The End of Fairytales

I.

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy with wild, black hair. He had his mother's eyes, some said, and they called him the Boy-Who-Lived. He possessed both bravery and intelligence, but he was also a wizard, so his evil Aunt and Uncle who feared his powers, locked him in a tiny cupboard beneath the stairs.

In the perfect world that Harry Potter has created in his mind, life is simple. Choices are readily made and always the right ones. Things are either black or white and easily distinguished. Good always triumphs over evil with minimal mess and hardly any clean up, and love lasts forever.

You'd read one of Hermione's fairytales one day near the beginning of school while she took notes on it for her Muggle Studies class and thought that that was how life should be, but you soon reminded yourself that fairytales weren't real, and life doesn't end up like the movies. It's a pity, really, because you think you could enjoy a world like that.

That same year you ended up falling in love. You hadn't meant to and certainly not with him, but somewhere along the line, hate turned into something else entirely. You just wish you could remember where. It was confusing, and you weren't sure where he fit into your black and white world because you didn't want to acknowledge those shades of grey. They made things far too complicated, and you hated to complicate things.

You remember asking Hermione one night in the middle of January as you walked out of the library, "Is it possible to hate someone so fiercely, yet love him so much as well?"

You thought that surely Hermione would know. She always knew the answer, always knew what to do, but this time, she didn't.

"Be careful," was all she'd said before leaving you standing alone in the middle of the corridor, still confused, still desperate for answers.

II.

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy who fell in love with his enemy. Together they crossed the lines between love and hate, but it was not meant to be. For an evil wizard, whose name was spoken in fear and whispers had grown more and more in his power, and he was beginning to gather his legions. War would soon come.

It was a few days before the Leaving Feast that year that Professor Dumbledore stood up with a grave expression on his face and troubled eyes. He announced that Voldemort had officially declared war and had massacred a small Muggle village just outside of London to make it clear. There were gasps and whispers all over the Great Hall as neighbor turned to neighbor with fear on their faces. You caught Draco's eye, but his expression was blank, and he looked away seconds later.

"Azkaban prison was found to be deserted, and we fear that Voldemort's most trusted followers are again at his side."

Students flinched again at the name, and many heads turned to glare at Draco with distrust, but he never acknowledged them. He held his head high, grey eyes trained on the Headmaster. Ever the proud Slytherin.

"I know that you must all wish to return to your families, and the train will arrive at Hogsmeade tomorrow morning to take you all home. I and your teachers will remain to defend the school. Those of you, who wish to stay, may stay, though I highly discourage it. But, I must say, I've come to learn through experience that most of the time, it doesn't matter what I tell you."

There was a pointed look at you, Ron, and Hermione with something like the old twinkle shining in his eyes, and you couldn't help but smile a little.

The school was dismissed moments later to pack, and you tried to find Draco amid the chaos to tell him you were staying, but he'd left already, and you hurried to catch up with Ron and Hermione, deciding you'd speak to him later.

The train left that next morning without you on it. Ron and Hermione stayed behind as well, if only to stick beside you. Seamus and Dean remained as well as Ginny and Neville. Most of the sixth and seventh year Gryffindors stayed, which wasn't really a surprise. With all that bloody Gryffindor bravery, it seemed to be almost expected. What you didn't expect was for Draco to linger.

You found him that morning, sitting by the lake, his back against a tree as he watched the Giant Squid swim figure eights in the water.

"You're still here," you said, more a statement than a question, as you sat down next to him.

"Yeah, well," he began, not looking at you, "I missed the train."

You started to reply, but he cut you off, "Don't think I stayed for you. Because I didn't."

You smiled and said, "I know," then followed his gaze onto the water to watch the squid as it twirled about like an underwater ballet dancer.

He kissed you then, and you forgot everything else.

III.

It's been quite a few months since that day. You're now well into October of what should have been your seventh and final year at Hogwarts, but the war has spilled out around the surrounding area and the school has been turned into a shelter for those seeking refuge. Muggles are running to safe houses all over the world, though the war is spreading quickly and nowhere is truly safe, anymore. Even Hogwarts.

You try not to think about the many familiar faces you've lost to this feud. Thinking about it seems to make it more real. Sometimes you like to sit next to the fireplace in the old Gryffindor Common Room and pretend that it's still Sixth Year before the War began because things were better then. You still knew how to smile, and you had your whole life ahead of you. You had your friends, and you were all immortal. Nothing could hurt you when you were together. Now all you have are unmarked graves and memories that are fading into dust.

You stand by the lake again under a slate-grey sky and stare at nothing because you're numb. You can't think, and the world is slowly collapsing down around you. You read somewhere in the newspapers that still trickle out with news of battles and war tactics, casualties and ways to help in the Cause, that the Ministry has finally fallen. Cornelius Fudge and other Ministry members were murdered during the Siege of London three days ago and Voldemort has now made it his headquarters. You wonder if Mr. Weasley made it out alive.

You look down at your hands, and there's dirt under your fingernails. You have cuts across your arms, but all you can see is red. The blood of the men and women you've been forced to kill in battle, because one side has to win, and you don't want to die. You're only seventeen, but you feel as if you're forty.

But it isn't only these morbid thoughts that fill your mind. It was just yesterday that Draco told you he was leaving. You didn't understand at first, but then it dawned on you. He'd received an owl that morning with the Malfoy family crest on it, and since then, he'd been acting strangely. Only now, do you know what is truly happening. You know what his fate will be. You know what he'll become, what he'll do, and you know how it will end. In your heart of hearts, you've always known how it will end because fairytales are never real. You can't be his white knight. You can't save him from his doom because the trouble with this Damsel in Distress is he doesn't want to be saved, doesn't need to be saved. He is what he is, and you can't--won't change him.

And all you've ever wanted is that perfect world, but you have to remind yourself again that fairytales aren't real, and life doesn't end up like the movies. You hate him for it. You hate him for walking away from you, but at the same time, you know you'll always love him, and your heart is silently breaking.

"Is it possible to hate someone so fiercely, yet love him so much as well?" you'd once asked a girl loaded down with books who was both beautiful and smart.

She's gone now, and you can still feel the ache of her absence. She seemed to know everything there was to know, but she hadn't been able to tell you, and she isn't around anymore for you to ask her again, but it doesn't matter. You already know.

You've always known.

***

"And this is young Harry Potter's room--"

"Harry Potter?"

"Oh yes, didn't you hear? They say he went mad soon after the last battle, and he was sent here. Don't worry, dear, he's harmless. He, usually, just sits at that window all day, talking to himself. It's really quite sad. Poor thing."

(Looks of pity.)

"See, he's starting up again. If you're in here, and he starts babbling nonsense just ignore him."

(A pause as they listen to his talk.)

"Draco - not Draco Malfoy, surely! Isn't that the Death Eater who betrayed him to You-Know Who?"

"I think so. Rumor has it they were in love once."

"What happened to him, do you know?"

"Some people say he died. That poor Harry had to kill him in the end, and that's what drove him mad. I don't believe it though, because a young man came in to visit soon after the Death Eaters were granted amnesty, and I'm quite sure it was him. We haven't seen or heard from him since. I think he came in to say his good-byes."

"How sad."

"Yes. Well, let's move on, and I'll show you the break room."

(A door shuts on the whispered words, "... but I still love you. I still love you.")

***

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy with wild, black hair who fell in love with his enemy, and as all stories must come to a close, so has theirs.

But once upon a time doesn't always end in happily ever after.