As he cradled his godson's dead body in his hands, he looked up at Potter with a look that could strike down Voldemort himself with the hatred in his eyes. It was a look that promised that death would come quickly after his pain was shared by others around him. Without looking away from the eyes of the one he blamed he stood up with the boy’s body in his arms and walked off.
He had held this little boy once like this. Completely supported by his hands as he leaned on him. Leaned on him because he couldn’t do anything but that. In that helplessness that newborn babies have. That’s the moment a parent is born. That dependence of such pure little creatures is where the protectiveness of parents is birthed. That’s the day his soul was revived. All because of the little baby boy that had been passed to him, dead asleep. Exhausted from his journey to life. In that moment he knew he could never have children, because how could he love a child more than this little baby here with him.
And now this boy leaned on him once more. Completely dependent on his strength, not as a sign of new life. Unfortunately, as a sign of a lifeless corpse that no longer was his boy. He didn’t even know where he was walking to. Just that he was walking, and that he would be content that this walk be eternal if it meant not having to put him down again. Where does a parent walk when their child is dead? And where does a parent set them down?
He soon arrived at the one place he could place them down. Poppy rushed over to check him over. However, the signs of no life were evident. If not on the boy, then on the face of the man that had brought the boy over. She fussed over him for a while for a goal that was fruitless. He had done everything that could have been done himself. The boy had just lost too much blood by the time he had arrived.
Draco was cold and wet on that floor for too long, that no number of spells and tricks would have brought him back.
God please, what does he do with himself now? What is there to do when they fail their children? What good does it do to make a better world if this boy is not here to see it?
He had failed again. Just like he had failed Lily. Like how he failed James. And like he failed to save Regulus. There was another one dead with the dozens and hundreds he failed. As his thoughts dawned on him, he slowly moved to lay with his godson once more. He laid his head on the pillow and looked onto his face. He reached out to move his hair off his beautiful little face to look at him. And just like when he was little, he would check on him, his eyes not leaving the boy for a second. He wouldn't because he was checking for breathing. He was so afraid he would stop breathing throughout the night. And now the boy had, and all he looked for was the sign he would start again.
He set his hand on the side of his face to admire how big his boy had gotten in a matter of seconds in front of his eyes. He knew he had failed him. When Lucius asked him to be the godfather with the death of Regulus leaving him unable to take on the honor, he felt his heart start. He failed with being around, and by making promises and vows that took priority to the little boy he promised to help raise. And now he fails to just keep him alive, when he swore he would.
He felt his vow take a hold of him. He felt himself slip away as he laid in bed. He got the boy killed while completing his vow to watch over him as he fulfilled his mission. So now he was dying. He felt his body was failing him and his mind was farther away from the view of Draco in front of him.
With that thought he pulled the cover over himself too. Severus pulled Draco close into his chest. If he was going to die, he wanted to die with his godson safe in his arms again, holding him just like the night he was born. As he closed his eyes he hoped when he opened them again, he would see red vibrant hair or sad gray eyes, or platinum hair in the wind, and a chubby face smiling back at him. At that he smiled as he fell asleep.