What if besides Snape, Dumbledore and Harry, the Marauders correspond to the Three Brothers too? Peter, the first brother. Corrupted by a false idea of power and protection, given by a source immeasurably more powerful than him, constantly hurting people around him to maintain said power and, in the end, dead for it. Sirius, the second brother. The one whose loved ones are dead, the one arrogant and passionate enough to try overcome death, if given the chance, to bring his loved ones back. Remus, the third brother. The last one to die, who lived under invisibility after their brothers were gone, but who took it off once he knew his time to face death has come, in this case, in the battle of Hogwarts. James, the death itself. Where everything began and where everything will end. The legitimation for the first brother’s power, for the second brother’s desolation, for the third brother’s comfort to finally leave. The one waiting to greet the brothers after their deaths.
Draco walked outside, wearing nothing but a thin shirt to keep out the cold december night. He vaguely realised in the back of his mind that being anywhere but his bed right now was a bad idea, with this amount of sleeping draught circulating through his veins. Who knew what would happen if he fell asleep in the snow.
Draco didn’t care, however. The fog in his head was only pierced by one thought: At least I want to see the stars one last time. One more moment under the stars before everything collapses.
Lying on his back, the cold soaked his clothes, his skin, his bones, his heart, his soul. Why was he still alive? Why had he survived where others didn’t? Why had they suffered for someone too afraid to live?
Grey eyes that felt like dying sought the sky, until they found what they were looking for; Regulus. Sirius’ brother had become a bit of a hero for Draco. He’d done what Draco couldn’t, had seen evil and fought it.
I’m so sorry, big guy. So sorry. Where you struggled, I thrived. Where you died, I survived. Where you chose wisely, I made grave mistakes. I can never right what I did wrong, never forget what I did nor move past it.
Steadily Draco’s breath slowed down, his chest barely moving amidst the winter landscape. Frozen eyelashes fluttered shut one last time, thin ice sheets taking shape, holding them closed until the morning sun would melt them with her powerful beams. They would bring life to this planet, to this village, to this place. But not to his body. Not anymore. Not if Draco had any say in it.
Soft lips, curly black hair, a blazing fire of hope behind emerald eyes. Beams of sunlight would not meet Draco’s eyelashes that morning. Instead, they met him.
“Good morning sunshine.” A worried smile on cracked lips, deep rings of fatigue accompanying a tired gaze, liquid relief dripping from whispered words of greeting. Harry.
A tidal wave of feelings hit Draco square in the chest, so much it physically hurt. He curled up like a ball, pulling Harry’s hand and then entire arm with him under the duvet of his hospital bed. The guilt that ate away at him from the inside had overwhelmed him again last night. He honestly preferred the cruciatus curse over this.
The desperation with which he clung to this man, his man, was just as painful for Harry to watch. Months it had taken him to coax the blond out of hiding, telling him it was okay, no one would have acted differently had they been in Draco’s position. Even the ministry had eventually agreed to this, and dropped all charges against him.
Draco could just never see it that way. Hadn’t he been a bully before? Hadn’t he helped Umbridge? Hadn’t he tried to scare Harry off his broom in third year?
Maybe he wasn’t a terrorist, but he was no nice person either. So many of his friends had been so much better, smarter, nicer, more deserving people than him. More deserving to be here. More deserving to live. More deserving to be loved.
Why can’t he see I shouldn’t be here? Why didn’t he leave me in that fire? Why won’t he just let me go?
At the same time Harry couldn’t let him go, and not just because Draco held his arm in a deadlock. If he could do this, if he could make Draco willing to live again, make him happy…
Harry’s childhood had been many things, but normal wasn’t one of them. This person, this man, had been the only normal thing in his life. His enemy in a non psycho-killer way, his sports rival, his first crush. He’d made himself belief that if he could act on this one normal thing, all would somehow be less traumatic. A way to get something positive out of the war. A way to stay sane amidst the madness.
“It’s alright love.” Harry kissed Draco’s forehead. “It’s okay. I found you. I will always find you when you’re hurting. Always come when reason fails you.”
“It’s not reason failing me, Potter.” Ouch, that hurt. He never called him Potter unless he was trying to get rid of the man who saved him. Saved them all.
“It’s you reason has failed. You who should leave, should have left me. You who should be happy. You who should be anywhere but here.” His voice was steered away from trembling with difficulty, but Harry knew it was broken. Broken like he would have been, had he not found the blond last night.
“Even if all of that is true, love, where else should I find happiness but here? With you?” Harry had no shame in letting his tears run free. Sometimes Draco would kiss them away. “I am happy only when I’m with you. I don’t keep you around for you. I keep you around for me.”
Now Draco knew his boyfriend was lying, Harry was way to selfless for that. He looked up to say just that, but was met with a kiss so hard, so desperate, so powerful, he was knocked back into this pillow. Harry moved and was soon on top of him. He knew damn well Draco could not handle this weight pressing on top of him, could not handle his guilt, his emotions, without Harry as a counterweight. As a reversed ocean, where you only drowned if your head broke the surface, and love was found at the bottom.
Draco sunk like a rock.
“I will not leave.” Harry whispered when they broke apart for breath.
“I will never not save you.” He said after a second kiss.
“I will be happy.” Brushing blond hairs away, pressing a kiss on his forehead.
“With you.” He forced the blond to look at him, holding Draco’s face in place with just a bit too much force.
“And I will never. Ever. Be anywhere but here.” Harry pressed his hand on Draco’s chest. On Draco’s heart.
Posted it again because I made some minor changes to the first part. Hope you like it…
I hate when I see the comparison between Draco and Sirius, to prove Draco simply chose to be the way he was. Sirius had a family who hated him, and he hated them back. The Malfoys loved each other dearly. Draco was an only child, and was likely groomed more into tradition for it. Sirius had a brother, who became their families favorite, so they doted on him. Sirius became a Gryffindor and was influenced by his friends. Draco had death eaters kids for friends, and his dad was a death eater.
The first time James calls Sirius brother is when his mother introduces them to a stranger and Sirius could feel his heart almost coming out of his cage, the blood thumping against the walls of his veins, because he is the brother of the one person he loves more than life itself.
They are brothers in every way but blood.
The first time Euphemia introduces Sirius as her son is somewhere in the King’s Cross, just loud enough for Walburga to hear. Sirius feels the blood in his veins change colour, it’s no longer black, it’s red.
They are brothers and they knew it before they met.
The first time Sirius calls Euphemia mum is unintentional but it feels more genuine than all the times he had called Walburga mother and Euphemia knows, she knows he didn’t mean to but she wouldn’t have it any other way. He is of her blood but he doesn’t know.
They are a family.
Sirius breaks down as bad as James does when he receives the news, one right after the other. He tries to stand tall at the funerals as the taller boy seems so small suddenly, he feels his blood trying to leave his body as if the veins confining them aren’t enough anymore.
They are alone.
But they have each other and that’s more than anyone could as for, Sirius loses the one person he cared about that shared his blood and the red on his knuckles is wiped away by James.
But they don’t, they hang on the each other, they save each other’s life countless times. Sirius tries to pay back James for all the times he saved his life, it’s not enough. When James is hit by one of the worst hexes Sirius had seen, he would give anything to be the one to bleed out on the floor.
Babies are born.
When James asks Sirius to be the godfather, he feels magic float around his veins instead of blood. He feels tied to the small boy in his arms staring up at him, he hears his small heart beating and swears he would do anything to keep the blood running in his veins.
He is gone.
Sirius walks slowly into the house he knows so well but it’s so different because his blood is not the same anymore. As he crouches next to the body of his brother, his fingers just about to close his eyes, Sirius’ blood changes colour and it’s black once more.
He wants revenge.
And he gets what he doesn’t deserve, his blood is frozen still because James is gone and all the promises he made to the small boy are gone.
Regulus Arcturus Black(1961 – 1979) was a pure-blood wizard, born to Orion and Walburga Black, and the younger brother of Sirius Black. He was a member of the House of Black, an old wizarding family. He attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1972 and was sorted into the Slytherin house. Regulus became a Death Eater in his youth, but defected when he found what Lord Voldemort would do in order to reach his aims. Regulus also learned about one of Voldemort’s horcruxes, and decided to destroy it. He was killed after acquiring Salazar Slytherin’s locket in 1979.