Ghost

# There's a letter on the desktop,

that I dug out of the drawer,

the last truce we ever came to,

in our adolescent war...

and I start to feel a fever,

from the warm air through the screen,

you come regular like seasons,

shadowing my dreams...#

My Dragon,

I was thinking about what you said last night, and I realised that you were right. This... what we're doing, it would be hard to make it work, because of your father, and Voldemort, and everything and everybody else that's against us, but- you were wrong when you said it would be too hard. You're giving up so soon, but how will we ever know if we don't try? I can't stay with you like this, if we're just going to spend all the time we have together arguing. So I'm leaving. I know, I know that I love you, and I'll wait until you can say it too.

Goodbye,

Harry -x-

*~*~*

Draco sat on the floor in his bedroom, holding the letter in his shaking hands. He had just been looking through the drawer to find a pen... he hadn't expected to find this. He remembered the morning that he'd gone into the kitchen after a sleepless night spent worrying about his and Harry's fight, and found this pinned to the fridge. It had felt as though someone had thrust a knife into his heart; Harry had left him, and it was all his own fault.

He remembered sliding to the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms hugging his knees, staring at the letter. Re-reading it, over and over again; "I know that I love you, and I'll wait until you can say it too."

He remembered thinking; 'Harry loves me. He loves me. He's going to wait for me to tell him I love him too... But how long will he have to wait?'

# And the Mississippi's mighty,

but it starts in Minnesota,

at a place that you could walk across with five steps down,

and I guess that's how you started,

like a pinprick to my heart,

but at this point you rush right through me,

and I start to drown...#

He remembered the weeks that had followed. He remembered the pain of the Order meetings, being so close to Harry, but without talking to him, without touching him. He remembered the brief conversations they'd had, always businesslike and impersonal. He'd known that all he'd have to do was say those three words to Harry, and it would all change. They'd be together properly, talking, touching, kissing. But he hadn't been able to say it, not then. He'd tried, oh, how he'd tried. Everytime that Harry was near him, he'd tried to say it, tried to tell Harry that he didn't have to wait any longer, that he, Draco Malfoy, did love him, but everytime he tried, his throat closed up. The words just wouldn't come out. He was afraid. Afraid of the depth of his feelings, afraid of the pain that Harry could cause him once he admitted his true feelings, afraid of what would happen when his father found out. Afraid of what Voldemort would do to use Draco to get to Harry.

# And there's not enough room in this world for my pain,

signals cross, and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain,

of all my demon spirits, I need you the most,

I'm in love with your ghost,

I'm in love with your ghost...#

He remembered all the skirmishes that he and Harry had fought in before the final battle. He remembered being almost blind with panic every time that Harry went on a mission that he wasn't involved with, wondering, worrying, waiting for him to return safely, in one piece. He remembered the bliss of pure relief that swept over him every time Hermione informed him that Harry had succeeded, that Harry was home, and that he was safe. He remembered going on missions of his own, fighting desperately to stay alive, to get back to Harry. He remembered returning fronm his own missions, and the feeling that shot through him every time he saw Harry's worried face. He remembered thinking, every time; 'He's worried about me. He still cares for me. He's still waiting'. He remembered the nights spent on the sofa in the living room, as he was unable to face sleeping on the bed without Harry. But still he'd been unable to say those three words that would bring Harry back to him.

# Dark and dangerous like a secret,

that gets whispered in a hush,

when I wake the things I dreamt about you last night make me blush...

when you kiss me like a lover,

then you sting me like a viper,

I go follow to the river,

play your memory like the piper...#

He remembered waking in the mornings, hot and flushed from dreams about Harry that would have been oh-so-much better if Harry had been there to share them. He remembered afternoons spent crying into Hermione's shoulder, listening to her trying to convince him to speak to Harry, trying to make her understand that he couldn't say it. He remembered the shivers that would run up his spine when Harry would accidentally brush against him, and he remembered the pleading looks that Harry would give him, the want and need that would emanate from those green eyes. He remembered wanting nothing more than to reassure Harry, to give in to his pleading, to tell him that he loved him, and that he always would. He remembered still being unable to get the words out. He, Draco Malfoy, who had never been afraid to say anything, who always spoke his mind, was unable to say the three words that he wanted to say most desperately.

# And I feel it like a sickness,

how this love is killing me,

but I'd walk into the fingers of your fire willingly,

and dance the edge of sanity,

I've never been this close,

in love with your ghost...#

Draco didn't notice as the tears slid down his face, leaving silvery tracks that barely had time to disappear these days, they were replaced by fresh ones so often. He hated himself for being unable to say it. He still wanted to speak those three words to Harry, to tell Harry that he felt the same way. He wanted to hold Harry in his arms, keep him close, keep him safe and never let him go. He wanted to breathe gentle kisses all over Harry's face, he wanted to feel Harry's breath against the back of his neck. He wanted to nip the sensitive spot at the back of Harry's neck with his teeth. He wanted to feel Harry's body pressed against his again. He wanted to feel Harry's lips murmering sweet, meaningless words against his skin, wanted to have his lips do the same to Harry. He wanted to say those three words to Harry, and have Harry's say them back. But he couldn't. He couldn't say it, he couldn't get close to Harry. He hoped and prayed that Harry would still wait for him.

# Unknowing captor, you'll never know how much you,

pierce my spirit, but I can't touch you,

can you hear it, a cry to be free?

or I'm forever under lock and key

as you pass through me...#

He remembered that day. He remembered preparing for the final battle with Voldemort. He remembered listening to Harry speaking to their forces, and he remembered glowing with pride as the man he loved instill pride, bravery and strength into his army. They were fighting to get rid of the plague of Voldemort, yes, but before that, they were fighting for Harry. He remembered how Harry had come to him before the battle started. He remembered seeing the tears glistening in those emerald eyes, and he remembered knowing that his own eyes were bright with unshed tears. He remembered Harry reaching up to brush his fingers across Draco's face, he remembered closing his eyes and feeling Harry's lips brush against his. He remembered the whispered 'Good Luck'. He remembered opening his eyes to see Harry staring at him, his eyes filled with fear, pain and a tiny glimmer of hope. He remembered swallowing, saying "I...". But still, he'd been unable to say it and Harry had turned away from him too soon to see the single tear slide down Draco's face.

# Now I see your face before me,

I would launch a thousand ships,

to bring your heart back to my island as the sand beneath me slips,

as I burn up in your prescence, and I know now how it feels,

to be weakened like Achilles, with you always at me heels...#

He remembered the battle. It had been... terrible. So many people had been injured... so many people killed. He remembered coming face-to-face with his father, seeing his father's lip curl in disgust and hatred before he's opened his mouth to shout "Crucio!" He remembered hearing a voice scream his name before all he'd been able to feel was pain. Thousands of white-hot knives slicing into him all over his body. It had been unbearable, and he was sure that he wouldn't have lasted much longer if it hadn't been for the shouted words of Avada Kedavra. He'd opened his eyes to see the burning green gems staring at him with fear and worry. He'd seen his father's body led on the floor a few feet away, and had whispered a hoarse thankyou, before staggering to his feet to continue with the fighting.

Draco let out a gasping, choking sob as he remembered how the battle had ended. He remembered seeing the blinding flash of green light, hearing the unhuman shriek of rage and pain that tore from the snake-like mouth of Voldemort. He remembered seeing as though in slow-motion as the Dark Lord had uttered one last curse before finally dying. He remebered hearing another inhuman shriek, of fear this time. He'd been told afterwards that the noise had ripped from his own throat as he'd rushed to Harry's side. He remembered the timy smile that had appeared on Harry's face as he saw him, he remembered watching Harry's lips form the words "I love you." He remembered dropping his head to Harry's chest, as heart-wrenching sobs wracked his body. He remembered saying it... finally being able to say it, before looking up and seeing that the light had dimmed from the beautiful emeralds of Harry's eyes. Too late... he'd been too late, and now Harry would never hear him say it.

"I love you, too"

# And my bitter pill to swallow is the silence that I keep,

that poisons me, I can't swim free, the river is too deep,

though I'm baptized by your touch, I am no worse at most...

In love with your ghost...#