Drarry Oneshots 2

les oiseaux volent à minuit

Malfoy is still choking, still coughing and inhaling shakily, but... he's smiling.

Harry has never seen Malfoy smile before. It's beautiful, even surrounded by blood and twisted in pain and gasping, Malfoy's smile is enchantingly, hauntingly, beautiful.

"Why are you smiling?" Harry gasps, panic lacing through his voice. "Malfoy, you could be dying."

Malfoy chokes out a laugh, eyes bright, and Harry decides right then and there that Malfoy's eyes aren't grey, they're molten silver, filled with pain and agony and Harry realizes not all of the pain is from the slashes cut deep into his chest.

"Good," Malfoy gasps, and his terrified silver eyes meet Harry's in desperation. "Astronomy-" he chokes, and blood dribbles out of the side of his mouth. "Astronomy Tower- kill- Dumbledore- Vanis- cab-" He chokes again, more blood coming up this time. Harry desperately tries to think of any way to get someone to come.

He screams.

"HELP!" he screams at the top of his lungs, and tears are mixing with the blood on Malfoy's face but he looks so fucking content with what's happening to him. "HELP!"

Footsteps approach and Snape shoves him to the side, dropping next to Malfoy.

Silver eyes meet green, and Harry begs Draco Malfoy not to die.

Six for gold

It shouldn't be gold.

That's Draco's first thought when the spell hits his left arm, searing and burning into the flesh.

It shouldn't be gold.

Gold is pure and Gryffindor and Potter and shining and beautiful and royalty and happiness.

Morsmordre shouldn't be gold. Morsmordre is ugly and tainted and burning and dark and full of hate and power and anger.

His parents stand in the back of the room, watching him.

Lucius' face is impassive, cold. He looks detached, uncaring. His gold wedding ring glints in the light of the curse, and he says nothing as Draco screams.

Narcissa looks ready to scream herself. Her eyes shine with pain, although she allows no tears to fall. The golden ring on her finger flashes as she clenches and unclenches her fists, golden hair messy as she runs one hand through it in an effort to keep herself grounded, golden heels firmly planted into the ground. She doesn't dare look away from her son, from the irreparable damage being done to Draco's flesh, from the pain in his eyes.

Draco thinks his father is like Morsmordre; ugly, tainted, dark and hate and power and anger.

Draco thinks his mother is like gold; shining and beautiful and pure.

He thinks he is neither.

As Draco slumps to the ground, arm bleeding as the Dark Lord walks away, uncaring, he thinks he is neither of his parents, neither dark nor pure.

He thinks he is nothing.

Seven for a secret never told

Harry has never been the best with secrets.

But this one will stay with him to the grave, because he is standing at the forest's edge, and there is no one to tell it to.

But, as he raises the Snitch to his mouth and whispers "I am about to die", he realizes that might not be true.

His mother and his father and Sirius stand before him, there but not, smiling at him with pride that makes his heart swell.

And he wonders if they would hate him if he told them, and he thinks that hate is not the last emotion he wants these people to feel toward him before he dies.