Existing

Harry's vision seemed to be stuck in black and white. The whiteness was the sky, though it was more gray than white. It was empty, void of emotion.

Harry envied it.

The black was all around him. Black shirts, black pants, black dresses. Hell, even he was draped in black; on the inside and out.

Harry felt trapped right now, like heavy weights were sitting on his chest. He felt like he could stab someone right then. He felt like he wanted to. Which was funny, because wasn't that why he was here in the first place? In fact, it was so funny, Harry could almost feel the laughter coming out of his mouth.

Though some would call it sobbing.

But Harry refused to cry. Crying wouldn't bring the other half of him back, he couldn't find himself by shedding tears. It was better to keep his pain inside, and let him tear himself into more pieces.

He was already ripped in half. Why should he stop there?

He was so close to Draco right now, he could touch him. But Harry couldn't bring himself to close the distance, not while Draco had to stay in that black box.

Harry would give anything to hold Draco close to him one more time.

He looked so fake right now. If Harry would allow himself to touch Draco, he would wipe off the makeup that they had put on him. Draco was beautiful without it. Now he looked fake, like a wax man sleeping.

And Draco wasn't sleeping.

Even Harry couldn't pretend that.

A part of Harry wanted to yell at Draco's still form, to rip him apart limb by limb, like they used to try to do when they were young and foolish and spent so much energy wasting time. But people were watching, and Harry refused to touch Draco. Not like this.

Though Harry wished that his resolve wasn't so strong.

Draco had promised him that he would return. That he would be fine. It was the only reason that Harry had let him go by himself, and didn't force Draco to let him come. Draco said that the worst his father would do would be to yell at him and throw him out.

He didn't say he'd kill him.

Draco had never lied to him before. God dammit, he'd never broken a promise to him either.

What a shitty time to start.

Tomorrow this would all be over. Ron and Hermione would stop pretending to be sad. Mrs. Weasley would stop being so understanding when he wanted to be alone and didn't come over. Everyone would move on.

Harry wouldn't.

He couldn't live like this. Not for long. He had already forgotten yesterday; it wasn't until he stared at the empty plate setting in front up him, and called Draco to dinner for the fifth time, that he realized that Draco wouldn't be coming.

That was when his vision became black and white. Harry didn't think that it was ever going to change back.

No, he definitely couldn't live like this.

He glanced behind him, his eyes meeting the rest. They were all staring at him, waiting to see if he'd break down. They would all race to help Harry.

No one raced to save Draco.

Harry turned away from everyone. Let them stare. As long as they didn't come near him. He didn't want anyone close to him right now. Anyone besides Draco.

He didn't want anyone to see his tears.

They were falling quickly now, and Harry allowed them to. There wasn't anything left inside himself to cut away anyway. The Harry Potter that used to exist had been washed away.

Because Harry Potter could only exist with Draco Malfoy.

If Harry was going to cry, he didn't see any reason to keep acting on his other rules.

Harry let his hand fall slowly from the side of the casket to Draco's hand. He gave it a slight squeeze, holding on to it as though it was the only thing keeping him standing. Hell, it probably was. And when Draco didn't squeeze back, Harry felt his heart shatter.

He had been stupid if he thought that his heart was already broken.

Harry laid his head on Draco's chest. Draco's black suit flooded his eyes, blocking out everything else. Harry had wanted Draco to wear white, but no one agreed with him. Black was much more appropriate, they had said.

At least this way, the blood wouldn't stain the suit.

Draco was so cold. Harry could feel it seeping into his skull. Wasn't your head supposed to give off the most body heat? Why couldn't he warm Draco?

Harry waited until he couldn't take it anymore, before standing up, pulling something out of his sleeve, and stabbing himself.

Just like that.

And Harry let his head fall back onto Draco's chest, before he closed his eyes. Keeping them shut, he pressed his lips to Draco's. He let them lay there as he bled.

Harry believed in love. He believed in the Afterlife for that purpose, so that lovers and boyfriends and wives could see each other each other once more. So that they could have one more chance. Harry believed that that was where he was going.

After all, even in death, Harry couldn't exist in a life without Draco.

It was that simple.