fourteen | green sky at night

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July 2002

The pair decide to die while summer's high in the sky, before its absence drapes a brown curtain over the treetops and draws a chill over the ground.

The winter will be an unforgiving one, they know this, and it seems somehow pleasant to return to the sun like this.

So, by the end of the week, they've stopped hunting. They set no more snares, don't pillage any more nests for eggs, or collect apples or firewood or mushrooms. It's unspoken now. The fact that they won't need food for long.

And soon the day comes where the last of the fruit is gone, and there's no more acorns to be eaten. It's bright, earthy, on this day that they eat their last bite and drink the last of the water that they want from the brook.

The air feels heavy with heat as soon as the sun's up, and the shouts around the forest are growing unignorably loud. They know it won't be long now.

After their drink, Harry and Draco wander hand-in-hand to a pretty spot not far from the brook, and lie side by side in the shade, watching how the sun dapples through the leaves to drench their skin.

With wandless magic, Harry casts a rudimentary silencing charm around the scene so there are no distractions from each other (a deeply flawed magical effort, though it does the trick to a small extent), and then shifts so his entire gaze is cast over his lover.

"It was enough for me, this odd little life of ours," Draco breathes softly, running a finger delicately over Harry's cheek. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather end it with."

"You are the most precious and heavenly thing I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing," Harry whispers back. "I'll love you forever for that."

"I've always wanted to die for love," Draco smiles.

And so they close their eyes, and fall asleep entangled so closely in one another's arms that each is indistinguishable from the other: the traitor and the terrorist, the boy with the broken feet and the boy who tried to save him, the symbol of salvation and the reason they're both there, the brunette and the blonde.

They will never be this young again, this fragile in the light. And now they'll never be older either.

Years later, people would say the sky never looked so green as it did the night those two boys were found.

***

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a/n: so that's the end of my little fic! i hope you enjoyed it, please leave a vote and comment any thoughts 🤍🤍🤍

& i suppose i'll see you in the next one!

~ paradisedraco

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