Author's Notes: My first ever Deathfic!

And Harry Smiled...

By Sakai Michiba


Harry opened his eyes and stared into the pitch blackness of his common room. His watch read three o' clock, and he frowned. He hadn't been getting much sleep of late, as the threat of the castle getting blown apart was imminent. He rolled off his bed and rubbed his eyes vigorously, the room clearing as he did so. The dorm room only contained two beds besides his own--Neville's and Seamus's were the only ones occupied since...

He shook his his head and shifted his gaze to the knife on his bedside table. It was out of its scabbard and glittering in the moonlight, begging him to use it, begging him to destroy something, anything. He shoved it and then his hands into his pockets.

The stairs scarcely creaked as he made his way down them, trying no to notice the bloodstained walls, the holes in the floor, or the tears that threatened to spill over. The Fat Lady didn't say a word when he shoved out of the portrait hole and sulked down the grimy corridor with the horrible draft pushing him, urging him along. The torches were alternately lit, giving the stone walls a darker hue than they would have normally been, casting shadows on the floor in which creatures lurked.

He opened the library doors and looked up as five torches lit his path to the nearest table. He took a seat and drew the knife from his pocket. He stared at it, slowly turning it to watch its blade glinting and shining in a moonbeam. He hated this, hated everything, especially himself.

They all expected him to save them, didn't they? After all, he was Harry Potter. Harry Potter. He would save the world from Voldemort, rid the world of evil, make everything right. And his scar, everyone gawped at it, begged to shake his hand because of it, pitied him because of it. "Fuck!" he screamed suddenly, slamming his fists to the table and stabbing the tip of the knife into the grain of the wood.

Without another thought, he pulled the knife out of the table and drew the blade hard across his chest. The sensation of ripping, shedding flesh accompanied by the flood of heated scarlet blood made him moan, a mixture of pleasure and pain that he could not describe. He cut himself again, this time on his thigh. A cry escaped his throat and he wiped at the blood on his chest then rubbed his eyes.

What in the hell was he doing?! He couldn't do this! He was running away from it all, but what exactly did he have to run from? He had no living friends, classes had stopped because, while only a few teachers remained, all their time was spent training to fight Voldemort. Dumbledore was dead, Lupin was dead, everyone was dead or dying. McGonagall was Headmaster, and she was thin and gaunt. The castle was a wreck. The walls were covered in blood and grime that would never be cleaned because the house-elves were all dead. Holes were in the floors and walls because gene-spliced monsters had been running rampant on the castle. There was nothing here for him.

He poised the knife above his wrist, ready to kill himself because it was confirmed that he may as well be dead anyway. However, before he summoned the courage, a pale, rather small hand grabbed the wooden handle and pulled it away. "Potter, I'd have thought better of you."

Draco looked down into emerald eyes leaking...bloody tears? He cocked an eyebrow and tossed the knife on the ground a good ten feet away. "Come on, Potter, suicide doesn't fit you. Besides, we have enough death going on, don't we?" he asked almost tenderly. The larger form of the once golden boy now shadowed in dark crimson unnerved him slightly.

"What the fuck do you care?!" Harry demanded, rocking slightly back and forth as pain seared through him from his torso and leg. "You never have before, have you?! You're probably just trying to kill me for him, aren't you? Did Voldemort send you, you filthy Death Eater? Well, go on ahead. Kill me. I want you to."

"I'm not here to kill you, Potter. Haven't you realised that we're all going through the same shit in this place? If I were--"

"Shut up, filth, " Harry spat, pulling that small hand to his throat. "Just do it."

Draco tried to pull his hand away, but Harry's grip was hard, much tougher than his would ever be. "Potter, I'm not a fucking Death Eater, okay?! I have been trying to tell you that! Now let go of my damned hand!" he insisted, rubbing it as it was thrown back. He looked over the Gryffindor's hunched body and bit his lip. "Harry?"


He reached over to place his arms over the boy's shoulders, trying to be somewhat comforting. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked gently, taken aback as Harry broke down into racking sobs. He awkwardly embraced the other boy, not really knowing what to do.

Harry attempted to fight him, then shook his head and melted against Draco, tangling his fingers in platinum blonde locks and pulling slightly. Draco winced at the tug but pulled Harry closer to him, rubbing his back a bit before turning his face up. "Look at you, you're covered in blood and who knows what else. Here..." he whispered, wiping away the grime from his face. "Do you want to tell know, what's wrong?"

Harry had never seen someone other than Sirius so concerned about him. He was quietly flattered for a fleeting moment but then shook his head and gave himself over to staring into those eyes. "I hate you."

Draco nodded and smiled faintly, catching another tear with his thumb. "I know you do, Harry, but hate isnt something you need right now, is it?" he asked quietly.

"Hate fuels everything, Malfoy. Everything."

"Not everything..."

Harry didn't move as Draco leaned in to catch his lips with his own. He squeezed Draco's hair a bit tighter and nipped Draco's lip gently, smiling at the shudder of pleasure it sent through the blonde's body. He hadn't been with anyone in a few months; he had been too busy debating over whether or not to kill himself. Tonight had been the closest he had been to actually doing it. As he shoved the blonde to the floor and collapsed atop him, working at his robes, he lapsed into another part of himself.

"What in the hell?!"

Ron and Hermione leapt apart and averted their gazes, embarrassed. Ron had positioned himself before her, not wanting her to be seen by his best friend. Harry shook his head and stared at the two of them. "R-Ron?!" he squeaked, shaking slightly. The redhead bit his lip and looked away.

"It's not--"

Harry turned his back on them to hide his tears. "It's not what I fucking think, hm?! I just walked in on the two of you having outright sex in MY bed! How can it not be what I think?!" he demanded before fleeing the room.

Draco cried out beneath him as he bit and sucked at his neck. He'd never imagined he would be like this with Harry Potter, of all people. Harry grinned maliciously and bit down hard, bringing salty blood to his lips. He drank it slowly, luxuriously, loving the sound of Draco's screams of pain.

He stared at the knife in his hands. Would he be able to do this to himself? Of everything he had ever done, he'd never thought he would ever try this. He shoved open the curtains of the four-poster nearest him and stared down at its contents. Ron and Hermione lay there, unsuspecting that he was watching.

He had always loved watching Ron in his sleep. He was so peaceful, so blissful, so innocent. Hermione was the very same, and he realised at that moment that they would be perfect together. Forever.

"Petrificus Totalus, " he whispered, smiling as Ron's body froze. At once, those eyes opened, but otherwise, he was rendered paralyzed. "Hello, Ron. You're gonna love this..."

Without another word, he leaned over his best friend and stared into the sleeping, unaware face of Hermione Granger. He allowed something to build inside of him, then suddenly plunged the knife into her chest.

Her eyes shot open and she screamed silently, her eyes meeting Harry's. "Why?!" she mouthed before her eyes closed forever. Harry smiled and moved back to look into Ron's eyes, filled with tears.

"Isn't that beautiful, Ron? I loved you, you know. I gave you all of myself, and how do you repay me? You go and sleep with her, my best friend, my confidante, my everything that wasn't you. You want her alive, don't you? You wanted to together forever. I'll grant you that wish."

He kissed Ron's immobile lips for a brief moment then easily beheaded him. The blood began to blossom over all three of them, and Harry smiled.

Draco screamed in agony as Harry shoved inside of him without preparing him. He'd never felt so violated, and yet, so utterly satisfied. When Harry came inside him, Draco cried out and did the very same just moments later. As Harry clamored off, Draco sat up to stare at him sweetly, as if to take another kiss. Harry smiled.

"You like that, Malfoy?" he asked quietly.

The blonde smiled and nodded slightly. "You give it better than I expected, Potter."

Harry's smile turned to be a malicious grin. "You know what, Draco Malfoy?"

The blonde met his gaze and stole a sweet kiss before asking, "What?"

"Ever since I first saw you, I could think of nothing else, even if it was in hatred. Hate leads to obsession, obsession leads to love, Malfoy. Do you understand?" he asked with a flair, gazing hard into those eyes. "Do you?"

"I do, but what do you mean?"

"I love you Draco Malfoy. I know it sounds sudden, but I do. I followed you all last year, wanting you so terribly it hurt. And you just shunned me. But I still love you."


Harry cut him off with another deep kiss. His hand was tangled in Draco's mess of hair, while the other was busy elsewhere. A sudden, piercing scream sliced through the library and Harry lowered Draco gently to the floor, his hand covered in hot blood. He placed another kiss to those perfect lips and smiled. "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

He stared down at his handiwork. The doll was immortalized forever in that form--eyes wide with shock, one hand over his stomach. In his chest, glinting in the moonlight, rested Harry's knife.

Harry lifted up the sleeve of his robes and stared at his forearm. The Dark Mark burned completely black now. Voldemort would be pleased.

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