Give You Back

Give You Back

"Harry, I'm going to take off your bandage now."

Smooth hands touched his forehead as the bandages around his eyes were removed, slowly and ever so painstakingly.

As the cloth was lifted off his eyes, he could feel the intense light under his eyelids.

"Harry, can you see me?"

He saw blood.

Everywhere.

People dying, killing, falling down to the ashen ground.

Shoutings, screams, shrilled cries torn from the throats ringing in his ears, never fading.

Some nights, he would wake up, drenched in cold sweats, shattered memories haunting even his dreams.

Blood.

All over his hands.

And him.

In his arms.

Dying.

"Harry, open your eyes."

Pain.

He shut his eyes tightly, the harsh light blinding him.

He tried again.

White.

Not red.

Everything was white.


"You are in the infirmary."

A slight movement to his left.

Hermione.

"What happened?"

Gasp.

"Harry! Your eyes..."

"What happened?"

Hermione looked down, her short hair overshadowing her eyes.

"He...he left you something."

Swallowed.

"What is it?"

Hermione took out a small mirror from her pocket and placed it on his lap.

"Please, Harry," she said before running out of the room.

He eyed the mirror, unsure of it. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle and lifted it up.

He looked into the mirror.

Wide stormy grey eyes stared back at him.

Crash

The glass shattered, his soul splintered, as a painful cry of anguish and utter despair echoed through the empty corridors of Hogwarts.

*~*~*

He walked down the corridors, empty and void of life.

Gone were those times when students filled the walkways, chatting loudly about the last Transfiguration lesson or how Mr. Filch had caught them throwing dung bombs at Mrs. Norris.


Three months. Just three months and everything had changed beyond recognition.

He could still remember those days when the three of them would explore the night grounds of Hogwarts, choosing whether to take the left or right.

Those days when laughter filled the air, when the only worry they had were tests and examinations.

Sometimes he would wonder whether those days were real, or just a piece of heaven taken out of his imagination.

Raising his left hand to his face, he thought of the things he had lost.

The familiar feel of his glasses was gone.

Just like his presence.

He felt awkward.

Different.

As if a part of him was gone.

A void in his heart cold and empty.

Where there had been warmth and support was now nothing.

Only utter desolation.

As the evening sun set, dying rays crept along the uneven ground. He looked out of the window and saw the abandoned Quidditch pitch bathed in an orange glow. As he placed his hands on the cold windowpane, he thought he could hear the sound of people cheering.

He could still remember the feel of the cool wind caressing his hair and face when he had flown high up into the blue sky. The smell of fresh air, the taste of freedom and thrill running in his blood.

He could still remember...chasing after the Golden Snitch...beside him.

"No...no! Wake up! Wake up!" he cried, as he cradled the lifeless body in his arms.

The fire and ashes stung his eyes but he forced them to open.

"Please...open your eyes!" he tried again, tears and blood blinding his sight.

He felt something wet on his palms and saw blood seeping through his clothes.

Red.

Everywhere.

Then there was darkness.

*~*~*

He was running.

Sinister-looking shadows shrouded around him, threatening to swallow him up as he kept on

running...

running...

running after him...

He could see him now, his back facing him, platinum hair falling lightly against his neck as green robes fluttered behind him.

"Stop! Wait for me!" he shouted as he ran towards him, forcing his aching legs to move one more step forward.

One more step closer to him.

But he could get no nearer.

He was always out of reach, as if an invisible wall separated both of them into two different worlds.

"Please, wait for me!" he cried out again, his broken voice echoing through the boundless void, the darkness trying to drown him in his own pathetic existence.

He felt lost, helpless, but he kept on running.

He couldn’t afford to lose him.

One more step...

He was panting heavily now, his breath short and quick as beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks. He could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest, the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

One more step...

His lungs ached as he tried to breathe, his legs screaming with pain with every step he took.

One more step...

One more step...

He clutched his aching side, his vision clouded by weariness as he stumbled forward blindly.

One more step...

Just one more...one more...

His legs gave way, his body overcame by fatigue. They could no longer support his weight as he fell down, The Boy-Who-Lived defeated.

Utterly defeated.

Lying on the cold ground, hot tears streaked down his face.

He was gone.

Gone.

Why?

Why do you have to leave me?

"Harry."

This can’t be.

"Harry, get up."

The soft soothing voice repeated as he looked up, and found himself looking into a pair of bright silver eyes.

"Draco."

The name left his lips like a curse broken.

"Expecting someone else?" His usual smirk on his handsome face, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His eyes...dead, staring straight up at the sky, warmth leaching out of his body.

"Harry, why are you crying?" he whispered tenderly into his ears as smooth hands brushed his hair aside, soft lips on his cheek, kissing his tears away gently.

"I thought...I thought you were gone! I thought that I would never be able to see you again...” He knew that he was blabbering but he couldn’t care less as tears flowed out of his eyes.

Draco was with him.

That was all that mattered now.

Warm, gentle hands cupped around his cheeks, lifting his face up.

"Shush...I'm here now, see? You know I’ll always be here for you."

Blood-shot eyes stared straight into him.

"Draco, your eyes..." he stuttered, fear creeping into his voice as he slowly moved back.

"What's wrong Harry? Why are you staying away from me?" he asked, taking a step forward.

"No, your eyes...they are turning red. What’s going on?"

Crimson red eyes stared down at him, an evil grin slowly replacing his smile.

"I love you, Harry."

His mind was swirling in confusion.

"What happened?"

"I loved you with all my heart, Harry. I gave you everything. My heart, my soul...my eyes..."

"No...this can’t be..."

"Yes...they couldn’t find another way to save you...so they used me..."

Blood started to flow out from the corner of his eyes as he stood over him, a predatory glint in his eyes.

"No...you’re lying." He shook his head and stared at the person he loved.

"I won’t lie to you, Harry. I love you."

Blood trickled down his high cheekbones, his mad eyes glowing in red.

"I love you, Harry. I’ll always be with you...

I’ll always be in you..."

*~*~*

Silver eyes stared back at him as he looked into the mirror.

He had fallen in love with them a few years ago.

Silver eyes were rare and beautiful.

He was beautiful.

Whenever he had nothing to do, he would spend his time gazing into those eyes.

Sometimes he would catch a mischievous glint in those eyes when he had added an extra shrivelfig into Neville’s potion or when one of the blasted-ended skrewts had burned Terry Boots’s robe.

Sometimes, he could see happiness shining in those eyes when his mother had sent him a box of sweets or when Snape had praised him for a well-written essay.

During the fifth year Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match, his eyes had filled with triumph and happiness when he had caught the snitch before Cho Chang.

But later on when Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup, his eyes had blazed with hatred, anger distorting his handsome face.

His eyes had burned with the same fury passion when he had kissed him, during one of the hot summer nights when both boys bumped into each other.

He remembered those eyes, filled with lust and pleasure when he had made love to him, and him moaning softly into his ears, long nails digging into his shoulders.

"I love you, Harry."

He touched the mirror, now cold under his fingers as stormy grey eyes that were once filled with warmth and love stared back coldly at him, not a single trace of life in them.

They were cold, distanced...sad; he couldn’t bear to see them any longer.

He couldn’t bear to see those eyes looking at him that way.

He looked at the wand in his hand.

He could end it now. He won’t have to go through this pain any longer.

He lifted his wand up.

Without any hesitation, he brought the wand towards his face and stabbed it right into his eye.

Pain.

He pushed his wand in and twisted it forcefully, feeling the pressure of the wooden stick crushing his eyeball, the sickening feeling of wet, warm liquid welling in his eyes before pulling it out in a swift motion as blood began to pour out of his eye.

One more to go.

He lifted his wand again, this time the tip of the blood-tainted wand aiming at his left eye.

The last thing he saw was his wand.

Coming straight towards him.

*~*~*

Letting go of his wand, he dropped his weight onto the ground.

A calm feeling settled over his heart as he leaned against the wall, the feel of blood trickling down his face, the sound of the curtains fluttering soothing him.

It’s over...

And as darkness claimed him, the image of him came into his mind.

A pair of bright silver eyes and distanced laughter.

End

http://ruz.diaryland.com