- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Characters:
- Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
- Genres:
- Angst Romance
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
- Stats:
-
Published: 08/11/2003Updated: 08/11/2003Words: 1,757Chapters: 1Hits: 366
Remembrance
Starkissed
- Story Summary:
- A sequel to Painful Decisions, we see how Draco has coped with Harry's death.
- Posted:
- 08/11/2003
- Hits:
- 366
- Author's Note:
- I have nothing to say but read and review :o)
Remembrance
It had been nearly ten years since Harry had died. A lot could happen in ten years. Draco had found that out from his own experience.
He had come home that night distraught and grieved, the body of the only person he’d ever loved hanging limp in his grip; rigor mortis had yet to set in. Pansy had rushed toward him, stopping abruptly when she saw who it was he held so dearly. Her icy eyes flashed fire at him, daring him to tell her why Harry Potter was inside their home. He vaguely remembered telling her to fuck off.
Which she did gladly. It turned out that she had been shagging his old schoolmate, Gregory Goyle, which he found out when Goyle came down wearing nothing. Draco had been permanently scarred, but he just handed them ten Galleons and told them to get the hell out of his house. Between the two of them, he was sure they could figure out how to pay a bill. If not, there was always the fall back plan of paying twice what they owed and hope they got back the right amount of change. These days, Draco’s alimony payments were enough to support Pansy and Goyle in whatever obscure lifestyle they had chosen; Draco didn’t care enough to find out.
Draco had money now, a lot of it. When Narcissa had found out Lucius was dead, the grief had torn her up. These days she was in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, residing in a hospital bed with tubes feeding her the food she refused to eat. She hadn’t said a word in over nine years. Or so they said; Narcissa refused to see Draco so he couldn’t be sure of that. So with Lucius dead and Narcissa incapacitated, Draco had inherited the Malfoys’ millions. He didn’t really care.
For the first two years, Draco had spent too much of that money drinking himself to the point of numbness. He still did that occasionally, but was learning to curb his alcohol problem with the help of none other than Ron Weasley.
It was a strange friendship, if you could even call it that. When Draco had visited Mr. and Mrs. Ron Weasley, he had initially been left on the doorstep. He refused to leave and after two hours, Draco had finally been invited in. They asked why he was there and without sugarcoating it, Draco told Ron and Hermione that Harry was dead.
They weren’t surprised; they had noticed that Harry hadn’t returned any calls, not even to Ginny. No, they weren’t surprised, but they were upset. Hermione’s eyes flooded with tears and even Ron looked like he was struggling not to cry.
Draco told them that he had their late best friend at his home and that he knew Harry would want them to plan his funeral. He remembered Harry telling Draco that he had sat down with Ron one night and told him exactly how he wanted his funeral, but Draco didn’t let them know that.
That’s when Ron did lose it. He threw himself at Draco, yelling that he had murdered their best friend. Draco stood there and took it, knowing nothing he said would make up for the loss of Harry. He was surprised when Hermione stepped forward and pulled Ron back, explaining shakily the relationship Harry and Draco had back at Hogwarts. Ron looked at her, bewildered, and asked her why Harry had never told him. She said he was afraid of his reaction. Hermione looked at Draco and when she started to speak, he said he didn’t mind that they knew. It didn’t matter anymore.
After Draco had finished his account of what happened, Ron began to share his sentiments; nothing mattered when his best mate was dead. He went into the kitchen, returning with three shotglasses and a bottle of Sunscotch. Ron and Draco drunk themselves into an alcohol-induced oblivion and found more comfort there than they could find anywhere else.
Gradually, they went out together more and more frequently, passing out in various bars, pubs, and taverns until they had been banned from most for starting fights.
It wasn’t until Hermione threatened to leave Ron that he started the difficult journey back to sobriety. Draco had no such incentive, or so he thought. He remembered looking into Hermione’s eyes as she told him, “Harry wouldn’t want to be remembered like this.”
For the first time since their school days, he cursed her for being an insufferable know-it-all who was always right. Always. And so he too began the ascent back into sobriety and life where things looked clear, even if they didn’t always seem that way.
Yes, a lot of things could happen in ten years. You could lose the one person you’ve ever loved, divorce your wife for someone even dimmer than she, lose your mother to insanity, inherit millions, form a strange friendship with your old worst enemies, become an alcoholic, become a recovered alcoholic, and still, none of it could matter to you. None of it mattered to Draco.
The only thing that mattered anymore, the only thing of any significance, was that the graveyard he was walking in. Where, so many years ago, he had watched Harry defeat the greatest wizard ever, only to find himself gripping Harry’s wand and casting the curse that would kill him.
It was raining. Sheets of water were pouring down, drenching Draco to the bone. In his mid-thirties now, Draco wandered the graveyard, quiet and desolate. There was no one else there, usually no one was on a day like this. That’s why Draco came.
Finally, he reached the graves of Lily and James Potter. He sent a silent prayer out for them, as disbelieving as he was in any form of God. Then, as something he rarely did in those days, he spoke.
“Lily, James, if there is a life after death, I’m sure you know who I am. If there isn’t, then I don’t know why I’m saying this.
“Harry was the one person I loved. He was the one person I would have died for. Instead, he died for me. I wish I could go back to that night, somehow make things right. By now, you know your son was the most amazing person this world has ever seen. It wasn’t only me that saw that; in some way, Harry touched every person that ever met him. He changed the world for the better in every way. There was no one, absolutely no one who could ever compare to him.
“I’m not really sure why I’m saying this. Maybe I need to say it for myself. Maybe I just needed to let you know how wonderful Harry was.”
Draco let the rain wash over him as he closed his eyes and fought back a tear. Talking to Lily and James had been the easier part of the visit. He opened his eyes again and trudged through the muddy grass to the most famous grave in the world, that of Harry Potter.
Not a day went by when a flower or a gift or a blessing wasn’t set upon the grave. But these last ten years, Draco had never spoken a word outloud.
“Harry,” he started. “Do you remember the night we said goodbye? When I broke my promise of never giving you pretty speeches? I think I need to break it again.
“Time and time again, I’ve asked myself whether you’ve forgiven me or not. I don’t know the answer to that, only you do. For the past ten years, I’ve been visiting your grave, not able to say a single word for fear of saying the wrong ones. I’m still afraid I’ll say the wrong words and offend you, but I needed to speak to you again, even if I can’t hear your answers.
“You meant the world to me. Every time I saw you, I could feel myself breaking just a little bit more because I knew we could never be together. Especially now, when I think of you, I can feel myself breaking into pieces for the loss of what could have been.
“But the world wasn’t made for the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘could have beens’. The world was made for the ‘what has happeneds’ and the ‘what will comes’. I’ve been holding on to you for too long, Harry. I’ve been holding on to the past, like a child clings to its mother’s dress.
“I miss you every day. I miss the way you looked at me with those brilliant green eyes. I miss the way you would hold me. I miss your body next to mine, the conversations we would have, the way you kissed me, the way you made me feel like I was the only person that mattered.
“I always thought that one day, after Voldemort was gone, that we could be together. I’ve been forced to give up that hope, but I haven’t wanted to. I’ve been holding on and it’s time for me to let go.
“I love you, Harry. I always have and I always will, but I need to let go now. My life stopped that night and I need to start it again, but I couldn’t let myself without truly saying goodbye.
“Only in death can we be together again, but my time isn’t yet. I’ve so much to do, so many things to see, so many people to save. So goodbye, Harry. Until we meet again, wait for me and I’ll always be waiting for you.”
With that, Draco walked away, the rain still creating little rivulets down his face, his chest, his legs.
Harry Potter may be dead, he thought, but the legacy of Harry will never be forgotten. Perhaps that is the most important lesson he’s taught me.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver dragon. He carried it with him everywhere, the only piece of Harry he still had. Something felt different about it. Draco turned it over in his fingers, pausing when he noticed new lines on it.
But they weren’t lines; they were words. Freshly engraved in the shining metal, there was a message.
I’ll be waiting, Draco.
And with the beginnings of a smile, Draco let the rain conquer him as he imagined the way Harry had once felt on his body. After all, you can only truly live when you let go and remembrance is the key to letting go.
It had been nearly ten years since Harry had died. A lot could happen in ten years. Draco had found that out from his own experience.
He had come home that night distraught and grieved, the body of the only person he’d ever loved hanging limp in his grip; rigor mortis had yet to set in. Pansy had rushed toward him, stopping abruptly when she saw who it was he held so dearly. Her icy eyes flashed fire at him, daring him to tell her why Harry Potter was inside their home. He vaguely remembered telling her to fuck off.
Which she did gladly. It turned out that she had been shagging his old schoolmate, Gregory Goyle, which he found out when Goyle came down wearing nothing. Draco had been permanently scarred, but he just handed them ten Galleons and told them to get the hell out of his house. Between the two of them, he was sure they could figure out how to pay a bill. If not, there was always the fall back plan of paying twice what they owed and hope they got back the right amount of change. These days, Draco’s alimony payments were enough to support Pansy and Goyle in whatever obscure lifestyle they had chosen; Draco didn’t care enough to find out.
Draco had money now, a lot of it. When Narcissa had found out Lucius was dead, the grief had torn her up. These days she was in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, residing in a hospital bed with tubes feeding her the food she refused to eat. She hadn’t said a word in over nine years. Or so they said; Narcissa refused to see Draco so he couldn’t be sure of that. So with Lucius dead and Narcissa incapacitated, Draco had inherited the Malfoys’ millions. He didn’t really care.
For the first two years, Draco had spent too much of that money drinking himself to the point of numbness. He still did that occasionally, but was learning to curb his alcohol problem with the help of none other than Ron Weasley.
It was a strange friendship, if you could even call it that. When Draco had visited Mr. and Mrs. Ron Weasley, he had initially been left on the doorstep. He refused to leave and after two hours, Draco had finally been invited in. They asked why he was there and without sugarcoating it, Draco told Ron and Hermione that Harry was dead.
They weren’t surprised; they had noticed that Harry hadn’t returned any calls, not even to Ginny. No, they weren’t surprised, but they were upset. Hermione’s eyes flooded with tears and even Ron looked like he was struggling not to cry.
Draco told them that he had their late best friend at his home and that he knew Harry would want them to plan his funeral. He remembered Harry telling Draco that he had sat down with Ron one night and told him exactly how he wanted his funeral, but Draco didn’t let them know that.
That’s when Ron did lose it. He threw himself at Draco, yelling that he had murdered their best friend. Draco stood there and took it, knowing nothing he said would make up for the loss of Harry. He was surprised when Hermione stepped forward and pulled Ron back, explaining shakily the relationship Harry and Draco had back at Hogwarts. Ron looked at her, bewildered, and asked her why Harry had never told him. She said he was afraid of his reaction. Hermione looked at Draco and when she started to speak, he said he didn’t mind that they knew. It didn’t matter anymore.
After Draco had finished his account of what happened, Ron began to share his sentiments; nothing mattered when his best mate was dead. He went into the kitchen, returning with three shotglasses and a bottle of Sunscotch. Ron and Draco drunk themselves into an alcohol-induced oblivion and found more comfort there than they could find anywhere else.
Gradually, they went out together more and more frequently, passing out in various bars, pubs, and taverns until they had been banned from most for starting fights.
It wasn’t until Hermione threatened to leave Ron that he started the difficult journey back to sobriety. Draco had no such incentive, or so he thought. He remembered looking into Hermione’s eyes as she told him, “Harry wouldn’t want to be remembered like this.”
For the first time since their school days, he cursed her for being an insufferable know-it-all who was always right. Always. And so he too began the ascent back into sobriety and life where things looked clear, even if they didn’t always seem that way.
Yes, a lot of things could happen in ten years. You could lose the one person you’ve ever loved, divorce your wife for someone even dimmer than she, lose your mother to insanity, inherit millions, form a strange friendship with your old worst enemies, become an alcoholic, become a recovered alcoholic, and still, none of it could matter to you. None of it mattered to Draco.
The only thing that mattered anymore, the only thing of any significance, was that the graveyard he was walking in. Where, so many years ago, he had watched Harry defeat the greatest wizard ever, only to find himself gripping Harry’s wand and casting the curse that would kill him.
It was raining. Sheets of water were pouring down, drenching Draco to the bone. In his mid-thirties now, Draco wandered the graveyard, quiet and desolate. There was no one else there, usually no one was on a day like this. That’s why Draco came.
Finally, he reached the graves of Lily and James Potter. He sent a silent prayer out for them, as disbelieving as he was in any form of God. Then, as something he rarely did in those days, he spoke.
“Lily, James, if there is a life after death, I’m sure you know who I am. If there isn’t, then I don’t know why I’m saying this.
“Harry was the one person I loved. He was the one person I would have died for. Instead, he died for me. I wish I could go back to that night, somehow make things right. By now, you know your son was the most amazing person this world has ever seen. It wasn’t only me that saw that; in some way, Harry touched every person that ever met him. He changed the world for the better in every way. There was no one, absolutely no one who could ever compare to him.
“I’m not really sure why I’m saying this. Maybe I need to say it for myself. Maybe I just needed to let you know how wonderful Harry was.”
Draco let the rain wash over him as he closed his eyes and fought back a tear. Talking to Lily and James had been the easier part of the visit. He opened his eyes again and trudged through the muddy grass to the most famous grave in the world, that of Harry Potter.
Not a day went by when a flower or a gift or a blessing wasn’t set upon the grave. But these last ten years, Draco had never spoken a word outloud.
“Harry,” he started. “Do you remember the night we said goodbye? When I broke my promise of never giving you pretty speeches? I think I need to break it again.
“Time and time again, I’ve asked myself whether you’ve forgiven me or not. I don’t know the answer to that, only you do. For the past ten years, I’ve been visiting your grave, not able to say a single word for fear of saying the wrong ones. I’m still afraid I’ll say the wrong words and offend you, but I needed to speak to you again, even if I can’t hear your answers.
“You meant the world to me. Every time I saw you, I could feel myself breaking just a little bit more because I knew we could never be together. Especially now, when I think of you, I can feel myself breaking into pieces for the loss of what could have been.
“But the world wasn’t made for the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘could have beens’. The world was made for the ‘what has happeneds’ and the ‘what will comes’. I’ve been holding on to you for too long, Harry. I’ve been holding on to the past, like a child clings to its mother’s dress.
“I miss you every day. I miss the way you looked at me with those brilliant green eyes. I miss the way you would hold me. I miss your body next to mine, the conversations we would have, the way you kissed me, the way you made me feel like I was the only person that mattered.
“I always thought that one day, after Voldemort was gone, that we could be together. I’ve been forced to give up that hope, but I haven’t wanted to. I’ve been holding on and it’s time for me to let go.
“I love you, Harry. I always have and I always will, but I need to let go now. My life stopped that night and I need to start it again, but I couldn’t let myself without truly saying goodbye.
“Only in death can we be together again, but my time isn’t yet. I’ve so much to do, so many things to see, so many people to save. So goodbye, Harry. Until we meet again, wait for me and I’ll always be waiting for you.”
With that, Draco walked away, the rain still creating little rivulets down his face, his chest, his legs.
Harry Potter may be dead, he thought, but the legacy of Harry will never be forgotten. Perhaps that is the most important lesson he’s taught me.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver dragon. He carried it with him everywhere, the only piece of Harry he still had. Something felt different about it. Draco turned it over in his fingers, pausing when he noticed new lines on it.
But they weren’t lines; they were words. Freshly engraved in the shining metal, there was a message.
I’ll be waiting, Draco.
And with the beginnings of a smile, Draco let the rain conquer him as he imagined the way Harry had once felt on his body. After all, you can only truly live when you let go and remembrance is the key to letting go.