Too Late

Harry Potter walked down the corridor, almost bent double and clutching his stomach. He knew he should have gone to the hospital wing first thing that morning, but he couldn't let Draco down. Again.

Draco was already there, wearing a sneer that had been familiar so long ago, but that Harry hadn't seen in some time.

"So Harry," he said nastily. "You finally managed to turn up. What took you so long?" Harry could have cried. His stomach hurt so badly. He sank down onto his knees, still clutching his abdomen.

"Aren't I going to get an apology?" Draco asked, ignoring the pain that Harry was in.

"I'm...sorry," Harry gasped, trying more than anything to concentrate on breathing. "I...love...you." Draco snorted.

"I've heard that one before. How can you love me? You made a fool out of me, you stood me up, and you embarrassed me in front of the whole school. Is 'sorry' the best you can do?"

"I'm...so...sorry," he said roughly, as the pain intensified and his knees gave way to the hard floor. "I...love...you...so...much."

"Oh save your breath. I never even want to see you again. Go to hell, Potter." Draco turned on his heels and stomped off. Harry tried to get up from the floor but each time he did he was struck by another sharp, shooting burst of pain. It hurt so much he wanted to throw up, but he hadn't eaten anything. It hurt so much that he wanted to die.

A few minutes later a kindly Ravenclaw found him, picked him up and helped him to the hospital wing. He passed out on the way.

*

When Harry woke he found that he was in a hospital bed and wearing pyjamas. His stomach still hurt a lot but it seemed less than before. There were hushed whispers coming from outside his cubicle, but he couldn't hear what was being said, only snatches of it.

"Terrible, just awful...nothing we can do...prepare him for the worst...yes, of course...no, not the students...yes, strong potions...call Severus."

Whoever they were discussing, the prognosis did not seem good. Then, with a rustle, the curtains of his cubicle parted and Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey entered. Neither smiled, and Madam Pomfrey's face was grey and ashen. Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry, his eyes frank and honest.

"I'm very sorry, Harry. Your appendix burst. If we had caught it in time...well, the point is we didn't. I'm so sorry, my boy. There's really nothing we can do for you now. Madam Pomfrey will get Professor Snape to send up some strong painkilling potions. Just prepare yourself for the end, Harry. It won't be long now." Harry looked stricken.

"Is there nothing you can do? Am I dying?" Dumbledore nodded sadly, a tear dripping onto the bed.

"I'm afraid you are. We can make your last hours as painless as possible, but in the end we cannot save you. Is there anyone you'd like to see?" Harry thought about this for a moment. There was really only one person he wanted to see, the boy he loved, but the same boy also hated him. Why trouble him now. Maybe Draco would be happier if he were dead.

"I'd like to see Ron and Hermione, please. Only don't tell them I'm dying. I wouldn't want to upset them any more than is necessary."

"Very well," said Dumbledore gravely.

"How long do I have left, Professor?" Harry asked.

"It is impossible to say." At this point Madam Pomfrey was blubbering into her apron. Dumbledore led her out of the cubicle, his hand resting lightly on her convulsing shoulders.

"He'll be dead by the evening," she sobbed, a little too loudly because Harry heard every word.

"I know, Poppy," Dumbledore replied. "I know."

*

"So when will you be out?" Ron asked. Harry had to try not to alternately smile and weep. This was irony at its most cruel and bitter. He had a sudden impulse to tell them everything, but when he looked at their bright, shining faces he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"A day or two, at the most," he said, being overly cheerful.

"Well we'll go now, and let you rest," said Hermione. Harry wanted to say no, to ask them to stay and enjoy his last few hours, but remained silent. Just as they were leaving he plucked up the courage to speak.

"Can you wait outside a second? I just need to ask Madam Pomfrey something in private." They stepped out of the cubicle. Madam Pomfrey entered it, mopping at her eyes.

"Can you tell them? Please? I need them to know before I'm gone. I need to let them say goodbye." Madam Pomfrey blew her nose and nodded. The she went out again. Although Harry couldn't hear what was being said, he knew when she had told them the terrible news because of Hermione's terrible wail. She rushed back in and flung herself at Harry, holding his tightly. Unfortunately she also put a lot of pressure on his stomach, which was awfully tender, and her cried out in pain.

"Oh Harry," she sobbed. "I don't want to lose you!"

*

"Did you hear about Harry Potter?" Blaise Zabini asked Draco at dinner that night. "He's dying!" Draco almost choked on his pumpkin juice.

"What?" Blaise asked. "I thought you hated him!"

"I do," Draco replied anger rising in his throat. "Doesn't mean I want him to die!" Blaise shrugged, and returned to buttering his roll, whilst Draco leapt up and ran out of the Great Hall.

When he arrived at the hospital wing he was breathless, and his eyes prickled with tears. He saw the Weasel leading the frizzy mudblood away from the hospital; her face buried in her hands, and feared that he had come too late.

When he burst through the door he was met by the sad face of the headmaster.

"He's been talking about you, Draco. He's very near the end." Draco nodded, gulped and thrust open the cubicle curtains. He fell to his knees by the side of Harry's bed, clutched the dying boy's hand and began to weep into the duvet.

"Oh God, Harry, this is all my fault, I'm so sorry, I love you so much it hurts, please, please, oh please don't die on me. Not now, not after all we've been through."

Harry opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at Draco.

"I hoped you'd come. Wanted you to know I really am sorry. And I do love you, really I do. See you in the next life, dear." Draco was crying his eyes out. His face was puffy and wet, and a few flicks of saturated hair were stuck to the side of his cheek.

"Oh Harry, don't talk like that. You're going to be all right! You're going to live, and get better, and we'll always be together. I'll look after you; I'll nurse you back to health. We could maybe get a little cottage by the sea or something. Juts don't leave me, Harry, please don't leave me. I'll do anything you want."

"It's too late for me, Draco. Be strong for my sake. Talk to Ron and Hermione, tell them about our love. Tell everyone. Live for me, Draco, and live for the day. Life is short, make the most of it." He pushed himself up off the bed and kissed Draco softly on the head. Then he lay back and shut his eyes. That was when Draco knew that all hope was lost, that the only person he had truly loved would soon, and that it was all his fault.

Harry was right. Life was short. But Draco also knew that he couldn't live without Harry. He felt around in his robe pocket for something his father had given him on his last birthday.

"If you need to use this, son, use it. Always remember, die with honour and dignity."

Those had been the words that had accompanied the small vial of lethal poison. This was honour, Draco supposed. Dying for love.

He swallowed the contents in one gulp, got up onto the bed and waited to die with his one true love.

There was a rustling as the curtains parted and Dumbledore entered. He saw the two boys lying on the bed, each too far gone for any chance of salvation. Madam Pomfrey gasped in horror when she saw the scene.

"In death they are together," said Dumbledore sadly, and closed the curtains one last time.