Title: Philadelphia
Author: Patchfire
(kash@salazar.patchfire.org)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers
including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made
and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Well, I'm late to the party, but here's my offering. 'Twas hit with the idea and
I couldn't leave it alone now. It's a songfic, of sorts, to "Philadelphia" by Neil Young. It's also a deathfic, despite the fact that I don't generally even like
to read them. Lastly, it's very definitely set in winter. Thanks and loves to Little Alex for beta'ing. Hugs.
Sometimes I think that I know
What love's all about
Harry pulled his cloak tighter around him, stepping through the driving winds
and drifting snow as he stared out over the lake.
"I wish that you could be here right now," he said softly into the still
silence. "Even... even knowing what you did. I wish you were here with me."
He bit his lip and looked down at his feet, which were rapidly being covered
with a cold damp blanket of fresh snow. "I have cried every day for the past
two weeks. And I'm just empty. I don't what to do. I need you. I love you."
And when I see the light
I know I'll be all right
"But I'm just not sure," Harry continued. "I'm not sure where to go, what to do.
Everyone expected that I would defeat Voldemort, take my N.E.W.T.s, and
become an Auror. But they also expected a lot of other things that I never did,
that I never will do. I've already shattered so many expectations."
Harry turned and could barely make out the light in Hagrid's old hut. He had
asked if he could live there, at least for awhile, and permission had been
granted. He slowly trudged towards it, knowing that night, and the
temperatures, were rapidly falling.
I've got my friends in the world
He hung up his scarf, then his cloak, and made his way over to the fire. It's a
warm cloak. Though it's not mine. It, or the scarf, he thought absently. He had
raided Draco's dormitory before anyone thought to forbid it, taking a few
things, things to remind him of the man he had loved. Still did love, despite
everything.
I had my friends
When we boys and girls
And the secrets came unfurled.
He sighed, and started to fix himself some dinner. He didn't go up to the castle
except when he absolutely had to. It was too painful, watching Ron's face
slide into a barely sympathetic version of "I told you so," and looking at
Hermione's turned back. Too painful, walking by the places the trio had
studied, played, laughed. They hadn't laughed together for two months even
before that horrible day. Ron had come back from Hogsmeade much earlier
than expected, and had found Harry and Draco together.
City of brotherly love
Place I call home
Don't turn your back on me
Yet, despite that, it was lonely in the small wooden hut. The snow piled
around its walls regularly, isolating Harry from everything and everyone,
except for the faithful Fang, and, of course Hedwig. The snowy owl, so fond of
the snow herself, had been screeched out of the Owlery by students' owls,
told by their angry, vindictive owners to do so.
Harry missed the castle. Missed the places he and Draco had hidden. Missed
the familiar stones, the classrooms, the Great Hall. But he wasn't alone there.
There he had to smile, and be happy, because Voldemort was Finally Dead.
But Harry wasn't happy.
I don't want to be alone
Love lasts forever
Harry crawled into the bed, piled high with blankets and furs. Still, it had
been
Hagrid's bed, and as such, was large enough for at least three people. Harry
tossed and turned in the night, reaching out for a body, a friend, a lover that
wasn't there. That would never be there again.
But Harry couldn't forget him. He would always love him. He just didn't know
how to move forward.
Someone is talking to me,
Calling my name
He was startled the mid-morning the next day by a knock at the door. No one
visited him. Whether because they knew he didn't want any visitors, or
because they didn't want to see him, he didn't know. He didn't care. He shook
his head irritably and ignored the knock.
"Harry Potter!" The person called through the door. "I know you're in there.
Answer the door and talk to me!"
The voice was female, but it wasn't Hermione. Harry blinked, and went to
answer the door despite his decision moments ago to ignore the knocking. He
stared at the person on his doorstep, his mouth dry. "Hello, Pansy," he finally
said.
Tell me I'm not to blame
Pansy Parkinson swept in, taking off her own cloak and scarf. She started
when she went to hang them up, then turned sympathetic eyes towards Harry.
"It wasn't your fault, you know."
"I know," Harry said in a monotone. "But... perhaps if I hadn't been there... or
we had never gotten so close... or something, anything I could have done
differently." He looked her straight in the eye. "I would have forgiven him
anything. I would have fought to keep him out of Azkaban, I would have
broken him out, I would have gone anywhere in the world, I would have spent
my life as a fugitive. Anything."
Harry laughed bitterly, his eyes brim-full of pain. "And I'm not supposed to
even be sad that he's gone. I'm supposed to be mad that he `betrayed' me, or
even glad, that one less of Voldemort's so-called minions is alive. Well, I'm
not."
I won't be ashamed of love
Pansy pressed her lips together. "I knew about the two of you," she began,
almost conversationally. "He loved you too. But he had to choose between
you and living, or so he thought."
"I know," Harry said quietly. "I understand that. But why did he have to go and
bloody get himself killed? And why doesn't anyone care that I loved him?
Dark Mark and all, I LOVED HIM!"
Philadelphia,
City of brotherly love.
Brotherly love.
"I was supposed to be fighting for the side of Light, the good side. But there's
so much hatred still around. And I'm not suppose to grieve. Maybe some
people fall in love multiple times in their life, but - " and he could say no
more.
Pansy embraced him. "Grieve, Harry. Grieve. Someone has to teach those
people up in the castle about love and acceptance. Otherwise, you fought for
nothing. Which would also mean that Draco died for nothing."
Sometimes I think that I know
What love's all about
Harry shook with silent sobs. Here, finally, was someone not condemning
him, not expecting of him, just letting him be. Here, finally, was what he had
needed since that horrible January day: a friend.
And when I see the light
I know I'll be all right
Philadelphia
Harry straightened finally, and checked the clock. "It's lunchtime," he said
hollowly. "Would you like to eat here?"
She shook her head. "No, but I'd like to eat with you - in the Great Hall."
Harry sighed, reluctant, but joined her by the rack that held their cloaks, each
wrapping long lengths of silver and green wool around their necks.
As they were about to enter the hall, Pansy pressed a box into Harry's hand.
"He had your Valentine's present for months now. I think... I think you should
have it. Perhaps it could even be said that you need to have it." She slipped
in, just ahead of him, offering him a moment of privacy.
Harry opened it without looking, slid the cool metal onto his finger. He had
thought so. He closed his eyes. "I'll always love you, Draco," he whispered
into the air, and then he turned into the hall.
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