Title: Taking Over Me
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Song fic, general, hurt/comfort
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Word count: 816 (including the song lyrics)
Status: Complete
Disclaimer: Sorry, mates. It isn't mine. J.K. Rowling owns it all. Also, the song doesn't belong to me but to the beautiful Amy Lee and her band.

You don't remember me
But I remember you
I lie awake and try so hard
Not to think of you
But who can decide what they dream
And dream I do

Draco waits, hopes; he does not have any other choice. They're the only things he is able to do. At dusk, he lies awake beside the windowsill, staring into the dark depths of the night, spread like a blanket before his window. No more dreams, he thinks, no more.

But he does. Without interruption. Almost the same dream every night. Secretly, sometimes he even goes to bed, hoping his dreams would return.

Oh, but they destroy him.

Nothing has been the same since the end of the war. His father killed, his mother tortured . . . and worst of all, his lover's memory sent to oblivion. All he has, now, is a faulty camera in his mind, tantalizing him with all the information of the past, the happiest days of his life.

I believe in you
I'll give up everything
Just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me

Time creeps on slowly, as a turtle making his way to the sea, leaving behind only illusions that it was there. War is over, seemingly. Inside, though, Draco is dying in a battle against himself.

Everyday, without fail, he goes to St. Mungo's, to his beloved, admire him from afar.

Everyday, he remembers and it hurts to know that Harry doesn't.

Everyday, he tells himself he'd stop coming to the hospital and will move on with life.

Everyday, he turns up at the hospital anyways.

He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he has hope. That's why he keeps coming back.

That, and the fact that Harry is taking over him. Wholly. Entirely. Harry has control over Draco Malfoy, and he doesn't even know it.

So Malfoy knows he can't give up. Ever.

Have you forgotten all I know?
And all we had?
You saw me mourning my love for you
And touched my hand
I knew you loved me then

He wakes from the same dream every night. It's not really a dream, though. It's a memory. Or at least he thinks it is. It's been so long that Draco wonders if it even happened before.

Same dream.

Empty classroom. Intimate closeness. Hot breaths. Shy touches. Warm kiss.

Maybe it had been a dream. Maybe he never really confessed his love to the Gryffindor. Maybe that day never really happened at all.

But there was something in the back of his mind. There was the subtle difference between reality and dreams. The blonde had now mastered this hairline distinction.

He knew.

It was never a dream.

I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me.

Breathe, he muses for the umpteenth time as he peered to see the grown face of his lover. Breathe, Harry.

But it is him who has to breathe. Where has his life gone the past two years? He does not recall. Everyday has been exactly the same.

Please, he begs an unknown force, leaning back on the nearby wall for support. Please, live. Remember. Fight. Remember…!

I look in the mirror and see your face
If I look deep enough
So many things inside that are just like you
Are taking over

Night time again.

Draco looks at his ghastly reflection, what is left of it anyways, in the lavatory mirror. His hair still blind, it is not as fair as it once used to be, his triangular face even more pale than usual.

That is not, however, what Draco Malfoy sees when he gazes at his own reflection. Instead, he sees Harry Potter, standing right next to him, with his boyish smile, his untidy hair, and wild green eyes.

Oh how Harry's taking over him.

I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me

And then suddenly, everything changes. Not gradually, no. Just suddenly.

At St. Mungo's, the air is different. He can feel it. Maybe today's the day. Just maybe.

A young nurse, red-haired, tall—one he sees fairly often—greets him in the hallway as he heads towards Harry's ward automatically. "Mr. Malfoy."

There's something in her voice that makes Malfoy stop in his tracks. "Yes?" It's been long since anyone's spoken to him. It takes him by surprise.

"Good day," she smiles, exposing a series of white teeth, "Mr. Potter . . . he's been speaking of you."

"Speaking of me?"

"He keeps mentioning this dream he's been having. He describes a classroom, undoubtedly Hogwarts, and a man who has your characterization. He claims he's been having the same dream for quite a while now."