[HP] End of Death

Draco didn't fall asleep right away.He sat on the bed for a long time, his head full of strange and bewildering thoughts, and worries that were hard to ignore.

The Room of Requirement had turned off the lights, and the room was dark.A bluish light floated on the curtain, swimming slowly like a deep sea jellyfish.

He heard creaking noises from the bed next to him, and the person on the bed seemed to have turned over. He pulled back the covers and got out of bed, walked through the curtain to Harry's bedside.

The boy curled up into a ball, frowning, as if dreaming.Half of his quilt slipped to the ground, and he wrapped the remaining half tightly in his hands.With a little effort, Draco pulled the quilt out of his hands, pulled the quilt up and tucked him back in.He sat down on the edge of his bed, fingers combing his forehead hair.

Harry turned over again, his hands shaking unconsciously, and his legs kicked convulsively from time to time, like a violent little animal.The quilt he had just covered was thrown off by him again, Draco sighed, leaned down and stroked his curved neck and spine, and patted his back lightly.

The boy said something suddenly, but the voice was too low, like the growl of a wild animal, and Draco couldn't hear it.

Harry was having a nightmare, that was his first thought.Draco suddenly felt a pain behind his ears, as if a nerve had been touched, and an indiscernible vision appeared indistinctly in front of him, and he could feel the oppressive and dark storm filling it, like a doomsday flood Flooded into his brain, all the negative emotions turned into viruses and poured into his blood, and flowed to the whole body with the pumping of the heart.

"Harry." He shook Harry's shoulders, resisting the severe pain in his brain, and tried his best to ignore the broken patterns that kept appearing in front of him, "Wake up, Harry..."

The boy's body trembled, convulsed, and rolled violently.He sat up straight suddenly, then fell back heavily on the bed, like a big hammer smashing into the cotton pillow.Draco pulled him up into his arms and comforted him patiently, kissing his cheek and lips.The boy resisted unconsciously, beat his back hard, twisted his body and struggled.Draco reached into his pajama pants, grasped and kneaded vigorously, the boy's body trembled even more, he raised his neck and panted, and a beast-like whimper came out of his throat.Draco hugged him again, comforting him softly.

Harry opened his eyes, still with an unnatural blush on his face.His face was blank, his eyes were slack, and his chest heaved violently, as if he hadn't recovered yet.

He struggled to break free from Draco's arms, looked down at his messy pajama pants, then raised his head and stared at him with red eyes, Draco innocently explained: "I just want you to wake up."

Harry was still staring at him, and Draco took his wand from the bedside and cleaned it up for him.He wanted to hug him again, but Harry pushed him away abruptly as if in a sudden reaction, staring straight at him.

"Is that true?" he said suddenly, his voice hoarse.

"what?"

"Your father was tortured...and your mother...you were also tortured by the mysterious person..."

"No, no." Draco subconsciously denied, "I didn't—"

"Then your parents are real?" Harry asked back, "I saw you sitting next to your father and watching the mysterious man torture him with the Cruciatus Curse."

Draco opened his mouth, but no words came out.What should he say?That did happen, but it was a long time ago.He didn't know what Harry was doing all of a sudden bringing this up, he didn't remember ever telling him about it.

"These are real?—you really experienced these things—"

"No, Harry, listen to me," Draco felt an inexplicable fear in his heart, and he grabbed Harry's hand, "It's nothing, Harry, it's all over—"

"How can you say it's nothing—? Do you think I don't know what the Cruciatus Curse is? I know how painful it is, let alone being tortured by it! Draco, you never told me this, I don't know ——I—” He shook off his hand, put his hands on his head, and scratched his scalp vigorously, with a broken face.

"Harry—"

Harry took a step back and finally jumped off the bed, nearly falling to the floor in his excitement.He stood up against the wall, his eyes were red, and he bit his lip.

"Don't think about it, Harry, really, it's over." Draco also stood up, and he took a step closer to him, and Harry immediately screamed: "Don't come near me, Draco, don't even Come near me!—you never told me, I give you—I bring you this disaster—”

"No, it's none of your business! It's not your fault, Harry!"

"No, you're lying to me!" He closed his eyes, and the images Voldemort showed him came back to his mind: in the hall illuminated by crimson light, Death Eaters in black hoods bowed their heads and formed a group A circle, with a solemn expression, like a sacrifice... The man standing in the middle is pale and bloodless, his blood-red eyes are as cold as snakes, his hands are long and thin and sharp like spider feet, and his high-pitched voice is like some kind of ancient witchcraft , and the red light landed on the blond man's body one by one following his words, bending his straight back, and his tall figure became shorter and shorter...

The boy next to him closed his eyes at first, clutching the fabric on his lap.After a while, he opened his eyes - when he understood what happened, he showed a more panicked and desperate expression.

No.No.No.He stared at the trembling lips of the boy as he repeated the words.His brain seems to overlap with him, his heart shakes with his pupils, his fingers tremble with his lips, he bears his pain - or maybe Voldemort magically imposed on himself Yes, but there is no doubt that this once existed.

He won, and he couldn't say he didn't care—he cared so much, his heart ached.He was so fragile, so easily affected by a real phantom... He had the key factor holding him back-of course, it was easy to find, but he had never felt so weak.They were suffering—past, present, future, another time and place, and there was nothing he could do.

"No, Harry, I didn't lie to you. I wouldn't lie to you—" The boy was standing in front of him now, in his pajamas, looking at him with worry and fear.

What is he afraid of?What is he afraid of... afraid of the truth being exposed, or afraid of him going crazy?Oh, maybe he's crazy, maybe the world is crazy... why should he exist?

He looks down.He saw criss-cross scratches on the floor, perhaps left by previous people.They too have been tortured and tortured, roaring like mad beasts, walking on the fields by the lake in the sunrise, wandering, wandering, and ending their lives in the dark room imprisoned by starlight.

"What's the matter? What's going on?" With one hand pulling back the curtain, Ron walked in sleepily, rubbing his eyes, followed by the equally tired Hermione.

He looked at Draco, then at Harry, seemingly confused.

"Harry...? Are you arguing?"

Harry leaned back even tighter, and he looked at the three men, and he imagined that they too were enveloped in red light, and the feeble terror, the desperate struggle, until finally they lost their struggle and seemed to be overwhelmed. The bridges shattered and fell into the lake, and the icy water was all they could touch.

And he was like a cold warhead that lost its target after being fired, and fell powerlessly on the empty, endless snow field, and was stepped into the snowdrift.

He groped backwards, touched a bumpy board door, and pushed back hard.The door opened, he stepped in, and yanked it shut again.

"Harry!"