FIC: "Remember When It Rained", PG
Title: Remember When It Rained
Author: ctkelly
Rating: PG for swearing... once.
Genre: Angst
Summary: Draco died during the War, it's three years later and Harry's still trying to move on. Post-Hogwarts.
Pairing: Harry/Draco... ish.
Warnings: Character death.
Notes: Sorry, about the lame title but I tried and tried but couldn't think of a decent one. The lyrics for 'Remember When It Rained' written by Josh Groban are up first and it's greatly recommended that you listen to 'Remember When It Rained' by Josh Groban while reading it. (It conjures up all the emotion I could only dream about writing.) Thanks to Amber for betaing. Yes, so_deranged, this is the Harry in the shower story.
Disclaimer: Me? Make up Harry Potter? Pass.
Word Count: 1, 120.
Remember When It Rained
Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you.
No more love and no more pride
And thoughts are all I have to do.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
Felt the ground and looked up high
And called your name.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
In the darkness I remain.
Tears of hope run down my skin.
Tears for you that will not dry.
They magnify the one within
And let the outside slowly die.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
I felt the ground and looked up high
And called your name.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
In the water I remain
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
~Remember When It Rained, Josh Groban
Harry scrubbed furiously at his skin as if it could remove those past memories. The agonizing memories coming to the surface, he only wanted to forget.
Was it really something so hard to do?
Waves of past sounds and images washed over and through his skin rather than running off like oil and water as he wanted.
Harry sighed heavily as he fell back against the unforgiving cold of the shower wall.
It had been three years now, since he last saw him. Since he last held him in his arms, but in that final moment, the warmth of Draco's body was slowly fading away as the blood pumping through his heart was rapidly slowing down. Harry watched as his lover's life left his body, as he murmured those final words to him that meant so much.
A Malfoy was never soft, a Malfoy never showed emotion. Emotion means weakness and weakness is not very becoming of a Malfoy. Draco broke all those rules in that last moment. If it wasn't bad enough that he fell in love with Harry -fucking- Potter.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione called gently.
"I'm fine, Herm," he replied back, shutting the water off, adding as an afterthought, "Thanks."
"Okay, tea's getting cold, you better come down."
"'kay," he fell back against the shower wall again, the freezing cold sending a wave of shock through his nerves and senses. Letting out a deep breath, Harry stepped out of the shower to meet the ice-cold wind. All memories of Draco and the War momentarily forgotten as he reached for a towel. Until pressing it against his face did he notice dimly that it was the same shade as of Draco's light blue-grey eyes. Those eyes never showed much emotion, except for when in private and only with Harry
A Malfoy was never meant to show emotion.
"I miss you," Harry murmured.
"Oh, bloody Hell!" Ron swore profusely, "Again?"
"Yes, again, Ronald Weasley," his wife retorted, dragging him out of their bed.
"It's been three years, why is he still having nightmares?" he whined, dragging his feet behind her.
"It's been three years," Hermione echoed, "And he's having trouble moving on."
"But it's Malfoy!" Ron ran his hands through his orange hair, watching Harry toss and turn desperately.
"Ron, he can't even go back to their apartment," she snapped.
"I realised," he commented dryly, "What, with him living in our house for the past three years and all.
"Since the War ended," she corrected, pausing, "Go, he's getting worse."
"He always gets worse," Ron muttered, moving forward to shake his broken best friend awake, "Come on, mate."
"We might just get this," Harry called to Draco over the cries of spells and screams of death.
Draco fell into step with him, replying, "We might just," he suddenly stopped, felt for something on his back then collapsed onto Harry, dragging them both to the ground.
Harry pulled the dagger out of Draco's back roughly and set it to the side, not even bothering to look up to see who the attacker was. Draco looked though, picking the knife up as firmly as he could.
"If you're going to kill someone, might as well make it good," with a final burst of strength, Draco threw the knife into Blaise Zabini, then fell back against Harry, his head resting back onto Harry's chest.
"It's not meant to turn out this way," he whispered, head bowed, "This wasn't how-"
"I can't feel anything," Draco interjected weakly, "Nothing at all."
"Shh, it'll be okay," Harry took his hand away from the wound and used it to comb Draco's hair out of his eyes, the blood leaving its mark against the white-blond hair, streaks of red standing out like Draco's Slytherin scarf in a crowd of Gryffindors.
Time seemed to freeze at that very moment, everything around them deathly silent. Then the first drops of blood hit the ground with the softest pit-pat, no human ear able to catch it, certainly not amidst the screams of war and despair around them. Harry still sobbing, "It was never meant to turn out this way..."
Draco desperately, trying to comfort him with whatever little life he still held inside him.
"I love you, you know that?" Harry whispered into his ear, one hand cradling his head to him.
"Love you, Emerald," Draco responded, receiving the exact reaction he wanted.
Harry loosening his hold on Draco to draw back slightly and settle his emerald, tear-filled gaze on him, "You know I hate that name."
Draco was feeling his entire body shut down on him, was death meant to be this lingering? Was it meant to be this drawn-out?
He gave Harry a weak smile, "My Emerald."
There were no dramatic sighs as his final, shuddering breath left his body, no theatrical fall of the head as his last remnant of strength departed. Death wasn’t spectacular, it had no need of exaggeration, it was final.
Time went on again and the cries of death and warfare filled his senses. There was still a war to be fought, and then maybe the sun would shine again. Cast away all of those ghastly clouds that had steadily formed.
“Harry!” a familiar voice cried.
“Harry!” another one joining it.
Hermione and Ron reached over to their friend on the ground with Draco’s still body in his arms. Tears rolling down his face, landing on Draco's, yet turned up to the dark sky as if waiting for an answer.
A softly-spoken, "Oh, my god," came out of Hermione as she and Ron joined him on the ground, "Harry, look at me," a pause, no response coming from any of them as they waited in a hushed silence.
"Come on, mate," Ron urged, reaching out to put a firm hand onto Harry's shoulder.
Harry's eyes slowly opened as his best friend's voice finally broke through, blinking quickly to get use to the dim light streaming in from the hallway into his bedroom. There were two figures sitting on his bed as they always were on nights like these. He drew himself up slowly, still feeling as dead as Draco appeared to be in his dream... nightmare.
A pair of arms encircled his body and he returned the gesture gratefully. It was always Hermione giving him these comforting hugs and he felt her soft lips on his cheek.
Although, maybe for a moment, he'd like to pretend that they were Draco's and just for a moment, he'd believe he was in the arms of his lover. Only for a moment though, there's no use confusing fantasy with reality.
Especially when you know it could never happen again. Yet it doesn’t hurt to pretend.
The End.
Remember to comment/review! Thanks! No laughing!
I don't suppose anybody wants the even more angsty attempt at the start of a sequel? Let's say songfic plot-bunnies decided to target me for a little while. ;)
Hope you guys had a happy new year!
Author: ctkelly
Rating: PG for swearing... once.
Genre: Angst
Summary: Draco died during the War, it's three years later and Harry's still trying to move on. Post-Hogwarts.
Pairing: Harry/Draco... ish.
Warnings: Character death.
Notes: Sorry, about the lame title but I tried and tried but couldn't think of a decent one. The lyrics for 'Remember When It Rained' written by Josh Groban are up first and it's greatly recommended that you listen to 'Remember When It Rained' by Josh Groban while reading it. (It conjures up all the emotion I could only dream about writing.) Thanks to Amber for betaing. Yes, so_deranged, this is the Harry in the shower story.
Disclaimer: Me? Make up Harry Potter? Pass.
Word Count: 1, 120.
Remember When It Rained
Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you.
No more love and no more pride
And thoughts are all I have to do.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
Felt the ground and looked up high
And called your name.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
In the darkness I remain.
Tears of hope run down my skin.
Tears for you that will not dry.
They magnify the one within
And let the outside slowly die.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
I felt the ground and looked up high
And called your name.
Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained.
In the water I remain
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
Running down
~Remember When It Rained, Josh Groban
Harry scrubbed furiously at his skin as if it could remove those past memories. The agonizing memories coming to the surface, he only wanted to forget.
Was it really something so hard to do?
Waves of past sounds and images washed over and through his skin rather than running off like oil and water as he wanted.
Harry sighed heavily as he fell back against the unforgiving cold of the shower wall.
It had been three years now, since he last saw him. Since he last held him in his arms, but in that final moment, the warmth of Draco's body was slowly fading away as the blood pumping through his heart was rapidly slowing down. Harry watched as his lover's life left his body, as he murmured those final words to him that meant so much.
A Malfoy was never soft, a Malfoy never showed emotion. Emotion means weakness and weakness is not very becoming of a Malfoy. Draco broke all those rules in that last moment. If it wasn't bad enough that he fell in love with Harry -fucking- Potter.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione called gently.
"I'm fine, Herm," he replied back, shutting the water off, adding as an afterthought, "Thanks."
"Okay, tea's getting cold, you better come down."
"'kay," he fell back against the shower wall again, the freezing cold sending a wave of shock through his nerves and senses. Letting out a deep breath, Harry stepped out of the shower to meet the ice-cold wind. All memories of Draco and the War momentarily forgotten as he reached for a towel. Until pressing it against his face did he notice dimly that it was the same shade as of Draco's light blue-grey eyes. Those eyes never showed much emotion, except for when in private and only with Harry
A Malfoy was never meant to show emotion.
"I miss you," Harry murmured.
"Oh, bloody Hell!" Ron swore profusely, "Again?"
"Yes, again, Ronald Weasley," his wife retorted, dragging him out of their bed.
"It's been three years, why is he still having nightmares?" he whined, dragging his feet behind her.
"It's been three years," Hermione echoed, "And he's having trouble moving on."
"But it's Malfoy!" Ron ran his hands through his orange hair, watching Harry toss and turn desperately.
"Ron, he can't even go back to their apartment," she snapped.
"I realised," he commented dryly, "What, with him living in our house for the past three years and all.
"Since the War ended," she corrected, pausing, "Go, he's getting worse."
"He always gets worse," Ron muttered, moving forward to shake his broken best friend awake, "Come on, mate."
"We might just get this," Harry called to Draco over the cries of spells and screams of death.
Draco fell into step with him, replying, "We might just," he suddenly stopped, felt for something on his back then collapsed onto Harry, dragging them both to the ground.
Harry pulled the dagger out of Draco's back roughly and set it to the side, not even bothering to look up to see who the attacker was. Draco looked though, picking the knife up as firmly as he could.
"If you're going to kill someone, might as well make it good," with a final burst of strength, Draco threw the knife into Blaise Zabini, then fell back against Harry, his head resting back onto Harry's chest.
"It's not meant to turn out this way," he whispered, head bowed, "This wasn't how-"
"I can't feel anything," Draco interjected weakly, "Nothing at all."
"Shh, it'll be okay," Harry took his hand away from the wound and used it to comb Draco's hair out of his eyes, the blood leaving its mark against the white-blond hair, streaks of red standing out like Draco's Slytherin scarf in a crowd of Gryffindors.
Time seemed to freeze at that very moment, everything around them deathly silent. Then the first drops of blood hit the ground with the softest pit-pat, no human ear able to catch it, certainly not amidst the screams of war and despair around them. Harry still sobbing, "It was never meant to turn out this way..."
Draco desperately, trying to comfort him with whatever little life he still held inside him.
"I love you, you know that?" Harry whispered into his ear, one hand cradling his head to him.
"Love you, Emerald," Draco responded, receiving the exact reaction he wanted.
Harry loosening his hold on Draco to draw back slightly and settle his emerald, tear-filled gaze on him, "You know I hate that name."
Draco was feeling his entire body shut down on him, was death meant to be this lingering? Was it meant to be this drawn-out?
He gave Harry a weak smile, "My Emerald."
There were no dramatic sighs as his final, shuddering breath left his body, no theatrical fall of the head as his last remnant of strength departed. Death wasn’t spectacular, it had no need of exaggeration, it was final.
Time went on again and the cries of death and warfare filled his senses. There was still a war to be fought, and then maybe the sun would shine again. Cast away all of those ghastly clouds that had steadily formed.
“Harry!” a familiar voice cried.
“Harry!” another one joining it.
Hermione and Ron reached over to their friend on the ground with Draco’s still body in his arms. Tears rolling down his face, landing on Draco's, yet turned up to the dark sky as if waiting for an answer.
A softly-spoken, "Oh, my god," came out of Hermione as she and Ron joined him on the ground, "Harry, look at me," a pause, no response coming from any of them as they waited in a hushed silence.
"Come on, mate," Ron urged, reaching out to put a firm hand onto Harry's shoulder.
Harry's eyes slowly opened as his best friend's voice finally broke through, blinking quickly to get use to the dim light streaming in from the hallway into his bedroom. There were two figures sitting on his bed as they always were on nights like these. He drew himself up slowly, still feeling as dead as Draco appeared to be in his dream... nightmare.
A pair of arms encircled his body and he returned the gesture gratefully. It was always Hermione giving him these comforting hugs and he felt her soft lips on his cheek.
Although, maybe for a moment, he'd like to pretend that they were Draco's and just for a moment, he'd believe he was in the arms of his lover. Only for a moment though, there's no use confusing fantasy with reality.
Especially when you know it could never happen again. Yet it doesn’t hurt to pretend.
The End.
Remember to comment/review! Thanks! No laughing!
I don't suppose anybody wants the even more angsty attempt at the start of a sequel? Let's say songfic plot-bunnies decided to target me for a little while. ;)
Hope you guys had a happy new year!