That's Worth Fighting For!

- Sound The Bugle, Brian Adams

The trees breeze past in a blur, the freezing air frosting tears to the young boy's cheeks. His soaked through sneakers slipping in the fresh snow. He's running without a destination, he just has to get away. His cheeks are stinging, and his lips are chapped and cracked from the icy wind. Finally when his body is past its limit, and his will to keep going runs out, he stops. The raven-haired boy stands gasping in the icy splendour of the forest in winter. He is no longer afraid of the creatures he once feared here. Fear has long left him, as has every last drop of emotion he has ever experienced. Leaving him empty, like a shell without a turtle. No hope, no faith. He's left with nothing to guide him anywhere. Born for one purpose, for only one meaning like an old teddy bear bought for a lonely child but long forgotten at the discovery of more exciting things. If he does fulfill his purpose, he'll just become another name in a history book. He will just another face who saved the world from certain doom. A long forgotten hero with nobody to love, nobody to truly care for, nothing to live for. Someone else can save the world an adult with wisdom, and experience. He can just hide, and blend into these icy surroundings, as cold and hard as the wall around his heart. But even the coldest of ice can't numb out the pain of the wounds in his heart. Wounds from the losses of the war, wounds from lost loved ones, leaving scars running deep. Not visible, no, but he can feel them there every minute of every day. His pain won't let him forget. They tell him to stay strong, to keep on fighting for what is right. He's seen too many people die, killed too many to go on fighting. He's tired of seeing people cry. Their endless tears always flowing for him, for the dead, and for themselves. He's sick of fighting, and reaching the last corner to find another dead end. When fighting didn't work he tried to run, run away and leave it all behind. But he can't escape, all he can do now is hide. He's sure that if he hides long enough they'll forget all about him. Yet all hope is not lost, only one person can help him now. But he is oblivious to our grieving boy's pain, and sorrow. His golden saviour is too wrapped up in his own treacherous life to notice his once lively rival has lost everything. The war has turned people inside out, expressed who they really are. And his Slytherin prince isn't the obnoxious fool he'd always tried to be. Why couldn't Draco see through the painfully thrown words that their contrast is their key to love? But it's too late now, the raven black haired boy can't bear another scar among the others. Out here he can forget, or at least he can try. There is nothing out here but the icy cold snow, and ice where our reluctant hero may never be found. Snowflakes fall lightly all around him so white, and innocent. Living their short lives flitting happily through the air, all a unique shape of frosty spikes, until they reach the cold, hard ground where they dissolve into the rest, no longer unique but all the same. The air smells of fresh pine, and the air is sharp against his bare face. Swallowing a gulp of the chilly air he finds it's like drinking a glass of cold water on a hot summer day. It is anything but a hot summer day. Yes, this is a place of clean beginnings, a new life. One free of murder, and pain. Nothing but blank white snow. What a joke! Nothing could free him from the past, nothing. Suddenly there is the dreaded sound of footfalls crunching on the crisp snow. Our hero looks up in surprise.

How could he find me here?

He dodges behind a tree trying to blend in, afraid that his heart, that was beating a steady tattoo against his ribcage, would be heard.

"Harry?" came a soft voice from the clearing where our hero had just stood. It wasn't him. It wasn't Voldemort. Harry breathes with relief. He chances a glance through the icicle filled branches, there stands his prince, and his long loved saviour. Stepping out from his feeble hiding place he looks at the other boy.

"How did you find me here?" he asks Draco, his voice hoarse from running in this weather.

"I followed your footsteps in the snow," Draco replied gesturing towards the ground. Damn snow, so beautiful and concealing but it can betray you and reveal your so perfectly hidden location. There was a long silence but Harry felt as though time had stopped. Draco didn't have to say anything; Harry didn't have to ask. They just embraced and held each other.

"Have you always..." Harry begins to whisper into Draco's ear.

"Yes," Draco answers holding him tighter.

"How did you know what I was going to say?" asks Harry breathing in the sweet scent of Draco's robes.

"I just did," Draco whispers back his sweet soft voice tickling Harry's ear.

"What happened to the Harry who used to love life, and wondered about everything new and amazing? The one, who always had a comeback waiting for my insults," Draco asks. The question Harry had asked himself many times.

"He's lost," Harry answers squeezing his eyes shut. Draco pulled away and looked at Harry.

"No he isn't. He's still here," Draco says putting his hand on Harry's chest against his beating heart. "You just need help finding him."

"Well, what happened to the obnoxious little brat who hated me?" Harry questions; another question he'd always wondered.

"Well, I grew up," Draco whispers as though someone might hear his words even though they we all alone. Harry smiled. He took Draco's head in his hands and kissed him softly on the lips. Once the two boy's lips touched a warm flood of something unknown to him flowing through his veins slowly melting the block of ice around his heart. Everything came flowing back to him. He felt alive; he felt a mysterious energy flowing through his veins pumping into his heart.

"I've a war to win Draco, I might not return," Harry says realizing at once what he must do.

"I'm coming with you," Draco tells the other boy softly.

"What if you die?" Harry asked him finally realizing how cold it was.

"Then I'll die for you, fighting for freedom," Draco answered boldly, shivering from the icy wind, "and that's worth fighting for."