For the first time, it truly dawned on Harry that this was real. This wasn’t a nightmare. He was awake. And Lord Voldemort himself was in front of him, living and breathing, repeating a monologue Harry had heard once before in this very graveyard. Oh fuck - how?! It occurred to him again that he had been trying to remember something, and he screwed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to think back. He tried to shut out the pain and the disgusting cloth in his mouth, and the sound of Voldemort’s hissing voice. Abruptly he remembered. Opening his eyes, for just a moment he saw Draco in front of him, crouched over the floor with his wand tip illuminated in front of his shocked face. Oh. Oh Merlin no. Death would have been preferable to this.