Darkness

In the valley

The darkness closes in.

On me

All around,

I'm trapped.

The cold wind was whipping his cloak around. It circled around his body, finally wrapped tightly around him. The once immaculate hair was dirty and windblown. The cold fingers of air pinched his skin through the holes in his shabby clothes. Dull gray eyes scanned the ground. Another gust of wind knocked his thin body down.

"I am Draco Malfoy!" he shouted. He was shouting to the wind, the cold, the world. "A world who could give a hippogriff's backside if I live," he spat.

Picking himself off the ground, he continued to mumble. "I'm stuck here. Trapped by an idiot. I'm running... fleeing. Malfoys do not flee." He shook his head. "Damn the name of Malfoy! Throw it from the Earth!"

I walk and walk

Through my hands that cover my face,

Through the tears that flow

I look for a place to rest...

Eternally.

The pale boy reached a wood. He stumbled over the rocks and roots, wincing at the soft soles of his shoes. Covering his face with his hands, he stumbled on blindly. Something warm trickled down his face. Tears. The warm salty water only reminded him of the position he was in. He'd never cried. Up until his mother's funeral at least.

Shaking his head of memories, he took in the surrounding trees. A small clear patch up ahead told him to keep going.

Pushing through bushes, he made it to the spot. It was directly behind a tree, sheltering him from the wind. Peeking around the trunk, he saw a lake, stirred slightly by the breeze. A large castle loomed in the distance. Hogwarts, his mind registered.

A small clearing with trampled grass and broken branches lay behind him. A light snow had begun to fall. He sat, pulling his knees to his chest. As he pulled his cloak tighter, a ring glistened, catching his eye. He frowned. The ring was impossible to move. A curse made it remain in place, growing and shrinking as he did. "Damn my father," he growled.

A memory of a marble gravestone entered his mind. His father's gravestone. It was large and immaculate, the name Malfoy carved in fancy script. Just as Lucius would have liked.

Opening his eyes, the land around him slowly came into focus. Peering to the edge of the glade, he imagined a gravestone. Small. Unimportant. Untended. His name hastily carved. He nodded. Draco would gladly accept that fate.

I wait for a sign,

A helping hand.

I wait and cry and cry and cry.

My tears do not end,

But I shall.

Wet tears streaked his face. He used the back of a hand to wipe them away. Tears show weakness.

Reaching into a cloak pocket, he sniffed. He pulled out a tissue wrapped vial. He'd grabbed a few of the dark potions when he had fled from the Dark Lord. Draco had intended to sell them when the need arose, which he had. This was the only one left. It glowed a pleasant rose color. The Draught of the Living Death. Draco thought of his dreams and how he wouldn't mind living in them forever. Last night, he'd been visited again by the mysterious black haired person. Draco had gotten deeper in the dream. He'd walked to the person; put a hand on their shoulder- and then he'd woken.

"Dammit," Draco said forcefully. He thought back to the dream. "I swear I know that person. WHY is it escaping me?" He suddenly yelled. A rustle brought him back to his senses.

A tree stands near,

So dark and gloomy,

Looming ever closer.

A guard,

Caging me in.

Snow bit his already frozen skin. Trees were rustling in the small wind. A branch above snapped, falling to the ground before him. Is the wind that strong? The trees were forming a circle around him. What had once provided shelter now seemed to be caging him in.

Draco panicked. Being trapped was only too familiar. A vision of a white faced man loomed over him. He was seventeen again.

"You cannot lie to me, Draco. I am Lord Voldemort. You will serve me."

Draco remembered the feeling of burning flesh; his arm was on fire. He was suddenly reliving all the dark moments of his life- the evil thoughts about Potter, ways to get teachers sacked, his new, sudden thoughts to hurt Potter, to make him scream in pain for all the cold looks-

Red eyes gleamed above him. His dark moments were suddenly causing him pleasure. The pressure on his arm was receding. His body was limp. He collapsed. Tears stung his face, in both the past and the present.

Deeper and deeper,

A Darkness complete.

A completeness I'll never feel.

The darkness began to fall. The sun was starting to sink from the sky, casting an eerie glow on everything. Draco's clearing was growing dark.

"I'm empty," he stated, as if saying this would make it final. Without love, I am nothing. "Nothing but a hollow shell," he whispered.

I throw my hands up,

Throw away my cares;

I plow on.

But it has to end.

"I don't care!" Draco was again shouting. Holding the vial to the setting sun, he uncapped it. He raised the vial to his chapped lips. Sniffing the potion, he became light-headed from the fumes. The vial was lowered.

But how?

By the touch of an unearthly Lord,

Or by a hand?

Draco turned his head to the sky. "Where are you now, God?" he sobbed to the sky. "Where are you? Will you end my life?" he paused. "No. No you won't. Another hand shall. Not the hand of God..."

My own.

The snow rested on his raised palm. The trees rustled again. Draco raised his eyes. "This hand, Lord. This hand will."

I wonder, wonder,

The darkness so complete.

It is so deep,

A deepness I always feel.

The sun sank further from the sky. His clearing darkened, light bouncing off the pale flakes of snow. And with the darkness, comes a bitter cold.

But a light, a glimmer,

Can it be so?

You descend upon me,

A glowing angel.

The trees rustled once more. Draco raised his head. A tree swayed and shook, branches and leaves falling everywhere. "What the f-"

A foot appeared; an old worn trainer. Draco scrambled backward a bit, knocking debris out of the way. A man about Draco's age descended roughly from the tree, landing with a plop. The setting sun shone behind him, causing him to glow with light. Green eyes met gray ones, and Draco's eyes opened wide.

'Hello' you say.

I lift my gaze,

A gaze blurred through with water,

A gaze that falls upon you.

'Help' is all I mutter.

"Hello," Harry spoke calmly, as if the two had never been enemies.

Draco's mind raced. I hate this man. What makes him think he can talk to me, a Malfoy? I hate him.

But did he?

My family was better then him.

Was?

Still is.

But is it? The voice in Draco's head was intruding.

Why though? Why do I hate him?

You don't. You did because he said no, he turned you down. He became a Gryffindor.

Why though? We could've been friends...or more than friends...

But instead enemies, the voice answered.

Draco shifted, fully aware of his being on the ground and Harry above him. He winced as he got uncomfortable, hoping Harry hadn't noticed. As he shifted his position, he hit his hand on a jutting rock. Warm blood trickled down his wrist. Harry knelt.

"Help," Draco muttered, under lashes heavy with tears.

So soft, but light and caring

You wipe away my tears

And with those go my fears.

Harry took a bundle of cloth from his pocket and wiped away the blood. "Secare claudere." Harry muttered. Draco watched as the wound was healed. He glanced at the raven haired boy.

"Did you learn that for the war?" Draco asked softly.

Harry nodded. He turned away, lost in thought. Draco noticed his untidy black hair, his strong shoulders-It was him in my dream.

Draco thought back to the war. They'd both lost so may close friends. They'd been seventeen; a cruel, young age to fight a war at. I should've died. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, gaunt from lack of proper meals.

Harry turned to face Draco. The blond took in his features. His green eyes no longer vibrant, the war had changed them. Harry reached up to wipe away the tears on Draco's face. He shifted closer, kneeling, with one leg on either side of Draco's. Draco felt his fears ebb away.

"Why did you join him?" Harry asked. Draco took a moment to register the question.

"Because-Because I thought we would win." Because I didn't want to be fighting alongside the one I could never have.

"You're hiding something."

It was a statement that shook Draco's insides. So blunt, as if he didn't care what he'd just reveled.

"How would you know?" Draco couldn't help asking.

Harry sighed. "I-I watched you a lot more sixth and seventh year. I- er- knew you were a threat. And er- I- What? Why are you smiling?" Harry frowned.

"Because this means it was real!" Draco was shouting. He pulled Harry to his feet, dropping the vial of potion at his feet. It shattered, a rose color spreading in a puddle between the two. "I wasn't just seeing what I wanted!" Draco grinned at a stunned Harry. "Your eyes are twinkling. Now you are hiding something."

Harry blushed. Draco could only imagine what the two looked like. Him in shabby, second-hand robes; worn shoes; windblown hair. Harry in fine tailored robes of a deepest black, hair styled, though still messy. Both highly turned on. How our roles have switched.

Draco pulled him closer. "Kiss me Harry."

Their lips met, both marveling at how perfect it felt. Draco let his subconscious take over. Harry tasted so good. Like a mix of chocolate and something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Draco broke away, gasping for breath. The other boy's green eyes, vibrant once again, said it all;

'I love you.'