Everyday hurts a little more
Harry fell ill. By lunch time the next day, he had been moved to the Hospital Wing for a high fever and the shivers. He was so panicky and delirious that Madam Pomfrey, with Headmaster Dumbledore's approval, gave him some Draught of the Living Dead along with some potions for the sickness. The gryffindor slept deeply for the next 24 hours.
When he came to, his body temperature had dropped to normal. Even though Madam Pomfrey had given him the proper potion to fight it, he still had all the symptoms of a flu; a runny nose, aching, tiredness and a lost of appetite.
Madam Pomfrey was a seasoned nurse and a wise witch, and she knew that there are some things that magic can't heal. But if she had her suppositions, she never brought them up. After a week, Harry was deemed fit and sent back to classes.
When he returned to school, it was crushing to see that everything was still functioning like normal. Pimples, exams, lunches and gossip. Didn't the school realize that the world had come to an end? Harry hated the fact that everything was the same as it always had been. It didn't give him any comfort, because for him, nothing would ever be the same again. He didn't want the world to go on without Draco.
The slytherins had seen a possibility in the tragedy. Some of the sixth-years still used their 'anguish' over the matter as a way to skip lessons with the consent of their Head of House. Borderline murderous thoughts were going through Harry's head as he stood in the snowy courtyard along with the rest of the Care of Magical Creatures class. Well, at least those of them who had bothered to show up. Hagrid's class was the most skived class of them all.
He hated the fact that he had to stand there and pretend that everything was all right, when it so obviously wasn't. He hated the fact that the slytherins were taking advantage of the situation. He hated the wave of sympathy that had coursed through the school towards Pansy Parkinson. It was rumored that she had burst into tears in the girls' bathroom, making it impossible for her to complete her Transfiguration essay.
While he didn't want anybody's sympathy, he despised the fact that his sorrow was not recognized as the only legitimate one. If this was the funeral of Draco Malfoy, he was forced to sit in the back as a casual acquaintance while Pansy Parkinson and all the other vile opportunists were standing in the front, advertising their false affection for the deceased, turning the function to a circus.
Harry took in a deep breath to hold back his tears. He couldn't be doing that in class. Instead he focused on the frozen lake, looming in the distance. An chunk of ice seemed to have dropped into his stomach as he spotted a familiar figure of a blond slytherin standing on the shore.
It wasn't the first time Harry had seen him since that night. Sometimes he would see Draco sitting in the Great Hall at the Slytherin table and at other times the blonde would be walking in to a classroom with a group of slytherins. Harry hadn't spoken to him again. Once when their paths had crossed in the hallway, Draco had done the little nod he always used to do to secretly acknowledge Harry's presence. That was the only time Harry had ever truly fallen completely apart in the presence of others.
The class came to an end and Ron and Hermione started making their way towards the castle.
"Are you coming, mate?" Ron called back to him, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.
"No, you go on ahead" he assured them. It was lunch-time, so the two gryffindors just glanced at each other, shrugged and continued without him.
Ron and Hermione were worried about him, and he knew it too. They had sat with him in the Hospital Wing, talking about school and other pointless things. Harry hadn't really talked, because every time he had tried to form a sentence, may it even have been about the bloody weather, he would have burst into painful, convulsive sobs. No, talking he couldn't really do.
But if Ron and Hermione ever had the urge to force him to talk, to make him confess his secrets and obliterate some of their worries, they hid it well. They tried to show their silent support, and so they never asked him any questions.
Harry turned again to look at the figure standing by the lake. Slowly, he started moving towards it. Originally, he just wanted to get a little closer to the slytherin, just so that he could see him more properly. But before he knew it, he was standing right behind the blond boy, close enough to talk.
Neither of them said or did anything for a long time. Harry was just staring at the slytherin, who was staring at the horizon. Draco's robe was billowing and his blond hair dancing in the wind. Finally Harry let out a long breath and the slytherin turned around.
'Hello Harry' Draco said smiling gently. 'I was watching you.'
Harry frowned. "No you weren't" he said. "You were watching the lake."
Draco chuckled a bit like Harry had said something funny and Harry's eyes were immediately filled with tears. He closed them for a moment, shaking his head and trying to get himself under control. He walked to the trunk and sat down, drawing in some deep breaths.
Harry took off his glasses and wiped the tears from his eyes. "How are you here?" Harry asked with a tired voice. "What are you?"
Draco walked a little closer. 'I'm a fragment of your imagination' he said shrugging. 'A memory, if you will. This is the way you remember Draco Malfoy in your Gryffindor heart.' A smile formed on the slytherin's lips. 'And that would explain why I'm lacking my usual sarcasm.'
Harry put on his glasses and looked at Draco for a moment. "I knew you weren't a ghost" he said quietly.
'No' Draco affirmed. Harry's gaze dropped to the ground.
"Why did you continue on?" Harry asked in the same quiet voice, not looking up. "Why do they all continue? Why didn't you come back as a ghost? I would have come back for you."
Draco didn't say anything for a long time and finally Harry had to look up at him. 'No, you wouldn't have' Draco said seriously to him. 'Not you.' He came to sit beside Harry on the trunk. 'The same way you get only one life, you get only one death' Draco said, looking at the sky. 'You'll understand it when it's your turn.'
Harry looked at the sky for a moment as well. "How is it?" he finally asked. "I mean... death."
'It's fine' Draco replied. 'Serene. Stressless.'
"Carefree?" Harry went on.
'No' was Draco's answer. Harry waited for Draco to elaborate, but he never did.
"So what do you do?" Harry tried another approach.
'I ponder' Draco said, smiling in a way that Harry didn't know if he was being serious or not. 'I think a lot about you' Draco went on. 'I like thinking about you.'
Once again, Harry drew in a long breath in order to stop the ever-present tears from falling. He put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. What was he doing, talking to himself? Was he going crazy? Would it matter if he was?
"Did you know that I loved you?" he whispered without looking up.
'Did you know that you loved me?' came Draco's reply.
"I... don't know" Harry said and lifted his head to look at the lake, still his elbows on his knees. "Yes" he finally said. He could feel Draco smiling by his side, but Harry just felt like crying.
Title of the chapter from Twisted (Everyday Hurts) by Skunk Anansie
A/n: I feel like I should try to excuse myself, but I can't really be doing that. This is the nature of fanfiction, right? But I'm not stupid, I get it. This was a big deal. It was a big deal, because I don't own Draco. JKR does, of course, but so do the HP fans. You didn't want to read this, I get it. But this always was a part of the story.
There were times when I felt like chickening out. That I would just announce the story 'discontinued' after chapter 30, or write a new, happy ending with Draco and Harry retreating to a remote island and having dozens of magically induced babies. But what can I say? I wanted to finish the story, more accurately the story I had started writing. But I promise you, this wasn't just me thinking 'oh, I need a good big plot twist here in the end. I know, Die Draco Die!' No... This always was a part of the story.
I know you posed me some reasonable questions. Hopefully they'll be answered in these last chapters. Probably not completely, but you are clever folk. You'll get it. Why I don't just answer your questions? Because often these things cannot be answered in a few sentences. They are subjective and interpretative... Once again, I'd love to sit down for a pint with you and discuss it all, and save the world while we're at it, but that's not possible...
I'm sorry if I have made you sad, I just hope that somewhere along the way there was also a chapter that made you happy... or at least content. That is one of the themes of this story: Now that you know how it ends, would you rather have not read it to save yourself from the pain?