The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 51: Death Do Us Part

Present Day. 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry was here again. Tonight. Every night. It was the same every night since he left Harry. The same dream. The same voice. The same image playing over and over again in his head. He was grasping a bouquet of red and white roses in his right hand, as usual. Harry breathed out shakily as he stands in the cold night in front of Draco's gravestone, his breath forming a mist as the cold air comes into contact with it. Harry did what he usually did in the dream. He laid down the flowers and perched it on the grave, right beside Draco's name embedded in the stone in gold letters. A single lone tear fell from his eye and Harry let it flow, making no move to wipe it away.

He heard footsteps again. It was almost the same every night. Sometimes, the footsteps were slower, sometimes there were no footsteps at all. Sometimes Harry broke down in front of the gravestone, calling out his name in the hopes that somehow it would bring him back. But almost every night contained the same image of Draco's spirit, glowing like a Patronus, trailing behind Harry and watching him with sad eyes, and like every night. Harry ignored him, for fear that it would hurt him too much to look into that man's eyes, and be reminded of everything that will never come true.

But tonight, tonight something was different. Harry felt different.

"Harry." Draco's voice was weak as he called his name out. And like every night, Harry ignored him and so Draco was left to think he couldn't hear him.

He could feel Draco's ghostly gaze lingering on the back on his head and he forced himself not to turn around. He slowly stood from the grave and put his cold numb hands into his pockets, but couldn't care enough to warm them up. He kept his eyes on the engraved name in gold letters and spoke to it.

"I don't know what to do anymore." Harry's voice came out like a broken sob, and even though he was dreaming, it felt real.

He heard the footsteps stop and it took all his power not to turn around to face him.

"What?" came Draco's soft voice and Harry hated how it cracked at the word.

Harry spoke directly to the headstone again.

"Everyone wants me to be the hero, but I can't... not today... not anymore." He sat down again at the foot of the grave and carefully stroked Draco's name using his thumb, the cold stone making him pull his hand back. He laughed bitterly. "Every time I think we're closer to answers to bring you back it's a dead end."

"Harry." He heard his voice again.

"Now I think..." Harry breathed deeply. "... I might come to join you soon."

The footsteps came closer now as he heard Draco's panicked voice

"Harry please listen to me, at least hear me!"

He could tell Draco was standing right next to him, the glow radiating from him could be seen from the corner of Harry's eyes. The dream had never been like this. Not even close to the many nights he had of the same recurring image. Draco's voice was panicked and Harry hated how real it sounded, almost like something the real Draco would say.

"Back at the battlefield..." Harry stood up and wiped his tears. "We never got to say goodbye..."

He leaned down and kissed the hard stone softly before standing up again.

"Harry you can't do this, What about Ron and Hermione for Merlin's sake ?!" Draco's voice wavered, his eyes wet with tears, Harry could hear it in his voice, but it became more firm. "I know how you feel, yes, but for Merlin's sake, be sensible!"

Draco made a move to slap him but Harry turned at the last minute and caught his hand in midair. The action shocked him so much that Harry's eyes went wide at the image of Draco standing right in front of him, and he could see that Draco felt the same as well as he looked down in disbelief at Harry's hand touching his wrist.