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Across the Ocean: Harry's POV
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They think I don't hear them, but I do.

I hear the whispers of worry and the speculations about my sanity.

I hear Hermione's pleas for me to stop.

I hear Ron's demands for a reason.

I hear Sirius' voice begging for me to respond.

I hear Remus' quiet "Why?" when he brings me my meals.

I hear Dobby's loud sobs and his sniffles.

I hear Dumbledore asking me, "What's in the sea, Harry? What are you trying to find?"

They are all so eager to know why I stare at the waves. Their Gryffindor curiosity surpasses all the worries and confusion.

The war has been won - Voldemort, destroyed and the Death Eaters, imprisoned. This should have been a time for celebration.

"You should be celebrating!" They say.

What's there to celebrate?

Should we be celebrating death?

Sure, it's Voldemort's death, but it's also…yours, Draco.

I'm not delusional, as Madam Pomfrey suggests. I know you're gone; after all, I was there when you died.

I felt your body shake as the killing curse traveled through your veins. I felt your breathing stop. I felt your skin grow cold in my arms.

The Boy Who Lived. Ha! It should be changed to The Boy Who Lived Alone or The Boy Who Was Left Behind.

When my parents died, I became an orphan. They left me behind.

Cedric died. I accepted the Tri-Wizard tournament trophy alone.

Draco, you left me too, although you promised you would never do so. You left me as well.

The Boy Who Lived - singular, not plural.

So, Draco, I bet you'd want to know why I stare at the ocean day after day.

We didn't meet at the shores; we met in a dress robes shop.

It wasn't the place where we first kissed; that kiss was shared in an abandoned classroom.

Our first night wasn't spent on the sand; it happened in one of the tents on the battlefield.

So why am I sitting on the sand and watching the waves?

Draco, if you really want to know, I'll tell you – under one premise:

You'll have to ask me the question yourself.

I'm still waiting on the shore with the answer.

~ END ~