Two Rivers Flow Separately

A young man kneels quietly in the dark, his black hair a mess, and his glasses thrown on the floor. His arm aches badly. The mark on it calls him to a meeting. A meeting he must attend, a meeting he has agreed to attend.

--- From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were; I have not seen ---

"But it is my parents' fault," The boy assures himself, dreading to attend another meeting. To attend another death, another rape. A rape he might commit. A rape on a muggle-born.

A muggle-born like his mother. Like Hermione.

Hermione. That name has no meaning any more.

"They allowed themselves to be killed," he continues, tears sliding down his face. "If they had stayed alive this wouldn't have happened."

And how would you expect them to have survived, Harry? How?

"Then it is Sirius' fault," the boy says, fighting back against the voice of reason in his head. "If he hadn't been so foolish as to let himself be accused of my parents' murder, he could have been my father figure. I would not have dived into the deep end, then."

Really? continues the voice, mocking ever so slightly. Even though he took care of your after your third year?

--- As others saw; I could not bring ---

Everybody depended on him, the Boy Who Lived. They believed he would take down Voldemort. Did they even think he might make the Dark Lord stronger? Would they even imagine he would allow the Dark Mark to be one with him, a mere picture on his arm that could cause more pain than the word "Crucio"?

No, of course, not. He is the bloody Boy Who Lived. The boy who will bring many great things.

The young man laughs coldly. A trickle of blood falls down his arm from where he cut himself.

--- My passions from a common spring ---

Where are his friends - Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Seamus, Fred, George, and the many others - now that he has changed sides?

Gone. A long time ago. They're gone.

Fighting against him. Not with him, like promised.

The Dark Mark burns Harry's skin once more, and he wipes away the tears. He must leave now; he wouldn't want Voldemort to second-guess his loyalty.

One last glance at the sleeping figure on the bed, the one true love Harry had thought he'd have, and he leaves. Not a trance indicating his visit.

Yes, on that bed. That silk bed, with its Gryffindor colors, is Hermione Granger. On that same bed where Remus Lupin, werewolf and Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, sleeps.

*

"I am sorry, James, I have failed you," a voice full of sorrow says.

Sirius Black, gazing at the stars with sadness, shakes his head. As godfather he has failed, as best friend he has also failed.

--- From the same source I have not taken ---

"I was supposed to take care of Harry," Sirius says, his eyes closed. "Merlin, I wish I was up there with you and Lily."

Heaven, a place, a paradise. Nothing more beautiful than sweet, sweet Heaven. A place of angels, where Lily and James reside, Sirius is sure of it.

It's a place where you cannot be accused of murdering people - there is no murder in Heaven - nor forced to eat rodents in order to watch over your godson.

Your godson. The same godson who changed sides? The godson who betrayed Dumbledore. The godson who offered Severus Snape on a golden platter to Voldemort?

Yes, that godson. There is no other, nor will there be another.

--- My sorrow; I could not awaken ---

Of course in Heaven that will not happen. In Heaven he and James will laugh at how the world works. Lily will shake her head, but when she turns her back, she will grin the most wicked grin you've ever seen on a lady.

But will he go to Heaven? Maybe not. Maybe Sirius won't, maybe he'll never see James and Lily because he'll to go to hell for not taking care of Harry.

It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

He'll sit on the shore on the side of Hell, and see James, who's on the other side. They'll yell at each other and talk about the days they were innocent - or not - students at Hogwarts.

--- All I loved, I loved alone ---

If he does go to hell, he can wait for Harry. Harry will go to hell, Sirius knows that. When it happens Sirius will yell at the James' look-alike. Yell with all fury.

And James will yell as well, even though he's on the other side. Lily won't. She'll just cry. She's crying right now.

That's why it rains so much.

Harry will be sorry, then. He'll be very, very sorry.

Stupid boy.

*

A sudden cold wakes Hermione from her light sleep. Is it morning already? Are we under attack?

She relaxes once she notices the window is open. A cold draft has made its way into her home.

But nothing, nothing is as cold as the feeling in her heart right now. Being careful so as to not wake Remus, she heads into the kitchen.

Just a moment - it smells like wet grass and sweat. Not enough for the whole room to smell, just a bit. From that corner.

Harry.

Hermione knows he has been here.

--- Then- in my childhood, in the dawn ---

But - what? - if my childhood was horrid, Harry? What if you and Ron were the only things about my childhood I cherish, Harry?

Why did you leave, my darling?

There is nothing left for her kind - Muggle-borns, she means. They will be all killed soon enough.

--- Of a most stormy life- was drawn ---

But, Harry, my life isn't stormy. Hermione giggles, she's loosing it. Harry is lost, gone forever.

It is true, though, her life isn't stormy. Not anymore at least. It was before, when Harry left.

Not stormy, more than that. Lighting, thunder, hurricanes, raining cats and dogs. Twister without Helen Hunt. Twister where Harry Potter and Hermione Granger starred.

But not anymore. The sky has settled, only the occasional drizzle of light, pure water. Remus is her savior. He saved her, pulled her out from the eye of the tornado.

She does love him.

--- From every depth of good and ill ---

Yes, Harry, did you know - little Ginny Weasley is dying. She's terribly sick.

Do you remember, Harry, do you? You were there, I am sure. When the Death Eaters decided to test out Muggle injections on poor, little Ginny.

Do you remember, Harry? Her screams as someone pushed the needle into her skin, or the way she begged them not to hurt her? She remembers.

She remember you.

Do you know what was in that injection, Harry? I'll tell you, even though you cannot hear me now.

It was a disease wizards don't get. We didn't have a cure for it. What about the muggles, you ask? They don't have a cure for it either. They're looking, but they haven't found it.

Little Ginny Weasley is dying slowly.

--- The mystery which binds me still ---

I've always wondered, Harry, why did you leave me? Why did you change sides?

They tell me it's because you didn't love us - Ron, Sirius, Ginny, me - anymore. Is that true, Harry, is it?

I must sound foolish. Like a little girl. But I am, Harry, I've gotten lost now. I should have listened when they told me to stick to the path, but I didn't. I've wandered off.

I don't fear the wolf though; he's nice, he loves me.

Did you love me, Harry, did you ever love me?

*

--- From the torrent, or the fountain ---

What, mother, if I don't want a fountain? What if I don't want to get married? I don't like Blaise, mother, he scares me.

He's like father, he drinks. He goes to Death Eater meetings. I know he likes to kill people, I've seen him do it, mother.

Please, I don't want to marry Blaise, dear mother. I'm already promised to another man.

Why don't I marry that man, you ask, mother? Father doesn't approve. He wants me to marry a soldier of He Who Must Not Be Named. But I've been promised to another man, mother, not to Blaise.

What's his name, Pansy? you ask as you look over the bridal dresses. "What's the name of this man you are promised to?"

--- From the red cliff of the mountain ---

I cannot answer, mother, I am sorry. Just saying his name brings me tears. No, he is not dead. He has gone to the good side, mother, Dumbledore's side.

Can I go there too, mother? Where the sun is always shining. Yes, it must be like Heaven, mother.

Don't be silly, Heaven is further away, Pansy.

I don't want to wear that silly dress, mother! I have told you already, I am promised to another man, and it is not Blaise. I don't love Blaise, mother, please tell father!

"What's this boy's name?" you ask again, trying to make me try a silly dress.

I know if I don't tell you I will have to marry Blaise. But if I tell you I'll still miss him.

"Draco, mother." The name forms on my lips, and hardly comes out. It is a mere whisper. "Draco Malfoy."

You looked shocked, mother. You didn't think I'd be promised to the heir of the Malfoy fortune. But Draco isn't the heir anymore, mother. His father disowned him when Draco turned good.

--- From the sun that round me rolled ---

Can I be good too, mother? Can I, please?

You think I'm being stupid. But I do not like that dress mother, nor do I like Blaise. He is cruel, mother, please believe me. He rapes little girls for fun, mother. He tortures boys for entertainment, mother.

Yes, he does make father proud, mother, but not me. I am not proud, I am not happy. Please, can I be good, mother. That would make me proud, I know it would.

--- In its autumn tint of gold ---

No, mother, I do not want to wear that. Must I, mother? It is gold. Gold is for those who are pure. I am not pure, mother.

What color do I want? Black, perhaps even gray. Yes, I want that color, mother. I don't care what Blaise would say.

Draco would say I was beautiful...

*

--- From the lightning in the sky as it passes me flying by ---

A young man sits in his chair, looking over at the fire. He has changed places with Harry Potter. At school people thought he'd work for Voldemort, but they were wrong. It was Potter who went to that side, leaving him in the glory of the light.

But the light is fading. It's just a glow now. People's hopes fell when Harry Potter became a Death Eater, and Draco Malfoy the hero.

Life is a box of chocolates, you never know which one you'll get.

Draco certainly didn't think he'd be getting this chocolate. It's a rare one, he is told, extremely rare. He must savor it, enjoy it.

He doesn't want it. He wants to throw it away, without even taking a lick.

--- From the thunder and the storm ---

Draco doesn't care about the world anymore. It's just been one great box of sour chocolates, the worst kind. Where is his sweet chocolate?

About to be married, is the answer.

Married to Zabini. She is gone, lost to him. All because he decided to be good instead of bad.

It shouldn't have happened. Harry should be defending Dumbledore. Draco should be torturing Mudbloods (and married to Pansy).

Fate is a dreadful thing.

So then why has he helped? Why has he stopped numerous Death Eaters from getting what they want?

--- And the cloud that took the form ---

The answer is simple. He wants to meet Harry, Voldemort's closest servant. No, not just meet. Kill.

Draco wants to be able to kill Harry and not worry about having Aurors sweeping in on him. Harry is bad, Draco is good. There will be no crime. A simple killing curse. One more chocolate in the rubbish bin--wrapper and all.

Draco doesn't care. He can't wait until he comes face to face with Harry.

What was it that the Muggles say? A nose for a nose? An arm for an arm? An eye for an eye?

Yes, that's it.

An eye for an eye.

--- (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view ---

would?

is?