Potter!

Living Without You

Nothing was real anymore. Draco felt as if he was floating high above everyone else, in the clouds, watching life go on below. Hermione and Ron grieving beside him, treating him like one of their own, seemed unfamiliar and far away. They seemed to be so far away when they spoke to him, as though they were shouting above some continuous buzzing that sounded all around him.

It had been 48 days 2 hours and 21 minutes since he'd gone. Gone. He couldn't use the word. The word would make it real, and he so desperately wished that this was all some prelonged nightmare that would end with waking up in the arms of the man he loved, living and breathing.

No matter how many times he pinched himself and no matter how many times he prayed and wished and cried, hoping that by some miracle, he would walk through the door, deep down he knew. He was never coming back.

Harry had gone before, when the dark lord had finally got what he wanted, all those months ago. He'd fallen where he stood; his mother had told him the details. But he came back, when the world needed him most he'd returned. And now when Draco needed him most, he was gone. Really gone. This time he wasn't coming back.

Hermione had lectured to him many times that the grief that he was feeling wasn't forever. It would hurt for a long while before it got better. He would move on eventually, after all  "Harry would have wanted you to be happy," as Ginny had said, tears cascading down her pale cheeks.

Grief was not the only emotion though. In Draco's mind, he was to blame for Harry's absence, he had brought him to Malfoy Manor to face his father. Even though he had not said the words himself, as he was supposed to, when it came down to it, he might as well have. The worst part was, his father had escaped capture again and was roaming the earth with the pride. He had murdered the chosen one like his master has sort to do only a year before.

Grief wasn't a word that Draco could begin to understand. It couldn't be simplified to one word. It was hundreds of emotions and none at all. The overwhelming feeling of nothingness or sobbing his heart out at 3am screaming Harry's name until his throat was sore.

He hadn't eaten in a while, it didn't feel right. There was a pain in his chest and he felt sick anytime he thought about anything connected to the past, or Harry.

Hogwarts was quieter than usual on the last day of term. Deafeningly quiet to Draco's ears, after being used to the muffled sounds of the halls through his non existent body.
The whole school seemed to be in a state of shock. Could the chosen one really be... dead? After all, he'd survived that curse twice before now. At that point, everyone had either decided he was immortal, or that he had some magical way of avoiding death when no one else could.
Both theories proved wrong when his funeral came around and his body, in a dark polished wooden casket brandished with the deathly hallows symbol, was lowered slowly into the ground by a weeping Hagrid.
The world seemed to stop that day, and not just for Draco. No one believed that he was really gone, but the day of the funeral, 2 dark weeks later, seemed to solidify the truth that he wasn't coming back.

Days had turned into weeks, and weeks were soon going to become months, and the heavy knot in Draco's chest did not loosen one bit. Though it was stupid, deep down he knew, with every fibre of his being, that he would be in Harry's arms again. There was some hope left in his numb, empty heart, that he would come back, after everything. He would walk through the door like nothing had happened and everything would be back to the way it was. Back to normal. Though Harry had always sworn that nothing could ever be normal at Hogwarts.

Ron and Hermione seemed to be taking grief rather well, but Draco supposed they had each other to cry on when they needed to. He had even spotted Ginny laughing with Luna; an empty echo of happiness that seemed to burn the back of his throat with longing.

The train left Hogwarts for the last time that day for Draco, Ron and Hermione. It was not how they had imagined it at all. Even if they thought there would have been three of them, they certainly didn't imagine a Malfoy amongst them. It was a quiet journey, the quietest that the Hogwarts express had ever seen, despite Hermione's efforts to make small talk. Sometimes Draco just felt like staring out of the misted windows to the passing countryside.

Hermione hugged him tighter than ever when they parted at the station. He felt her tears soak the shoulder of his shirt, and struggled against the urge to cry himself. And when they left him he felt am overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, but it wasn't in a good way. This time he walked alone.

Draco was to be living at Grimmauld place, though he wasn't sure how long he could stand it for. Without the warmth of another person filling the dark halls. The ghosts of the past, the Christmas spent there with Harry, would he haunting him every second of his stay.

When he opened the front door, it was the same draining feeling as when he had entered Malfoy Manor after so many months away. He could already feel the very dust on the walls sucking out his strength and leaving him to crumble beneath.

And soon time started again, the clocks spun ever so fast, so that the two month anniversary of the day was looming. Draco had arranged so that he would be away from Grimmauld place for that day. He would be okay if he could leave it all behind him, start a new life, finally become who he had always wished he was.

Was he finally accepting that even Harry Potter could not come back from death a third time?

Draco started packing for his move again, not that he had unpacked much in the few weeks he'd slept there; he hadn't done much else but sleep.

"Kreacher," he spoke into empty air and the elf appeared beside him only seconds later.

"Yes Master Malfoy."

"I'll be selling this place, and you are to accept them as your new master, or mistress, whoever they may be." Draco spoke firmly, though the sound of his voice seemed alien to him.

Kreacher almost gasped but steadied himself, "You cannot do that, Master, this is the noble house of Black!"

"Why not?" Draco scowled at the elf, "Harry's gone. I believe I am the next heir, and I don't want it."

Kreacher looked like a wild animal when he was angry, his teeth were almost bared at him. "You are not the current heir, you cannot sell the Noble house of Black. It is not up to you."

"Who the hell is the heir then?" He asked with a tone of annoyance. After all, the heir was probably some stupid relation of his who wouldn't interested in the damp old place anyway.

Kreacher narrowed his large eyes, "None of your concern, Master Malfoy."

"Come on, Kreacher! It can't hurt to just tell me, I'm not going to murder them to get this old place." He rolled his eyes, house elves were always so secretive.

The elf glared at him again, his wrinkled face insistent, "Kreacher does not reveal his master's secrets. Master said to keep this house for when he returns. "

Draco pondered this, a kind of vicious hope glimmering in his eyes.

"Would that be Master Potter?"

Kreacher's eyes flashed guiltily, and though he shook his head furiously, ("No, sir. Kreacher did not mean Master Potter!") Draco knew he was lying.

A/n
Couldn't leave you like that could I?? Only a few more chapters to go!