Proving It

Title: Proving It
Author: The It
Rating: R (hard R at some points, NC-17 at others) or M
Themes: Angst, Drama, Horror, Romance, Tragedy
Couples: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 5,719 words of story
Warning: SLASH, blood, guts, yucky stuff, sex, mentions of MPreg, fluff
Summary: The final battle is here and Harry only has eyes for the end but the end doesn’t always have come out the way you want it to. Sometimes, it comes out better.
Disclaimer: I do not own the HP characters. I do own the location of where they are at.
Author Note: Do not ask where this came from for I do not even know. Read and Review please.


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I sit in front of a window and watch it. The rain that is. It comes and goes in hard, fast sections. One second it will be pouring outside, the next clear as ever. As I watch I think about it. The pain that is. The pain that fills my chest completely when I see him in my mind. I hate the pain, it makes me feel weak. I hate feeling weak cause when I feel weak I feel empty and feeling empty is the worst. It’s okay when I feel weak cause then I can just go and walk it off or sleep it off or something but feeling empty, that’s something completely different cause when I feel empty I do not feel at all. I swear it. Someone could walk up and stab me, slap me and start to kick me and I would do nothing to stop them. So I guess that when I am empty I’m physically weak, not mentally weak like what happens before the emptiness comes. I guess I’m kind like the rain that I’m watching right now. I come in hard and fast and get everyone wet and happy then vanish again, only to come our when it rains once more. So I sit and I watch the rain, praying for it to come back so I can concentrate on something besides my memories, my wonderfully awful memories.

I lean against the wall behind me and remember without wanting too, everything that I tried so hard to forget. It’s not my fault he left me in this exact spot, it’s not my fault he could not handle it anymore, it’s not my fault that he told me the stupidest excuse in the world to break it off with me and it worked and it most certainly is not my fault that I love him and that I’m scared for him, it’s not my fault that I feel this way and that I can do nothing about it. I hate the fact that it is not my fault because I know deep down that it is my fault, at least some of it. I didn’t hold on to him tight enough, I didn’t try to talk him out of doing things I just ignored it. I ignored it because I was content, happy. I was head over heels in love with him and he... he left me because of it. I should have never said anything, I should have kept my huge mouth shut and I should still be with him today. But no, I screwed up. I ruined it all between us and we will fight against each other and I know I will win because I have too. I will finally be able to do what I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Kill, murder, watch someone else’s life drain from their eyes. And I will do it and I will have no mercy on anyone who steps in my path, I promise you that.

I sit up and watch as it starts to rain again, this time I know it won’t stop for a long time. I watch as they come for us, for me. As they stalk, walk, run, jump. I watch and I notice that some seem excited, others in awe at what they see. I know they did not expect what they see today, what they have to go though to even touch the building that stands in front of them. Everything there is draining and can kill in its own way and whoever gets though it will fight the front line, then the next and so on and if they get though all the lines they will fight me and they will die and I will watch as people die at my hand. Fear will flood their eyes, tears, disbelief, anger, embarrassment at loosing to me and something else most will probably be happy that it is all done, all over for them they won’t care who killed them as long as they are dead in the end.

I know all of this from personal experience. I bet you wonder why someone like me would know all this. Why I would know exactly how it is to die at someone else’s hand. Maybe it’s because I have died. I have seen what is after death and I like it but I hate it at the same time. I hate the fact that they brought me back from the dead but I feel as if I need to be here at this time of need. The whole time I was dead, for three and a half weeks mind you, I felt the despair, the need, the physical want to have me back, to have me breathing and talking and laughing and smiling, which is all hard, because half of it is fake. I don’t smile anymore. I don’t laugh anymore and I never talk about what happened to me. I can’t seem to do so. It’s just too... odd. Yes, odd. Not traumatic, not life-changing, odd. It’s the only word I can find after reading almost the entire dictionary that fits the way I feel the best. I feel odd. I guess it’s because of everything that I’ve seen, everything I’ve felt, everything that has happened to me.

I open the window as I see people dive into the mess, the jungle we have made for them. I stop thinking and watch, listen, smile. Blood goes everywhere, staining the grass under their feet. They are bitten, clawed at, ripped apart, stung, poisoned, strangled, smothered, stepped on, eaten. They go crazy, they die, they scream, they cry and I look around and I watch as everyone else watches them. No one has ever seen anything like this before. No one except me. I see this all the time. Every time I close my eyes. The only time I didn’t see it was when I was wrapped up in his arms, my head tucked under his chin. I remember countless dreamless nights while I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat. I shake those memories away and watch as a man is stepped on. A slow, sadistic smile crosses my face quickly before it drops back to blank. I watch as more and more of them die and I watch as the first line steps out onto the bloodstained glass, watching with hard faces.

No one can tear their eyes away from the chaos the ground below is coming to and I feel a presence behind me but I don’t pay any attention to it, to him. I watch as a single soul makes his/her way across the creatures and is killed instantly. More and more make it, not nearly as many as they started off with but a far few. I count every death and am up to twenty five before I rise and make my way down, leaving the person standing in the exact same spot as before. People part as I wander down from my window seat out to the grounds and no one says a word. Most eyes are on the windows, watching the people die but some, some are on me. One of them is waiting for me and I quickly end their life, finally fulfilling one of my vicious dreams as I watch and listen as the man begs for his life. I say nothing; only stare as the life drains out of him before I move onto the next. I kill over one thirty of them, taking them away from the other people fighting and taking control. I force them to go though everything they had ever put anyone though. I watch them cry, them beg, them scream. Some even wet themselves and some are so humiliated that they shit all over themselves. I never say a word, never speak, just listen and observe.

Finally it’s just me and him and I kill him. Swiftly and spectacularly. He’s blown into a million pieces, all of him, even his soul. No one will ever be like him again. No one. They know what they will face now, they know that if they were to do something so stupid as to go against me they will die and as I turn to walk away, I see shock, fear and happiness in every single eye that is upon me and that’s a lot of eyes. Then I turn and disappear. And no one will see me again because I don’t want anyone to see me again.

I land in the middle of nowhere and the rain is coming hard, fast and quickly. I spread my arms, and look up, letting the water wash me and finally, I let myself cry. I drop to my knees and cry. Cry for everything, everyone, every person I have killed today, tonight, whatever. Cry out of anger, out of misery, out of rejection. I cry for everything I haven’t been able to cry for before. Then I scream. It echo’s back to me and I hear it all and I start to cry again. I kick, I hit the ground, I pull my own hair, I shake and I stop. I pull my legs to my chest and I stare at the ground. It’s red all around me with blood, none of my own.

I sit in the same position; the same area for hours, letting the rain hit me, letting it wash everything away, wash away my sins. My head rests on my knees and I slowly fall asleep, never hearing or seeing the person walk into the clearing. I don’t hear the gasp, or feel the hands on me. I don’t feel them pick me up and mutter something about my weight. I don’t feel them carry me to the place I was planning on going and I don’t feel them as they lay me down in the bed then watch over me as I sleep my exhausted sleep.

I wake to eyes on me. I can feel them burn into my skin as I sleep. I take note of my surroundings the best I can while pretending to sleep. I realize I’m on a bed, in a room and that a person is watching me sleep. I’m not wet anymore, at least my clothes aren’t and I feel around slowly, finding that I am naked under the covers. I know where I am as soon as I can tell I’m in a bed and I regret telling him of this place. Of my sanctuary. I shift and I know he knows that I am awake. I sit up quickly, yank the blanket all the way up and back into the wall next to the bed, my eyes on him. He looks the exact same as he did before, except his hair is longer, it falls into his eyes now. We stare at each other for a long time and behind him the fire crackles, and I flinch.

I look around the small room, the small house, noticing that it looks the exact same as it did before just more lived in. I wonder how long he has been here, in this place, all alone. I remember everything we had done in this area, everything with vivid details. I remember when I took him on this bed, when he took me. When we had sex in front of the fire, on the couch, on the table, on the floor at the foot of the bed, on the kitchen counter, against all of the walls, against the door, in the bathroom, in the shower, against the bookshelf, on the desk, on the roof, in the same area I had been in when I first appeared here.

I remember coming here after he left me and sitting in the middle of the room and staring at everything, not believing anything at the moment. I remember wanting to die again, this time wanting to kill myself, to take my own life, to watch as my blood flowed over my arms and onto the floor and I probably would have, if the picture hadn’t have stopped me. In the whole house we only had one picture and it was of us, of course. It sat in its frame, on the mantel and looked down at us whenever we were near it. I remember holding the knife to my wrist and looking up, staring straight at that picture and I dropped the knife, stood and ran. I hadn’t been back since.

My whole body shakes and I, one again, shove this to the back of my mind, begging myself to forget, if even for a moment. The bed dips and I look at him again, now sitting on the bed. My hair falls into my eyes like always and he pushes it away, tucking it behind my ear.

“Why are you here?”

“To get away from everything.”

“But why here?”

He looked around, glancing at everything, “It reminded me of you.”

“Why would you want to be reminded? You were the one to break up with me not the other way around.”

“I know.”

The ‘conversation’ pauses and I stare at the bed covers wrapped around me. I shiver again, this time from the cold.

His eyes land on me, curled up in the corner and this time I challenge him. He shifts closer to me, now sitting directly in front of me.

“I never wanted to leave you to begin with.”

“But you did.”

“I know I did. I regret it everyday. I should have been there for you when you needed me the most. I know that after I told you I was leaving you, you came here. I saw the shattered picture on the floor when I walked in the next day.”

“I though you were going to him.”

“That was my original plan but I changed my mind last minute.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be like them.”

“Why not?”

“Can you actually see me being like them?”

“Yes.” I said it truthfully and quickly, knowing in my head and in my heart that I would never be able to lie to him.

“Seriously?”

“Without a doubt. It’s the way you are. How can I not see you like them?”

His eyes met mine once again, betraying his blank face. His eyes always betray him and he doesn’t even know it. My truthful words have hurt him, just like his words hurt me. I know I’m being nasty, trying to get my revenge in the worst type of ways but I have to, I have to do this to him so he knows that he can never get away with it again. By doing this to him, getting my revenge in the worst way possible, I will be able to get over everything that he said to me that day.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I mean everything I say to you and you know that. I never lie to you.”

“How do I know that for sure?”

“Because I would never lie to you. I could never lie to you. Have I ever really lied to you?”

He shakes his head no and breaks our gaze. We sit in an uncomfortable silence for too long.

“Why did you leave? Why didn’t you let me help you?” my tone went from being confident to being defeated.

He looks at me, looks down, then back up at me, “Answer my question first, then I’ll answer yours. Deal?” He knows better than to hold out his hand to me.

“Deal. Ask away.”

“Why are you here?”

I look away from his piercing eyes because I knew that he was going to ask that. I could tell. I sigh and pull the sheet closer to my naked body. If he thinks I don’t notice him staring at me he’s out of his mind. I move out of the corner and his eyes follow my every movement. As I side to the edge of the bed, as I set my feet on the ground, as I stand and walk towards the middle of the room, running my hand over things as I pass them. I walk around the couch and straight towards the fireplace, feeling his eyes on me still. I pluck the picture off the mantel and tuck the sheet into itself to keep it up without me holding it. I grab the picture with both hands and run my thumbs over the smooth glass.

“It finally happened. He’ll never come back this time.” I hear him sigh out of relief behind me and I can feel a bit of the tension in the room disappear. I spin, the picture still in my hands, “I never believed in my entire life that I would be here. That I would be standing here, still in love with you, still alive after what went on today. That if someone were to tell me at this time last year that I would still be alive today I would have shipped them off to the first mental institution that came to my mind.” I stop and look down at the picture, we look so happy. “I mean, I always thought I’d be with you forever. That you would always back me up, always be there for me when I needed you. At least, that’s what I thought at one point. But you’re right, people change and grow apart but I always believed that no matter how much we changed and grew apart that the only constant thing in our lives would be each other. No matter what.” I turn and set the picture back on the mantel, letting tears fall down my cheeks once again. “I never thought I could be more wrong.”

I feel his hand on my shoulder and I’m spun around. His hands slide up to cup my face and he uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. I undo the knot type thing holding up the sheet and yank it up to my shoulders, all while staring directly at him. He lowers his head and drops a kiss on my forehead and I can not help it, my eyes fall closed and I savor the feeling. And suddenly he is speaking, “I was scared. So scared. For you. For me. For everything. I was scared he would find out somehow and kill me, then you, for it. For being together and I couldn’t let that happen. I could not put you in even more danger because of me. I just couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter to me that you already were already number one on their hit list; nothing mattered except that if I could protect you in some way, I would do it. So I left. I broke it off with you and I left the school. I didn’t realize that leaving you at that moment was the worst thing I could have done until I was already long gone. I tried to get here as fast as I could because I knew you would come here but I was too slow. I am so sorry I left you. I know I shouldn’t have done it but somehow I got it stuck in my head that you would be better off without me always there, hanging over your shoulder. I regret it everyday I’ve been apart from you.”

“I needed you the most around that time.”

“I know. And I was an asshole for even thinking of leaving you. I guess that deep down another reason I left was because I didn’t want you to fall out of love with me. My insecurities were my downfall.”

“We were together for two years. I never even considered of leaving you, ever. Not even when we fought.”

“You are so much stronger than I ever will be.”

“That’s not true. You are the strongest person I know. You’re just… dumb sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes, “Thanks.”

I smile at him though my tears, which are slowly stopping as we stand in the odd embrace, his hands still on either side of my face. I look down at my sheet and for the first time I notice that it’s silk, not something we had had originally. I look him up and down and see what he is wearing. Jeans cover his long legs from my view, they fall low on his hips, showing me how skinny he is and a normal gray tee falls over his torso. It’s then I realize how much I still love with him and probably always will and it will never change.

I look away from him, knowing that if I were to stare any longer I wouldn’t be able to help my actions.

“I’m tired.”

“You can have the bed.”

“Thank you.” I turn away from him and walk back to the bed, crawling on top of it and yanking up the comforter all the way over my head. Then I listen to the sounds around me. I listen as he sighs and wanders around the small room. I hear him opening doors and pulling out blankets and I eavesdrop on him as he strips and makes himself comfortable on the couch before sighing once again and slapping the comforter down before turning on his side and trying to fall asleep. Seems to me we have the same problem.


The next time I open my eyes is when I shoot into a sitting position. My breathing is heavy and I feel as if I had just ran a marathon. I close my eyes and fall back onto the bed, calming my breathing. The nightmares have already started. Damn. For once in my life I would not like to have nightmares. Rolling over I look for the clock then groan, yanking the covers over my head. I don’t wanna be awake. I wish I could whine to myself and make myself feel horrible and give my head a reason to fall back to sleep but no, I won’t be able to go to bed for another twelve, thirteen hours. Lovely. Sighing I sit up in bed once more and swing my legs over the edge, my feet connecting with the cold ground. I hold back a hiss, trying not to wake him up and let the blanket fall from my body, leaving me naked. I tiptoe to the bathroom. Opening the door, I wince as it squeaks and glance over my shoulder before slipping into the bathroom to shower and relive myself.

I look around, searching for something different, something out of place, but nothing is and deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be. I shake my head, take my piss and turn on the shower before stepping under the scalding water. I know the glass door is completely see though and I know that he will wake up soon, to the sound of running water and have to pee but I could careless because I have water hitting my aches and pains. I set my hands on the wall, leaning forward, dropping my head as I let the water hit my shoulders and fall down my back in fiery waves. The tiles under my fingers feel cold but warm up quickly and over the sound of pounding water I hear the door creek open and footsteps stop as the door opens entirely. I feel his eyes on me; feel him try to hold himself back and fail. Clothes hit the ground and the shower door opens.

I step away from the water and stare at him as he stares back, the music he turned on before heading to the bathroom floats through the open door. He looks me up and down, his breathing becoming harder, eyes darkening, they stop on my hip. The tattoo dragon there shifts under his gaze and snorts, smoke coming out of his nose. It stands from its laying position and wraps its tail around its body. He gives me an odd look and I stare back at him, daring him to say anything about it. He doesn’t. He just steps into the shower with me and closes the door behind him and for the first time our eyes really meet, unguarded. He steps forward and stands directly in front of me, hands coming up to cup my face. Our lips meet for the first time in three months and I all but melt into him.

“Do you forgive me?” he asks.

“No.” My voice shakes as I answer him and my heart tells me that I forgave him a long time ago but I have to let him know that just one kiss isn’t going to change everything. “One kiss isn’t going to change everything Draco.”

“Then what will?”

I gulp, “I don’t know.”

“I want you to forgive me. I want you to know how much I love you and how much I regret ever leaving you.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you the same way again.”

“Let me try.”

He leans down and kisses me again, smoothly and deeply, just like I remember. This time, I don’t hold back urges. I reach up and tangle my arms around his neck, my fingers dive into his hair and I kiss him back vigorously. His arms go to my waist and he pulls me close, our naked bodies touching causes us both to shiver and I realize how much I missed him.

“I missed you.”

“I know. I missed you too.”

He pushes me back against the warm tiles and we are kissing again, passionately. His lips move from mine and he kisses down my jaw, falling to my neck. I feel his hands reach down to lift me and I allow it to happen as I slid up the wall so I am level with him. My legs wrap around his waist and I can feel his arousal against my thigh. His butterfly kisses go down my neck and the perfect lips stop on my pulse point, sucking lightly. I hiss at the feeling and melt into him even more.

“Let me make love to you.” He whispers against my neck, breath ghosting over it, “Don’t let me feel as if I didn’t tell you or show you how much you mean to me. I know you’re upset, I know that I’m the last person you probably want to be with right now but please let me love you one more time.”

My arms drop from his neck and gently grab his face to look at me, “Just because you hurt me doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you ‘Co. I consider myself blessed to be here, with you, now.”

“Do you know how happy that makes me feel right now?”

“No, but you can show me. Show me ‘Co. Show me that you still love me like you say you do. Show me that I can trust you again. Show me how happy you feel. If you can prove it to me that you still love me the way you say you do I’ll never doubt it again and I will never leave you. But you have to promise me. Promise me that you’ll love me forever. That you’ll never leave me. That you’ll talk to me. Promise me ‘Co.”

“I promise, oh I promise everything you ask of me.” He kisses me, sealing it. Once again, like clockwork, my arms slide around his neck and I can feel his fingers bruising my hips where he holds me still; up against the shower wall. He moves one hand and flips the water off, lips never leaving my own. Even without the shower on there is still an odd heat that fills the cubical and leaves us both shivering. I reach behind him and shove the door open before I detach my lips from his and he carries me into the other room and to the bed where he drops me with a large grin. I shriek and glare at him for his antics but he just drops onto the bed next to me, rolling onto his side before running a finger down my chest and stomach, stopping at my abdomen. He runs his fingers over the scar there, reminding himself of what could have been. I think he was more excited at the prospect then I was and I was excited, no doubt. We wanted it, and we were ready but life gets in the way.

“It’ll happen again.”

He glances up at me with hopeful eyes and I half smile at him; “Really?” he asks softly, his warm breath tickling my stomach.

I reach down and pull him up so our faces are inches apart, “I don’t see why not. Schools over, it would be a much better time” but my words are cut off as his lips attach to mine once again, hands falling to my hips, thumbs rolling over them softly.

I curve into him and moan softly, causing him to shiver. He trails kisses down my cheeks, to my neck, to my chest. His tongue runs over my slightly wet chest and I hiss, moan and sigh as he works his magic that I remember vividly. We’ve done this so many times yet this time, it feels different, seems different. His lips move from my collarbone to my nipples and he surrounds one in heat, so hot. His fingers run down my sides and I shiver, arching off the bed. The teasing lips move to the next, licking a path between them and delivering the same treatment as before. I watch as he moves from the top of my chest to the lower half, mouth fucking my bellybutton before running kisses over the scar on my stomach. He slides up my body and catches my lips in a hot, open mouthed kiss, just like the ones he planted over my torso. I kiss him back gratefully, shifting to finally allow our erections to touch. He hisses into my mouth and reaches up to grab the lube from the drawer yanking it out and swiftly opening it with one hand.

He slides off my body and crouches at my feet, looking me up and down, running his hands up and down my legs watching me watch him. He bends and kisses my toes on my right foot and I know what he’s doing now. Making love to me. Proving it. I sigh contently and giggle as his mouth runs over the ticklish spots on my feet. Hot opened mouth kisses journey up my leg to my thigh before his tongue follows the same trail as before, going down. I moan and groan and wiggle but he continues on, going to my next leg and he goes up and down it with the kisses and the licks and the bites. He goes for my hands next, taking each finger into his mouth and letting me finger fuck him till my erection is weeping with want and need to touch but he ignores my cries of want and need as his velvet mouth changes course and travels back up, to my face, covering it with kisses and whispers of love before he grabs the lube and moves down again.

When his burning breath wraps around my cock, I cry out and arch my hips off the bed but he pushes them down again and licks his lips before consuming me whole. My scream rips though the air and for the hundredth time I am happy this house is in the middle of nowhere. I feel his eyes on me and his smirk around my shaft as I toss my head back and forth, words falling from my lips that even I don’t understand, just every fifth one, his name. His head bobs and just as I’m about to come he stops, detaching himself from my body, dipping his fingers into the lube and inserting a digit into my body. He massages my muscle and I try to impale myself on him as a second follows, scissoring, stretching me oh so well. A third joins the two and I’m shaking in anticipation and desire, knowing what will come next. The fingers leave my body and I feel him at my entrance, waiting for something. I nod at him the best I can and he pushes forward pausing at my murmur of pain before continuing on, filling me completely, totally, entirely, absolutely, wholly, thoroughly, utterly, perfectly. I grip onto him, holding for dear life as he begins to move, hitting my sweet spot every time. He kisses where he can reach, our moans blending together and filling the small house. I cling to him as he whispers love to me and this time I say it back, the words falling out of my mouth as we both explode at the same time, his essence filling me and falling onto the bed, mine coating our abdomens.

We collapse onto the bed below us somehow landing on our sides and I curl into his, feeling his arm coming to hold me tight against it. My head rests on his chest, my ear over his heart and I know how much he loves me.

“Did I prove it?”

“Perfectly.” I drop a kiss onto his chest and reach for his free hand, interlacing our fingers. His hand rubs my back and my eyes grow heavy.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted your love ‘Co. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“I forgive you for doubting it and I know.”

“We’ll be together forever won’t we?”

“Forever and ever and ever and ever.”

“And we’ll have lots of babies with green eyes and blonde hair or gray eyes and black hair and we’ll teach them how to ride brooms and play pranks?”

“Of course.”

“We will get married?”

“If you want.”

“Good, cause I do.” I yawn after I tell him this.

“Good, me too.”

“I love you ‘Co.” My eyes drift closed and I’m asleep.

“I love you too Har. More then you’d ever believe.” He soon follows and we sleep together in our bed, in our lives, in our hearts.


fin