When Harry found Draco's body on the cold ground, he wanted to scream, out of horror, regret and confusion. Harry never knew what effect, what impact he had on him. If he ever knew that this would happen and could go back into the past, the first thing he would do is tell his past self to learn how to keep secrets better and to make sure to bring the cloak of invisibility with him at all times.
Truth be told, he never loved Draco, not even a little bit. He merely dated him to get revenge after his constant bullying in the past. When he had discovered Draco's crush on him, Harry obviously took his chance but he didn't know it would go that far.
Seeing the blond male's lifeless body, Harry felt remorseful, guilty, and ashamed. Though, it was already too late. He couldn't even bring himself to apologise, he knew every single "sorry" he would ever say to Draco would be nothing more but an empty and hollow apology. Harry would never love him, his love already belonged to another woman.
Surprisingly, despite not loving Draco, Harry was oddly depressed about his death, sobbing or at least tearing up every night when he was alone. Perhaps he felt guilty for being responsible for his death, there was no other explanation. He refused to believe he'd ever have any feelings for the other male, there was no way.
In the months that followed Draco's death, Harry’s life was duller, less lively. Nothing felt the same anymore. Laughter sounded hollow, food was tasteless. He couldn’t forgive himself for what he’d done. Draco's annoying voice was now silenced forever. He was a prisoner in his own mind, haunted by memories of someone he only wanted to toy with, never realizing he was digging his own grave along with Draco's.
He tried to tell himself it was only guilt, that would fade in time but instead the emptiness inside him only grew every day. Every little bit of his life seemed to be affected by Draco now. He suspected that Draco might've placed a hex on him before he died as revenge for all the suffering Harry put him through.
He started to distance himself from his friends and avoided every interaction he could with them. There was no way he would ever let them see how much Draco's death changed him and his personality, no absolute way his pride would allow that. When Hermione and Ron asked, he'd only brush them off and change the topic.
One particular night, Harry was having another breakdown, it was nothing new to him at this point. After all, the regret and guilt were tormenting him every night. When he glanced up from the floor, looking towards the night sky, a familiar figure stood in front of them. "Draco?" he thought to himself. He was absolutely furious, infuriated that Draco showed himself to him after practically torturing him with his suicide. It must be a hallucination, he saw him die, he saw the breath and pulse leave the blond male's body.
Harry rubbed his eyes, just to be sure if he was actually there. his breath hitched in his throat, the figure was still there. Right in front of him, he looked exactly like Draco, the messy platinum blond hair, the same cold but oddly vulnerable gaze. Harry shook his head violently, trying to convince himself it was nothing more but a nightmare.
“You’re not here,” Harry said, his voice nearing a shout. “You can’t be here.”
The figure tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his pale lips. “Am I not?” Draco’s voice was tinged with anger, like a restless, revenge-seeking spirit.
Harry stumbled back, his heart racing. “No... You’re dead. I... I saw you.”
Draco stepped closer, his footsteps eerily silent. The room seemed to grow colder with each step. “You’re right, Potter. You did see me die. But tell me... how does it feel to carry that weight? To know you’re the reason I’m dead?”
“I didn’t—” Harry started but the words caught in his throat. He had no defense, no way to fight back. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I was... I was stupid.”
“Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Draco sneered. “You played your little games, Harry, and now you’re receiving the rewards. Guilt, shame, regret—they suit you.”
Harry’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor, his hands clutching his hair tightly. “I didn’t want this! I didn’t know it would go this far! I thought... I thought it was just a stupid crush. I didn’t think you’d—”
“End my life?” Draco interrupted, his tone venomous. “Of course, you didn’t. Because you never thought about me, did you?”
Harry looked up, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know you felt that strongly about me. Why can't you just forgive and forget?”
Draco’s expression tightened, filled with fury. “Forgive and forget?" he sneered. "Are you even listening to yourself, Potter? Or have you gone brain-dead?”
Harry’s hands trembled as he reached out, as if trying to grasp Draco. “Please... I don’t know what to do... Just leave me alone, Draco..”
Draco’s figure flickered, his smirk replaced by something unreadable. “How about no? You deserve no mercy from me, Potter.”
Before Harry could respond, Draco’s form began to fade, dissolving into the shadows of the room. His final words echoed, low and haunting.
“Live with it.”
Harry was left alone, the silence enveloping him again. He curled into himself on the cold floor, his body trembled as he sobbed. The weight of his actions bore down on him, and for the first time, he wondered if he could ever escape the prison he created himself.
As the years dragged on, Harry’s pleas of “leave me alone” became whispers, then mutters, then screams into an empty room. Yet Draco never left. Even in death, he was relentless, his laughter echoing in Harry’s mind, promising that peace would never come, not in this life or the next.