If I Could, a harry potter fanfic

Title: If I Could
Author: Whispered Fears (posted on LJ under u/n originallie)
Rating: NC-17

Pairing: H/D
Word Count: 2,770
Summary: At Hogwarts? Harry's reaction to devastating news. A/U

Warnings: Suicide, angst, heartbreak, anger, resentment – the usual suspects.

Disclaimer: I quite clearly do not own the characters; they remain the intellectual property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, possibly Bloomsbury publishing and Ashton Scholastic. Meh, dunno. Seriously though, they aren't mine I'm just borrowing them for a little while 'because they're fun to play with.

I also do not own the song: Suicide Note remains the property of Johnette Napolitano and Lakeshore Records; I just thought it was extremely beautiful.

A/N: Harry/Draco songfic. Song discovered by way of my beautiful little German friend (Leo). I am not condoning suicide ('cause that'd be wrong). Even so, no flames, IF you don't like the subject matter of this particular piece of writing you do not have to read it.

Harry couldn't believe it, surely Ron was mistaken. There was no way on Earth that what his best friend was telling him was true. Unconsciously he moved away from Ron who was watching him timidly, unsure of how to react or even what to say. Both boys looked up as the heavy wooden door to their dorm creaked open. A red eyed Hermione entered, sniffling as she avoided eye contact with Harry.

"Oh Harry," she cried, tears streaming down her splotchy face. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."

The act of Hermione rushing over and throwing her arms around Harry's neck seemed to make the news even more foreign. Surely this was a really bad, and very early, April fool joke. There was no way Hermione would be shedding tears for someone she professed to despise. Therefore this couldn't be true.

Again the heavy door on the other side of the room creaked, Harry moved his head so he could see past Hermione's thick, bushy hair, expecting to see either the person in question or his other dorm mates Neville, Dean and Seamus. Unfortunately for him he was mistaken. Instead standing there was a worn looking Professor McGonagall. Her usual stony exterior showing signs of fatigue and distress.

"Potter," she started, her voice cracking slightly. Clearing her throat she moved closer. "Potter, I need you to come with me."

Shaking his head, Harry pushed Hermione off of him and scrambled to the other side of the bed.

"You're all sick." He shouted. "You're sick. He wouldn't do THAT! You don't know him like I do, he's not like that. He just wouldn't."

"Harry," Hermione said gently, her hand reaching out to take his arm. Staring at her, a horrified expression hewn into his sturdy features he pulled himself away, Hermione's hand flying to her mouth as she held back tears that were threatening to spill again.

"No! You don't get it do you? He wouldn't!"

Every night you wrote another line
With a bloody, broken, bottle
And every day you wish it away
Why don't you pull the pin
On that grenade you cuddle

Harry sat in the cold hospital wing at Hogwarts, Madame Pomfrey fussing needlessly around him as teachers such as Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout lingered unnecessarily at the doorway. Harry barely even noted their presence; his eyes stared fixedly at the body in front of him.

"He shouldn't be here," Madame Pomfrey whispered to the heads of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. "He shouldn't see him like this."

"He wanted to come Poppy." Professor McGonagall told her in a hushed whisper. "He needs to say goodbye."

"Minerva, that's all well and good but look at him. He's not ready to say goodbye, he won't even accept what's happened."

Harry's bright green eyes glistened with tears, Madame Pomfrey's words cutting like a knife.

'He's really gone isn't he?' he thought to himself, the tears burning the backs of his eyes as he stared at the broken body in front of him.

I wanted to believe bodies swinging from trees
Struggling to stand with your head in your hands
A stoic last stand of a dying man

Ron and Hermione had come in to check on him countless times. The sun had set and moon risen and still Harry hadn't moved. Now they sat in Madame Pomfrey's office with Professor McGonagall, occasionally one coming out to check on Harry, trying desperately to make him talk, make him move.

"Ron we can't just make him do it. He has to do it on his terms. I'm not casting any sort of spell on him." Hermione's voice drifted down to Harry's ears, they obviously were over whispering so he couldn't hear them.

"It's not like I want to or want you to, but come on he's been sitting there for 18 hours. It's not healthy. He has to get out of here." Ron countered defensively.

"It might not be 'healthy' but," Hermione stopped suddenly, a deep sigh of defeat following. "I don't know Ron. I want to help him, but we can't. We can't resort to magic to make everything better. He needs to do it on his own terms if he's ever going to move on."

"I'm going to check on him."

Moments later Ron was standing at his side, his hand firmly on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry?" he tried vainly. "Wanna get out of here and get something to eat? Drink? Go upstairs and get some sleep?"

Harry didn't move. He kept his eyes locked on the beautiful face in front of him.

I wanted to believe as I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe as you raised your glass
To your last stand and I wanted to believe
You would win the war in your head
That I did not understand
That I did not understand

Harry's eyelids were becoming heavy. He was so tired but he couldn't move, he couldn't let go, he had to stay. If he left it would be real. It couldn't be, this was all just a bad dream that he couldn't wake up from. Ron and Hermione were still hanging around waiting for him to move or make a sound, their interruptions however were finally less frequent. Both Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey it seemed had come to terms with the fact that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Madame Pomfrey even had started bringing him cups of tea and chocolate every half an hour. He hadn't touched these treats, but she still came back with fresh tea and chocolate.

"Has he said anything Poppy?" Professor McGonagall asked after one such visit to Harry's chair.

"No Minerva. He's just sitting there staring at him."

A loud sigh sounded, quiet footsteps boring into Harry as if they had been magnified.

"If he doesn't move of his own accord, I'm afraid we're going to have to do something." Madame Pomfrey said quietly. "They're coming for the body in the morning."

This was becoming too much, he had to wake up. This nightmare was becoming too much to bear.

"Shut up!" he whispered hoarsely. "Shut up! Shut the fucking hell up!"

"Harry?" Hermione asked, all of them rushing up to the foot of the bed.

Harry turned, staring at them all wildly. His eyes bright with tears again, his body shaking with rage.

"Just fucking shut up!" he shouted at them.

His hands flew up to his messy dark hair, his fingers raking the strands back off of his forehead, his silvery scar shining in the moonlight.

"Harry what's wrong?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"You!" He pointed at her first, then at each of them. "All of you! You're all talking as if he's not coming back. That this is all fucking final. You, you, you just don't get it do you? This isn't fucking real!"

"Harry," Hermione whispered sadly. "Oh Harry, it is real."

Biting his lip he stared at his dearest friend. His head cocking to one side as the tears threatened to spill. Shaking his head he inhaled sharply, slowly letting it out as Hermione came closer.

"It can't be." He mumbled almost soundlessly. "He didn't even say goodbye."

Ron quietly walked up beside Hermione a piece of parchment clenched tightly in his fist. His eyes downcast Ron thrust the parchment forward. Harry's eyes stuck fast to yellowed paper; his hand reaching forward, his fingers dancing in mid air as he pulled them back and forth, not wanting to take what his friend was holding.

Every night the questions poured out

Of your wounded eyes damn dark things

Every day you used to pray

Listen to the black raven sing

You wanted to believe

As you were falling to your knees

Struggling to stand

With your life in your hand

The sad last stand of a broken man

"You fucking bastard!" Harry screamed, lurching forward and hitting his fist into the body on the bed. "You selfish fucking bastard! How could you?"

Tears were streaming down Harry's face, they weren't tears of loss or despair, these were tears of anger and fear. His fists beat down on the slender body.

"How could you? Fucking bastard! How fucking could you?" he cried. "How could you leave me?"

Sniffling his body lurched forward again, this time he collapsed onto the bed. Convulsing; his body racked with sobs as his fingers clenched the sheets; a deep howl of despair sounding as he buried his head into the body on the bed.

Everyone watched him, too shocked to do anything. Hermione was the first to move, her arms wrapping around Ron's neck as she buried her head into his neck, chocking back tormented tears. Professor McGonagall wrapped her arm around Madame Pomfrey who too was crying. None of them made a move towards Harry, instead Professor McGonagall ushered them out of the way; and out of the hospital wing.

I wanted to believe as I watched your world

Crumble in your hands

I wanted to believe as you raised your glass

To your last stand and I wanted to believe

You would win the war in your head

That I did not understand

Harry snuggled into the now cold body, wrapping the cold thin arm around his shoulders desperate to try and find some comfort in them as he had before. Sobbing and clinging to the body with all his might. His hand gripping the tiny waist and pulling the body closer to him, hoping against hope that he might respond.

"Why?" he snuffled. "Why did you have to leave me?"

Pushing himself up he sat at the end of the bed with his face in his hands. Trying to stop the tears he took several deep breaths, exhaling slowly. To no avail the tears kept coming, his heart was pounding so hard he thought it was either going to explode or jump right through his chest.

"Why?" He yelled. "Why? Fucking Why?"

Crawling up the bed again he picked up the cold hands and held them in his, slowly turning them to see the damage. Sniffling he saw the gaping wounds, tears falling harder as he leant down to kiss them better.

"I could have helped you!" he cried. "All I wanted was for you to be happy, but not at the expense of you not being here … with me."

"Harry." A girlish voice called from behind him.

Bleary eyed he looked around, holding on tight to the wrists of his beloved. Spotting Myrtle he groaned lightly and turned back to where he had been. Placing those beautiful hands back on the cold chest where they had been. Sniffling he pushed his glasses up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand; his body still quivering slightly.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"He did say goodbye Harry." She twittered as she floated closer.

At this Harry's head shot around and he stared at her incredulously. Snorting at her he shook his head and pushed his sleeves up.

"He did not. He said 'See you in the morning.'! Is that any kind of fucking goodbye? I think not."

Myrtle suppressed a giggle, floating to the table at the end of the bed, pointing fixedly at the letter Ron had been holding.

"He said goodbye in the only way he knew how." She said earnestly before disappearing through the floor.

I wanted to believe as I watch your world

Crumble in your hands

I wanted to believe as you raised your glass

To your last stand and I wanted to believe

You would win the war in your head

That I did not understand

Still sniffling, trying to hold back an onset of tears; Harry's shaking hand reached out for the carefully folded note. The oh-too-familiar wax seal on the back still intact, turning it over he saw the same neat scrawl he had come to love spell out his name. Whimpering his finger pushed through the gap and broke the seal, his cheek lowering to his shoulder to wipe the tears away. Shaking his head as if to clear it he turned the parchment over his eyes stuck to the first four words. A huge lump forming at the back of his throat made it impossible to breathe and hold back the tears any longer; the tears falling freely as he read on.

To my Dearest Harry,

By now you know what I've done. I just want you to know how sorry I am. I want you to know that you were the only one who made it worth staying for. I want you to know how much I love you. That if I could, I would stay for you and you alone.

I know I never said it enough, in fact I never said it all. But I do Harry, I really do love you which is why writing this is so hard. It's why my choice was so hard to make. You were my light at the end of the tunnel, but even you couldn't help me. I didn't want to burden you with my thoughts; I couldn't do that to you Harry. You have enough to contend with in your life, you didn't need me adding to them.

It hurts me to do this to you. I know that you'll be hurt, that you'll cry. I can just hope that you won't hate me for what I've done. Knowing that you will love me no matter what makes the difference. I want you to move on, remember the good times as much as the bad times. Remember us Harry. Who we were when we were together.

I said I'd see you in the morning; I lied. I want you to know that when I said it I had every intention of seeing you in the morning. But as the night is growing later and my soul darker I'm beginning to lose sight of what makes everything worth it. I don't want to drag you down with me. I want you to be the same old Harry you've always been.

Remember me Potter; remember that I love you with all my heart and soul,

Forever yours,

Draco.

Holding his breath Harry looked up the length of the bed; wiping his nose on his sleeve as he hopped off the edge of the bed. Slowly he walked up to the head of the bed, his eyes closing as he rested his fingertips on the corner of the pillow. Tilting his head to one side he looked lovingly at Draco's peaceful face. His fingers moving over to brush the few strands of hair off of his immaculate milky face. Biting his lip Harry took in every detail of Draco's beautiful face. Forcing the lump back down his throat he stared down at him, trying desperately to comprehend.

"I still don't understand why you left me." He confessed. "I would have done anything to help you. Why couldn't you see that?"

Collapsing into the chair behind him he pulled on knee up to his chest. Resting his forehead on his knee he shook his head.

"Stupid, brainless moron."

Gulping he looked up to the roof, tears once again threatening to fall as he sat there unsure of what to do now.

And the questions pour out

I did not understand

The sound of you falling

I did not understand

As the trembling heart of a man

Did not understand

The sound of a trembling heart

A/N No idea what happened with the layout from half way down, tried to fix it but eh, didn't work.