Regret, Remorse, Hold On || Drarry

TWO

There was only silence.

The cessation of sound was the first thing Harry became aware of, the same silence of the forest as he'd walked to his death, the silence of all the funerals he'd attended. It had always felt unnatural to him. The prospect of having no sound was just wrong, and it was like a splash of cold water in his face.

He slowly uncurled from where had seemed to be folded into himself, bringing his arms away from his head cautiously. He couldn't remember why he was in this position, or what had happened, only a burning, intense rage that took his breath away even to recall. Like when he'd yelled at Ron and Hermione before.

Draco. Draco had been there. Harry had been... yelling, and Draco had been – he had been trying to leave. Hadn't he? His head felt thick, as if it were filled with cotton.

He blinked blearily and surveyed the room in groggy confusion. The air felt static and frozen, as if he were in some sort of limbo or purgatory. His eyes widened as he took in the white streaks slashed across the walls and how the candles had been extinguished, plunging the room into a cold, unfeeling darkness. He shivered, suddenly becoming aware of how frigid the air was.

"Draco?" He called, hearing the shakiness in his own voice and hating it.

There was no reply.

"Draco?" He tried again. Again, there was no response. Had he actually left, or was Harry imagining things? He began to try once more, as he turned to scour the room, when he finally caught sight of Draco. He wished he hadn't.

His first thought was that the other boy was dead. Draco lay limp across the ground, his limbs sprawled around him, his body cast aside like a broken marionette.

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. A cold hand wrapped around his heart like a vice.

"Draco." He whispered.

The lack of reply triggered something in him as he became suddenly, agonisingly aware that Draco was still motionless. Breath hitching, Harry threw himself towards him, landing painfully on his knees and taking Draco into his arms. A swift, wandless and non-verbal lumos lit the sombre room in seconds, pooling onto the other boy's face. He laid Draco's head in his lap and gently carded his shaking fingers through the white-blonde hair. His right-hand stroked Draco's freezing cold cheek.

"Draco, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He murmured, tears spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, please wake up, just open your eyes."

Draco was icy cold, his skin white and his hair even paler. His body seemed to exude some sort of horrible, cold energy. His eyelids were stained purple, like horrible bruises, and yet his face was expressionless. Harry could almost have believed that he was asleep, were it not for the faint bluish tint to his skin or the way his delicate fingertips were a painful purple and trembling faintly. His breathing was shallow, chest barely moving.

"Draco, please wake up, I didn't mean to – oh Merlin, what have I done?" Harry cried. "Draco! Wake up please!" he sobbed over the limp body, dropping his head onto Draco's chest. Draco remained as still as a corpse.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, fast and uncontrollable, dripping thickly onto Draco's white face. His skin was as cold as death under Harry's gentle but insistent touches. Harry used his spare hand to pull his wand from his pocket, preparing to do a desperate ennervate, because Draco wasn't waking up.

"Draco!" he cried again -

- when suddenly, with a cry, Draco came alive, his eyes flying open. He sucked in a panicked breath, throwing himself bolt upright and crashing into Harry's upper body. Harry grabbed him wildly, pulling the trembling form safely into his arms again. Draco thrashed in his grip, eyes wide and limbs senselessly trying to escape.