Where The Sun Drops | drarry post-war

twelve | green

The band was good, there was no denying that. And arguably Draco had the best view of all, whatever angle he liked, or he could even get directly on the stage if the mood arose - how many living people can do this? he wondered smugly to himself.

Melody Oleander was even more beautiful on stage than she'd been when he saw her in Theo's apartment; more vivid somehow, and with sharper edges to her form. Watching her at the mic now, Draco could feel the passion coming off her like electricity, and understood entirely why Theo was so besotted with her. The girl was a vision.

Behind her were Madrigal Mallow, the guitarist, and little Viola Juneberry on bass, and Cadence Lockett at the drumkit, beating to the rhythm of the splashing golden and indigo light pouring over the stage.

"London magic scene, what's up?!" Melody called happily as the song came to a close, and the crowd erupted with cheers. "Thank you so much for having us tonight, you beautiful people!"

At the last sentence, she threw a glance up to the V.I.P. box and barely concealed her blushing grin with a bow of her head - somehow, without looking, Draco realised that Theo had blown her a kiss.

"This next song," the girl continued, hooking a strand of long blonde hair behind her silver-ringed ears, "This next song is something I'm kind of nervous to publicly perform. I wrote it in just one night after a long conversation with someone who... someone who I care about very deeply. Someone who's struggling at the moment."

If Draco had had a heart, it would've dropped into his stomach. Fuck, where is this going? he wondered agitatedly. He glanced up at Theo - sure enough, his honeyed brown eyes were shining a little as if there were tears beneath his lashes, and Draco swore again.

The stage lighting took on an emerald hue, Draco's favourite colour before he died (and my favourite colour now, he decided; dead people are still allowed favourite colours) and Madrigal began to play a gently strummed tune on her guitar.

"This one's called Green," said Melody quietly, stepping up to the mic, "And it's for my wonderful agent, Theo Nott."

Hush hung over the audience, and whether it was out of shock or respect, Draco couldn't tell. But then the music came pouring from the speakers, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds the ghost had ever heard. And the first word sounded an awful lot like his name.

***

The pain began to brim out of Draco's body before the band even got to the second chorus. It welled up like the tide and surged out from his core in frissions of agony as his best friend's girl sang about her lover's grief, the sleepless nights he kept behind closed doors, and the brave face he wore for the others in his life.

Wave after wave of dizzying grief rolled out of Draco and back into him and over him, grief like he'd never felt before in his whole existence. How dare this girl sing for him, this girl who knew nothing of his life, spreading his death open on a stage in front of thousands of people for money?

He knew he shouldn't blame her, though, she was only trying to help Theo. And it wasn't her fault he'd died, of course. There was only one person to blame for that.

Draco wished he could bottle this feeling, this song, and pour it out all over Potter and watch him squirm in the mind-blowing agony of it all. This is what you did to me! he wanted to scream, this is what you did to my friends!

God, he wanted him to hurt. Even it was a quarter as much as this, Draco would be happy.

Play 'Green', he'd say as soon as he got home- to the Laurels, he quickly corrected himself - play Green, and you'll see what you've done.

***

But Harry, in Malfoy's absence, had been doing some thinking of his own, and had decided that the best policy for his return was to entirely ignore the ghost.

"He can't hurt me if I don't react, and eventually he's sure to get bored," he told himself as he scrubbed a couple of copper pans at the sink. "Even Malfoy will get fed up in the end. I just have to stay strong."

Ginny was only just talking to him again after the last incident with the drawings, and Harry was counting his blessings on that front.

She could've decided to send him back to Annie, he knew that, or worse, she could've given up on him entirely and left him on his own. No, not entirely on his own. Worse than on his own.

Trapped with Draco Malfoy.

This decision to act ignorant, when combined with Malfoy's re-discovered vigour for despising him, turned out to be almost lethal.

***

Days passed at The Laurels. With this time, Draco grew stronger, while Harry gradually lost the ability to get out of bed more than twice a week.

What was the point in getting up, anyway? It wasn't like he could spend time with Ginny without Malfoy screaming over her words, or concentrate for long enough to read a book.

Showering became a necessary evil, with real emphasis on the 'evil' part.

Harry only did it when really felt he had to - or, more to the point, when he felt his ego could withstand Malfoy's mocking of his naked body without him feeling like he was folding in on himself.

The ghost had also begun to test his skills in breaking things in the material realm, so it wasn't like he could play games on his phone or text anyone, either. That would've been too difficult, with the state the screen was now in from Malfoy's tantrums.

And of course, whenever Harry tried to demonstrate Malfoy's existence - get Ginny to look up at the right moment, for example, or show her something he'd smashed - the attempt would fall through, and she'd give him that fucking pitying look that was so full of love it hurt his heart. And then she'd walk away. And Malfoy would laugh.

Eventually, after working as hard as she could for the relationship, Ginny had to make the hardest decision of her life.

"I can't do this any more, Harry," she said, coming to sit on the end of the bed.

Her eyes were glassy with tears but it was clear she'd made sup her mind. "I hope you get help. really, I do."

Harry balled up his fists and released an angry groan. "Ginny. No, please-"

"What are you going to do, Potter?" Malfoy asked gleefully, watching from above as ever. "Are you going to hit her?"

"FUCK!" Harry screamed and Ginny jumped so violently she burst into tears.

Harry groaned again, tears pricking his own eyes at the sight. "Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry, it isn't you-"

"It's not you, it's me? Are you really going to pull that one?" she sobbed.

"Gin, darling, please-" pain filled Harry's throat, made his words raspy and incoherent. "Gin, I'll try harder-"

"Harry, I'm sixteen years old," she cried. "I've been through a fucking war and I've done my best to support you but I am a fucking child and I want to go home to my mother now, okay? Will you deny me that?"

Harry couldn't deny her, so he watched her leave, taking his breath with her.

Malfoy's glance shot to the dark-headed boy on the bed, thrilled at the prospect of a big row, but instead of that, Harry pulled a pillow over his head and began to cry as loudly and as painfully as anything Draco had ever heard.

And Draco didn't know what to do with that. So he left.

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a/n: back with another update! hope you all enjoy it! 💙💚

~ paradisedraco