Shining Down on Us

For Sara Gally

Shining Down on Us

Blond hair, grown out over many years, fluttered behind him in the wind, flowing akin to the graceful and fluid, yet deadly movement of a water serpent. Eyes, turned by inner wrangling of the soul, burned cold and grey, unseeing to the beauty spelled out before the small, wiry figure. From his precarious perch, one knee upon the edge of the battlement of the tallest tower of Hogwarts Castle, he should have been able to see the sweeping countryside, resplendent with three hundred and sixty degree views of snow capped mountains illuminated in the hot sun, the lush dark green treetops of the Forbidden Forest, looking as foreboding as ever despite the intense brightness of the afternoon sun, the crystal clear waters of the lake, with sunbeams dancing along the surface and tentacles of the mysterious sea monster stretching out to the sunlight, with mermen coming to the surface with smiles that look alien on their usually stern faces, and lastly the quaint village of Hogsmeade, bustling with the day's trade an basking in the heat.

But those deadened grey eyes saw none of this, and he did not feel the sunshine on his body. Instead a shield of cold enveloped his senses, leaving only misery. He tried one last time to see everything for what it was - a resplendent castle with a panoramic view, but instead all he saw was his prison. Those mountains, blocking the flight he so desperately wanted to make, the forest, too dangerous an escape, the village, impassable without notice, and the castle, the reason for his anger, the reason for his madness, the reason for his hurt. The reason for this.

He pulled himself up onto the battlement, and sat down, legs dangling over the edge. The wind changed direction, blowing his impressive mane in front of his eyes. "I couldn't see it anyway," his icy, dying voice uttered to no one. Suddenly his anger rose, and he pulled a long, silvery knife with a diamond encrusted handle from under his black robe. He admired the blade as it shone in the sun, and he felt a stab of jealousy; even this knife relishes the sun.

Rage burned in him brighter than this warmth that evaded him, and he took a strand of his hair and stretched it out before him. With his left hand, scarred badly from learning to use this impressive weapon, he lifted the knife above the strand and cut through it gently, letting the strand fall from the battlement, and flutter downwards, drifting easterly with the wind, until vanishing from sight.

He reached behind his neck and this time grabbed a large bundle of his hair, and slashed through it, throwing the remains to the stone floor behind him. He did this again and again, rage having fully consumed him, until all that remained of that regal blonde hair was crudely slashed, broken and untamed. The hair that had been cut spread out across the stone battlement like straw, being blown around by the dying wind.

"Life drifts away so easily with the touch of a knife..." he whispered, afraid of being heard by no one in particular.

He touched his forehead, and felt liquid on his brow. "Sweat... but I'm cold..."

He realised all his senses were gone, broken down and confused. They fit well now with my mind, he thought.

"Maybe, if I can't feel heat, I can't feel pain... I'm tired of the pain..."

He took the knife again, in awe of its power to both cause and end pain. He lowered the knife slowly to his wrist, and pressed cool steel to his wrist.

"Draco!" came an anxious voice from behind him. He dropped the knife in shock, leaving flesh uncut. The knife tumbled from the battlement, bouncing off the castle walls and onto the ground below with a faint, echoing clang of steel.

He span around, throwing his legs back over the large stone he sat upon, and lowered himself the short drop to the battlement floor. He looked up to see a girl, frizzy brown hair blowing all over in the wind, and all his senses suddenly returned, along with all his pain.

"Why did you come here, I nearly ended us both the pain?" Draco said, voice quavering.

The girl's lip trembled as she opened her robe slowly. Suddenly a knife, rusty and crudely fashioned, fell from behind the black robe, and hit the stone floor with a dull echo. Tears began to form in the eyes of the girl.

"I wanted... I was..."

Draco swept forward, and pulled the girl into his arms. "Hermione..." he whispered.

He felt his knees going weak, and lowered himself to the ground, still clinging to Hermione. Trembling, he picked up the knife she had brought with her. "How could you kill yourself with this... you'd die of rust poisoning before cutting through anything."

Hermione failed to hold back a laugh, and wiped more tears from her eyes. Draco held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes, "How could you kill yourself?"

She looked back, anger flashing on the surface for a moment. "How could you kill yourself?" she asked back.

He ran fingers through her hair softly, suddenly feeling the heat of the day. "I can never truly have you... better to die than to live without you..."

"I feel the same. Do you really think I'd go on with you gone...?"

Draco remained silent for a long time. Hermione ran her knuckle down his cheek, "Just because of circumstance, because of where we are, we can't be together... but no one will ever deny us feelings, no one can change them... no one can kill our friendship."

Draco smiled, then sighed thoughtfully. Running his finger down her arm, and pressing his cheek to hers, he whispered softly, "At least I can say I have one true friend." He enjoyed the warmth that no amount of sun could provide a moment longer, then continued. "One last dance?"

Hermione smiled and turned to face Draco, staring longingly into his eyes. "Only if you insist..." she said, pressing her hands to his chest and pushing him backwards onto the stone floor.

The sun above finally shined upon tranquil ground.