Ashes

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Ashes

He drew a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette held between his pale, dry lips. As he inhaled, he felt the cool, tingling sensation brought on from the mix of nicotine, menthol, and other chemicals he knew were bad for his health.

But nothing mattered now. There was nothing for him anymore; nothing worth living for since the one person who truly showed him life was now gone from him.

The cold winter air softly sent a breeze through his silver, slightly gray hair. He blew clouds of smoke from his mouth; the slight rush of nicotine made him feel lightheaded.

Ashes from the cigarette fell onto the grave he faced - ashes replacing tears he could not produce, despite his deepest desire for their release. No magic in the world could replace the stoicism in his heart, no matter how bad he wanted it to go away.

Draco Malfoy wanted to cry, but between the anger, shock, dehydration and utter helplessness, his eyes would not cooperate. He took another deep drag of his cigarette and slowly walked closer to the headstone.

He thought about the events that had brought him here. He thought about the past and how the truth was revealed to him. He thought about the choices he had made, and he thought about how he owed it all to the one who was taken away from him.

He spoke as if someone was listening, even though he knew better. "You showed me pure truth. I thought I understood the process of magic; I thought I knew it all. Then you came along and proved me wrong...and saved me."

Draco pulled again on his cigarette; ashes scattered in the breeze and landed on his robes, contrasting the deep, dark black. He remembered how his life was saved - and the moment he truly started living.

Light Magic concentrated on life - sustenance, necessity, preservation and all things good. He hated it with a passion. Dark Magic showed him the understanding of death and how to incorporate it into his life. He felt it was absolute and impenetrable. His fixation with Dark Magic almost robbed him of his soul, until pure truth was revealed to him.

Draco had no intentions of joining the Order of the Phoenix until a life-changing moment showed him how things really were in the Wizarding world. His father had given him an ultimatum - join the Death Eaters or die in defiance. Draco, not being a man who accepts conditions in his life, chose defiance and nearly died. That is, before his angel wrapped his wings of mercy around him and set him free. He was saved, and in the realization that Dumbledore and his companions would prevail over the Dark Order, he chose to join them. Draco enlisted in the Order of the Phoenix not only because he wanted to avenge his father's betrayal, but also because he owed it to his angel for saving him.

He exhaled; white puffs of smoke mingling with his warm breath, causing a hazy fog to linger in front of his face. His eyes twitched - no tears. The pain was far too great.

He thought about life before his epiphany - a life of hatred and revenge. He wanted revenge against his so-called-enemy before he realized how important a role they both played in the defeat of the Dark Order.

Black and Blonde, Green and Grey, Gryffindor and Slytherin - they had nothing in common with one another except one thing - determination. They were determined to take the other one down. It was their passionate distaste for one another that drew them closer to each other: that passionate distaste that drove them to near madness. It eventually became such an undeniable, powerful force that neither of them comprehended. It was the force that drove them into one another's arms.

For every one of his father's conditional demands, Draco always had Harry's unconditional love. And he still has it - somewhere, Harry's soul waits for Draco's, waiting to welcome him once again into his angelic embrace.

The loss of Harry Potter was a shock to wizards worldwide - after all, he was the Boy Who Lived. Harry was indeed the Boy Who Lived - he was Voldemort's demise and downfall. He lived to witness the downfall of the greatest, darkest, most hate-driven wizard in history. He lived through dark times and overcame them. He celebrated the good times with his true family - his friends and companions at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter died the way most wizards dreamed - he died a true hero. He once saved Draco, and he died protecting him. Draco hated the situation and cursed the day it happened; he hated Harry for sacrificing himself so that Draco may live. Draco felt useless; he felt his life had no purpose. But he could not take his own life, for Harry's death would be in vain.

As Draco took the final pull from his cigarette, his chest swelled in agony. He could not bear the loss of his true love, he could not bear his life without him, and he could not bear the feeling of emptiness. The smoke coursed through his body; he shook from the rush. He flicked the cigarette away and bent over the grave.

"One day, we will be together again. Until then, I love you with all the pieces of my broken heart." He laid a black rose by the headstone, his dry eyes aching for moisture.

Storm clouds rolled over, the gray sky releasing huge drops of cold rain. Draco lifted his face, letting the rain fall on him. He spread his arms and let the rain wash the pain from his mind, body and soul.

"I gave my heart to him, and he set my soul free."

He walked away; drenched and torn, lighting another cigarette. The ashes fell, leaving his trail behind him - ashes that led to the grave of Harry Potter.

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~*~END~*~