HARRY'S GHOST LOVER- drarry

Hello, my love.

The next day, Harry woke up in the mess he had created. Images of Draco laughing and singing still enwrapped in his mind, he tidied up a bit. All he could think about was how Draco would react to his current state.

“Oh, Hazz!” Laughed Draco, seeing the man Infront of him slouch like a child. He was   covered in a mix of  flour and milk, damping his hair and staining his sweater. “Did you try to make breakfast?” He said. His smile was bamboozling. His features were glowing with bliss, as he bit his lip. His cheeks a rosey colour, tinted lightly from all the sleeping. Harry looked sad. He was tired, and wanted to do something sweet about his fiancée.

But, again, it turned into an adorable disaster which Draco was very glad about. Harry was not. He felt exhausted, and his clothes weren’t feeling right, and his hair was covered in milk and flour and he wanted to give up. His lips cracked in a mixture of anger and tiredness, as he dropped the big spoon he had in his left hand, making a ‘clack’ sound as it hit the floor “Hey, what is it?” Draco walked closer. Harry dropped his head in the crook of the blonde’s neck, his hands wrapping around his thin torso. “Aw, darling! It’s okay!” Harry didn’t think so too, he let a tear, and then more damp Draco’s big sweater.

“Harry? Are you crying?” Draco didn’t even try to mask the worry in his voice, as he felt the wet material stick on his skin. Soft whimpers were heard from Harry, silent, as he started to shake. “Harry. It’s okay.” He smiled brilliantly he he cupped the brunette’s cheeks with his own two hands, making their eyes meet. As soft grey with hazel green met, Harry melted, his sobs quieting. “I’m sorry.” muttered, “I wanted to make you breakfast.” His eyes dropped to the blonde’s gentle smile, reminding him that it was all right.

It was all right. Alright.

But it wasn’t anymore. Now, it was not alright, not even close to okay, because even when Harry messed up and was at the verge of tears, there was no smiling Draco to remind him that he was okay, and that it did not matter. So he cried.

He cried again, the next day, and the next, and the next. Because no time, let alone only six years, could ever heal his pain. No time could bring Draco back. Harry had searched under every rock for something that could bring Draco back. A glimpse of the ‘Elixir of Life’, the philosopher’s stone, spells and charms. Literally anything that would give him a chance to see his lover again. Just for a few minutes, seconds. It would be enough.

Though, nothing of the sort happened.
So Harry, took it upon himself to do something about it. He had even thought of taking his life. And was still, vibrantly, debating about whether it was worth it or not. Hermione said it wasn’t, as well as Ron. But for some reason, their opinion didn’t seem to matter as it did before. Now he felt like their words held no meaning, or no true meaning, at least.

So he thought, is it worth it? Is it worth, meeting Draco again? Oh, yes. Truth is that he would do everything for that to happen. Hermione and Ron? What about them? They already pretty much ignored him, do his loss wouldn’t cost them much. The only person, or people he worried about were, Dalia, because she isn’t okay generally, and one of her most frequent visitors in the graveyard would do some damage, he didn’t want to leave her without a notice. George, because he was the closest he had to Fred after his death, and losing another brother wouldn’t help, and Mrs. Weasley.

To be completely, brutally, honest, he didn’t really care, but he didn’t want to make a fuss too. He felt like an old soul, trapped in a young boy’s body, after everything that had happened. After all the pain, stress and sorrow, he just wanted everything to stop. Just stop. The earth to stop spinning, the air to stop moving, his heart to stop beating, his lungs to stop breathing. He wanted to dissolve. Disappear. Die, pass away.