheerful stories! I just like Cyrano de Bergerac because it was our school play. Toodle pip!! Ooh, and thanks to everybody who reviewed, or is going to… hint hint…
Staggering into Harry's house, he collapsed into his usual sofa. Harry didn't look up.
"You're late, Mr Malfoy," he said, his tone light and amused, the exact opposite of what Draco felt. "You've never been late before."
"I'm sorry, I had a visitor."
"Oh really? What visitor could have been so important that you were late for me?" asked Harry in a jovial tone.
"Oh, nobody you know," replied Draco with a dismissive wave of his hand. As he did so, he noticed a very crumpled and old looking piece of parchment lying on the table.
"What's that?" he asked. Harry followed his gaze. He dropped his eyes to the floor.
"That's Christian's last letter," he replied quietly. "I was reading it earlier, thinking some things over." Draco was silent for a moment, thinking. At last Harry spoke.
"Could you do me a favour, Draco?"
"Of course, what?"
"Could you write down a shopping list for me as I read out what I need? I normally do it going through the fridge and then have to go and write after everything I find it, but that takes twice as long."
"No problem," said Draco, forcing a grin. I just hope I can still hold a quill, he thought. Catching sight of himself in the mirror across the room, he wondered how Harry had not noticed that something was wrong; he looked so pale. As Harry went through the fridge calling out things as he went, Draco let his mind wander and wrote the list automatically. He considered whether or not to tell Harry the truth about the letters he'd written for Christian, but couldn't make up his mind. Why cause Harry more grief, when he himself was about to die in a few minutes? He didn't know why he'd gone into a public toilets to clean himself up a bit before he came to Harry's, he didn't know the reason that he wouldn't tell Harry he was dying. I guess I'm just a coward, he thought. He started as Harry came over to him, taking the list off the table in front of him.
"Thanks a lot for doing this Draco, it'll make everything…" he trailed off, and stood for a moment looking from Draco to the list. Slowly, not taking his eyes away from Draco's, he moved over to the table and picked up the letter. He opened it slowly, then stood looking at the shopping list and the letter. He looked up at Draco sharply.
"The writing on these two pieces of paper is the same," he said. Draco looked at the floor.
"It was you, wasn't it?" Draco shook his head feebly.
"No.."
"It was you! All the time, all the time you were pretending to be my enemy, and then when you were my friend, you were in love with me!"
"No, Harry, Christian was the one who loved you!"
"You loved me, Draco! You still love me! Admit it!"
"No, Harry, I'm not in love with you!"
"Your protesting is growing old, Draco! Why didn't you tell me before? And why, now, have you finally decided to tell me?" Slowly, Draco lifted his hand from his t-shirt and pulled it up, revealing the bloody wound were the dagger had entered him. Harry gasped.
"Draco! What happened?" Harry asked frantically.
"My father stabbed me," replied Draco faintly. "You must warn people that he's still alive." He laid his head on the back of the sofa.
"Draco!" cried Harry, shaking his shoulders. "Draco, I'll call an ambulance, or something, I'll.."
"Don't," interrupted Draco, putting his arm on Harry's. "It's too late."
"No!" wailed Harry, his eyes filling with tears. "You can't die Draco, I love you!" Draco looked at him.
"I love you too, Harry," he replied. He smiled one last time at Harry, before closing his eyes and letting his head fall backwards.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Har de har I'm evil, I killed everybody off!! I'm not too keen on this story, but somebody asked me to put it back up on the website so I did. Personally, I prefer more cheerful stories! I just like Cyrano de Bergerac because it was our school play. Toodle pip!! Ooh, and thanks to everybody who reviewed, or is going to… hint hint…
