Windfallen

Chapter Eleven: Something Like Tears

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.

Harry Apparated back to his apartment, leaving his broom, clutching the book to his chest and shaking. It hurt to breathe, his side burned from Charlie's kick, and he wanted to go home; this wasn't home any longer, this was nothing. It was empty and echoed the way Harry did without Draco.

The door to his apartment was standing open, and for a long moment, Harry wondered blankly if he'd left it that way. He hadn't.

Pansy was sitting at his kitchen table, her arms folded on the table there, head pillowed on them, eyes closed.

"Pansy?" Harry asked dully, closing the door. She looked like she was barely alive, as if she had shrunk and was only a shadow of herself.

She lifted her head, eyes dark, glazed, and empty, with dark circles around them. Brushing her limp hair out of her face, she smiled faintly. "Potter," she said. "Took your time, thankfully you got back before it was too late."

"How did you know I was here?" He did not have the energy or inclination for this, he just wanted to curl up on his bed and die.

"You left the peanut butter out."

"Yes, but what are you doing here?" he asked, coming in and sitting across from her, staring blankly, trying to keep breathing and forget the drying blood on his hands. Pansy hadn't commented on it, hadn't seen it, and he hid his bloody hands behind his back. He did not want her to know. A sudden thought made him freeze. "Is Draco--"

"He's fine." She thought for a moment and then said carefully, "You're a fucking idiot."

"What? Pansy, I--"

"No, shut up. I don't have enough time." She studied his face for a second and then said, "Granger thinks that it is easier to learn to hate than it is to love, to forgive. Do you believe that?"

Harry frowned a little, feeling slow-witted and numb, icy. He did not want to have to think, he wanted to die. "It is easier to find cause to hate," he said carefully, thinking of Charlie. "But it doesn't sit as easily with me. I would rather love."

"Do you know how to hate?"

"Yes." He answered without pause.

"What do you hate?"

"I hate to see someone I love hurt."

"That is not hate," she snapped. "You all think that's hate. That isn't, it's love. The three of you, you don't know what hate is. Not even Draco." She let out a frustrated breath.

"It isn't," he said after a moment. "It is love if you despair when someone you love is hurt. It's hate if you destroy whatever it is that does the hurting. You love the one being hurt and that love twists into hate for whatever causing the hurt. It's hate. Hate that comes from love is the strongest kind."

Her eyes narrowed and she considered this. "Pray it is strong enough, then," she conceded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "And you never said what you were doing here."

"I came for you, to send you back. He's lost without you. Everything is lost without you. You've got to go back."

"Why...why didn't he come for me?" he asked softly, a wave of sharp longing making him tremble. He needed Draco. He never should have left him.

"He doesn't know I have. He thinks you're safe here. I can only imagine how safe you'll be, after the world dies and you're alone. Draco thinks to protect you from your own nobility, your need to be a hero." She looked into his eyes carefully. "But that nobility and heroism is going to be the thing to save you. Do you understand me? Of course you don't. Harry... listen to me." It was the only time she'd ever called him Harry. "Sometimes we have to give up everything we have for something greater than ourselves. Do you believe that?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Draco... doesn't. He would seek to save what is most important to him, though it would cost him the world. And that's you. Most important to him. So he's hidden you away where he thinks you will be safe, though it means he dies and the world dies with him."

Harry flinched. "He won't die," he argued, though it was weak.

"He will," she said savagely. "We all will, except you, because you are resistant to the Unforgivables. But there is still hope. Do you understand?"

"No," he whispered, eyes stinging with tears. "What hope can there possibly be?"

"There's you and there's Draco and that's worth fighting for. Don't think about whatever Granger thinks of it, don't think about whatever it is you thought about that made you worried that you'd destroy him. Don't think about Charlie Weasley or the world on your shoulders or the curse or whatever trivial things brought Draco into your arms. Do you love him?"

"Yes." Again, it was said without pause.

She smiled. "You were meant to. Not only because you deserve him-- which is saying a lot in itself-- but because there can be nothing else strong enough to see the world through this."

"I don't understand."

She touched his face and her hand was clammy yet cold. "I know you don't," she whispered. "But listen-- there was a reason I chose you for him. It was not because you were the one in the world who could resist the curse I created, or because you are The Boy Who Lived, or because you were the one who cared for him when he fell in battle. It was because I knew I would not survive long enough to see he survived all of this, and there was no one else in the world I would entrust his care to. You were meant to be in Slytherin, and that isn't an insult. He was meant to be yours and it is the biggest compliment I have ever given anyone." She closed her eyes, going paler, and Harry was suddenly worried. Before he could act on it, however, she opened her eyes again and said, very firmly, "If none of it would have happened-- the rivalries and the war and the petty childhood hatred and the friends whispering in both your ears about how you were meant to hate each other-- if the two of you had met as two boys on the playground or on the street, on a train or in a shop, alone, without any of that history behind you... you would have known it at once, the way I knew it. I hated you for it and made sure he hated you too, and I bet Weasley saw it too, instinctively. But you would have known it, if you would have looked and seen each other, rather than seen everything we told you two that we saw. None of that matters anymore. And I want you to remember one thing. Draco would not leave you for all the world."

Harry did not tell her that they had met before, in a shop, a robe shop, because Draco hadn't told her and he wondered what that meant. Did Draco not even remember it? He had to... But what had he seen? Harry thought back to that meeting, wondering if there had been anything worth seeing... Just a boy with huge, silver eyes... but then, he'd been so scared that he hadn't seen anything at all, really. Just those eyes... but what had Draco seen? Harry wondered if it was important enough that he wouldn't even tell his very best friend about it and he shivered, going cold and not sure why. "Pansy," he said beseechingly. "I don't understand."

"I know. It doesn't matter." She looked solemn. "You will, and soon, I promise. You've got to go back."

"I don't know the way." He was crying quietly because there was nothing more he wanted now than to collapse at Draco's feet and cry and beg for forgiveness or at least understanding for what he had just done.

"I brought this for you." She took a ring out of her pocket and handed it to him. Her eyes narrowed when she saw his hand, stained with blood, but she did not comment.

He recognized the ring as the one Draco had given Hermione at the Manor, the Portkey. "Hold it in your hand and say 'Pendragon'," she told him.

His eyes widened. "What about you?"

"Me?" She laughed a little. "Don't worry about me. Just..." She pulled a small leaf out of her pocket and gave it to him. It was velvety and a pale green, the edges ridged and sharp. "He'll understand. And tell him that... I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."

"What do you--"

"Just go."

With one last confused look, he nodded once. "Thank you..." he said slowly. "For... everything."

She smiled and stood up, kissing his cheek. "Remember what I said."

"Will I see you when it's over?" he asked awkwardly, unable to look her in the eye.

She laughed quietly, solemnly. "Just go, Harry. Are you hurt?"

He looked at her silently and then nodded. "A little," he said.

"Go to him then. You need him as much as he needs you." She smiled, and Harry nodded, clutching the ring and closing his eyes as he whispered the magic word. He was jerked out of his apartment a moment later.

***

Hermione and Draco were arguing, Harry could hear it echoing through the dark corridors he had come to think of as home. He could barely make out the words but followed the sound of voices, until he was peering nervously into the library.

Draco looked cold and impassive, staring down at the book before him, and for a long moment, Harry studied him, soaking in every detail. He looked tired, and Harry wondered wistfully if sleeping alone had proved as worthless to Draco as it did to him.

Then he looked at Hermione. Her face was red with rage and her hair wild. "I will not shut up about it, Malfoy! I just still don't understand how you could do that without consulting us! And now Pansy's run off as well and no one knows where Harry is and we need him if we're to--" She saw him standing there and broke off abruptly, going pale and looking horrified.

Without looking up, Draco drawled in a bored tone, "I've told you a thousand times, Granger, I won't go along with it, but if he comes back, it's his own sodding fault and you can do whatever you like--"

"I'm right here," he said.

Draco's head snapped up and the book fell from his lap and hit the ground with a crack, the spine splitting in two. His eyes were wide and stunned, his lower lip trembled the tiniest bit, and he was paler even than Harry had ever seen him.

It was Hermione who broke the silence. "Oh, Harry," she breathed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "You weren't ever supposed to come back." She ran from the room, crying softly, and Harry watched her go, startled.

By the time he looked back at Draco, the other boy had had a moment to collect himself and his eyes were dark and shuttered. "Well," he said, a strange coldness in his voice. "I thought I made myself clear. I don't want you here."

Harry swallowed hard. "Pansy said--"

"Pansy? Did she go to fetch you? I had wondered. And where is she? I'd like a few words with her." He was still being so cold.

Harry let out a shaky breath. This wasn't going the way he'd imagined it would. "Didn't... didn't you miss me?" he whispered beseechingly.

Draco's lips tightened for a moment, and his eyes narrowed. "Miss you?" he sneered.

Harry flinched. "I'm sorry, I thought--"

"No, you didn't! Thinking is so fucking beyond you that it never even occurred to me that you would have done so and come to the conclusion that coming back here, after I specifically told you to stay away, was at all the best idea!" He was shouting, losing all control, face slowly turning red with rage, and Harry shrunk back, stunned.

"Draco," he pleaded.

"What, did you think I sent you away for my own health and safety? Of course not! You're so fucking dense and I told her she could do whatever she wanted if you came back but you weren't supposed to! You're fucking stupid, Potter, I can't believe you! Where's Pansy? I swear, I fucking want to kill her, I--"

He took the leaf she'd given him out of his pocket and held it out to Draco, interrupting quietly, "She said you'd understand."

Draco froze, staring at the leaf. "Where is she?" he asked in a shallow whisper.

"She said you'd understand," Harry repeated, and he started crying quietly.

"No. Where.... Harry, where is she?" he said again, eyes pleading and very wide.

"She didn't come back," he said, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall, sliding down it and hugging his knees to his chest. "I don't know where she went, but she didn't come back."

Draco crouched before him and took the leaf from him, studying it and looking almost crushed. He swallowed heavily and looked back up at Harry. Leaning forward, he tilted his chin up and kissed his lips lightly. "I did," he said very softly. "Miss you, I mean." Then, without another word, he got up and walked away.

Harry sat there for a long while, staring at the broken book, wondering if Hermione was still crying somewhere and what Draco was doing. He rested his chin on his folded arms and closed his eyes, trembling. All of his fears and worries about Charlie were brushed aside, however, because Draco was hurt and scared and Harry was waiting for him to come back for him.

He might have slept, he wasn't sure. Time blurred into a mess of thoughts and daydreams, and then Draco was calling his name. He lifted his head.

"I wasn't sure you'd still be here," Draco said from the doorway.

"I had nowhere else to go," Harry said truthfully. "Besides, I'd rather be hurt with you than empty without you." He smiled a little and then gasped. "Oh my god, Draco, what did you do to your hand?" It was stained with blood.

He grimaced. "That leaf," he explained vaguely. "I crushed it, the edges were rather sharp."

Harry came to him and took his hand gently, inspecting it and scowling. "You're an idiot," he said absently, trailing off, because his own hand was bloody too. He'd forgotten.

"It was poison," he said.

Raising his head and not letting go of Draco's hand, Harry echoed, "Poison?"

He nodded. "Called Nunsot. It's a rare plant, if you grind and dry it, it makes a powder, a popular sort of assassination device. It's tasteless and slow acting, so that the symptoms could be attributed to a hundred different harmless illnesses. After a time, however, the... body shuts down. It's a painless death. You fall asleep and then you don't wake up."

Draco looked like a lost little boy, and Harry tightened his hold on his hand, tugging him closer. "And why did Pansy have it?" he asked very gently, even as he pulled Draco down to the floor, until they were sitting close together, leaning against the stone wall.

"She was taking it and I didn't know," Draco said quietly, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry remembered the times he'd seen Pansy pour a strange powder into her drinks, and the time he'd startled her and she'd dropped a vial that had shattered, spilling powder over the floor.

He smoothed Draco's hair back. "Why was she doing that?" he asked.

"Because it was a punishment. She caused this, and that was how she punished herself. By dying. I bet she'd been doing it the whole time."

He considered this for a moment, still stroking Draco's hair. "If she wanted to punish herself, why choose something slow acting? There are faster ways to die."

"She had to help us as much as she could first," he explained faintly. "But she couldn't do that in good conscience without punishing herself, so she took the poison the whole time. And she chose this one because it is painless. She is a Slytherin, after all. It is enough that she was causing her death, she did not want to feel pain at the same time."

Harry turned and kissed the top of Draco's head, wanting to give comfort and not all that sure he even knew how. "I'm sorry," he said, thought it sounded too trite and meaningless.

Turning his head until his face was buried in Harry's shoulder, Draco started to cry, painful, broken choking sounds that he tried desperately to restrain. Swallowing heavily, Harry whispered, "Oh, god, Draco, I'm sorry," and it didn't sound so trite this time. He turned to Draco, pulling him against his chest and rocking him a little, holding him tightly, breathing deeply and carefully because his hands were now stained with Charlie's blood, Draco's blood, and a little bit of poison, and somewhere, Pansy was dying alone, and Harry didn't know how to feel about that. So instead, he let Draco cling to him and cry, because as much as he didn't know how to comfort, he didn't think Draco knew how to cry.

***

Draco did not cry long, but then, Harry hardly expected him to. He calmed, breathing heavily, still curled up against Harry and shaking. Harry didn't know what to say, so he kept holding him, breathing shallowly because Draco was curled up against the side that Charlie had kicked, and every breath was agony.

"Harry?" Draco said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"There's... there's blood all over you."

He tensed and the sudden straightening of his posture made him moan faintly. Pulling away, Draco looked at him critically. "Oh, Harry, what have you done?" he asked, finally having seen the blood on Harry's hands and clothes.

Harry flinched, which hurt him more, and he let out a careful breath. "Nothing," he said, forcing a smile.

"You're hurt..." he trailed off, angrily drying his tears on his sleeve. "Where?"

"I'm not--"

"Harry."

Harry's eyes welled up with tears and he fell silent. He swallowed heavily and then whispered, "Charlie..."

Draco went very, very white, with rage and horror. "Oh god, Harry, don't tell me I set you free and you went to him. What did he do to you? I'll kill him, I'll fucking kill him."

That's when Harry started crying, which hurt his side worse than anything, and he cried harder, which hardly helped.

"Stop it," Draco snapped. "Stop it, Harry, right now. Where does it hurt? What did he do? Are you bleeding? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were upset and it's nothing and... and... it hurts."

"Where?"

Harry bit his lip and touched his side lightly, which Draco was still pressed against. The contact was enough to burn. "There," he whispered.

"Oh," Draco said quietly, sliding back until he was not touching Harry at all. He then gently pushed his shirt up, exposing the fresh, livid bruise. A painful breath hissed through his teeth and he shot Harry a reproachful look. "What did he do?"

"Tried to get me to say that loving you was a lie."

There was a strange silence and then, gently, Draco said, "I meant to cause the bruise, Harry."

"But I did," Harry whimpered. "I did say it. I told him it was a lie. I told him I loved him. I told him...told him he could have me... that...that you raped..." he trailed off, because he was choking on his own tears and hysteria. "Tell me it was okay," he begged. There was a long, tense moment, in which Harry held his breath and waited for forgiveness or understanding. Then, Draco let out a shuddering breath and touched the bruise lightly, not commenting.

"Draco?" Harry whimpered. "Tell me it's okay. I-- I need--"

"Do you want me to heal it?" Draco asked abruptly, coldly.

"Draco..."

He pulled his hand away, letting Harry's shirt fall. "Why did you come back then?" he said savagely.

"Because I thought you'd understand!"

"Understand what? That this is a lie and that you think I raped you? And that you'd rather be with him when he hurts you like this and makes you bleed--"

Harry suddenly paled, eyes going wide. "It- it isn't. I don't think that.... Draco, no, no, I lied to him, I was... I was scared and... and I would have said anything..."

Draco sneered. "That desperate, were you?"

"And the blood, it isn't mine."

Draco went still, dark eyes staring into Harry's, and then he whispered, "Whose is it?"

"It's Charlie's," Harry whimpered, and then he started crying again. The bruise on his side burned and he winced, choking and trying to stop crying, but he couldn't. So he sobbed painfully, because he hurt and he was covered in blood and Draco was furious and he couldn't sort things out in his mind enough to fix it.

"Shh," Draco said, after a moment. "Calm down, Harry, I'll fix it... Stop... stop crying and tell me what happened... Please, Harry, shh." He stroked Harry's arm, sliding closer. "Breathe, calm down, I'll take care of it."

"Okay," Harry sobbed, falling against him and only crying harder. Somehow it was okay, though, because Draco wasn't pulling away any longer.

"Shh," Draco whispered again, holding him with one arm and pulling out his wand with the other. He gently healed the bruise and then pushed Harry away. "Tell me what happened."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I didn't mean to," he said shakily.

"Didn't mean to what?"

"Kill him."

There was a pause and then cautiously, Draco said, "Charlie's dead?"

"Yes."

"Well that's one less thing I've got to see to, then."

Harry grimaced and swallowed painfully. "I did it on purpose," he whispered. "I mean, I did it. I held him down and I hit him and choked him and he died and I was there and I didn't stop it, because... because he said that I was his and that he would kill you and that y-you had hurt me and I only thought I loved you because you wouldn't stop touching me and that you'd r-raped me."

Draco let out a very careful breath, and Harry could see how fragile the control over his temper was. "He told you that?"

"He wanted me to admit all of it."

"And you did."

Harry shook his head wildly. "I didn't, Draco, I swear."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You said you did, Harry."

"He was dead. I would have said anything to..."

"To what?" Draco took his hand, which was still stained with blood.

"To undo it. I killed him, Draco. His blood was all over. I killed him because... because I knew that you would have hated it. To see me under him on the floor, barely able to breathe because he had kicked me, and--"

"Why did he kick you?"

"I don't remember... He wasn't... wasn't stable. The curse, I think. He broke my nose and--"

Draco trailed a finger down the bridge of Harry's nose and sighed. "Why did you go to him?"

"It was all so quiet."

"I'd kill him again if he wasn't already dead." Draco looked away. "But you... you didn't mean it? What you said to him? That you loved him and that I'd raped you? Because I swear, Harry, it wasn't like that, I--"

"I didn't know what I was saying. He...said I owed him. Because he'd lost so much to my war, his brothers and his sister--he hadn't known about Ginny and I told him... he said that I'd cost him so much and owed him and that I should love him because--"

Draco shook him roughly. "Don't even fucking think it."

Eyes stinging, Harry swallowed hard. "It isn't true?" he whispered pleadingly.

"You don't owe the world a single fucking thing." Draco was scowling indignantly and he wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him close.

"I don't?" Harry whimpered, feeling drained. He leaned his head on Draco's chest.

"You don't."

"Not even you?"

There was a long, long silence, and then Draco said hollowly, "This isn't like that, Harry."

"What's it like then?" Harry asked sleepily.

"You need to sleep. I'll explain it in the morning." Draco pulled him to his feet and led him from the room, holding his hand. He stopped in the bathroom and cleaned up as much of the blood as he could.

Moments later, tucking Harry into the bed they'd shared before, Draco placed a light kiss on his forehead, near his scar, and said, "Everything's fine, Harry. You did nothing wrong, he deserved to die, for saying those things. Go to sleep and we'll talk when you're rested."

Harry held onto his hand tightly and whimpered, "But where are you going?"

"To find Granger. I'm...worried." He grimaced.

"Thank you."

Draco nodded and smoothed his hair back, his touch short but soothing all the same.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. About...Pansy."

Draco was very still. "I know. Now sleep, alright?"

Harry mumbled sleepily and closed his eyes. He was asleep before Draco had even made it out of the room, though he slept fitfully, sleep disturbed by fleeting nightmares.

***

Harry woke up and the sheets and blankets were tightly wound around him, causing a moment of disoriented panic in which he thought someone had bound him in his sleep.

He fought his way free and sat up, reaching for his glasses and blinking owlishly. The pillow beside him was smooth and did not look as if anyone had slept there. Draco had not slept beside him.

Staring at the pillow for a long moment and fighting another wave of panic, Harry took a deep breath, trying to recall what had happened between them the night before. It was all sort of a blur, a panicky, wild, hazy mess of stammering words and pleading glances.

"Draco?" he called softly, wistfully, but Draco wasn't there and hadn't been all night.

Harry started breathing erratically, lightly, suddenly claustrophobic and afraid. Draco wasn't there, why wasn't Draco there? Maybe he was dead like Ginny or Charlie, maybe he'd left because he was disgusted, maybe-- maybe... had Harry done something? Said something to offend him?

Then he remembered. Of course he had. He had said that it had been rape.

He moaned softly, biting his lower lip and crawling off the bed. He had to find Draco, to explain.

There were too many things going on in his head, too many things he was supposed to be sorry about. There was Ginny and Charlie and Pansy, but none of that mattered next to the idea that he had said something to hurt Draco. So he changed into something clean and left the room hesitantly, not at all sure Draco would want to see him.

He went to the library first, but much to his surprise, Draco was not there. In fact, all the books were closed and stacked neatly on the table, as if they had finished with them, as if everything had been decided. Harry could not remember having been told of any decisions being made, and he felt a growing sense of unease as he made his way towards the kitchen. Surely Hermione and Draco did not intend to try to stop the curse alone? Why else wouldn't they have told him what conclusions they'd found, if they meant to leave him behind?

Draco was in the kitchen, sitting at the small table there, a mug of coffee before him, untouched and cold. One hand still curled around the handle, and he gazed off thoughtfully into space, looking solemn and sad.

"I was worried I wouldn't find you," Harry said quietly, after a moment.

Draco blinked rapidly a few times, turning to look at him. For a long moment, he just looked, eyes blank, and then he said, "Are you--"

"Alright? I'm fine."

"I was going to say over yesterday's hysterics." Draco smirked a little, and it was very cold.

"I..." he trailed off, uncertainly. There was a strange energy radiating from Draco. It was almost like fury, but an icy sort that he wasn't used to and did not know how to handle. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Draco pushed the mug away with a sneer of disgust.

Harry flinched. "Everything."

"Coming back when I wanted you to stay away? Coming back bloody and hysterical and worrying me nearly to death? Leaving me and running to Charlie Weasley and letting him hurt you?"

"I didn't leave you, you let me go," Harry said weakly.

"Mmm. You weren't supposed to come back. I didn't want you anywhere near me." Draco looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

Harry was silent for a moment. "That wasn't what I was apologizing for. I'm sorry for....for saying the things I did. After Charlie d-died. For saying that he was right. That it was a lie and it was rape and everything else I said. Because I know it isn't true. I'm yours. You never hurt something that belongs to you, right?" he smiled a bit dryly.

Turning to look at him again, Draco's eyes were darker than ever now. It was not fury, but something deeper and more frightening. After an endless moment, he said, "It goes both ways, Potter."

Confused, Harry shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think you realize that just because everyone keeps telling you that you're mine..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

"What about it?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm yours as well." It was abrupt, harsh, and Draco turned away, shaking his head in disgust.

"That doesn't make sense," Harry said, scoffing.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because who in their right mind would want to be mine?" Harry's eyes were filling with tears and he blinked desperately, trying to hold them back because Draco had sneered at his hysterics already and he did not want to disappoint him again.

Draco pushed his chair back so suddenly that Harry was startled. He stumbled back, eyes widening, and stared at Draco, wondering why he was suddenly afraid. "You think I chose it?" Draco hissed. "You think, if given a choice, I would have chosen any of this or anything it means I have to do? You have no idea what this means, the fact that you couldn't fucking leave me, and the position it puts me in! I did not choose to be... to be whatever I am to you and I did not choose to let you be e-everything... everything to me." He stopped abruptly.

"Draco...what are you talking about?" Harry whispered.

"It wasn't rape," Draco said, confusing Harry with his abrupt subject change. "You wanted me. Gave yourself to me. Right?" It was only with the last line that his tone changed, going from self-assured to seeking reassurance.

"I wanted you to have me," Harry agreed, watching Draco worriedly.

"It... it hurt more than you lying about all of that when you said..." he scowled and broke off, running a shaky hand through his hair. "When you said that you owed me. As if this is all just... you paying back a debt."

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry whispered, eyes going wide again.

"Are you sure?" It was asked softly, seriously.

"Yes," Harry said, though his voice cracked and he started shaking. It hurt, this entire conversation hurt, made everything inside of him feel bruised.

"I want... I want you to prove it."

Stepping back nervously, Harry swallowed and said, "D-Draco, don't."

"Don't? You don't know what I'm doing yet."

"Trying to make me do something I don't want to do." Harry glanced over his shoulder at the doorway, regretting waking up, regretting waking up that morning, regretting coming back here, regretting all of this.

"No, that's just it," Draco said quietly. "You can only do it if you want to. Because it will prove everything. That you're mine and I'm yours and that this is real to you."

"Wh-what do I have to do?" Harry whispered, unnerved by the dark solemnity in Draco's eyes.

"You're always surrounding yourself with people who want pieces of you," Draco said, and Harry could tell that he was choosing every word carefully. "They've taken everything you've got."

Stung by that rather pathetic image of himself, Harry snapped, "And how does this make you different? You want something from me too."

Draco smiled, very gently, and held out one hand. "No, Harry, I don't want anything from you. You already gave yourself to me, remember? I want you to have me. To take me. Because I don't think you've taken anything in your whole life."

There was a moment in which Harry was afraid to breathe, because there seemed to be almost a fragile enchantment being woven by the ideas that Draco was carefully describing, and he was afraid to break it. Afraid he was misunderstanding, or that this was a strange dream and he was still asleep.

"I don't think I understand," Harry whispered finally.

Draco's hand, still held out towards him, wavered a little but did not fall. "You said that you never hurt something that belongs to you and I want to. Belong to you, I mean."

"But I'm a murderer," Harry whimpered uncertainly. "Who would want--"

"We covered this already, Harry," Draco interrupted quietly. "I would. Will you let me?"

"L-let you?" Harry stammered. His face was slowly flushing.

"Yes. Let me. I mean, I can't be yours unless you want me to." He smiled a bit, self-deprecatingly. "It's not so hard. Haven't you ever wanted anything before?"

Harry rolled his eyes, still blushing. "I have," he admitted. "I wanted you, before."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm not exactly sure what you're suggesting."

"Well..." Draco chewed his lip and looked thoughtful. "Well, if I was yours, that would mean that you could do whatever you wanted to me."

"Anything?" Harry echoed, looking unnerved at the idea.

"Anything. Kiss me, shag me, hit me, hurt me, make me bleed..." he trailed off, smirking a little.

"I-I wouldn't hurt you," Harry whispered.

"Well, that's my part in it. I'd trust that you wouldn't. That's... that's what belonging to someone is all about. Trusting that they would never...never hurt you." He swallowed and looked away suddenly.

"I don't know if I can trust..." Harry trailed off, his lower lip trembling just a little bit.

Draco pulled his hand back quickly, as if it had been stung. "You don't trust me?" he breathed, eyes very wide and stunned.

"I don't...I don't..." Harry started to stutter with panic. Desperately, he reached forward and took Draco's hand, holding it tightly. "I don't trust myself," he finally managed to say, the words jumbled together. "Not to hurt you, I mean. I hurt everyone..."

Draco's jaw clenched for a moment and he cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. His other hand came up and lightly and brushed Harry's cheekbone. "And what if I hurt you?" he asked quietly.

"Then it would be because I deserved it," Harry answered quickly, automatically.

"No," Draco said patiently, though it sounded a little strained. "It would be because sometimes I fuck up."

Harry smiled a little, skeptically, and then slipped his fingers through Draco's.

"You're missing the point," Draco growled, frustrated.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, pulling his hand away and biting his lower lip. "Maybe if you--"

"Shut up." Draco grabbed his hand again, holding tightly, and thinking for a moment. "Would you... hurt me on purpose?" he asked carefully.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." Harry certainly hadn't planned to say it, it had come out automatically, instinctively, and a jolt of shock went through him when he realized what he had said. He straightened up, flushed, and tried to pull his hand away, but Draco didn't let go; instead, he stared almost blankly at him, eyes wide and startled.

"Harry..." he said quietly.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking. I know, I know, I'm missing the point again. I didn't mean to, I'm sor--"

"Shh, don't say that," Draco told him gently, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

Harry paused thoughtfully and then asked, "Which part? That I love you, or that I'm sorry?"

"It... sort of depends," Draco confessed. They were both talking in muted whispers, as if afraid to be overheard. "On if you're sorry for saying it, or sorry for doing it... For loving me..." he trailed off.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, didn't know what to say, and closed it again, his jaw muscles flexing. He studied Draco, who studied him back solemnly. For the life of him, Harry could not think of what to say to that. He was just sorry. He was always sorry. It was his responsibility to be sorry, for everything. Someone had to be. And it was Harry's job because... because...

He honestly didn't know. If there was a reason for it, he had long forgotten what it was. "I'm just..." he said, starting to say that he was just sorry, but he trailed off, frowning and looking at Draco helplessly.

"Why?" Draco asked, stroking his hand again and biting his lower lip, whether from nervousness or something else, Harry couldn't tell.

He didn't want to be sorry. He didn't think he was sorry. Or if he was, it was only because he thought he should be. Which didn't make any sense at all.

Finally, slowly and in a husky voice, he said, "Honestly? I don't think I'm sorry for any of it."

A slight smile tilted up the corners of Draco's lips. "I think you're finally catching on," he said.

"Am I?" Harry said doubtfully. "Because I'm feeling a bit more lost than before."

Draco sighed, looking exasperated and slightly amused. "Honestly, Potter, do you need me to spell it out for you?"

Looking a little sheepish, Harry shrugged.

"Okay. Okay, this is what I'm saying. You're mine, we're aware of this because Pansy told you, so you believe that, right?"

"Yes..."

"I want to be yours. I want you to take me-- yeah, Potter, like that." He smirked as Harry's face turned scarlet. "Do you get it?"

"But why?"

"Because I had you. You trusted me and let me have you, trusting I wouldn't hurt you. And you don't think I trust you, you won't believe me when I tell you that you're not going to hurt me, so I'm going to prove it to you. Because I do trust you and you have to trust in that or else..." he trailed off.

"Or else what?" Harry asked.

Draco kissed him hard, eyes dark and distant when he pulled away. "You're just going to have to trust me," he said, and Harry did. "Everything...everything for the rest of our lives depends on you trusting me. I swear, Harry, I won't let you hurt me."

His eyes widened a little, and Harry's breath caught. It was different, hearing it said that way. Not as if Draco trusted Harry not to hurt him, but as if Harry had to trust Draco not to let himself be hurt. "You won't?" he whispered.

"I promise. And... and I won't hurt you either."

"Okay," Harry said. "But, uhm, I don't think I know...how."

"How what?"

"To take... anything." He cleared his throat and Draco looked stunned.

"Harry..." Draco said, eyes widening. "Charlie wasn't your first..."

He cleared his throat and looked away, carefully pulling his hand back. "I'm not gay," he said.

There was a strange silence. "You're not gay. You don't like boys."

Harry glanced at him nervously. "I never really thought about it. I mean... when I was in school, sure, there were girls... Well, just Cho, really... And then... I didn't have much time to think about it. I was so busy, with the war, and..."

"I'm wasting my time," Draco said slowly, sounding oddly crushed. Then he tilted his head to the side and studied Harry, whose mouth was open like a fish out of water as he struggled to explain something of what was whirling about in his head, sure that he could make Draco understand but uncertain as to how to word it correctly. He was sick of saying the wrong thing.

"I'm not..." He began, trailing off and scowling.

"I don't believe you," Draco said suddenly, and Harry blinked. Draco had to believe him, that was what trust was for. But Draco grabbed him roughly and jerked him forward, kissing him hard and startling him. Harry whimpered in protest, his hands flying up to Draco's shoulders. As soon as he adjusted to the sudden movement, however, he melted against Draco's chest and kissed him back just as wildly, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around the back of his neck.

Draco pulled away suddenly, eyes wide and breathing heavily. "Oh fuck," he hissed, trying to pull away. Harry was startled but didn't let go.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"You're not... and I was going to force you.... like Charlie... make you forget... and you would have let me..." Draco stammered, self-loathing on his face.

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "No. Draco. You didn't let me finish. I don't like boys. Generally. I don't like you because you're...a boy. Fuck, this isn't making sense!" he cried, resting his head against Draco's shoulder and thinking hard. "I want you," he said. "I don't want boys or girls, just you."

Draco was still breathing heavily, and Harry held him more tightly, lifting his head and kissing Draco's jaw. "That didn't come out right," he said nervously.

Laughing shakily, Draco shook his head. "No, I can't say that it did."

Harry pulled back, biting his lower lip. "Nothing I try saying seems to these days."

"Then... then maybe if you stopped talking, you wouldn't keep nearly giving me a heart attack," Draco suggested, and when Harry opened his mouth to reply sarcastically, Draco kissed him.

It was a careful kiss, as if Draco was still not quite certain this was the right thing, a nearly chaste, sweet, closed-mouthed brushing of lips that irritated Harry more than served to quiet him.

He pulled back, shot Draco a disgruntled, narrow-eyed look, and kissed him hard, surprising Draco and sending him stumbling back a step, against the stone wall. Draco laughed mid-kiss, catching Harry against his chest as he tumbled after him. When the laughter caught Draco off-guard, Harry slipped his tongue into his mouth hungrily, having something to prove now. He kissed him as if he knew what he was doing, which he really didn't, having only ever been kissed this way before and never quite knowing how to respond.

It was easier, when he forgot about kissing and started wondering what Draco would taste like or feel like, if he moved his own tongue just like that, and so he did, his eyes closing as he lost himself in it.

He wondered if maybe Draco would taste as good everywhere else as he did there, and so he pulled away, breathing heavily and leaning fully on Draco for support. Draco didn't mind, in fact he was holding Harry up, holding him firmly by the upper arms, though his own face was flushed and his breathing fast.

"Are you sure?" Draco panted.

Harry just rolled his eyes and licked Draco's throat thoughtfully, his hands sliding up to Draco's jaw to tilt his head back. He kissed his chin then, and the tender flesh under his jaw, and his throat again, tasting the skin there lightly, before pulling away, looking pensive.

"What?" Draco asked huskily.

Harry smiled. "Tasting you," he said. "That's okay, right? I mean, I just wanted to--"

Draco kissed him lightly. "'S fine," he mumbled, and Harry smiled against his lips.

Licking Draco's lower lip teasingly, Harry bit it gently and then kissed his throat again, before moving up to the side of his neck and tracing a small circle over his pulse with his tongue.

"Mmm," he whispered thoughtfully, and Draco laughed, though it was strained and breathless.

He slid up to Draco's ear next, sucking his earlobe into his mouth and tracing it with his tongue gently, before kissing the area just behind it and pulling away. He looked thoughtfully at Draco, cocking his head and swallowing nervously.

"Can I..."

"What?"

Harry shifted a little, his hands slipping down to the neckline of Draco's shirt, tracing his collarbone until it disappeared under the fabric. "I want to taste you there," he said, his hands trailing lower, over Draco's chest.

"Harry," Draco chided, and Harry yelped when he was suddenly lifted up off the ground and spun, until his back was against the wall. Draco did not lower him and Harry instinctively wrapped his legs around the other boy's waist, resting his arms on his shoulders. "You can do whatever you want, remember? I'm yours."

Harry smirked a bit and undid the first two buttons of Draco's shirt, pushing it aside. He licked Draco's collarbone and bit gently, and would have pushed the shirt all the way off Draco's shoulders, had not Hermione cleared her throat pointedly from the doorway.

Harry's head jerked up, eyes widening, and he started fighting to get away. "Uh uh," Draco mumbled, kissing him pleadingly. "Ignore her."

"Actually, Malfoy," she said, voice icy. "I need to talk to you."

Draco kissed Harry's cheek and his temple, his eyes closed tightly. "Oh, go away," he whispered, and only Harry could hear.

"Draco," he hissed, pushing weakly at him and smiling in a flustered sort of way.

She looked righteously indignant and said, "It's rather important, Draco. You know what it's about."

He rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder and took a deep breath, before slowly letting him slide to the ground. "That's right," he said. He smiled a little, bitterly. "I do."

Harry glanced from one to the other, eyes narrowing, though he didn't speak. He longed to tell them he knew they planned to kill the Dementors without him, and that's why they'd sent him away, but instead, he stayed quiet. This was trust, after all.

"We'll talk in the library," she said, crossing her arms over her chest pointedly.

Draco turned back to Harry and took his hand, kissing his knuckles lightly. "Wait for me, I'll be back soon," he said.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, Harry forced a smile. "I will."

Smiling quickly, Draco started backing away, though he did not let go of Harry's hand until the last possible second, holding onto it lingeringly.

Harry watched until he was gone, and then sighed, feeling incredibly abandoned and more alone than ever.

***

Harry did not wait in the kitchen, though he made a sandwich before wandering back to the bedroom. His hands were trembling a little, having the opportunity to think for the first time since things had started going so wrong. Think about Charlie and Pansy and Ginny, Lucius, Ron, everything. It was piling up and he didn't know how much longer he could stand it before he lost his mind.

He fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, sandwich forgotten on the dresser. He did not move, did not think, was aching and bruised and empty, and the stillness and silence soothed him a little. Losing all track of time, he focused on his own heartbeat until gradually, all worries and aches drifted away.

It was hours later, though he could not tell how many for sure, when the door slammed shut and Draco's harsh breathing caused him to sit up and open his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, instinctively sensing something was wrong even before he saw the gun in Draco's hand.

"N-Nothing," Draco stammered, though his eyes were wide and dark with something Harry could not define. He carefully set the gun on the dresser beside Harry's sandwich, and Harry relaxed, just slightly.

"Draco," he said gently. "What is it?"

Pale and trembling, Draco shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing." He forced a smile.

Growing suspicious, Harry got off the bed, approaching cautiously. "Did she say something to you? About me...?"

Draco laughed, though it was choked off in the middle and ended almost in a sob. "Forget it, Harry. Seriously. I just..."

Trailing his fingertips along Draco's cheek, Harry said quietly, "I know what you guys are planning."

Draco started to choke and managed to say hoarsely, "You do?"

"Yeah. That you're going to try to defeat the Dementors without me."

He took a deep, shaky breath, closing his eyes, and then said softly, "Trust me, Harry. When the time comes for the final battle, you'll be there. I promise."

Harry considered this for a moment, tracing Draco's lips. "When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow." Draco's eyes opened, and they were shining with tears. "The Dementors draw their power from a place distantly connected to these caverns and they gather there... Most of them will be there now, now that they aren't involved in battle."

Nodding, Harry let his hand fall from Draco's face and took his hand instead. "And you won't go without me?"

"Harry," Draco said softly, pleadingly. "Don't."

He was trembling and so pale, and Harry relented, nodding. "We won't think of it. Tomorrow's soon enough. C'mere."

"What--"

Harry smoothed his hair back and wrapped his arms around him. "It'll be fine," he said softly. "You don't think I'll fail at this, do you? It's for you, Draco. I'll do it for you. Anything. I told you before that I'd be your hero, and I will."

"I don't need a hero," Draco said, and it was muffled. Harry wondered if he was crying, wondered if this somehow came back to Pansy, because that was all Draco had ever cried over before.

"Hey," he chided gently, tilting Draco's face up. He was not crying, but his eyes shone brightly with tears. "Shh, Draco, it's fine," he said. He smiled and kissed Draco lightly, lingering over it and whispering, "I'm going to save you. Everything will be fine, I swear it will be."

"How are you going to do it, Harry?" Draco spat, looking furious suddenly. "Kill all of them. You can't cast the one spell that will kill them!"

"It's not my fault I can't...hate like that. Or hurt like that. But I'll find a way. I have to." He ran his fingers through Draco's hair. "Some things are worth risking everything for."

Draco flinched and buried his face in Harry's shoulder. "Do you honestly believe that?" he asked, very quietly, barely breathing.

"Yes," Harry said. "I would sacrifice anything to stop the curse."

"Would you..." Draco trailed off, swallowing hard and then trying again. "If it meant losing your own life, would you do it?"

"If it meant you would live? Yes. Because if I didn't and you died, I wouldn't want to live anyway. I don't think you get that, Draco. I wasn't living before you, I was barely existing and waiting for an easy way out. I... don't ever want to fall that low again. If you died, I would die with you, or right after you."

"What if, to save the one person you cared about, you had to destroy them? Could you do it?"

Harry considered for a moment, smoothing Draco's hair, and then said quietly, "I would destroy anything that threatened you, even if it was you, as long as you went on living."

"Am I a terrible person because I don't think I can do the same?" Draco whispered, lifting his head.

Harry cradled his jaw and kissed him very gently, tenderly. Then he nuzzled the side of his neck and kissed him there. "You can," he said quietly, almost wistfully. "No one thinks they can give up the things that matters most to them until the time for it comes. That's the point. And I would give anything to stop the curse and stop it from hurting you and I know you'd do anything to stop me from being hurt. It's like you said before, Draco. You trust me not to hurt you and I trust you not to hurt me."

Draco trembled violently, his hands slipping around to the small of Harry's back and holding him tightly. He nodded, though Harry was sure he was crying now, just a little bit, so he rocked him gently.

"Stop that," he sighed. "Draco... I told you, we won't think of it till tomorrow. C'mon..." He tilted his head up, wiped the few tears away, and kissed Draco's cheek, where an angry sort of flush had risen. "Nothing else matters, okay? Nothing else ever has. Just this." And he kissed Draco achingly sweetly, trying to draw him into it and soothe him, stop him from shaking and being afraid of whatever it was he was so afraid of.

"Harry... Harry, I can't do it, I have to tell you, I--"

Shaking his head, Harry kissed him more firmly, tangling his hands in Draco's shirt. Draco struggled at first, but gradually relaxed into the kiss, sighing softly and melting against him. Only when he was sure that Draco had given up, Harry whispered, "Tell me tomorrow. Now I'm gonna make you mine... I mean...if that's... okay?"

Draco's eyes were dark and hard to read. "I'm already yours," he said, voice husky. He reached up, gently pulling Harry's glasses off and setting them aside, before kissing his forehead, on his scar. It seemed to throb lightly at the soft brush of lips, but it could have been Harry's imagination. He let out the breath he'd been holding, crushed Draco to him, and buried his face in his shoulder, breathing deeply, trying to memorize Draco's scent.

"Okay," he said, though his voice cracked. He was standing at the edge of something very deep, and dizzily waiting for the ground to drop away and to feel himself falling into whatever it was, and not at all sure he was ready for this. The ground wouldn't drop away, however; it was up to him to take the last step, and he didn't know, suddenly, if he had the courage. The idea of being responsible for another person's heart was terrifying to someone as clumsy as he was, even with his own heart. He lifted his head, his own eyes shining with tears. The room was already blurry because he was not wearing his glasses, but now the tears served only to twist it further, into a random mess of colours and flickering light from the hearth and the only thing he could focus on was Draco's face. "Are you sure?"

Draco smiled. "Even if I had a choice in the matter, Harry, I wouldn't choose anything else."

Harry brought his hands up to Draco's face, cradling his jaw and stroking his cheeks, taking a deep, calming breath. He kissed Draco's forehead lightly, the way Draco had kissed his, and then kissed his lips, just as lightly. His eyes slowly closed and he moved closer, until they touched from head, to shoulder, to hip, and lower, no space between them. Instinctively, Draco slipped his hands around Harry's waist, and Harry could feel him trembling. He wondered what it was that Draco was afraid of, wondered if it was the coming battle or anything as ridiculous as that, but knew instinctively that it had to be more. Draco had to know that Harry would not let harm come to him. He had to know that nothing would touch Draco without ripping through Harry first.

And if he didn't... Harry would teach him. Show him.

So he kissed him, a bittersweet, soft kiss, and then another, harder and more possessive. At first, it was as if Draco had forgotten how to respond, how to move. He stood there and shook, eyes clenched shut, hands on Harry's back, fingers tangled in his jumper.

Then Draco melted with a soft moan and fell against him, opening his mouth and tilting his head up so that their tongues collided in a mess of heat and heavy breathing. They moved, shifting instinctively closer, though only moments before, Harry hadn't thought they could be any closer. But they could and they were, all trembling and aching and broken but Harry couldn't for the life of him remember who was supposed to be trembling and who was supposed to be soothing, because it all seemed one and the same, suddenly.

So he fell into that and forgot that he was supposed to be proving to Draco that he-- what? Loved him? Worshipped him? Would die for him? All of that, and more.

Harry was taking him, was breathing him in, bits of him to replace the broken bits of himself that had crumbled to dust years and years before, and he wonder if Draco could feel it, could feel those forgotten places inside of himself coming alive because of him, because of Draco, breathing into his mouth.

It didn't matter though, because he could feel it, and it was like taking the last step into something dark and deep, without definition, but it wasn't like drowning at all... it was like... like flying with someone to hold on to and someone to hit the bottom with.

And he did fall, and he knew without asking that Draco was falling, into him as much as Harry had fallen into him before.

He didn't know quite what he was doing, but Draco guided him, whispering shakily, kissing him softly when he lost his confidence, and holding him when he was so lost in it that he could not remember anything except that it was Draco who held him.

And then he was inside of Draco, which was strange but right, and he wondered why it should be that way, that he should feel right when there were dark hints of pain in Draco's eyes. Harry moved, just slightly, experimentally, and Draco flinched, yet it was still right, somehow, and he didn't understand.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered, kissing Draco's temple.

"No," Draco lied, stroking his back, and that's why it was alright. Because Harry was hurting him but Draco was letting him and somehow, that made more sense than promising never to hurt. Sometimes hurting was unavoidable and sometimes... sometimes hurting was part of what made something worth shattering for. Something fine and possessive and more exclusive than anything else, because Harry knew there was no one else in the world that Draco would let hurt him. Draco was his and Harry could hurt him, shatter him, and hold him together afterwards, and then Draco would do the same to him and maybe that was love.

He fell apart, and Draco fell too, and all their pieces fell together, and Harry did not care if they were ever whole again, because he would rather be broken with Draco than whole by himself.

And afterwards, when he was shaking and weak, damp with his own sweat, and on top of, inside of, Draco, he could not think of a time when he felt more whole.

Draco, who had lost himself as much as Harry had, who was breathing heavily and trembling more than ever, closed his eyes very slowly and whispered, "Oh god, Harry, I love you," as if it were something to fear.

Harry swallowed hard, because he had known Draco needed him, but had not known he loved him. He smiled, a fleeting, bittersweet smile. "You do?" he asked, very softly.

"More than anything."

"But why?" he asked huskily, pulling away and curling up sleepily beside him.

"I was made for it," Draco said, only partially coherent.

Harry pressed his face against Draco's chest, breathing deeply, feeling lethargic, sleepy, and as if this was all a dream.

"You should sleep," Draco told him gently, stroking his back. He kissed Harry's temple.

"Don't want to," Harry mumbled, perfectly content to be awake and in Draco's arms.

Draco laughed quietly and held him tighter. "You should, though. Tomorrow will be... hard."

"Did you sleep last night?" Harry whispered. "You weren't here, with me."

"I didn't sleep."

"Sleep now. I'll watch over you." Harry smiled at him.

"Don't want to," Draco replied gently, teasingly echoing Harry's own words.

Harry smiled at him, and snuggled closer, so they were tangled together, and Harry's eyes fluttered shut as he was slowly being lulled to sleep by the sound of Draco's breathing.

"Sleep," Draco said softly. "Let me watch over you, okay?"

Harry shook his head in protest but even so, drifted slowly off to sleep.

He woke up when the curse took Draco, worse than ever before. He did not know if it was because it had gotten worse in the days that Harry had been gone, or if Draco suddenly had something new and more terrifying to fear, but he held him for hours until Draco calmed, and then watched over him while he slept, smoothing his hair and whispering secrets that Draco didn't hear all through the night.

***

Harry woke up alone, his throat feeling tight and rough, his eyes dry and stinging. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, blinking slowly and feeling vaguely dirty, as if his skin were covered in a faint sheen of dust. Everything was piling up on him, everything he'd done and every person he'd hurt. Ginny, Ron, Charlie, Pansy, Lucius... he'd fallen asleep sometime in the night, while holding Draco, and had instantly fallen into strange, distant nightmares, the kind with dragons, circling.

Needing comfort, he turned, intending to curl up against Draco, craving human contact.

Draco wasn't there.

Startled, Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses and pushing his hair back, staring around the room as if he did not recognize it. It was the same room, the same chest and barren dresser and torches on the wall. Same hearth with a small fire burning cheerfully, magically smokeless. Same rug and chair before it.

But he could not help feeling that something was missing, something important.

He fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes and moaning softly. Something wasn't right, he could sense it. He closed his eyes, took a deep, and then sat up again, so suddenly that his head started to hurt. They'd left with out him! Hermione and Draco had gone off for the final battle and left him behind.

He leapt out of bed and had just hurriedly dressed when there was a soft knock at the door. He froze and then slowly went to it, pulling it open.

It was Hermione, looking pale, eyes very dark and hair scraped back off her face and pulled back harshly. "We need to talk, Harry," she said, though she glanced longingly over her shoulder, as if she wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Where's Draco?" Harry asked, having decided that Draco could not have gone off without Hermione to kill the Dementors.

She didn't reply, only slipped into the bedroom, glancing around nervously. Her eyes lingered on the twisted bed sheets, the clothes that Draco had left thrown about the floor, and then she looked back at him and took a careful breath. She smiled. "I brought you some coffee," she said, handing him the mug she'd been holding.

He took it automatically, though he did not feel like drinking it. Perhaps it would help his fuzzy mind, however. He sipped it and then asked again, "Where's Draco?"

"Oh, Harry," she snapped, irritated suddenly. "I need to talk to you. Can't you stop thinking about him, even for a moment? This is important."

Feeling chastised despite himself, Harry mumbled, "Sorry," and sank down on the bed. He took another drink of coffee, and waited until Hermione perched nervously on the chair by the hearth. "What did you need to talk about?"

She considered for a moment and then whispered, "Have you learnt the Dark Patronus yet?"

He shook his head and took another drink, a long swallow, if only to avoid looking at her. He should have learned it, should have practiced until he could do it, instead of wasting so much time...

"Draco can't do the Light Patronus, he's been trying all morning..." she said absently, gazing into the fire. Flames flickered in her eyes, or it could have been tears, Harry didn't know.

"Where is he?" he repeated, very softly. Hermione did not appear to hear him. "Please, Hermione, I need to see him," he begged.

She looked at him, and he could see now that it was tears causing her eyes to shine. "You will, Harry. Finish your coffee and I'll tell you where he is."

He drained the mug and set it on the bedside table. It hadn't cleared his muddled mind, however. Things were more dream-like than even before, and he got to his feet, grimacing. "I don't feel well," he mumbled.

She didn't move. "It's... it's easier to learn to hate than it is to love, Harry."

Confused, he shook his head, unable to quite follow the conversation. "It's not," he said.

"He's in the library." She took a deep breath. "He's in the library, Harry, and he's... he's not...well. The curse... too much... he can't... he's... that's what it does. You were gone so long, Harry, and...and it got worse, and he can't...he's going to...oh god, Harry, hurry."

He stared at her in complete confusion for the longest moment, and then, slowly, turned to the dresser, where Draco had left the gun the night before, a terrible suspicion growing in his mind. The gun was gone.

"Oh my god," he whispered.

Harry ran as fast as he could, breathing heavily with panic, and when he found Draco, it was in the library. Draco was standing by the hearth, staring into the flames, and he was holding the gun in his left hand.

“Draco,” Harry called gently, so as not to startle him.

Draco turned slowly, a strange and bright smile lighting up his face. The flames behind him cast an almost halo around his entire body, making him seem hazy and not-quite-real. “Harry,” he greeted quietly. “Hello.”

“Give me the gun, Draco.” He took a step forward.

“Don’t come any closer,” Draco warned, grimacing a little. “I suspect, judging from what happened with Ginny, that shooting oneself in the head can be quite messy.”

“Shooting oneself in the…” Harry trailed off, horrified. “Draco. Draco, give me the gun.”

“That would be counterproductive,” Draco said.

“Depends on whose side you’re looking at it from,” Harry said desperately. “Please, Draco.” He held out his hand but rather than put the gun in his hand, Draco lifted it to his temple. “Give me the fucking gun, Draco,” Harry shrieked.

Draco smiled. “It will be alright, you know.” There were strange lights in his eyes, or maybe they were shadows and reflections of the flames in the hearth. Like with Hermione, Harry couldn't tell. God, why was everything so blurry?

“You don’t have to do this. Just sit down, Draco, it’ll pass. It’s just the curse, it’s… it’s doing to you what it did to Pansy, this isn’t the way to solve this.”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Draco said sternly, “This has nothing to do with Pansy, nor her weakness. And yes, this will solve everything. I suspect you won’t understand until later, but it doesn’t matter.” He cocked the gun awkwardly.

“Give. Me. The. Gun.”

“Why?” Draco asked softly.

“Because I don’t want you to die,” Harry whimpered.

“And you love me?” Draco was watching his face carefully, and had Harry known why, he would have said no, no, a thousand times no.

“Yes,” he said instead.

“And it would destroy you to lose me?” Again, had Harry known, he would have screamed that losing Draco Malfoy would be the best thing that ever happened to him.

Instead, he said softly, “Yes.”

“Then listen to me carefully, Harry,” Draco said slowly, gently. And then his voice hardened and became deliberately cruel. The madness in his eyes changed to something else, something more like tears. “This is your fault. This is because of you. Like everything else, this is because of you.”

And then he pulled the trigger.