Fandom/Pairing: Harry Potter, HP/DM
Summary: Harry comes to some hard realizations after Draco begins disappearing at random times.
Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Don't want that? Don't bother going any farther.
Disclaimer: In the sixth book, Harry dies. Just kidding. As I am not JKR, how the hell should I know what happens?
Word Count: 1,210
A/N: This is a companion fic for what I wrote based on the stagesoflove's Seven Deadly Sins Challenge. This can be read as a stand-alone, but it will make more sence if you read this first. It's all the ficlets titled Round III.
Anyway, read and lemme know what you think. *grins*
The first time that Harry comes home and Draco isn't there, it's easy to pretend that nothing's wrong. After all, Harry does often work weird hours as an Auror and member of the Order, and Draco can't be expected to sit in their flat and wait for him to come home all the time. That's no way for anyone to live. Harry knows this-years of dealing with the Dursleys has taught him well-and he has been encouraging Draco to go and get some sort of employment; something that gets him out of the flat and has him interacting with other people. It's quite simple for Harry to imagine that this is what Draco has finally done, and if his job has weird hours like Harry's, well, it doesn't mean that he's doing anything shady.
And if when Draco gets home he avoids the subject of where it is exactly he's been, Harry can dismiss it as concern that he will worry needlessly, and either way, the way that Draco kisses him to stop him asking questions is more than enough distraction. The wind up going to bed rather quickly that night, and the next morning Harry has pretty much forgotten Draco's avoidance of his questions.
Three weeks, twenty dead muggles and seven dead Order members later, it is much harder to ignore. Harry sits at his desk for the first time since he started this damn job, staring at a piece of parchment that is crawling with dates and times. Dates and times of murders that coincide too perfectly with when Draco is at his mysterious job, doing who-knows-what, and Harry finally begins to see.
His eyes are suddenly opened, and he can't shut them no matter how hard he tries. He starts to notice things, like Draco never kisses him when he gets back from these little jaunts of his; doesn't come near him in fact until he's had a shower. Like he's suddenly stopped wearing short sleeved shirts, even though it's the middle of summer and hotter than hell. When Harry askes about this new developement Draco smiles and says that he's always worn long shirts, because his skin burns easily and anyway he's always cold. Harry doesn't believe him, and when Draco is gone finds himself praying that his lover is cheating on him. Anything would be better than what he expects.
He recalls the time when Draco broke his heart, tossing him aside like he really didn't care and then snogging Zabini where Harry would be sure to see. He remembers the anger on Draco's face when Harry had tried to do the same with Zacharias Smith; vividly he brings to mind the fierce anger and sharp betrayal in slate gray eyes as equally furious hands had tried to choke the life out of their rival. If he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can still feel Draco's kiss on his mouth and his hands on his body as he had surrendered helplessly to the only love he'd ever known, ever wanted. And he sees again the determination on his beloved's face when he told him that he wouldn't be letting go of Harry, not now, not ever. That look of determination and prideful love, and suddenly Harry knows without a doubt what is happening. Where Draco goes when he isn't with Harry, why he wont ever take off his long shirts and why the light that was once in his beautiful eyes has been slowly dying out, to be replaced with a flat, emotionless stare that never fails to scare Harry when he happens to catch a glimpse of it.
Draco has gone to Voldemort, pledged his allegience to the one that Harry himself had sworn to kill. Harry had tried to deny it for as long as he could, but he knew that time was over. He had finally let himself see what he'd known all along, that Draco had never had any intention of letting go of either his family pride or Harry, had in fact led Harry to believe that he had let loose the former only to use what information Harry gave him to turn the tables against the Order, and kill all those people.
All those people who could have been saved. A horrible slew of names runs through Harry's mind, some of people he knew, others he didn't. Elsie Eddington, Greta Kib, Neville Longbottom, Wendy Gibbs, Penelope Savage, Tom Hubbins, Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid.
Oh, God, Hagrid.
He'd been killed on another of Dumbledore's crazy missions to the giants...but only after a harsh torture session to see if he had any valuable information on the Order's activities. It had taken quite a bit to subdue the half-giant, and in the end there had not been much left of the only real father figure Harry had ever had.
Harry had been devastated for days after Hagrid's murder; the only person he'd let near him was Draco. The blond man had held him so tenderly, and had shed his own tears, tears Harry had believed to be in shared pain. Now he new better. The tears were most likely real enough, as was their reason. Guilt over what the information he'd given to Voldemort had cost Harry, for there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Draco did love him. His love was in every gesture, every word...but what was love in the face of a betrayal such as this? Draco had known all along that Harry couldn't stay with him, be with him if he were a Death Eater, and yet he'd gone to Voldemort anyway.
Two days after the epiphany at his almost unused desk, Harry held Draco for what he knew to be the last time. He stared down at his beloved's face, memorizing his Draco in sleep, taking in every detail for long moments so that he might never forget. For a few minutes he pretended that life were different, that there was no Dark Lord or Boy Who Lived. There was only Harry and Draco, two men in love who lived together, went to the same University and occasionally argued...but only so that they could make up. He pretended, but only for a few minutes, and when those minutes were up he slipped away from Draco. Standing by the bed where they'd made love on countless occasions, he couldn't resist reaching down to stroke a pale cheek one last time, and as gray eyes fluttered open the soft smile that had begun on Draco's mouth at the feel of his Harry's hand on his cheek melted into a look of horrified realization, and as Harry closed his eyes and raised his wand green light flooded the room and left those pretty gray eyes as lifeless as they had always seemed after one of his 'meetings'.
Harry turned away from the bed and stumbled out of the flat, only opening his eyes when he felt gravel under his feet instead of solid floors. With tears streaming down his face Harry turned to look at his and Draco's home one final time before making his way towards London and soon, Voldemort, off to fulfill his destiny before he allowed himself to follow his Draco, his love, into oblivion.