Disclaimer: I dont Own Harry potter Books/Movies

A/N I never intended to make this into a story, or anything more then a One Shot. But due to many people asking for more, ithought aaah what the heck.So i decided the best way to take this is in a series of One Shots to tell the story so it's consistent, I don't know if it's anything but repeating -sighs- Oh well we shall see! Oki Answering a few reviews here.(Not all even though i wish i could hehe)Oh yeah, I wrote both poems!

Immortal Tears of Hmm i would make Harry come back but that would be to nice :P -feels this story shall forever stay angsty-

Princesspepper -nods- I wrote the poem, i write all the poems you see in my stories (well i think so far i have, if not it says so in the story) Good thing you could imagine the visuals I put in there, I was going for that. :)

xxphatxbaybeexx Tried my best to explain their feelings a little more, but i still feel it's a lil choppy ;.;

lampshadesrgreat -nods- It's kind of my story for saying no to suicide, because i once was in Harry's situation (minus dieing) and i realized how much i was hurting everyone I cared for. I know very well what your cousin went through, it's good to hear someone else is trying to fight it :)

Sorry for the long answers ;.; Here's the story now :P

Present Absence

I don't know where you are

I can't tell if you're listening,

I wish you were hear with us now,

It's hard to live without your presence.

Ron stared at the dormitory beds. The number of beds was not right; there was one missing, Harry's. If Ron had known how lost and weak Harry was, he would have made Harry get help, he would have helped Harry. Ron could not forgive himself for his mistake.

He had known Harry felt like he couldn't hold on, why didn't he help Harry at the time? He had been so stupid again! Ron sat down on his bed and looked at the empty space where Harry's bed would have been and felt a tears drip down from his eyes; he had lost his best friend forever.

Ron looked at his tattered trunk, old and used. Kind of the way Malfoy had looked on the train: old, used, dead even. Hermione herself had gone to speak with him when they walked into the compartment. Ron was surprised when she sat down beside him and said, "We lost him too." Why would she comfort him after all he had said to them?

Ron suddenly knew why when Malfoy had broken down in tears, his dark yes and pale skin contrasting with the black robes Malfoy wore; Malfoy was suffering from the loss of a lover, not only just a friend. He looked sickly, and his eyes seemed blood shot. The Malfoy who had tormented them for six years was dead, replaced with a ghost of a human. Had Harry cared for Malfoy as much as Malfoy seemed to care for Harry? The answer seemed apparent.

Maybe Harry had not been lost, just dead with pain like Malfoy was. Ron frowned at this idea that shot through his head. Harry had needed to be healed from his pain, so did Malfoy. He would fix his mistake, and help Malfoy; he'd make it up to Harry by helping Malfoy. Ron would tell Hermione tomorrow that they should help Malfoy before they lost another to pain.

You left us for something less painful,

We don't know how you feel,

Do you still know us?

Or have you forgotten.

Hermione stared at the potions assignment in front of her. It was relatively easy she knew, but something was wrong in her routine of school. For her last and final year Harry and Ron were not there to laugh at her for going crazy over the essays they were set. Ron surprisingly wanted to try and help Malfoy, who in all respect did look horrible.

Hermione had thought about it, and she did indeed agree with Ron. Malfoy was hurting because of Harry's death, they all were. Maybe they could help him cope, and ease the pain a little of Harry's death. Hermione still wondered why Harry had committed suicide, but it did not help to think madly about it.

Hermione wondered if Harry cared about them now that he was dead. He wasn't a ghost, so he felt that he had nothing left to live for. Hermione had stopped crying over his death, but whenever she thought about Harry her throat would clench up and she fought off tears willing to break through.

Hermione glanced at her watch, silver rings encasing a white background and silver hands pointing out that it was 8:00. Hermione let out a deep breath she had not been aware of holding, packing away her assignment into her brown book bag. She pushed her bushy brown hair out of her face, heading for the door.

Hermione didn't know how well this year was going to go now that Harry was gone, but she would help Ron and Malfoy get through it. She owed Harry that much to protect someone he might have loved.

You're memory is there,

If your body is not.

Not many talk about you,

You never cared much for gossip…

Finally got your wish.

The newspapers printed new things; they no longer featured 'The Boy Who Lived.' The famous wizard was out of the tabloids, out of the spotlight, out of the current fame. If people mentioned his name it was in bedtime stories or talks about Voldemort and how he was defeated.

On a dark canal, lighted only by muggle electric lights and a half moon, stood a boy. He was not anything special; he looked nothing special, he was normal. He moved along the lonely gravel path as the water trickled along its slow way.

Sitting on a bench silently he admired how the water moved, reflected the lights off its surface. Suddenly he felt a cold wind and shivered, unaware of the apparition forming in the dark mist behind him. He turned around and saw the mist forming into a person, and screamed.

All of a sudden the mist wavered away into droplets of water. No longer was it mist, water, or anything at all, and the boy wondered if he had imagined it all. He went back to admiring the water, clearing his head of his simple normal life troubles. But he never noticed the content face that formed from behind him.

Maybe Harry did feel in death, but no one was to ever know that.

The one's who miss you,

Truly did love you.

You hurt them badly,

And they try to move on with life,

But your absence is always present.

Draco sat on the bench in the courtyard, drawing idly with his wand in the sand beneath his feet. One month without Harry and the chill he felt inside had never ceased, it had never grown, but it was enough to drive him mad.

He had tried to date some girl in his house, but the chill he felt just made it more unbearable to be in the arms of another. He missed Harry, and Harry never did come to him in dreams or anything. His absence from Draco's life was the most apparent thing Draco was sure of at the moment.

Draco didn't understand it, but sometimes he felt like he was being watched, he even imagined it was Harry, but it never was. He would turn his head and nothing would be there, just shadows or lights.

Amazingly enough as anything, Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley, Weasley for Merlin's Beard, were getting along! Ron, as Draco now called him, was very helpful in getting Draco's mind off Harry. Ron would play chess with him, which Draco found actually challenging for once.

No one could replace the small kisses and touches Harry gave him last year, with the help of Hermione Granger, hey mudbloods weren't that bad, Ron Weasley, never judge someone by their name again, Draco didn't feel so alone.

He was actually starting to pay attention to his looks again, but he never wanted to impress anyone anymore. Who was there to impress if it wasn't Harry? Draco sat up and stopped playing with the sand looking up at the stars and wondering again, 'Is Harry watching these with me?'

His response was a light flickering in the distance.

Review!! I wanna know if it sounds like it goes with Selfish Death or just chuck the idea of continueing :P I hear Sefish Death made many of the redears cry...guess its okay for the author to admit to her eyes misting up while she wrote it hehe..