Kitsune no Yobi (狐の呼び)

Sunday 5th September 99

"How could you betray the Dark Lord, you filthy bitch." Spat Lucius, kicking his death wife's unanimated body.

"NO!" Screamed Draco.

Feeble arms tried to stop him.

"Let go of me!" He roared. "I'm going to kill him."

"You won't be a able to do anything! Stop it already." Cried Pansy.

"I don't care if I die, I'll kill him with my own ha-"

Everything started shaking around them. He fell on his knees when a bright red light beamed in the Dark Lord's direction.

"Potter." He whispered in a hoarse voice.

She kneeled besides him.

"He's going to win. We're going to be alright, Drake." Pansy said softly. "It's going to be alright."

He was shaking. "It's not... It's never going to be the same."

Her heart ached. He was right, Blaise too, was gone. Not knowing what to say, they just stayed like that, on the ground, watching the duel that would define their future. They stayed there, loosing track of time, until the Dark Lord's body finally hit the floor. Death Eaters flew in dark smoke and, as Harry fell on the ground from exhaustion, Draco stood up and started running towards his mother's corpse.

"Mother! Mother!" He cried, shaking her.

She lifted her head, smiling softly. Her smile grew bigger, until its distortion ripped her cheeks open.

Draco abruptly woke up, gasping for air. He was drenched in sweat. He checked the clock on the wall. 5AM. Shaking, he got up and managed to reach the shower. He sat down under the hot dripping water, trying to calm down.

Thirty minutes later, he was disillusioned and ready to head to the Reminiscence Hall where a portrait of his mother was displayed - Potter had asked for it, claiming the war had been won thanks to her. He rethought about what he had heard the night before. "'Don't you resent me, for being in love with him?'" Draco blushed. He hated himself for not being able to think about something else. Harry's words haunted him.

He stopped before the big wooden doors he was eavesdropping trough last night and took a deep breath. He had wanted to spend some time with his mother's portrait the day before, but Potter had been there. Hopefully, the room would be empty this time as it was early in the morning. Draco carefully pushed the big doors, trying not to attract Filch or Mrs. Norris' attention, and entered. The sun was at dawn already but the room was pitch dark. Draco frowned. "Potter probably closed the curtains yesterday night not to be seen but... Why didn't he open them back?" He flicked his wand, lighting it up wordlessly, and headed towards the windows. Half way there, he noticed something on the ground and lowered his wand.

"Potter?" He whispered in awe.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" He thought, kneeling down, looking more closely at Harry's face. White strands were crossing his cheeks. Draco's eyes widened. Right, he was crying yesterday night. But how dehydrated could one be for their tears to turn into salt? He looked at Harry again, he seemed different somehow, without the frown and clenched jaw. He took a deep breath and, shaking him softly, tried waking him up.

"Potter! Potter!" He whispered.

Harry groaned. "Ron, let me sleep... It's Sunday..."

Draco could not help but chuckle quietly. It seemed like the Potter he knew was not gone forever. He wiped the black hair strands out of his face and shook him again.