An Eventful Quidditch Match (HP) (Drarry) (COMPLETED)

chapter sixteen

Draco does not, perhaps can not, reply at first. His eyes were wide, his jaw dropped. Several questions were running through his mind, such as; why would we not make it out of there alive? What does he know that I don't?

Did he just say he loves me? What? What do I say? That I love him back? Do I love him back?

Unfortunately, Draco had no answers to any of his questions. Harry put a hand up, "It's okay," he reassured. "You don't have to say it back. I just thought you should know. Come along now. Let's get to it."

Draco nodded dumbly, deciding that he would sort through his raging emotions later. Harry deserved a response; but he deserved a proper one, and Draco had too many things in his mind currently to give him one.

Later, Draco thought firmly. Later Harry will get the response he deserves.

(The Harry he knew never would receive it)

Hagrid smiled at them when they returned and, together, they entered the Room. It was small, but not overly cramped. There was two couches, one where Ron and Hermione sat and the other where Ginny and Neville sat. The couches were accross the room from each other, a small table with water and food on it sitting between them.

Luna lay underneath the table, perfectly content with not sitting on a chair, of which there were three againist the back wall.

All eyes were on Harry and Draco as they entered. Hagrid stood at the door, eyeing the members of the room with suspicion. Everyone's mood seemed to have risen with the arrival of Harry, and he quickly found himself enveloped in the arms of Hermione, who's beaming smile rivaled the sun.

Harry hesitantly returned the hug.

I know more about you than you, Hermione thought. Isn't that wild, Harry? I have your memories now, isn't that just wild?

— Pristina can feel the dark magic radiating off of Hermione and she tries desperately to reach out to Harry with her magic but it keeps failing and she keeps trying and failing and trying and trying and failing—

"I've missed you," Hermione says, but it's not directed at Harry. She says it to the small part of Voldemort's soul that lives with hers. She will see him soon enough.

"I'm sorry this has to happen, Harry," she says. "It's an awful shame you have to die."

Harry's grip on her loosens. "Wha-"

Draco raised his wand, vaguely aware that Hagrid is doing the same thing, a hex on the tip of his tongue because he can now see the dark magic leaking out of Hermione, and everyone else can too, and Draco suddenly knows; he knows that this was Jackson Smith, he knows that she (he?) is dangerous even without a wand, and most importantly he knows that he loves Harry back.

He is not fast enough.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione yells, and a blast of pure energy knocks the breath out of everyone in the room. It is too powerful for Hermione's body to handle.

Harry and Hermione both collapse.

¶∆¶

Harry looks down at his body, then Hermione-Who's-Apperantly-Not-Hermione's body. He finds himself staring at Jackson's spector. Hermione's body is morphing back to Jackson's, the corpse now matching the apperance of the ghost before him.

He can see Pristina, too, but she seems so far away, she doesn't feel real. She is crying, he thinks.

None of this feels real.

I'm dead, Harry realized. I'm fucking dead.

He watched in morbid fascination as Jackson's ghost completely ignored him, walking until he stood completely above Harry's body. Harry tried to stop him, but he is unable.

Slowly, Jackson's ghost sinks into Harry's body.

Harry looks over, noticing that Pristina is not his only watcher. Hermione, the real Hermione, stands to the side. She is happy to see him, she would later say, but sad to see him dead.

Another figure, one that Harry cannot recognize (Harry found his memories still gone- they had moved on, been taken by Jackson so he could act as Harry would with more conviction) reaches out it's hand. "I am sorry," Life said, "It is time to go."

Harry reaches out, grabbing the hand sadly, knowing there is nothing else to do.

∆¶∆

Harry opens his eyes. (Except he is not Harry, he is Jackson, but no one else needs to know that.) He is in the hospital wing and surrounded by faces he can recall if he picked through Harry's memories.

He smiled at everyone. They think he is happy to be alive, but he is happy because soon Tom Riddle will be returned to the world. He has lots of work to do, he knows, but nothing has ever been impossible for him.

"I can remember everything," Jackson said, his voice coming out as Harry's, loving and soft and kind, "I'm back."

~ fin.