Follow Me

Follow Me

It was two months before Harry Potter's nineteenth birthday, and three weeks before the first anniversary of Voldemort's death. Of course, Harry wasn't thinking about that. He was worried. Draco wasn't there.

He had been due back from Hogwarts the night before, but Harry hadn't been overly worried. He had probably just been tired, or some such matter. But now, it was the next afternoon and Draco still hadn't come home. So Harry worried.

When Harry worried, he usually got himself into trouble. This time, he knew Draco wouldn't appreciated any trouble Harry would get up to on his behalf, so Harry tried to be useful. He packed up four bags of things they would need in three weeks. Everything else they would leave behind.

Harry was just closing the buckles on the last bag when someone called his name from the sitting room. Harry walked in and saw Neville Longbottom's face in his fire.

"Hello, Neville," he said, almost cheerfully. "How's Hogwarts? Is Draco still there?"

Then, Harry finally noticed Neville's expression. It was tight and drawn, as if he knew something horrible and didn't really want to share it, but he was about to anyway. His face tightened even more at Draco's name.

"What's happened?" Harry asked.

"Oh, Harry," Neville said. "You've got to come quickly. Draco's in bad shape."

That was all Harry needed. He grabbed his cloak and started towards the fire.

"Then, stand back, Nev. I'm coming through."

A moment later, Harry collected his dizzy thoughts and recognized the Hospital Wing. The hand that had appeared around his heart at Neville's words tightened. Then, he saw Draco.

To his surprise, his legs did not give out. Instead, they carried him across the room to Draco's side.

His lover was abnormally pale and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face. The hands resting above the coverlet shook and his eyes were dilated and darted to and fro, following invisible objects.

"What's happened? What's wrong with him?" Harry's voice was strained, with worry and anger.

"I don't know how it happened, Harry," Madam Pomfrey said. "But he's been poisoned."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? How? By what?"

Madam Pomfrey dropped her gaze. "We don't know how, but it's belladonna. He must have eaten or drunk some, but we've no idea how it happened. There's nothing I can do."

The fist around Harry's heart clenched so tight that his eyes watered.

"Oh God."

He turned to Draco and stared. The beautiful blond hair that Harry loved to run his fingers through lay limp on the pillow. A dry tongue that Harry knew was very skilled at pleasing came out to lick drier lips often. Murmured words that were incomprehensible reached Harry's ears, and a tear fell from his eyes.

He fell on his knees beside the low bed and took a cloth from the bedside table. He wiped at the sweat on Draco's brow and carefully touched his cheek.

"Draco?" he whispered.

Draco's dilated eyes whizzed back and forth, searching for him.

"Harry?" Draco's voice was as cracked and dry as his lips. "Where are you? I can't see you."

More tears.

"Oh, Draco. I'm here. I'm right by your side. I won't leave you."

Draco's lips twitched up into a smile, and a few drops of blood appeared on them as the skin pulled and cracked. Harry gently wiped them away with the cloth.

"I knew you'd come for me," Draco whispered. "You always come."

"I'm here, Draco. I'll always come. I promised, remember?"

A door opened and shut as Madam Pomfrey and Neville left the room, but Harry did not notice. All he saw was Draco's face, and all he heard were Draco's words and his ragged breathing.

"I remember. You said you'd come for me, and I said I'd always follow."

Harry nodded, though he wasn't sure that Draco could see him. His eyes were darting here and there, but they never once stayed on Harry.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly. "You can't go, Draco. You can't follow me where I'm not going."

Draco laughed. The sound pained Harry. Draco's laugh had always been light, and cheery, like bells, or scornful and sarcastic. He'd never heard Draco laugh like this before. It was dry and harsh. It caught on something and died out. It was the most depressing laugh that Harry had ever heard.

"It's my turn to go first, Harry. You must follow me this time. Please, don't hurry."

Harry involuntarily let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a sob.

"Don't go, Draco. Be strong. We've got so much to do. We have plans. You can't leave me."

Draco smiled again, and his lips cracked more.

"I worry for you without me, Harry."

"I am nothing without you. Don't leave me, Draco."

Draco coughed and then sighed. "I can't help it. Take care of yourself, please."

A series of shudders went through Draco and his eyes closed.

"Draco? Don't go. I love you."

Harry reached down to Draco's wrist and felt for a heartbeat. There, under his finger, was the throb of flowing blood. It was fast and irregular. Harry felt it for several minutes while talking softly to Draco.

"Draco. Come back. I need you. We have plans remember. I packed our things today. We can go any time you want. Tomorrow, even. We'll run away, and no one will ever find us. We'll be free. We can travel the world and see everything. Then, you can pick your favourite place, and we can stay there for as long as you like. We can grow old together, Draco, and no one will be able to separate us. Please, don't leave me."

Afterwards, Harry wasn't able to tell just when he stopped feeling the pulse. It was Harry's scream of rage and grief that drew Madam Pomfrey and Neville back into the room. It was some time before Harry would let anyone near Draco's body.

****

Harry stood at the front of the Great Hall on the dais that held the staff table and looked around to see who was there. Everyone who had fought in the War and survived had come for the one-year anniversary of Voldemort's demise.

Ron and Hermione with their six-month-old girl. Ginny, still wearing black for Colin after a year, with Dennis at her elbow. Seamus and Dean came from their London flat, looking like the happy couple they always had been. Oliver came with haunted eyes that still looked for Percy at every sight of red hair. George, with his eyes ever following Oliver's movements. Lee Jordan came with Fred and Angelina, and he alternated between gazing fondly at George and glaring at Oliver. Padma was there with Justin and a group of girls, looking oddly alone without her sister. Justin put his arm around her when she seemed to sadden. Neville was already at Hogwarts, being the Herbology professor, and he stuck with Blaise, who was the new Charms professor, all night. Zacharias, who was the new Arithmancy professor, stayed solitary, talking with people who sought him out, but never going to anyone else. He hadn't changed a bit.

At a glance, it was almost as easy to tell who wasn't there, as who was. Padma looked like half of a pair without Parvati. It felt strange to see Angelina without seeing Katie and Alicia. There was no Luna, gazing dreamily into space. Harry never thought he would miss Lavender's inane chatter, but he found he did. Ernie may have been sort of pompous, but Harry missed that too. He'd never really noticed Hannah much during school, but he found himself missing her quiet cheer as well. There were just so many people that they had lost.

The only difference was they'd died during the War, during the fight. Draco had not. He had survived, and by all rights, he should be at the party. Instead, he was somewhere else, with Parvati, Lavender, Colin and the rest. Harry blinked back tears as Zacharias approached him.

"Make a toast, Harry?" he asked loudly, holding out a large goblet of wine and drawing the attention of most of the room.

Harry smiled thinly and accepted. He looked into the goblet and paused. Small dark green flecks were floating in his drink. Small, but many. Understanding washed over him like a wave.

"So, that's how it is," he said softly, looking at Zacharias.

Zacharias didn't flinch or look in any way worried. He stayed exactly the same, as if he knew what Harry was going to do and it was exactly what he wanted to happen. Harry turned from him to face the crowd of people waiting for his toast.

"Friends, you are here to celebrate Voldemort's defeat," he began.

A short cheer rose out of the crowd at his words, but died quickly at the look on his face.

"Each and every one of you had different reasons to take part in the War. For some of you, it was to settle personal scores." He glanced at Neville.

"For others, it was to protect the one you love." He looked at Blaise, who looked at Neville lovingly.

"Some of you wanted to make the world safer for future generations." He smiled at Ron, Hermione and their child.

"And some of you just had an intrinsic idea of good and evil." He thought of Luna's dreamy, but determined look before she went into battle.

"What ever your reasons were, they brought you through to where you are today. My reasons did too. And they will bring me to where I am tomorrow."

He paused and scanned the crowd, trying to memorize every face, as though he hadn't done that already.

"You see, my reasons were very different from yours. Obviously, I know that Voldemort was evil and had to be stopped, but in all honesty, if that had been my only reason, I would have been out of England years ago."

He noted the shocked and astonished faces in the crowd before continuing. "And, it wasn't for revenge. I grieved for my dead, just like everyone, but I would not have worked so tirelessly just for vengeance." More shocked faces.

"No, I fought Voldemort for three things. I fought him so I could have the chance to be myself, for peace and for family. Really, that's all I've ever wanted."

Harry paused for breath and sighed. "From the moment I stepped into the wizarding world, I've been asked to be something I'm not, a hero. I never wanted to be one, and I'm certainly not a very good one. In the end, defeating Voldemort was about giving myself a chance to leave England and start my life with no Boy-Who-Lived following me about."

Now, Harry saw confusion along with the shock. Apparently, not wanting to be a hero was doubtful to some.

"The second thing I fought for was peace, but not like most of you would think. I didn't especially want peace for the wizarding world, though that would be nice. I fought for peace for me. I fought so that I wouldn't have someone trying to kill me annually. So, I could live my life without being bothered by Death Eaters and evil plans. I know it may sound selfish, but those are the facts of the matter.

"The most important thing I fought for, of course, is family. Ever since I met them, the Weasleys have been like my family." He saw Ron smile. He felt a slight pang of guilt for what he was about to reveal.

"Being like family is not the same as being family, I've found. I've wanted real family. Someone I can call my own. Someone I belonged to in turn. So I fought for that, for a real family of my own.

"I almost had it too. A family of my own was so close I could touch it. But it was taken away from me."

The looks on his friends' faces showed they knew who he was talking about.

Harry sighed. "We were going to leave you know. I had the bags packed and everything. We were going to travel the world and see everything. We would have left tomorrow and been in Canada by nightfall."

Harry gave a little chuckle there. "Draco wanted to see the C.N. Tower. I thought that was kind of a silly thing to want to see, but he wanted to go. So, I bought Floo reservations."

"I can never have that now. He isn't coming back. You and I both know it. I suppose someone wanted to get rid of Harry Potter, and what better way than through his heart."

He paused, once more memorizing their faces before he lifted his goblet. "So, I propose a toast." Everyone raised their glasses. "May your lives be longer and happier than mine."

He raised the wine to his lips and drank deeply. When the goblet was empty he looked out to see no one else had drunk. He smiled bitterly, and clutched his stomach as the contents of it began to whirl. He doubled over and as he bent he saw Hermione's glass fall to the floor with a crash.

He fell as well and people scrambled towards him. Before his vision faded to black, he saw the spilt wine.

Wine covered flagstones, he thought. Now, where have I seen that before?

~*~*~

Ron and Hermione sat in the Hospital Wing that night watching over Harry's bedside. He was feverish, delusional, and shaking. His lips were dry and cracked. His breathing was irregular and grating. Every so often, he'd be seized in a coughing fit.

Through it all, he mumbled. That alone was enough to send Hermione into tears. He mumbled to things that he alone could see. Mostly, it was Draco.

In the place of the Hospital Wing's ceiling, Harry saw blue skies. Blue skies, with white, puffy, clouds and the occasional bird. Above him, flying high in that sky was Draco, zipping higher and higher on his broomstick.

Come on, Harry, Draco said. Come and play.

"Wait, Draco. Don't go. I can't fly," he mumbled.

Draco laughed. Yes, you can, Harry. Anyone can fly. All you need to do is let go.

"How?" Harry mumbled. "How?"

Just let go and follow me. It's time for you to follow.

Harry's head nodded slightly, and Ron and Hermione looked at him. He drew in a ragged breath.

"I'm coming, Draco. I'll follow."

His words were weak and barely audible, but Ron and Hermione heard them all the same. As he let his breath out, he unclench his hands from the bedclothes...

...and he followed.