Transience

A relationship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin is one of those things that's indefinable because it could never possibly happen. Especially when the Gryffindor is Harry Potter and the Slytherin is Draco Malfoy. Nonetheless, it feels completely natural to you that his blonde head is laying on your lap and you're playing with it. You lean over slightly to look at the book in his hands and frown when you realize that he's reading of Dark Arts and illegal potions. Draco loves you and you undoubtedly love him, but in this time of impending war, it doesn't mean much, does it? The two of you had never breached the subject of Darkness and Light because you both want so badly to believe that things would just right themselves. That things would be happily ever after. The discussion needs to be held sooner or later, though that fact doesn't make it any easier.

Your deftly moving fingers become still in Draco's hair and you give an involuntary tug.

"Would you leave them?" The question weighs heavily on your tongue and it burns to ask. "For me?"

Draco tips his chin up and quirks his eyebrow in thought. "Would you leave them?" he returns. "For me?"

The hesitation is evident and you want so badly to say 'yes' because 'yes' makes everything easier. "No," you breathe out finally and it's the most horrible truth that you've ever heard.

Draco seems unsurprised by the answer and moves his head to indicate a continuation of the head massage. "Well, then. There's your answer."

* * *

It is the single most heartbreaking thing to be in love with your worst enemy because all the rules are broken from the start and fairy tales play no role in the outcome. Promises mean nothing and you know this, but you pour them from your lips to Draco's.

Once.

Twice.

A thousand times in vain because you hope that he'll stay with you.

You know he won't.

* * *

A random moment of peace leads you to his bedchambers late in the night. He smirks when you arrive and slides forward to undo the buttons of your shirt, but your hands atop his still the movement.

"I just want to talk," you say and he scowls but sits back on the heels of his feet. In that position, he almost looks innocent and you want nothing more than to weep over that thought.

"Fine, Potter." Your name is spat out like venom and you think that maybe it's times like this when you love him most. "What is it you wanted to 'talk' about?"

You open your mouth to speak and it's a question from an endless list that started the day you met him. "If you saw me in battle," you stop for a beat...maybe two, "would you kill me, Draco?"

He shows no emotion besides the quirk of an eyebrow and you get a feeling of deja-vu. "Would you kill me if you saw me in battle?" His voice is flat and you wonder if he really cares what your answer will be.

"No," you reply and it's one of the most horrible lies you've ever heard, but then again, you think it might be a truth. A beautiful truth and another promise included to the growing list of those already made.

Draco allows himself a tiny smile that, he no doubt hopes, is obscured by the darkness. But you see it, and it's a magnificent reward. "Well, then," he replies. "There's your answer."

* * *

"Where have you been?"

You do not even bother to hide the suspicion in your voice. He turns away from you and you place a hand on his shoulder, spinning him to face you. You are quickly met with a fist to your eye and it's more shock than anything that has you falling to the ground. But then he's kissing you: fierce, controlling, and so utterly painful. It's in that kiss he gives you that you realize the answer. You pull away and grasp his forearm, pulling it towards you. Pushing the sleeve of his robe up to the elbow, you see the mark that plagues your dreams. The mark that taunts you in living nightmares. You touch it first with one finger and listen with morbid fascination as he hisses. You don't know what possesses you to do it, but in a heartbeat, your teeth sink into the tainted part of his skin. He screams and falls to his knees in pain but you don't release your hold and he doesn't try to push your mouth away. You bite harder, desperate to rid yourself of this anger because he has betrayed you and this hate because you still love him. You still love him and he's killing you with his poison. You finally wrench yourself away and let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. Draco slowly pushes himself off the ground and stares so deeply into you that you know he can see how much he's burned your soul. But he offers no explanation and you don't want to hear one, so you run. You run as fast as you can to get away from the hell you've faced, but no matter where you turn, it lurks in every corner. So you drop to the floor, curl up into yourself, and you cry. Your sobs are loud; you hope he'll hear and come looking for you.

He doesn't.

* * *

When it comes to Draco, there is no forgiveness, merely acceptance. Before you can even blink, he's in your arms, healing the bruise around your eye, and everything is fine again.

* * *

There's blood on his hands when he comes to you the night after. His eyes blaze almost red and his hands are shaking so badly that he can barely hold his wand.

"Draco?" You voice is soft as not to jar him from his trance. His eyes dart over your frame and you see a hint of shame in the silver orbs.

"I'm not sorry, Harry," he whispers finally, a choked sob emitting from his throat. "I wish I was, but I'm not." You think to question further, but decide against it.

Instead, you lean in to kiss him, caring not that his hands are on your robes, tainting you with stains that can never be removed. You make love to him that night, gentle and slow because you know that the inevitable is coming and you want to remember him this way: as yours.

The next morning, you hear about Seamus Finnigan, found dead with bloody scratch marks on his face and traces of the Avada Kedavra curse on his body.

When you go to search for Draco, you find that he's left and you don't see him again for months.

* * *

With everyday that passes without him, you wait. Peering out windows into everything beyond, you hope to catch a glimpse of platinum, a sign that he's chosen you.

You see nothing.

* * *

When the two of you meet again on the grounds of Hogwarts, it's not the loving reunion that you'd hoped it'd be. You don't know how you had managed to find him, but then again, he always has a way of doing that, doesn't he? Luring you to him. You'd heard two weeks ago from Order spies that he'd become Voldermort's right-hand man. You had been waiting for this moment, but seeing him with his wand pointed at you makes your heart twist agonizingly. You're both breathless and worn from the battle and the sounds of death are ringing in your ears. You're so tired and, really, all you want to do is take him in your arms and kiss him until all the pain fades away.

"Draco," you choke out and it's a plea, a desperate final plea for him to come back to you. He takes slow, languid steps in your direction until his face is mere inches from yours. Leaning towards you, he gives you a passionate lover's kiss. In receiving it, you can feel your heart shatter into a million jagged pieces.

"Harry." His voice is silky and soft against your ear. "Do you remember? When we talked that night, about this moment. Do you remember?"

"Yes," you answer because it's true. You remember every word, every movement, and every second just like it was yesterday.

"So you remember what you said?"

"Yes."

"Was that a promise, Harry?" Draco's question is sincere and innocent, two things you know he isn't anymore.

"It was a promise to you, Draco," you answer. "You know it was."

Draco gives you a small smile and nods his head. "Yes. I know." He tilts his head to one side and locks his eyes with yours. "I love you, Harry. I really do. I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

You capture his lips with yours for another searing kiss. "I know you do." You pull him towards you, so that you can hold him...feel him pressed against you.

"Will you keep that promise to me, Harry?" He asks softly.

You nod into his shoulder and tighten your arms around him. "Yes," you whisper into his hair. He lets out a shaky breath and before you can say anything more, his wand is pressed into your side.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he says genuinely. "I'm not as strong as you. I wish I could keep my promise to you, but I can't."

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes. This is it. After everything that has happened, it's over. There were many scenarios that had run through your head, and this was absolutely the worst one. He's chosen another path and now you know what you must do. "No, I'm sorry, Draco."

"Avada Kedavra," a voice behind Draco cries and the flash of bright green temporarily blinds you. You are glad for this because seeing Draco die would be excruciating. But you can feel him. Oh, Gods, you can feel him because he's shaking in your arms and then all of a sudden, he's still. So still. Peering down at him, you see unshed tears that were undoubtedly caused by his pain, his pain of having to kill you. You place your hands over his eyes to close them forever and slowly lower him to the ground. Ron shuffles toward you, his wand tucked back into his pocket and the free hand now clutching his other, severely broken, arm.

"I'm sorry, Harry." That's all he can say because honestly, what can a person say at a time like this? You shrug, but he's knows your soul is shattered, so you don't have to tell him. There are tears trailing down your cheeks. Horrible, wretched, ugly tears.

"No, I told you to--if he..." you trail off and look down at your fallen love.

"I knew it would have to end," you say after minutes of suffocating silence. "I knew our love couldn't survive this war. But I just--I thought--maybe..."

"I know, mate," Ron tells you consolingly. "I know."

"Did I keep my promise to him, Ron?" you ask, looking into your best friend's eyes. You sound like a child, lost and so alone. "I told him I would. I did, right?" You plead silently for him to say 'yes'.

"Of course, Harry."

You nod at him and bend down to take Draco's cold, lifeless hand into yours. "Goodbye, love. I'll see you again someday." You put your head next to his and you begin to sob. Whether it is for seconds, minutes, or hours, you can't tell. Ron's reassuring hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality.

"Come on, Harry. Everybody's regrouping, we should get back inside." You sniff and give a final farewell to the one you loved, still beautiful even in eternal sleep, and follow your best friend back to the protection of Hogwarts.