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Let me know if you liked it.Revamped as of 1/6/2007Never Was
He is four and she is six months older when he holds out his tiny hand to her in friendship and she takes it with a surprised blink of her forever green eyes and it’s the beginning of something they don’t understand. Five minutes later they are chasing a ball through the garden while their parents discuss a war that should be over, a man who should be dead, but they don’t care because they are four and right now the ball is their world.
They are both nine and having a tea party in her room and Draco doesn’t care because she is his only real friend and he would do anything for her. So they take tiny sips from empty cups and talk about their parents’ war and how they are going to go to Hogwarts in two years' time and how they will be Slytherins because it’s their birthright.
They can’t spell birthright and war is a concept for childhood fantasies, not for understanding and they don’t have a care in the world because they are nine years old and the world hasn’t touched them, yet.
On his tenth birthday she gives him a snake ring because he will be a Slytherin and she is proud of him, because he is her best friend and he is a little in love with her. He hugs her tightly and she pokes him in the side and then he chases her through Malfoy Manner, their laughter never fading and annoying the paintings to no end.
Half a year later - only three months before they become Slytherins - her parents die in a car crash and Draco can still hear his father say, Stupid, those Muggle things, it’s their own fault that they’re dead, but he doesn’t tell her that when he hugs her Goodbye because she is going to live with some distant squib relative in America.
She says she doesn’t want to live with Muggles and he hugs her even tighter and gives her a silver Dragon pendant, To protect you, he says and cries. They are just fucking ten years old, but it still hurts.
And when she is gone his father slaps him because no Malfoy ever cries and three months later he goes to school with the strict order to hold out his pale and still tiny hand once more and he feels like crying all over again when another set of forever green eyes doesn’t take it and he can’t help the venom coming out of his mouth, born pain, killing every chance at friendship.
That night he writes her a letter, one of many saying, You would like it here and the Great Hall is fantastic and I’m a Slytherin like you said and there’s this boy, he hates me already, I hope you are well and remember that I love you. And she answers and tells him about life in California and all the strange Muggle things she has to learn and the people she calls Mom and Dad now and they talk about war again and the birthright she will never have now and it's childhood dreams and tea parties all over again, for the next four years.
When You-know-who returns he stops talking about war and he isn’t proud of his birthright anymore because he begins to understand that it isn’t something he wants, after all. She never wonders about his change of mind and as time goes by the letters become less and less until he is seventeen and gets a letter in hasty writing, only four lines.
Have you ever had to do something you knew would kill you and did you still do it? And when you survived against all odds, did you stand before your life and not know who you are? Never forget who you are and never let go of what you believe in. Be proud Drake, because you are a wonderful person and I love you.
She loves him and this is her last letter. For a while he wonders and he worries and he writes more letters but her never gets an answer and finally he takes her words to heart and he chooses his side in the war, the real war, the one he never wanted and it’s that of the other set of green eyes, the only other gaze that could ever make him squirm.
Draco Malfoy becomes a soldier and learns to live inside this war because what choice does he have? He can’t leave, now that the green eyes accepted him and held out their own hand, not after he took it like she took his, a lifetime ago because he feels that he would go against every tea party they ever had.
He is twenty when he feels something tear him apart from the inside and the ring on his left hand burns like acid and as the green eyes look at him in question, he sees another set of forever green, sees them falling and sees the pain there and knows that she is dead.
He is angry at her because he knows that she chose her fate, knows that there are many things that she never told him and never will now. But as the greens fade back into reality he shakes his head because the birthright they talked about over tea that didn’t exist is his alone now and he won’t let the memory of the little whirlwind he loved down. So he gets up and he becomes colder than he ever was, burying her last Goodbye to him deep inside his heart, making it nothing more than a fading dream and remembers a ten year old girl in her stead.
Four years later he barley thinks about her anymore, not outside vague childhood memories, because life is easier that way and he doesn’t have to hate her and love her at the same time. Four years later they are also losing the war. They are losing lives and ground everyday and there is barely hope but he still fights because - now more than ever - he feels that he has to. There is a reason he is still alive when so many others are dead, right?
One day Harry wakes him with a smile on his face, The slayer, she’s real, and there are hundreds because she used some magic to activate them all and Draco, Draco, they are helping us! They fight for us! We have a chance now!
The next day they all go to meet with the New Council and make plans, but he stays at home alone because he doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to meet people. It’s only two months later, before they are fighting what’s supposed to be the last battle that he meets them. All the little slayers talking in awe about the one who made them all, the oldest, and it rips something inside of him to watch those children die only hours later from magic and a war that wasn’t even their own.
They are still losing and he feels the demon coming up behind him even before it strikes and as he closes his eyes he is ready, not because he is suicidal, but because he finally understands what he saw in her eyes years ago and he knows that his war is fought. But the pain never comes and as he opens his eyes there she is, the oldest slayer, he doesn’t need anyone to know that, but he staggers when her eyes meet his and her smile freezes too, because it’s her
Tiny blonde fury, bloody dagger in each hand and a vicious smile on her heart-shaped face she looks so much like the girl he remembers but not because in his memories she always stayed ten years old and now the woman standing in front of him is tearing his best friend apart with her wicked daggers ad he can’t do anything to stop it because he knows that she feels the same, knows that she remembers their talks about war and birthright over empty tea cups and they just stand there in silence. He realizes that she has a birthright after all and she hates it as much as he does, just like she hates this war, but what can they do? It is theirs, passed onto them by their dead parents and Powers that never asked them if they were Okay with this and they don’t have a choice because they aren’t ten years old anymore and they drink real tea now and haven’t laughed in a long time.
She doesn’t say his name, he doesn’t speak, but they recognize each other, recognize the death of each others' childhood dreams and games because memories shouldn’t age, but people do. History becomes a burden in this second and they both feel like they’re dying over all the fantasies of the other living a happy life, somewhere.
Truth is Draco Malfoy always lived through Buffy Summers and as long as he could pretend that she was happy wherever she was, even in death, so was he, but now his life falls apart around him because her life is just as bloody fucked up as his and the epitome of your childhood is not supposed to stand in front of you in the middle of death, with bloody knives in her delicate hands. But there is still a war to fight and they are both soldiers now - have been forever - and nothing will ever range higher than the fight.
So, after watching helplessly as a dozen girls fall at the hands of the One-who-must-not-be-named they read each other like they did a lifetime ago and jump back into the fray without a word because they are just soldiers now. Their movements are timed and they work together like a machine, because soldiers all work the same and when Voldemort finally falls it is through both their hands and again they stare.
He doesn’t know her, he is aware of that and so is she because when they last met they were just children and the lives they lead now were morbid fairytales and it is the death of the last of their innocence as their picture of each other - buried deep within their memories - is tainted by life and bleached by the merciless glare of time.
When she steps forward there is still blood dripping from her hands and as she hugs him like she used to, he realizes that he looks the same bloody mess. She hugs him and kisses him on the cheek and then she turns without a word and leaves.
He watches her go, knowing that he will never forget her, but he won’t remember her either. He will remember her like she was supposed to be, with a husband who loved her - and looked so much like himself when ever he dreamed - and the children she always wanted.
He will remember the life that never was and it gives him the strength to turn around and leave the battle field alive.
He’s fucking 24 years old, but sometimes he feels like he ended 20 years ago when a tiny hand grasped his and Destiny made two innocent children her toys, tearing them both to shreds in the process.
The war is over now, his birthright is spent and the cups are long broken, but in the middle of an empty room still sits a ten-year-old girl, forever smiling at him with her sparkling green eyes and never aging face.