thanks so much to my beta, Becca. i actually have a beta for one of my stories! yay! hurrah! erm, anyways, yeah, thanks chica. your the best :D
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Magic. It is the backbone of the wizarding community. Some say that it is a living, breathing entity, and thus should not be abused. This, however, is simply a theory, and remains unproven.
But what if magic was taken away? Tampered with, stripped of its usual properties and given new ones? Could the wizarding world truly survive such a catastrophe?
No, they could not. That was a given, proven fact. Draco knew it with a certainty that he wished he had never had the misfortune of experiencing.
The Ministry of Magic was in shambles -- there was no longer any minister to speak of, seeing as Cornelius Fudge had hung himself with the stripping away of his magic.
Suicide had been pretty common, in the early days following the catastrophe. Too many people saw their magic as more important than their lives. Too many people believed they were nothing without it.
Draco wasn't sure why he hadn't taken his own life, confined to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Nor was he sure why none of the others had. But he was alive -- and so was Harry.
And that was the most confusing part of it all. How, exactly, was Harry Potter alive?
Draco could remember as if it was yesterday, walking into the Great Hall to find it littered with body parts, most of the time with one arm several yards from its brother, as if every single person had exploded from the inside out.
And Harry had been there, dead as all the rest, although his body had been more or less left intact.
So how was Harry here, sleeping in bed with him?
Draco sighed softly, reaching over to brush a wayward strand of inky black hair out of Harry's eyes, smiling gently as Harry made a small sound of contentment, leaning into the touch before settling back down. Grinning foolishly now, Draco finally laid back down beside the raven-haired boy, wrapping an arm around his middle and settling his head on Harry's shoulder as he sighed contentedly and finally allowed sleep to overtake him.
Harry woke to feel something heavy resting against his right shoulder. Turning his head slightly to look at the object, he had to blink a couple of times to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating.
Draco Malfoy was currently sleeping with his head pillowed on Harry's shoulder, pressed up as tight against the raven-haired boy as he could possibly get. And that left quite a bit of room on the other side of the bed.
It was then that Harry noticed the lack of his glasses. And the funny thing was, he could see just fine without them. Brow furrowing in confusion, Harry mentally shrugged his shoulders. Everything else was so focusing, backwards and inside out, why not add his eyesight to the mix?
Slowly and carefully extricating himself from the other boy's grasp, Harry stood and stretched, wincing slightly as his cramped muscles protested against the sudden movement.
The last thing that he remembered was doubling over with a sudden, inexplicable pain. Then........ nothing. It was blank from that point on.
He needed to find out what had happened, and he needed to do that alone. And, well........ to be honest, Harry wasn't sure how much more of "nice Draco" he could handle.