Finally

The way it had been, no one could know. They were a secret, carefully kept. A slip of the tongue could mean death for many, many people. And that's why Harry and Draco couldn't speak to anyone about themselves.

It tore Harry up inside. Draco completed him, made him feel whole. He could be himself around Draco, even when he wasn't quite sure who that was. After a particularly taxing day in Hogwarts, the boys would seek each other out, and comfort themselves in each other's arms. Sometimes they'd cry from the want to be open with themselves and with others, and they didn't have to stop until they both felt better.

But then they'd leave, go back to their own dormitories. And the next day in the corridors, they put on their game faces and fought like proper enemies. And it killed them both.

Draco was what gave Harry the will to keep living. Harry was Draco's motive for existence.

Now Harry had just slumped to the floor in the cold chamber, the flash of green light that had seared his mind fading.

He had done it. Voldemort was dead. For good. Forever.

Even as he lay on his back in the room where he had very nearly been killed, Harry wasn't sure he knew what had happened. Snape had concocted a potion that, when slipped into the Dark Lord's drink by Draco, weakened him. Then Harry had used Avada Kedavra, and it had worked.

"Harry! Harry!" Draco ran to Harry's side and put a hand to the side of his face. "Oh my God, you're alive! Harry, it's over!"

Overcome with relief, Draco pressed the back of Harry's hand to his forehead before pressing his lips to the boy's sweaty palm over and over again. Harry couldn't even muster the energy to smile. He felt Draco repeatedly kiss his hand, and the overwhelming relief that Draco was feeling rushed into him as well.

Then Draco leaned over Harry, and for an everlasting moment, they lost themselves in the other's eyes. And at the same time, they knew the same thing. Harry had attempted a curse that required so much power that the effort involved could have killed him. But he was alive, by some miracle, and he and Draco were together.

They didn't have to hide any longer. The dark threat that had obscured their lives for the past several years was gone, and their lives were their own. Finally.

Draco knew what he was going to do. When they went back to school, he wouldn't hesitate when he saw Harry in the corridor. He would walk right up to him, hold his face in his hands, his gorgeous face, and kiss him. An effortless, beautiful kiss, but at the same time intense. Like lovers.

Harry knew what he was going to do. When they went back to school, he wouldn't hesitate when he saw Draco in the corridor. He would drop his schoolbag and run toward him. He'd throw his arms around Draco's neck and squeeze him like he meant it. Then he'd lean away, but only enough so as to reach Draco's mouth. Then they'd kiss, like lovers.

They'd laugh and hold hands, and not worry about what anyone else thought. They would be themselves, and not worry about what could happen if Voldemort and his Death Eaters knew about them.

Everyone would know about them. And when they spoke of Draco and Harry, they'd saw it with an "and" in between the names, because they would be an established couple. And when other students in the corridors saw them walking together, arm in arm, they'd just smile, and say to whoever was with them, "Oh, there's Harry and Draco. They're together, you know."