Whisper

Rating: PG

Summary: Draco comes to terms with his feelings for Ron while at the same time coming to grips with the fact that he'll never see Ron alive again.

Warning: Slash, angst.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: This was written by only Georgia. Poor Freddie was left out.

Draco Malfoy walked uncertainly into the vast room which was the Infirmary at Hogwarts school. With its vaulted ceiling and large windows allowing the sunlight to shine in like rays from Heaven, the place felt like a church, or rather, a tomb. And that day, a tomb it might as well be.

The place was completely empty. Dumbledore had seen to that. Just minutes before, he had chased away Harry and Hermione, who had been there nearly all day, allowing Draco to go in by himself. It was as if Dumbledore knew somehow what Draco needed to do.

Slowly, he approached the only occupied bed in the room. Ron Weasley lay there, completely still. If the Infirmary was a church, then Ron was the angel that dwelled within it. A ray of light shone down on him from one of the massive windows as if it had specifically sought him out. His red hair, messy, but somehow perfect in its placement, seemed to almost glow, giving the whole scene a very unreal, very unearthly feel. It felt like an old, beautiful painting… or perhaps a still from a movie… but this was reality. Harsh, cold reality, no matter how it seemed on the surface.

Pulling a chair up, he sat and looked at Ron. There didn't appear to be a single scratch on his entire body and his chest slowly rose and fell as if he were merely sleeping. He certainly didn't look like someone slipping closer and closer to death, but Draco knew otherwise. They had acted like he had suddenly lost his ability to hear; Madame Pomphrey, Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall. He had sat alone in the hall, waiting for them to let him into the Infirmary, and he had heard every softly spoken word.

"All his physical injuries have been cured, but it doesn't seem to have done any good. There's nothing left to do except wait…"

"His brain appears to have been damaged beyond repair. Somehow, some part of him appears to still be fighting, keeping him breathing… but most probably he will peacefully pass away in his sleep in a matter of days."

"Someone should contact his family…"

"Poor Miss Granger. Look at her in there talking to him… should we tell her that her voice can't reach him where he is now?"

Still, even though he had heard the truth, that didn't mean he believed it. It seemed inconceivable that someone could go from being so full of life just the day before, to standing at deaths door the next. Things like this just didn't happen. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

As he sat watching Ron's chest slowly rise and fall, he got the strange feeling that somehow it was all just a joke. That Ron was perfectly well and was just sleeping, trying to make a fool of him. This thought filled him with the overwhelming desire to just reach out and give Ron a good shake to wake him up so they could have a good laugh about how he fell for it. Yet, even as he raised his hands to do just that, he found that he couldn't. He just couldn't… and he wasn't sure why. It was a maddening feeling.

Suddenly trembling with frustration, he broke the oppressive silence in the room.

"Come on Weasley! Wake up! You almost had me fooled… but I know what you're up to! Now… open your eyes! Open them!"

Ron however didn't even flinch. He just laid there as if Draco had never even spoken.

Draco buried his face in his hands, fighting the sudden urge to burst into tears. There was no point in crying. Ron was just pretending, it was just a joke… but it wasn't. Ron really couldn't hear him. He really was dying, possibly already gone. He should have told him! He should have told him how he felt a long time ago… but how could he have known that this would happen? That fate would never allow him the opportunity? It was as if he were being punished somehow for all the terrible things he had ever said to Ron… for being too afraid to say what he really felt.

He wasn't quite sure when his feelings for Ron changed. He had hated him so much during their first two years at Hogwarts, though there was no reason for this hate. His father hated the Weasleys, Ron was a Weasley, so Draco hated him. It wasn't until sometime in the middle of Third year that he noticed his feelings had begun to change. One day, he just opened his mouth to say something cruel, but his mind had gone blank. He had found himself unable to think of a single thing with which to insult Ron. And it hadn't stopped there. He found himself watching Ron, noticing things he had never noticed about him before. And then the two had wound up in detention together and things were never the same again. It was the first real conversation the two had ever had. They had been friends ever since. Draco still wasn't sure when these feelings had changed to something more than friendship. It was such a small feeling at first, that he had forced himself to ignore it. But over time it grew stronger and stronger until it began to weigh on him like a ton of bricks, and he knew Ron could feel it too. But they had never talked about it. They had just walked around with the weight of it on their shoulders, both pretending like it didn't exist. Countless times it had almost driven Draco to just come out and say it, but he never could. And now he would never get the chance. And it was all because of a stupid Quidditch game.

Gryffindor was set to play Ravenclaw, Ron, of course, was the Gryffindor Keeper. In all the excitement over the match, Draco had barely gotten a chance to talk to Ron at all… and what was the one thing he had said to Ron before the game?

"Good luck Weasley! Don't fall off your broom!"

He would kill himself to take back those words. Ron had just laughed when he said it. Laughed and gave him a friendly wave saying, "See you after we win the match Malfoy!" Ron had known Draco's words were said in jest, but that didn't change the fact that "fall off your broom" was exactly what Ron had done. A stray Bludger had come out of nowhere and hit Ron on the back of the head… hard. The force knocked him off his broom and he fell the countless number of feet to the ground before anyone could even make a move to stop it. And somehow, it felt like all of it was his fault. If he hadn't said those words… maybe it wouldn't have happened! But he had said the words, and it had happened, and the knowledge of this tore him up inside.

He felt tears falling down his face, and he didn't bother to hold them back anymore. What was the point. Was there any point in anything anymore?

"Ron…" he whispered, "please… please just wake up. I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything! Just please don't die… I…"

But yet again, he found he couldn't say it. Just like the countless times before, something inside of him stopped him from saying it. He began to sob, holding nothing back. No one was in the room to see him, and even if there was, he found he suddenly didn't care anymore.

Determined to break whatever force or wall there was between him and Ron that kept him from saying what he wanted, he forcefully reached out and grasped Ron's hand, holding it tightly in his own. He laid his head on the bed next to Ron and just cried. He cried and cried until the sunlight slowly dimmed and his soul took on a hollow feeling.

He sat up and gazed down at Ron. Nothing had changed. Not once had Ron moved or said anything. Slowly, gently, he bent over Ron, his lips next to Ron's ear. Softly, he began to whisper.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I want to believe that you can. There are so many things I've wanted to say, but I've been such a coward. I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm sorry for all the terrible things I've ever said to you. I don't know what made me say them but just know that I didn't mean it. Knowing you… it's changed everything. I'm not the person I used to be. I'd never really had true friends until I met you. You mean everything to me. You're my best friend. I know I can tell you anything… but for some reason I've been too big of a coward to say the things I really felt. But I'm not afraid anymore. I don't want you to leave. I don't know what I would do without you. But… if you have to go then please know this. Please hear this… I love you."

There. He had said it. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of him and suddenly those three simple little words that had been so hard for him to say fell off his tongue as if they were the only things he knew how to say. Softly, he repeated them again and again until his throat hurt from saying it so much.

It was night now. Slowly, he lifted his head, feeling exhausted. But what he saw forced him wide awake. Ron still hadn't moved, still hadn't spoken… but he was crying. Draco watched in amazement as tears slowly fell from Ron's closed eyes, and he knew. Madame Pomphrey was wrong. Ron had heard him. Some small part of him was still alive, and he had heard!

Overwhelmed with emotion, Draco began to cry again. He clutched Ron's hand tightly to him and they both just cried. Draco knew. He knew that Ron returned his feelings, even though he didn't have the power to say it. Draco could feel it, he could see it in the way Ron had somehow over come death's tight grasp to weep at Draco's words. Ron didn't need to say it. Draco could feel it as if Ron was telling it to him face to face.

He leaned over then and gently pressed his mouth against Ron's. A simple, little kiss that somehow meant everything. Maybe it was just his imagination… but Draco felt Ron somehow return the kiss. Weakly, faintly, but he had done it.

Suddenly tired, Draco pulled himself up into the bed next to Ron and held him as he fell asleep.

Draco woke as faint hints of morning sun began to filter through the Infirmary windows. Slowly, he got up. He didn't need to look down at Ron to know the truth… Ron was gone. He closed his eyes to keep himself from seeing Ron dead. He didn't want the image of him lifeless to be how he remembered him. If he lived to remember him, he wanted to remember him alive. He leaned over with his eyes closed and gently planted a goodbye kiss on Ron's forehead before turning and walking out of the Infirmary and outside into the rising sunlight.