The Memories We Share

"I'm sorry Draco...I'm so, so sorry." Hot tears leaked from Harry's eyes melting into Draco's velvet cloak. Harry clung to Draco's hand; his skin was so cold, so harshly sharp and waxy. "I...I didn't know it was you, Draco. I thought it was your father," Harry sobbed breathlessly. "Oh, Draco, what had you become? What happened to the cunning and mysterious man that I used to love? Why did you have to change?"

Harry did not know how long he stayed with Draco's body, sprawled helplessly on the frosted grass. He grieved until he felt his heart ache, but a new emotion swept over him. It was anger. "Why didn't you join our side, Draco? Why did you have to become as one with your father?!" He was starting to shout now, angrier then ever before. "Why did you put your stupid pride over your love for me? Why Draco? Why?

Harry felt himself snap in two; he couldn't go on. Draco was all he had lived for. The past year, Harry's last year of Hogwarts, he had been involved in an emotional and physical relationship with Draco Malfoy. Of course they had kept it secret, only meeting in the dead of night, in deserted classrooms. Harry wracked his brain for the memories he had of his last and happiest year at Hogwarts. No one had ever suspected them, in the time between the rise of the sun and the fall of darkness, Harry and Draco had kept a shell over their blooming relationship. Covering their affections by giving each other snide comments but sharing a wink when no suspecting witch or wizard was prying.

Oh, what pleasure Draco had given Harry. His gentle but meaningful touch that left Harry's skin tingling in anticipation. His soft, generous kisses which sprinkled Harry's lips and neck with high emotion.

As Harry lay next to Draco's no longer loving body he thought of those erotic times when him and Draco had nearly been caught. All those heated moments in the broom cupboard when their sweaty handprints had been found on the windows, landing them with detention for both of them. A silent tear crawled shamelessly down Harry's tender cheek; he gave a sad smile as he remembered him and Draco giving a cover story to a fuming Filch about having a duel in the broom cupboard, so causing the prints. By no means did they reveal to Filch that a detention for both of them was nearly equivalent to having an invitation to a grand feast offered on a silver platter to them.

Harry laid Draco's heavy blood drained hand over his chest, wishing it would be grabbing Harry's robes and ripping them open in the heat of the moment once again. Though deep inside, Harry knew this could never happen again. All those exclusive moments were locked securely inside his mind, a place where no one else had the key to, except Harry and Draco.

Harry had come here tonight to head off Lucius Malfoy; Ron had tipped Harry off that Lucius was going to be at the deserted meadow. How very wrong he was. Harry and Ron, now aurors, had planned to duel and even kill Mr. Malfoy. As soon as they reached the meadow they noticed a sparkling white blond head through a gap in the trees; he seemed to be torturing an innocent muggle. Ron had panicked and begged Harry to kill Lucius straight off. Worried, Harry had done so. With a flash of green light, a scream and a crack, Harry was all alone. Ron had scampered, as he couldn't handle the guilt of being there any longer, Harry didn't blame him; this was the most painful feeling Harry had ever felt. It was like a dull ache eating into his heart.

Harry rolled over slowly and looked deeply into Draco's eyes. They were glassy and had a glazed look. The once intense glimmer was there no more, with a shaking hand Harry shut Draco's eyelids, he couldn't bear to see the distance in his Grey eyes. They showed no emotion, like no life had ever been sprung there.

Harry could feel his hopes and dreams draining from him, it was a great feeling of emptiness like a sea of dementors swimming inside his mind. Harry didn't know what to do; he had no one left to talk to. Ron had left him, Hermione had gone many years ago to travel and now, his lover was dead. He had no one to share his feelings with. His one and only partner, the only partner who felt right in Harry's heart was gone and there was nothing Harry could do to get him back. Harry could feel his whole life slipping through his fingers like grains of floo-powder; all the walls and secure foundations he had built around himself were crumbling away like an old castle on an edge of a cliff out to sea.

Harry took one last lingering look at Draco's pure and tender face, his emotions filling up in his eyes before spilling over the edge. Harry whispered, "Mobilicorpus" and Draco's body drifted slowly, his muscular arms falling limply under his body, brushing the dew tinged grass over to a rose bush. There, Harry transfigured Draco's soulless body into a single black rose, laying it on a patch of earth illuminated by the silver moonlight. Harry sunk to his knees, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Draco," he whispered. "Why did you leave me?"