Loss
by Breninblack
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, settings or names. They are merely my playthings. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Heads up to anyone reading this story: there will be eventual Harry/Draco slash. Some people have an aversion to this particular pairing, so I'm warning you now. Also, this story takes place in Harry's sixth year. While I realize that the sixth book is already out, you must bear in mind that I wrote the bulk of the beginning of this story before it's release.
This story was inspired by Xylodemon's Harry/Draco fic entitled Phoenix Song. It is one of my favorite Draco/Harry fics of all time and I encourge those of the appropriate age to go check it out after they've finished reading and reviewing my story.
Please review! I love to get comments about how you think I could improve the story or just simply stating that you enjoy the story. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Chapter Note: the third installment of Loss. Hope you enjoy! (don't forget to review!)
.:three:.
Harry walked down the hall under his invisibility cloak and towards the front doors. He had been having a particularly rough day. Things had been pleasant enough until Malfoy had come back. Now they were just weird and rather depressing in a way. Since his return back to school Malfoy had become quiet and reserved. He rarely talked to anyone, even his friends. During class he would only answer if called on and when paired with a partner worked silently and patiently. He hadn't rejoined the quidditch team and there wasn't any sign that he wanted to (though, to be truthful, there wasn't any sign that he didn't want to either – there really wasn't any sign of anything at all). Apparently his head injury had cost him a lot more than just his pretty face.
Not that I think he's pretty or anything, Harry thought quickly. It's just that seeing his normally pristine face all bloodied and crushed was a little unnerving.
But that wasn't the depressing part. It was actually kind of nice that Malfoy had become anti-social. There was no snide comments about dreaming and his mistakes. There was no mudblood talk (from Malfoy, at least). And there was no talk about the advantages of being rich. Not that Ron hadn't tried to start things with him, though. He had. Many times. And all to no avail. No, the depressing thing was that everyone was kind of glad that Malfoy was alive and though he did suppose a small part of him (a very small part, mind you) was glad he hadn't died, too, Harry couldn't help but ask why Malfoy got to live after all the things he had done to them and Sirius, who had to spend 12 years in Azkaban despite his innocence, had to die.
He knew it was selfish. He desperately wanted to block the thought out. Malfoy or not, he was still a human being and it wasn't fair to try and justify things like that. As he walked up to the cliffs he noticed a figure sitting against the walls of the back cliffs. The clouds shifted and the silvery hair of the figure shone in the moonlight.
Speak of the devil.
He walked over to Malfoy and stood there. Malfoy didn't say anything. He didn't even acknowledge that there was anyone standing there. He just kept looking out over the cliff.
'Malfoy? What are you doing here?' Harry asked incredulously.
There was no response. There was no movement. In fact it hardly seemed he was breathing. Harry squatted down so he was eye level with Malfoy.
'Malfoy? Are you alright?' Harry asked, this time a little more worried.
There was no movement at first. Then Malfoy turned his head slowly and Harry fell backwards on his arse in surprise. It wasn't the actual turning of his head that had made him jump. It was the fact that there was any movement at all. Malfoy looked at Harry and then turned his head back towards the cliff. Harry seated himself cross legged on the ground next to Malfoy.
'Malfoy? I asked you a question. Are you alright?'
Malfoy turned his head once again. 'Do I look alright to you, Potter? Do you see this scar on my face? Does it look alright? Or did you mean emotionally, because I'm not too well in that field either.'
'Sorry I asked.' Harry said, slightly put off. Of course, you got worried about Malfoy and he just turned around and bit your head off. They sat in silence for several minutes. Harry picked at the dirt on the ground underneath him until he realized Malfoy was staring at him.
'What?' he asked, locking eyes with the boy.
'I met your godfather.'
Harry nearly doubled over. He met Sirius? Sirius is still alive?
'You must have been the one dreaming this time, Malfoy. My godfather's dead,' Harry replied bitterly.
'No, he's not.'
'Yes, he is, Malfoy. You don't know what you're talking about. You weren't there. It wasn't your fault.' Harry hadn't meant to say the last part, but it just slipped.
'No. He's not dead. He's not alive either, but he's not dead.'
'What the hell are you on about, Malfoy?'
'I told you. I met him. Sirius Black, that's your godfather, right?'
'Yes, that's him. But how in hell did you meet him?' Harry knew this was absurd; there was no way that he could have met Sirius. But even so, it was like he had been in a box of blackness and suddenly someone had just poked a holethrough itand daylight was flooding in.
'It was something more like heaven. Or rather somewhere between heaven and earth. Not hell.'
'What the bloody hell are you talking about!' Harry demanded angrily. His hopes kept getting higher and higher and he was all the while sure it was just another trick Malfoy had up his sleeve.
'He told me that he misses you. He's tried to come back, but it never works. He said it's because he's got no body to come back to. He told me to tell you that he still loves you.'
Harry felt his eyes prickle with tears. He was not going to cry in front of Malfoy.
'Why should I believe you?' Despite what 5 years of putting up with bastard-Malfoy was telling him, there was something in Malfoy's voice that inclined Harry to think he was telling the truth.
'How would I know who your godfather is? Why would I bother making up a story like this? I've got better things to do with my time.'
'I don't know. You've gone out of your way in the past to get me in trouble or make my life miserable. Why should I think this is any different?'
'Because, Potter, I've given up on you. Everything I've ever known has been an illusion. Everything I've ever done has been in the name of something false. I've got no reason to go to all the trouble of keeping up my image anymore.'
'Is that why you've been so...civilized since you woke up?'
'Yes,' Malfoy said tersely.
'Why the sudden change of heart?'
'You sure do ask a lot of questions, don't you? Let's just say I met someone who turned everything I've known inside out and leave it at that.'
Harry wasn't sure what Malfoy was up to, but somehow he didn't think it was anything sinister. He had never seen Malfoy like this: subdued and not very malicious. They sat there, neither of them saying anything, and the night went on. Finally Malfoy got up and dusted off his robes.
'Evening, Potter,' he said, as he walked off back towards the castle, leaving Harry alone in the night.