Demortia

Chapter18: ...and I, I love you

Two bodies ... Nudes ... Lying ... Sleeping ... Lovers ... Lovers ...

One and the same love ... A hope ...

Lying on a white carpet by a fireplace, they looked like two martyrs struck by passion. The vision of the love they gave off dazzled almost the eyes. Yet the three adults around them were going to wake them up. They were going to take them out of this moment of pure symbiosis and tenderness.

It was perhaps necessary to prevent them ... Hidden behind this love, there was this emotion, this despair, this sadness ...

They looked like cursed lovers, angels fallen from the sky for having touched the ecstasy of a forbidden carnal pleasure ...

They did not have to wake up ... They had to stay like that forever ... Stay the damned lovers, stay the fallen angels ...

They should not open their eyelids ... Why tear them away from this dream?

But they woke up ... The adults came out and the two young men emerged with difficulty. The air around them was suddenly loaded with pain and suffering.

Their love was about to end ... They were not going to die?

A scream tore through the deep silence of the Seventh Gryffindor dormitory ...

Body trembling like the leaves of an oak in the storm, Harry straightened up in his bed. He put the back of his hand on his forehead to wipe away the drops of sweat that were beading on it.

Ron opened the curtains with a brusque and ferocious movement, wand in hand.

- Harry? What is going on? he asked, very worried.

The brown man, totally disoriented, pushed Ron aside with one arm and ran towards the bathroom.

He suffered. But where in his body? He did not know it. He had a heart ache, a dull ache, an abyss of despair seemed to have been hollowed out. His head was throwing him, preventing him from thinking lucidly about this dream too true ...

Even if he did not want to believe it, even if he pushed this idea away from his brain, he understood. It was not just a dream ... It was more, it looked too much like Voldemort's visions that he shared without intending to neglect this reality.

But what did this vision mean? Voldemort was dead ... He was almost certain, no, more than certain ... He was dead! And then, why would that megalomaniac snake fool send him that kind of visions?

He relives his vision exactly. The two lovers, asleep, peaceful ... The love that united them seeming so strong but so fragile ...

Why?

At this moment, the nausea was the strongest. Falling down with weakness on the icy floor of the bathroom, he vomited, his hands clenched under the edge of the toilet. A hand rested on his back, caressing him gently. He wiped his mouth and turned to his best friend. Clutching his head against Ron's chest, he started to cry. Tears of rage, tears of sadness, tears of incomprehension ...

Ron did not say a single word. At a glance, he fired Dean, Seamus and Neville who were stunned at the entrance to the room and he let his friend cry. Harry would explain to him soon enough ...

But Harry did not want it ... He had seen, he understood ...

Why him? Why Malfoy? What was these dreams? He shivered, his tears redoubling ...

Impossible. Simply impossible.

Draco opened his eyes in a quick and violent move ...

Another one of those strange dreams he was doing with Potter. They seemed so real and unreal at the same time ... He got up and went to the bathroom. He sat on a chair hidden by the sink and ran a tired hand over his face.