The day Harry Potter died was the day Draco learned how to be strong, alone.
Draco didn't like to put titles on things, like a tragedy, blessing, curse, or even beautiful. He saw titles as materialistic, attachments to the object or person which one day would eventually go away. A title only made everything all too real.
The world revolved around titles, places, people, words, songs, poems, anything and everything to make something real.
He never found himself as strong, he never flinched after his emotions were dulled to nothing by the Dark Lord's awful mark.
Draco never liked to make things real, not when he was at Hogwarts, not when he was faced with the Dark Lord or with death. Nothing made him feel anything but fear inside.
He didn't want to make this real either, he didn't want his eyes to travel over a normal sized brown casket, it's lid open to see a young boy laying there, his pale skin and curved mouth much too happy. Draco didn't want to stare, he didn't want to kiss the top of the boy's head, he didn't want to feel his cold lifeless body under his hand.
Death was so cold. Touching death was even colder, feeling the absolute weight of the person under your finger tips, their hair unnaturally whispy, eyes closed and body at rest.
Harry had brought a new meaning into his life. From their first hesitant kiss as sixth years, to the intensity and joy of their wedding years later. Through the years Harry made the cold Slytherin smile, laugh, let go of his pain and fear and become human again. He in turn kept Harry together through the worst times.
Draco's heart had stopped the first time he thought Harry Potter had died, seeing his body limp and lifeless in Hagrids large beefy arms beside the sly wizard known as Voldemort. He looked at Harry then, his eyes disbelieving that he was gone, his eyes seeing the red flush of his cheeks and wondering if he would still see him.
Then, Draco's unimaginable joy of seeing Harry spring out of Hagrids arms, running off and saving the day like he promised Draco he would.
This time was different. Much different. Draco had gotten an owl, he was in the midst of making a spagetti and meatball dinner for Harry, his favorite. Harry had always insisted on making it the muggle way. Draco looked up at the beautiful grey owl swooping in through their five bedroom apartment curiously, seeing it land in front of him.
It had cooed at Draco, a low fleeting sound that made Draco frown. He took the letter from the owls leg, petting it gently before opening the letter without haste, licking off some of the blood red sauce from the food quickly.
He paled as he read the words, each word stuck in Draco's mind till this day.
"Dear Mr. Potter
You are requested at Snt. Mongos quickly. Your husband isn't well. Please come as soon as possible. We are sorry."
It was a short letter, his body kicking into action after the initial shock. He had flicked off the stove and lights, apparating to Snt. Mongos quickly and racing as fast as he could through the long corridors and sickly vibes.
Draco finally made it to his husband, seeing him lying on a bed in the middle of a relatively empty room. He had his auror robes on, his face deathly white and his eyes closed.
Draco walked numbly forward, his eyes never leaving his husband's body.
'Harry? What is happening? Why are you laying on a bed? Why is your chest all bloody? Why are your eyes closed? What happened?' were all the questions Draco wanted to say aloud, but nothing was formed.
"Excuse me you are not permitted to be in here!" A nurse snapped, Draco fell to his knees completely blank as the nurse stomped over. "Get out! This is not your business!" She hissed.
"Excuse me Miss. Pollergam, that is Harry's husband. If you will be so kind, get out" a sharp voice snarled when Draco's was stuck deep in his belly. The nurse gasped and spluttered out an apology, but quickly ran from the room.
No nurses were tending to Harry, no one else was in the room except the few who knew him. A hand placed on Draco's shoulder, making him lift his head and look with blank eyes up at Professor Mcgonagall. She looked down at Draco with sympathetic eyes, pulling the broken man to his feet.
"Harry! Harry no!" Was screamed, echoing through the room as a frantic Hermione Weasley rushed in, Ron running in right behind her and holding her screaming sobbing self back from Harry.
Draco stepped forward numbly. 'this couldn't be happening' ran through his mind, 'impossible', 'he's not dead'.
"Why isn't anyone helping him?" Draco rasped gently, walking beside the bed and placing his warm hand over Harry's, "Why aren't you waking up love?" Draco asked, tears pooling at his eyes quietly as he looked at Harry. Hermione's sobs ceased for a moment, everyone looking at Draco. "Baby please...You said you would come home...You told me you wanted that stupid spagetii and meatball dinner you always love. You kissed me, told me you loved me and would be home by seven." Draco whispered, tears starting to slowly run down his blank face as he gently caressed Hary's forehead. "Don't leave me okay? You aren't allowed to leave me Harry, you promised you wouldn't. You said you would be safe. Harry, Harry you complete fool..." Draco mummered. "Why don't you answer me love..."
"D-Draco..." Hermione started but Ron hushed her. Draco leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Harry's frozen lips.
Draco Potter looked down with glassy eyes, standing straight again. He looked over Harry again, stepping back and his head bowed. A small noise escaped his mouth, a wimper. His teeth clenched as he groaned.
"Harry Potter how dare you!" Draco suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs, startling everyone in the room. "How dare you leave me?! How?!" He screamed and stepped back and back and back, "I fucking loved you! Was that not enough?!"
"Draco stop" Mcgonagall whispered, "he isn't waking up dear" she said and went over beside Draco and pulled him back.
The day Harry Potter died was the day Draco Potter learned to be strong. Alone.
The day Harry Potter was lowered into the ground, was the day Draco Potter sealed up his emotions forever.
The day Harry Potter didn't return home to his spagetii dinner, was the day Draco Potter gave up cooking.
The day Harry Potter's birthday fell upon was the day Draco Potter got drunk, so drunk he was sick two days.
The day Draco Potter realized Harry was never coming back, was the day Harry Potter was gone for exactly two years, three days and seven hours.
The day Harry Potter died was the day Draco Potter learned to be strong. Alone.
Yet, his feet still carried him to the edge of a long bridge, and his body still tipped forward. His lips sealed over the bright polished golden ring over his finger, and his hands tightened over a picture frame. The frame held the magical image of Draco and Harry's first kiss as a married couple.
The day Draco Potter died was the day he met Harry Potter again, in a whole new light.
I dunno what this was lol sorry for the angst again.
