Lonely Existence

September, 1997

He watched the battle play out all around him. He didn't want to be apart of it, but because of circumstances that were beyond him, he was and he couldn't change that. The urge to run and hide was over riding every other urge, even though he knew he couldn't. There were people he cared about fighting for their lives here on this field. Backing up he felt his back hit something, or rather someone. He knocked them off course. Turning around he saw that it was the Thomas boy. He'd been facing off with Crabbe, who looked ready to cast an unforgivable. The words had barely formed on the thugs lips when Draco muttered his own spell, holding his hand out awaiting the wand that flew from Crabbe's. Confusion flooded his mind. Had he just saved someone who wasn't on his side? He was thrust aside when Thomas shouted a spell that stunned Crabbe and put him in a body bind, he hadn't used the killing curse. Looking around he noticed most of the bodies of the Dark side were only stunned. The light side wasn't killing anyone. This made him feel better as he turned and ran. Halfway across the field and out of the school yard, he saw it. And faltered in his step, the dark lord had turned against his parents. He saw his father hit the field the green light fading and taking with it any trace of the life that had once been there. He ran, he heard his mother scream and he followed her voice. Looking up he saw the wand pointed at him and the green light flashing from the tip. Before he had a chance to react he was pushed to the ground and then the battle grew quiet. When he came to it was over. The war was finished and the side of light had won.

March, 1998

It'd been six months since the end of the war. The damage to Hogwarts was nearly fixed, but nothing had been the same. There had been few Slytherins who hadn't been in support of the Dark Lord and the house was facing extinction. His mother had been cleared of her crimes, begin sent to the psych ward at St. Mungo's instead. She hadn't been the same since she watched his father fall in battle, at the hand of the one he served no less. Nearly everyone avoided him; he seemed to be more hated now then before the war. He felt utterly alone. Thomas had thanked him in the months following the war but there was no offer of friendship or support. As it seemed his shadow was the only one that walked beside him, and even though he escaped the war unscathed his shallow heart bleed. Draco kept to himself for the most part, nothing but a few spoken words when needed and only then to people that he'd bumped into by accident. The war had changed him, he'd started out on the wrong side and by the end had been declared a comrade for the side of light, but he still felt empty. People sneered at him, pointedly ignored him, and at times outright accused him of being a traitor. He didn't understand it; shouldn't they be happy that someone had left the dark side for their own? Sitting alone in the Great Hall he heard the rumors that were spoken as if he no longer existed. It was his fault, they said. He'd betrayed his own blood. The dark lord saw him help Thomas; he was the cause of his own father's death. He'd wondered all the time why Voldemort had turned on his right hand man. And now he knew, knew they were right without a doubt. It was his fault, he'd caused his father's death, he'd been the one to drive his mother to the brink of madness, and he'd caused his self to be ostracized. Draco slipped quietly out of the door, going down to the newly renovated dungeons, ignoring the accusatory stares he received. The few Slytherins that remained blamed him for their lord's fall, he'd distracted him, turned his attention away from Potter. In some part of him he knew that wasn't true but there was a part of him that also knew that it was. This was the last time anyone saw him at Hogwarts.

December, 1999

Draco inhaled the cold air. He hadn't been back here in over a year and it was a refreshing sight. He'd left Hogwarts to finish off his year somewhere were he wasn't as infamous. His reputation followed him but it wasn't as hampering as it had been here. His mother had passed, her mind shattered and her heart broken. He wanted to be the one to see to her funeral arrangements; it was the last chance he'd get to do right by her. The world seemed to be getting along just fine after the war if not better. And while he wasn't received with open arms people weren't going out of their way to shun him, which in his opinion was better then nothing. He walked away from the funeral home, everything had been arranged and paid for, and the service was the next day. He really didn't expect many if any to attend but he wanted her to have the best anyway. His expectation came true; most of those that his mother had considered friends had either perished at the hands of the Dementors or were being held at Azkaban. He'd sat through the service quietly, not shedding a tear, keeping his stony façade in place. But he was crying on the inside, crying out for a hand, a shoulder to lean on. He walked the empty street, while the city slept; he felt so alone. He'd walked the lonely road for sometime, not sure where it would lead him, but it was better then going home to an empty house where he'd also be lonely. He looked up at the night sky as a light snow began to fall wishing that someone up there would find him, not noticing anything around him until he bumped into someone. Startled out of his thoughts he stared at her for a while, before muttering a quick apology and telling her to have a nice day. Something in his words must not have sat right with her because she flew into a rage and threw hexes at him before he could even react to her angry words. He slipped into the blackness feeling something cut his cheek and sluggish warmth making its way down his face.

June, 2000

Draco decided to treat himself to a noisy little lunch; everything else in his life was so quiet he felt there was some change needed. It wasn't everyday that someone turned twenty. He'd chosen a bar that he'd only seen in passing over the years. Sitting himself in a corner he watched the occupants of the bar enjoy their rowdy behavior, occasionally tossing a scathing glance or comment his way. He'd grown used to it, ignoring it easily. Ordering his meal with a few nods of the head and a brush of fingers against the menu, he kept to himself. He learned quickly that even though people didn't go out of their way to hate him it was still there. He remembered waking in the hospital with the nurses talking over him as they checked his vital signs, and he vividly remembered the woman who hexed and cursed him all while promising to spit on his grave when he got there. They openly scorned him, commenting that he'd gotten what he deserved, and maybe he had he'd thought before deciding to keep his words and comments to himself. They knew he was still alive and awake but it was only him, and he was alone. He was able to read between the lines. What's fucked up, his past and where's everything's fine? That simply didn't exist as far as he was concerned but in the middle there was him and where he was now. So to make the world happy he kept his comments to himself, reserving his words for no one and everyone at the same time. He ate his meal in quiet and paid his tab the same way, enjoying the noise and conversation around him. He kept his head down as he walked toward the door, causing him to bump into someone. He heard the mumbled apology, not quite recognizing the voice but made his way to the exit. That's when he heard it and recognized the voice, telling him to have a nice day.

July, 2001

It'd been more then a year since that faithful day, and he couldn't remember being happier. He was no longer lonely; when he walked at night there was someone beside him. Draco no longer walked the lonely line; he'd been pulled away from the edge he hadn't even been aware he was so close to. He'd been saved and he was grateful. Smiling he carried the cake into the living room, it was a small gathering, but they accepted him. He joined in as they sung to the man that had changed everything for him. The man had promised to get him to come out of his shell, and he had, he'd coaxed him out of the shell and shared life with him. He'd saw and understood the hurt and sadness in a face that refused to look at the world. He'd remembered a time when he'd felt the same, but he was no longer alone in the world and felt that Draco needed be either. Harry had shared and given him what had been taken so long ago, family. And they accepted him with open arms, even Ron who wasn't as trusting as the rest eventually came around, thanking him for saving their friend in the year during the war. He shared and enjoyed Harry's birthday with them but Harry's birth night was all his. It had started off slow, only friendship and kind words, but had rapidly progressed, with light kisses and heavy caresses. He'd shared his body with the man that saved him, during the war and in the end from himself, for the first time that night and every night there after. Draco learned that there were still people, no matter how few that would still accept and welcome him, and he learned to accept himself. He couldn't imagine himself without him, and this was where he'd chosen to stay.

February, 2002

It hurt, but he wouldn't let that ruin what he had left, he wouldn't bother with wishes and prayers that would go unanswered. When Harry had finally come home, it had been with sad news, though the look on his face didn't portray hurt or anger. Draco wished he'd never heard it but wouldn't let it be foremost in his mind or their relationship. The frequent trips to the doctor's office put a wedge in the little social life they had but their nights were spent letting each other feel the love. Draco spent every minute letting Harry know that he loved him, and that it was because of him that he'd found the strength to go on each day. He didn't bother with the social graces, choosing to stay home when ever possible. They still took nightly walks together where Draco shared his worries, his fears and his loves with Harry. He savored the nights they spent wrapped in each other arms, loving the warmth of the body near him. He watched Harry, the inner struggle, the outward bravery, he watched for the small changes. Soon Harry grew too tired for their nightly walks, opting for spending time curl on the sofa, talking or watching something that caught their attentions on the television. Some nights were spent with Hermione and Ron, who'd come to mean as much to him as they meant to Harry. The nights were quiet and soothing for both him and Harry. As the days grew longer Harry's energy grew shorter, with him spending more time sleeping then up and about, but that was only to be expected. Every morning he would open the drapes letting the sun shine in, in hopes that it would add some color to the cheeks that had grown pale. Valentine's Day had been a quiet event, with just the two couples enjoying the company. Draco gave Harry a gift he'd wished he'd been brave enough to give him sooner, presenting the man with a ring and a proposal which was accepted. They were to be joined later that year and Draco vowed to cherish it. Draco allowed himself to cry that night, tears of happiness, anger and sadness. Harry had cancer and probably would not make it to see Christmas.

October, 2003

Draco sat beside Harry, celebrating their first anniversary together. They'd decided to marry on the anniversary of his parents' death, choosing to make they date a remembrance of something cheerful instead of bitter and sad. He looked around at the faces that occupied the room, loving every face he looked into. Holding up his flute he made a toast that honored his family, ending it with a kiss from Harry. They kept the celebration short and small, not that they had many to rejoice with anyway. Once he was alone with Harry, he spilled his fears, worries and loves, and appreciated the assurance that Harry gave him. Draco lay besides Harry just enjoying the nearness and the warmth of the body beside him. When he felt the light kiss on his forehead he looked up into the green eyes, and realized that his wish had been answered, someone up there had found him and loved him. He'd never forget the look in those eyes or the words whispered from the lips, before the monitor beside the bed began to emit a desolate hum and he knew Harry had left him. But his whispered words of love and promises would be remembered for years to come.

October, 2004 - 2007

He sat by the grave in the light drizzle that poured from the sky, whispering his worries, his fears to his love. I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams. Where this city sleeps and its only me and I walk alone. I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind, on the border line of the edge and where I walk alone.