Chapter 120: 6-1

"I was jealous of Harry."

I stare at the Locket inside the box. Lying casually beside the Diadem, the Locket is so delicate. So beautiful. Yet, it drives everything around me to madness.

"I envied him. That child. I was always—always, always comparing him to 'me,' and I was jealous."

A child kinder than me. A child more endearing than me. A child smarter than me. A child—more loved than me.

"I thought I could fool them completely—forever. But the facade creaked. It was all too brief. ...To think Sirius would end up like that."

He looks at Harry with eyes I don't recognize. (Even though those were the eyes I wanted for myself.)

He calls Harry with a voice I don't recognize. (Even though I was the one who wanted to be called like that.)

He gives him the affection I could never obtain. (That is Maria.)

He loves him so, so deeply. (That is Maria.)

"Somewhere inside, I was starting to regret it. My own choices. I hated the success. Why—why didn't it turn out like this in my time... I thought."

I closed the lid. If I keep staring—I'll be driven mad by the green again.

"It's that woman's fault."

Her repulsive smile is glued to the back of my mind. The woman who once held the Locket—an enemy of authority who stood in our way at every turn. Her voice—is a deadly poison.

"She said it. 'Poor thing'—'Poor Maria'—she said."

With a sweet voice, like a spider paralyzing its prey before they even realize it. Piercing softly with an unhidden needle. —I was completely ensnared.

"She is poison. Her very existence is poison. She's practically a Horcrux herself. —She draws it out. The ugly things. Churning them up with words, making a mess of them, and dragging them right up to the surface. ...It's repulsive."

I stepped away from the box and leaned my hands on the sofa. I had been gazing at it as if reluctant to part with it. —Even though it is so beautiful.

"Once that happens, I just can't stop. I can't keep up. I know it—so why do I fail—?"

I closed my eyes. There was no way I could forget.

"How many times—must I repeat this—!"

There are words I once said to Albus. To my own child—my beloved child, I, as his father, said this:

'I wish you weren't my son.'

Terrible words. Too cruel. Excuses like it was said in the heat of the moment, or that I didn't truly mean it, won't fly. It was an attack worthy of eternal resentment.

Now, I have done it—repeated it again to my 'family.'

"If this keeps up, Sirius will die. Because Sirius—Sirius has no will to live. He said it. He looked at me, and he said it. He called me James. And then—'Kill me.'"

He was delirious. From the malice of the lake. From the murderous intent of the poison. From his own sins. —This was his true, laid-bare wish.

"He has no will to live. Playing the hero, satisfied as long as he can protect what he wants to protect. Fine with it as long as he dies a noble death. Uncaring about what happens after. What happens after is a problem for those left behind. —They're all like that!!"

I scream. As if turning a Time-Turner in my head, it spins—spins—the faces of my loved ones floating up and fading away.

"I never—said a single word—asking anyone to die for 'me'!"

Tearing through Maria's skin, Harry screams. Even though Maria was the very last layer of my heart's shield.

"I just want them to live. I just want them to be with me. Is that—tell me, is living—really that difficult—? Is my wish—truly that reckless—? Is it—more reckless than 'me' living—?"

I was told to live. No matter what, no matter who gets left behind, no matter whose corpses I must step over—live—live—you, and only you, are not allowed to die—

And then, die at the proper time.

"How am I supposed to hold back someone who has no will to live—? I have no choice but to try desperately. Telling them absolutely not—I have no choice but to keep holding onto their hand. And yet—'Harry' lets go."

A child who obtained the things I wanted so, so desperately, who obtained the very life I never had—yet arrogantly screams that it isn't enough.

"Throwing a tantrum, and failing again! Regretting again! Creating more sacrifices again! Again—'I' will kill them."

I opened my eyes. A hand appeared in my wavering vision.

"I..."

It is a girl's hand. A girl's voice. A girl's view.

"With hands like these—with a body like this—"

My hands are too small to hold back an adult's. My back is too small to shield a friend. My arms are too weak to pull someone who has stopped in their tracks. —Maria is no hero.

"What can I do? What more can Maria possibly do? You are the ones leaving me behind. You are the ones moving forward from here—the one left behind is always Maria."

I probably won't grow any taller than this. —This really wasn't how the view used to look.

This voice will likely remain adorable. —This really wasn't how my voice used to sound.

These weren't hands meant to be held by you. They were hands meant to hold onto someone else.

"I'm jealous. It's hateful. I—hate 'myself.'"

That—was the truth.

"That's right. You have always—hated Harry."

For the first time, a voice returned an intent back to me.

"And you loved Harry."

"..."

I look up. That person, who looks ephemeral just by standing there, was smiling beautifully.

"That's why you suffer so much. You feel guilty about loving Harry when you hate yourself. —You truly are an utter fool."

A hand reaches out, casting a shadow over me. He looks down. They are cold eyes—yet feverish. Like ice. ...Like fire.

"The more you love Harry, the more you feel like you've forgiven yourself, I suppose. You found that self-love repulsive, didn't you? That's why you can't forgive Harry. Why you can't watch over Harry's mistakes. Because they are a mirror reflecting your own blunders—Hah. Pathetic, isn't it, 'Hero'?"

Draco smiled faintly as he pinned me down against the sofa. My vision flipped, reflecting the ceiling. His hair, hanging down longer than my own, tickled my cheek.

"Take this opportunity. I'll teach you. I was actually waiting for you to realize it yourself, but... you really are hopeless. I even pity Weasley and Granger. Now, listen closely, Harry Potter."

His thin lips call out. —Harry Potter.

Capturing Maria in his eyes, Draco Malfoy entreats Harry Potter.

"My Harry and your Harry—are different."

A shiver ran through my heart.

"The Harry Potter I obsessed over, loathed, hated, opposed, and then loved—is 'you.'"

"Ah..."

His fingers caressed the corner of my eye. —Even though these are hazel eyes.

His lips touched my forehead. —Even though it's a forehead without a scar.

He scooped up my hair and kissed it. —Even though it's red hair.

Even though Maria is the one in Draco Malfoy's eyes, he calls me Harry. While denying that she is Harry Potter.

"By your logic, it would be strange if I didn't direct the same feelings toward the Harry of this world. —Just imagining it makes me sick."

He smiled as if whispering words of love, but his eyes were sneering with contempt. Draco Malfoy was angry.

"There's no way a Harry without Maria and a Harry with Maria would be the same. The one I have been watching is 'you.' The one I confessed to is also 'you.' You can say it with your mouth, yet it's like your brain doesn't understand it at all. You stubborn know-it-all. Can you not even listen properly to your own words? When stubbornness goes this far, it's a disease. Is it carved into your very soul?"

Foul words. And yet, the hand touching my cheek is so gentle.

"You are Harry Potter. A Harry Potter who obtained the name Maria. Unmistakably my Harry, indeed. But—you are not the Harry Potter of this world. The only Harry Potter who exists here is your brother. You are nothing but Maria. Only in front of me—is it permitted for you to be Harry."

"The you that is Harry Potter is mine alone."

It was a numbing sensation from the very core of my body. My blood boiled, sending shivers that raised the hairs on my skin. I understood that I had been completely captured by the man in front of me.

And then, Draco whispered.

"So, rest easy—and love Harry."

"..."

"Not as the Maria that Harry needs. Love him as yourself. ...Allow Maria to do that."

He takes my arm. Pulling me up from the sofa where I was pinned, he envelops me from the front. It's warm. The chest of a man different from both Harry and Sirius. —It is so very comforting.

I felt as if I had been pulled up from the daze following a nightmare.

"—Ah, yes. I'm awake now."

"How do you feel now that you're awake, Sleeping Beauty?"

"...Terrible."

Hugging him back, feeling like this was the proper way of things, I laughed weakly, overcome by a sense of exhaustion. Draco's hands were placed on my back.

...What's this. We—the both of us were being strung along by 'Harry Potter.'

"Harry Potter really is unfair, isn't he? ...Is this how you've felt all along? Malfoy the underdog?"

"Shut up, you self-styled hero, Potter."

We chuckle together. At long last, the stagnation smoldering inside me melted away.

Draco probably isn't gentle at all. But—for 'me,' this might be just right.

After sharing body heat for a good long while, Draco suddenly gave a meaningful smile and pulled out his wand. It was the familiar hawthorn wand.

"I have a good eye-opener for you now that you're awake."

Sitting next to me once again, Draco waved his wand. His mouth chanted.

—Expecto Patronum.

"Eh—"

A silver light faintly illuminated the tip of his wand. It was that light. The happy memory that drives away despair. The light I had watched over so often in the DA, now looked incredibly magical.

The light eventually diffused without taking shape, but my heart was throbbing wildly.

"You—but—Death Eaters can't—"

"The Draco Malfoy of this world is not a Death Eater. Above all—"

His eyes.

They are beautiful eyes. Eyes that tell me—he loves me.

"What creates a Patronus is a happy memory. ...I haven't lost anything yet. I have enough happiness to create a Patronus. Astoria is alive—and you are looking at me."

That, itself, is happiness for me.

It's a gaze that tells me I am so dear to him that I want to claw at my chest and scream. It is almost—cruel.

"I don't regret having been a Death Eater. It was the absolute best choice I could make at the time. Because of that, there were things I was able to protect. ...Though, I did go through some horrifying experiences."

He waves his wand once more.

"But—well, this isn't bad either."

With his fair, unblemished arm, the former villain smiled. Draco Malfoy, too—is living a new life.

"...It doesn't have a form yet, huh. So you've been practicing in secret?"

I try teasing him. I wonder what shape it will take. Just how beautiful will Draco's Patronus be?

"I was supposed to show it to you only after I'd perfected it. My plans got ruined."

"...Why?"

Why, right now, of all times—?

"Your Patronus is a stag, right?"

"...Yeah. That's right."

"—And Harry's?"

"Eh..."

"What is Harry's Patronus?"

Two years ago at night, the thing that dashed through the freezing sky caused by the Dementors was.

"—A doe."

Draco narrows his eyes. Like looking at a child who finally found the correct answer after struggling. See? You got there, he seems to say—melting the ice in his eyes.

"A Patronus reflects the state of the caster's heart. It is the shape of their feelings. —The moment they weren't both stags, you two were already separate entities."

Ah—ah, I see. The answer had been laid out in front of me years ago.

"...I really am an idiot, aren't I. 'I' am."

"'Which one'?"

"Of course—it's Maria."

I pressed my forehead against the shoulder in front of me and laughed. I'm a fool. As I thought, I am still 'me.' Something so simple—with not just a hint, but the exact answer right in front of my eyes, I had been running in circles this whole time. Blind, ears covered, just crouching down.

Completely unaware—of the countless hands that had been reaching out to me.

"I have to apologize to Harry."

I stand up. I feel like I've been reborn. Even the pain in my palms feels precious.

"Go and have a proper fight."

His usual snide smile that rubs people the wrong way. Once you get used to it—it's a face you could somewhat get addicted to. ...It's probably too late for me.

The hawthorn wand was flicked in a businesslike manner, and the secret box was sucked into the cabinet. We won't be needing this room for a while.

"However—"

"Yeah?"

"There is one thing that bothers me," Draco began, his hand resting on the handle. He was furrowing his thin brows in suspicion.

"Even considering everything, 'you'... aren't you becoming a bit too unstable? Being dragged down by Harry—no, that's not it."

"…………"

"Just whose emotions are you being dragged by?"

—It seems that Harry Potter's life is never straightforward, after all.