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bottom_draco_commTitle: In the Wakes We Remain
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
crazyparakiss
Prompt: PROMPT # 157
Adapted from: NANA
Pairing:Harry/Draco, Remus/Tonks, any and all other pairings are in my head.
Word Count/Art Medium: 1.5k +/- of words and I used a tablet for the arts.
Rating: NC-17 just to cover my bases
Contains (Highlight to view): * There’s no sex! HAH! Also suicides, death of main characters and the story is told from an outsider’s POV in a fragmented kind of way. Drug use. ANGST GALORE. Also AU to the extreme, seriously.*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to M, she’s always there to correct my horrible exploitation of commas. Also thanks to Ai Yazawa for creating the best manga of all timeand damn her for not finishing it Also modelled Draco after Andrej Pejic and that was before I realised no effeminate Draco. The prompter was contacted and was cool with the pictures being modelled after him.
Summary: Teddy went to the shore, lit a cigarette, and watched the smoke as it coiled up from the cherry. He bowed his head and sent his forgiveness out to the sea while the snow kissed his cold neck and cheeks.
She held the cigarette loosely in her long fingers—sadness and memories swirled in her expressive blue eyes as they sat by the window in the old, creaky flat. Every Christmas was the same—since his birth and possibly before—Teddy’d never known a world without the overwhelming shadow of legend. The fable was one he could recite by heart. The lot of them were sure to remind him, time and again, that he had been born into the secret realm of the two greatest musicians the world had ever known. The two greatest lovers the universe had ever seen, but somehow he assumed that was their way of building up something tragic as something beautiful and untainted.
As far as Teddy was concerned, the whole story was one long tale of horror that held no shred of beauty. But what did Teddy know—he was a boy, they said, and at seventeen he’d never been in love. He didn’t have the desire. Love was cruel and twisted and sick if the story of Harry and Draco was anything to go by.
“Teddy,” her voice was a cracked whisper. Bill says that once upon a time, it was full of life, sunshine, and wonder. Now it’s a dead thing, hollowed and broken—gone with the one with long blond hair and flinty eyes. He doesn’t have a memory of this person—the one called Draco who they all whisper about with hushed reverence. Teddy felt no reverence for such a selfish bastard. Not when he was little and his mum wept on the frozen shore as the waves crashed against the rocks that could never escape the sea. And he certainly didn’t feel awed now—not when he watched the tremble in Luna’s delicate hands as she flicked the ash off her cigarette. “Get me-” She always broke off, always asking for the same item. Her long forgotten sketch book with dusty pictures in various shades of black and greys, the closest things any of them had to photographs of the ghosts Teddy’d never met.
He memorised their lines—long ago when he was still in nappies and his mum’s stories had been interesting and lovely like the fairytales his dad read to him before bed. But now, the faded greys and smudged edges made something twist in his gut. A plague had followed those people—anger and grief and emptiness left in their wakes.
“Do you know I met Draco just off the train—it was his first day in Wizarding London, mine too, and-” he cut off her wheezy voice. Tired, so tired, of hearing the same old story told in the same old way. It was horrifying and sad and managed to make him ache from the loneliness of her tone.
“You asked to draw him.”
She nodded, misty eyed as she glanced back out the window, her large eyes reflected the grey clouds outside and he swore he could see the crash of the ocean in her dark irises. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room and Teddy wandered towards the fire escape.
The red brick was damp and cold as he leaned against it. To his right, the ocean roared in an uncharacteristic way, but not to Teddy. During what they’d all dubbed “The Anniversary”, the ocean was never silent and the snow always fell. It was as if somewhere Harry and Draco were still lingering, reminding them that they would never be gone—never forget Bill, his father, Neville, Mum, and Luna they all remind him. Each year. In this small and cold corner of the world, a void was made and it had never been filled.
He lit his own cigarette and listened to the crash of water against the rocks at the bottom of this hovel of a building. Harry’s Castle—a ramshackle warehouse that he’d bought and kept as home before he’d shot to fame. This was his corner of the world. A place without cameras, stage lights, amplifiers, groupies, roadies, drugs—the whole shebang, but even here—in his haven—he could not escape the sorrow that hovered like a cloud.
Harry, the abandoned, the miserable, the lonely—he was drowning so hard back then and no one noticed. Not the people who should have, at least that is what Dad and Bill always said. “He fell down a spiral and none of us could reach him.”
Drugs or loneliness—no one really knew what made Harry do it. No one knew what made him ram his car so hard into the side of this building that all the king’s horses and all the king’s magic couldn’t put him together again. One moment he was the hottest guitarist in a legendary band and the next he was a broken case of a man wrapped around steel and leather.
Teddy hated Harry for whatever reason he had. He hated him, more and more, when he saw the haunted look that made shadowed bags beneath Bill’s eyes and the tight lines that surrounded Dad’s mouth. But worst yet was when Neville stood in the front room looking at Harry’s guitar. There was something so raw and anguished in the brown of his eyes, pinched around his mouth—from head to toe he practically vibrated with misery. Once, when Teddy was twelve he caught Neville kneeling before it—grovelling and weeping as he demanded to know why, why, why. Angry, distraught, and lost without Harry. It was hard for Teddy to watch and so he’d snuck away—pretending he’d never seen.
Harry was a force Teddy never understood. So many people had loved him, him and Draco, deeply. Deeply and profoundly and now they were aching with the loss—for all of Teddy’s life and maybe forever.
“Selfish twats,” he muttered, and his breath melted the falling snow.
It was a dream. He was certain.
A party full of people and the emptiness he still managed to feel was something Teddy’d never experienced. He watched as voice drifted around him, nameless, faceless, shapeless, and ran and ran and ran only he couldn’t escape the feeling. In the background there was a loud guitar riff—one he’d never heard before and possibly would never hear again. It echoed through his heart like a promise to his soul and he fell to his knees and wept. His body wracked with grief as the shapeless forms around him tried to give him comfort.
Teddy resisted. There was more running, or maybe he was falling. Farther and farther into darkness. It swallowed him. Then he was in a bathroom—familiar and white with a deep claw footed tub. On the ground was little packets full of white powder and he was crying again as little splatters of blood dripped from his nose. Please, God he yelled and yelled but there was no mercy for his plea.
Then he saw Luna—like a dazzling light and she was kind and gentle and kissed his forehead as she cleaned away his blood, but it wasn’t enough. Her voice was warm and soft but it couldn’t chase the cold settling in his bones. She didn’t fill the crack in his soul. Instinctively, he knew nothing ever could.
Don’t go without me, he whispered to the darkness. An empty void that echoed his wordsDon’t go where I can’t follow! His scream reverberated around the unfilled room and he slipped to his knees. You promised to take me—you promised, you promised, you promised.
The last thing he saw as the burning cold water slid into his lungs was the sea. Crashing against the rocks and the building where Harry had died. The water engulfed him—chilly and warm the way Harry always had and it whispered home and finally he was free. Free from his constant loneliness.
Teddy woke with a start. His cigarette was gone between his lips; the cherry long since dead in the cold of winter. He looked to the sea and in the waves he swore he could see a blond head bobbing in the ocean just before slipping away. Openly, he wept—loud, wracking sobs that were drowned out by the crash of the ocean’s waves.
Neville kneeled before the guitar, his eyes wet and his words an anguished chant why, why, why. They had been practical brothers Harry acting the older and Neville the worshipful younger—the one who got left behind and never knew how to pick up and carry on with what his big brother had taught him. So he wept and wondered.
Bill and Dad spoke of the times they used to play—when they were something great—but neither mentioned why they didn’t play now. They didn’t have to; both knew just as sure as they both knew they’d never play again. No matter how badly they ached to hear the sounds pouring from their soul. The soul was broken and so was the music.
Mum whispered softly to herself, always begging for a sign that it wasn’t true—praying for a miracle to turn them up at the door. Healthy and alive once more. No sign came and her hope diminished as the years wore on.
Luna stared at the sea and whispered, “Why’d you have to take Draco, Harry? I can’t reach him where he’s gone. I can’t reach either of you anymore.” Her voice dull and cracked so unlike the bell Teddy’s heard in his dream. Teddy wondered if she saw him drowning and hoped that if she watched long enough that Draco would come walking out of the water.
Teddy couldn’t hate them—Harry and Draco—any longer. All he could feel for them was pity. How could they leave and not realise there were people who loved them. People who loved them so dearly they’d never not feel the loss.
Teddy wondered if the ocean always crashed—a loud scream of apology from Draco and if the snow fell as a silent regret from Harry. He would wonder forever and still never know. What he did know that was that Harry and Draco—the tragically co-dependent—had something deep and dangerous and sad and maybe just a little bit beautiful. Despite the way it burned hot and bright for a moment only to cease after a short span—it had been real, and maybe it had been worth dying for.
Teddy went to the shore, lit a cigarette, and watched the smoke as it coiled up from the cherry. He bowed his head and sent his forgiveness out to the sea while the snow kissed his cold neck and cheeks.
Fin.
CLICK HERE -- PLEASE RETURN TO LJ AND LEAVE A COMMENT, THANK YOU
Author/Artist:
crazyparakiss Prompt: PROMPT # 157
Adapted from: NANA
Pairing:Harry/Draco, Remus/Tonks, any and all other pairings are in my head.
Word Count/Art Medium: 1.5k +/- of words and I used a tablet for the arts.
Rating: NC-17 just to cover my bases
Contains (Highlight to view): * There’s no sex! HAH! Also suicides, death of main characters and the story is told from an outsider’s POV in a fragmented kind of way. Drug use. ANGST GALORE. Also AU to the extreme, seriously.*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to M, she’s always there to correct my horrible exploitation of commas. Also thanks to Ai Yazawa for creating the best manga of all time
Summary: Teddy went to the shore, lit a cigarette, and watched the smoke as it coiled up from the cherry. He bowed his head and sent his forgiveness out to the sea while the snow kissed his cold neck and cheeks.
She held the cigarette loosely in her long fingers—sadness and memories swirled in her expressive blue eyes as they sat by the window in the old, creaky flat. Every Christmas was the same—since his birth and possibly before—Teddy’d never known a world without the overwhelming shadow of legend. The fable was one he could recite by heart. The lot of them were sure to remind him, time and again, that he had been born into the secret realm of the two greatest musicians the world had ever known. The two greatest lovers the universe had ever seen, but somehow he assumed that was their way of building up something tragic as something beautiful and untainted.
As far as Teddy was concerned, the whole story was one long tale of horror that held no shred of beauty. But what did Teddy know—he was a boy, they said, and at seventeen he’d never been in love. He didn’t have the desire. Love was cruel and twisted and sick if the story of Harry and Draco was anything to go by.
“Teddy,” her voice was a cracked whisper. Bill says that once upon a time, it was full of life, sunshine, and wonder. Now it’s a dead thing, hollowed and broken—gone with the one with long blond hair and flinty eyes. He doesn’t have a memory of this person—the one called Draco who they all whisper about with hushed reverence. Teddy felt no reverence for such a selfish bastard. Not when he was little and his mum wept on the frozen shore as the waves crashed against the rocks that could never escape the sea. And he certainly didn’t feel awed now—not when he watched the tremble in Luna’s delicate hands as she flicked the ash off her cigarette. “Get me-” She always broke off, always asking for the same item. Her long forgotten sketch book with dusty pictures in various shades of black and greys, the closest things any of them had to photographs of the ghosts Teddy’d never met.
He memorised their lines—long ago when he was still in nappies and his mum’s stories had been interesting and lovely like the fairytales his dad read to him before bed. But now, the faded greys and smudged edges made something twist in his gut. A plague had followed those people—anger and grief and emptiness left in their wakes.
“Do you know I met Draco just off the train—it was his first day in Wizarding London, mine too, and-” he cut off her wheezy voice. Tired, so tired, of hearing the same old story told in the same old way. It was horrifying and sad and managed to make him ache from the loneliness of her tone.
“You asked to draw him.”
She nodded, misty eyed as she glanced back out the window, her large eyes reflected the grey clouds outside and he swore he could see the crash of the ocean in her dark irises. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room and Teddy wandered towards the fire escape.
The red brick was damp and cold as he leaned against it. To his right, the ocean roared in an uncharacteristic way, but not to Teddy. During what they’d all dubbed “The Anniversary”, the ocean was never silent and the snow always fell. It was as if somewhere Harry and Draco were still lingering, reminding them that they would never be gone—never forget Bill, his father, Neville, Mum, and Luna they all remind him. Each year. In this small and cold corner of the world, a void was made and it had never been filled.
He lit his own cigarette and listened to the crash of water against the rocks at the bottom of this hovel of a building. Harry’s Castle—a ramshackle warehouse that he’d bought and kept as home before he’d shot to fame. This was his corner of the world. A place without cameras, stage lights, amplifiers, groupies, roadies, drugs—the whole shebang, but even here—in his haven—he could not escape the sorrow that hovered like a cloud.
Harry, the abandoned, the miserable, the lonely—he was drowning so hard back then and no one noticed. Not the people who should have, at least that is what Dad and Bill always said. “He fell down a spiral and none of us could reach him.”
Drugs or loneliness—no one really knew what made Harry do it. No one knew what made him ram his car so hard into the side of this building that all the king’s horses and all the king’s magic couldn’t put him together again. One moment he was the hottest guitarist in a legendary band and the next he was a broken case of a man wrapped around steel and leather.
Teddy hated Harry for whatever reason he had. He hated him, more and more, when he saw the haunted look that made shadowed bags beneath Bill’s eyes and the tight lines that surrounded Dad’s mouth. But worst yet was when Neville stood in the front room looking at Harry’s guitar. There was something so raw and anguished in the brown of his eyes, pinched around his mouth—from head to toe he practically vibrated with misery. Once, when Teddy was twelve he caught Neville kneeling before it—grovelling and weeping as he demanded to know why, why, why. Angry, distraught, and lost without Harry. It was hard for Teddy to watch and so he’d snuck away—pretending he’d never seen.
Harry was a force Teddy never understood. So many people had loved him, him and Draco, deeply. Deeply and profoundly and now they were aching with the loss—for all of Teddy’s life and maybe forever.
“Selfish twats,” he muttered, and his breath melted the falling snow.
It was a dream. He was certain.
A party full of people and the emptiness he still managed to feel was something Teddy’d never experienced. He watched as voice drifted around him, nameless, faceless, shapeless, and ran and ran and ran only he couldn’t escape the feeling. In the background there was a loud guitar riff—one he’d never heard before and possibly would never hear again. It echoed through his heart like a promise to his soul and he fell to his knees and wept. His body wracked with grief as the shapeless forms around him tried to give him comfort.
Teddy resisted. There was more running, or maybe he was falling. Farther and farther into darkness. It swallowed him. Then he was in a bathroom—familiar and white with a deep claw footed tub. On the ground was little packets full of white powder and he was crying again as little splatters of blood dripped from his nose. Please, God he yelled and yelled but there was no mercy for his plea.
Then he saw Luna—like a dazzling light and she was kind and gentle and kissed his forehead as she cleaned away his blood, but it wasn’t enough. Her voice was warm and soft but it couldn’t chase the cold settling in his bones. She didn’t fill the crack in his soul. Instinctively, he knew nothing ever could.
Don’t go without me, he whispered to the darkness. An empty void that echoed his wordsDon’t go where I can’t follow! His scream reverberated around the unfilled room and he slipped to his knees. You promised to take me—you promised, you promised, you promised.
The last thing he saw as the burning cold water slid into his lungs was the sea. Crashing against the rocks and the building where Harry had died. The water engulfed him—chilly and warm the way Harry always had and it whispered home and finally he was free. Free from his constant loneliness.
Teddy woke with a start. His cigarette was gone between his lips; the cherry long since dead in the cold of winter. He looked to the sea and in the waves he swore he could see a blond head bobbing in the ocean just before slipping away. Openly, he wept—loud, wracking sobs that were drowned out by the crash of the ocean’s waves.
Neville kneeled before the guitar, his eyes wet and his words an anguished chant why, why, why. They had been practical brothers Harry acting the older and Neville the worshipful younger—the one who got left behind and never knew how to pick up and carry on with what his big brother had taught him. So he wept and wondered.
Bill and Dad spoke of the times they used to play—when they were something great—but neither mentioned why they didn’t play now. They didn’t have to; both knew just as sure as they both knew they’d never play again. No matter how badly they ached to hear the sounds pouring from their soul. The soul was broken and so was the music.
Mum whispered softly to herself, always begging for a sign that it wasn’t true—praying for a miracle to turn them up at the door. Healthy and alive once more. No sign came and her hope diminished as the years wore on.
Luna stared at the sea and whispered, “Why’d you have to take Draco, Harry? I can’t reach him where he’s gone. I can’t reach either of you anymore.” Her voice dull and cracked so unlike the bell Teddy’s heard in his dream. Teddy wondered if she saw him drowning and hoped that if she watched long enough that Draco would come walking out of the water.
Teddy couldn’t hate them—Harry and Draco—any longer. All he could feel for them was pity. How could they leave and not realise there were people who loved them. People who loved them so dearly they’d never not feel the loss.
Teddy wondered if the ocean always crashed—a loud scream of apology from Draco and if the snow fell as a silent regret from Harry. He would wonder forever and still never know. What he did know that was that Harry and Draco—the tragically co-dependent—had something deep and dangerous and sad and maybe just a little bit beautiful. Despite the way it burned hot and bright for a moment only to cease after a short span—it had been real, and maybe it had been worth dying for.
Teddy went to the shore, lit a cigarette, and watched the smoke as it coiled up from the cherry. He bowed his head and sent his forgiveness out to the sea while the snow kissed his cold neck and cheeks.
Fin.
CLICK HERE -- PLEASE RETURN TO LJ AND LEAVE A COMMENT, THANK YOU
