Aienkien

Beta: Nikki-chan

(*_~_*)

It had been two years since Harry Potter's death at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

Actually, now that the young Malfoy heir thought about it, it was more a death at the fangs than anything. He fingered the oddly elongated canines as he trudged up the stairs of Malfoy Manor, making sure to drop his shoes by the top of the stairs for a house-elf to pick up. The blonde moved swiftly into his study, and without looking around, dropped into an armchair located conveniently by the door.

Draco scanned the room, then, and finding it to be totally empty, he curled up the chair not unlike a feline, and picked up the book that had been left on the chair's arm. He was quite engrossed in the reading when a sudden chill swept through the room, followed by the darkening of all the lights.

"You always have to make a grand entrance, don't you?"

A frigid breath of air puffed in his ear, and he had to try hard not to shiver, more because of the intimacy of the move than anything else. As he looked up, a slight shimmer became apparent above his desk. The figure of a boy with messy hair and round, owlish eyeglasses materialized, perched on the desk.

Draco stared back at the obvious ghost, and then shrugged before going back to his book. A large window was located behind his desk, and the crimson curtains on it began fluttering wildly. The Slytherin ignored it for as long as he could before shutting the book.

"Will you stop trying to make me feel guilty already!" he growled, baring his fangs and then, dropping the paperback as though in disgust. "It's not as though I don't already!" He stood abruptly, and all but ran out of the room.

The ghost watched him go in silence.

*

Draco had not meant to kill Harry.

It had been a complete and total accident. It was only about three months after he had been bitten, and he had still been in school, then. It was his seventh year, and he had been aimlessly wandering the hallways, killing time until he could return to the common room. Blaise was to open it at midnight, and exactly midnight for no more than five minutes. Draco had not gone into Hogsmeade to feed, as he had told Blaise he would. Rather, he was thinking about a troublesome dilemma.

He and Harry had been having their trysts and escapades for nearly a year now. The doe-eyed Gryffindor still didn't know of his lover's little vampiric secret. Draco was attempting to sort out a way to tell Harry, but it was starting to seem extremely likely that this secret would have to be kept. How would Harry react? Would he be disgusted? Repulsed? Resentful?

Draco shivered as he slid lower against a wall. His stomach rumbled discreetly, as only a Malfoy's could. The blonde sniffed the air; no human lingered in the hallways where he was, only something that seemed to be a bird of some sort.

Feeling utterly depressed, Draco closed his eyes and tried his best not to think about it. Harry would have to find out soon; but for now, the glamour charms would hold and so would his resistance against the Gryffindor's charms.

A light touch on his shoulder startled him, and he pulled automatically at whatever limb it was attached to. A soft cry of resistance came, followed by a loud hoot. Draco blinked as a snowy white owl scrabbled on the stone, glaring at him. In his lap, a sheepish looking Harry Potter smiled at him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Then why'd you sneak up on me? Geez, Potter, sometimes I wonder if you're all there..." Meanwhile, his mind was working against the clock. Was his glamour charm in place? He couldn't remember if he had taken it off or not. Harry's scent had been masked by the musky odor of the owl next to him; Hedwig, Draco recalled.

His thoughts were interrupted when Harry's arms snaked around his neck, pulling the other boy down into a soft kiss. Draco pulled away after a moment, feeling light-headed.

"What was that for?" He asked, running his fingers through the soft black hair. Harry shrugged.

"Because?"

Draco didn't say anything for a moment, and kept his toying with Harry's hair. After a moment, he looked down at the Gryffindor and was sorely surprised to see a frown on his face. Concerned, the Slytherin pulled Harry more into his lap, cradling him in his arms as one might do with a child.

"What's wrong, love?"

Harry seemed to be at a loss for words, until Draco smiled brightly at him, and kissed the corner of his mouth. The Gryffindor sighed.

"You've been quiet, Draco. You're always staring into space, and we can't ever do anything at night because you're always off somewhere or another. I even asked Blaise, but he looked all nervous and tetchy and he sort of ran off." Green eyes turned woefully to meet mercury ones. "If there's anything going on, then you can tell me. For Merlin's sake, Draco, we've barely done more than kisses on the lips and cheeks!"

Malfoy seemed to stiffen at that. He knew why he couldn't--what if he lost control, and couldn't resist his urges to bite? Harry was his anchor, the only thing tha kept him sane in a world already gone mad. But what good was having Harry...if Harry thought he was being had?

"It's--not that easy," he tried, but it sounded stupid even as he said it. Harry's eyes flashed with some quickly hidden emotion--hurt? Before Draco could amend, he had shot up and was leaning over to grab Hedwig. The Gryffindor stood, petting the owl that was now latched on his arm, still glowering murderously at Draco.

"Is there someone else?" Harry asked, with a barely detectable tremble in his voice. Draco heard it, and suddenly wanted to laugh at the whole situation. They sounded like adults--but oh, weren't they, forced to grow up faster because of the War they were a part of. The quirk of fate didn't help much, so he did as he felt.

He laughed.

The rage on Harry's features made the boy's face ugly, and he stared for a moment before turning on his heel. His clicking footsteps were what drew Draco out of his reverie, and the blonde stood so quickly it was as though he'd never been sitting.

"Harry! Wait!" He sprinted down the hallway, throwing caution to the winds, and quickly caught up with his boyfriend, tackling him to the ground. Hedwig, now thoroughly angered, took off for what Harry supposed was the Owlery.

Draco looked down at the boy underneath him, and grinned slightly. "You're a git, Potter. No--not just a git. You're a total idiot. How could you even think that I'd cheat on you?" He started to lay gentle butterfly kisses along Harry's face, but the Gryffindor protested weakly.

"That's not fair, Draco, you can't--" He gasped as a sneaky tongue flicked in and out of his ear, and tried again. "I want to know what--Draco--stop--what are you hi--" He nearly gave up his struggle as a hand slipped up his shirt, coming to rest gently on his collarbone, whilst the other gently stroked his hair.

"That's not fair," he murmured. Draco stopped his administrations for a moment, and Harry groaned in protest. The Slytherin grinned.

"Seems pretty fair to me. You don't look like you mind." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco captured it in his own, gently prodding at Harry's mouth until it opened, and his tongue entered, darting until it found Harry's, and they began a heated and passionate battle.

Seconds later, Draco pulled back, and began a trail of kisses down Harry's jaw, and then his neck. He stayed there for a moment, biting gently on the exposed skin behind the collar of the Gryffindor's shirt.

He didn't realize what he was doing until Harry's little sounds of pleasure became more rapid, even as his breathing slowed, and by then he couldn't stop himself. When Draco was finally able to pull away, a thin trickle of blood was coming from the two dark spots on otherwise flawless skin.

Harry had died with a smile on his face.

*

Draco sat in one of the parlors downstairs, hugging his knees to himself in a desperate attempt to stop himself shivering. It was so very cold down here, and although he had never been able to become fully warm, he still appreciated an attempt at it now and then.

"Smile."

He looked up, and found himself staring into a pair of blue-green eyes. "Blaise. So kind of you to join me. Come to gloat over something?"

His friend shook his head of slightly spiky black hair, and hugged himself. "It's so cold in here, Draco. I'm telling you, when Lucius died--" He stopped himself, and started again. "When you got the house, you should have installed radiators."

"Expensive."

"You're rich; fuck money, right?" Blaise grinned, but it faded quickly as Draco just stared back. Blaise changed the subject.

"Where's our ghostly tenant?"

"In the study."

"Ah." Blaise nodded. "I understand. Chased you out again, did he?"

"Shut up," Draco growled. "I'm not a bloody girl. I know what he's trying to do! I apologized enough, didn't I? He's making me go mad, he wants me to die too!"

"You didn't seem to mind a few months ago."

And it was true. In the aftermath of Harry's death, everyone had been on their toes around Draco, especially when the ghost of his ill-fated love decided to haunt him. Hermione, who had never actually forgiven him but agreed to keep it a secret how he died, had been the only person there besides Ron who was with him on Draco's first and only suicide attempt.

He had been standing in a window ledge, legs crossed as he contemplated falling onto the grounds. Ron would have let him, he knew, but it was also the first time Harry had appeared.

No one noticed him at first, such a shadow hanging to the walls. But as Hermione and Ron were arguing ("Ron! It'd be unethical!" "Fuck ethics! Hermione, he killed Harry!") and then Harry had just--popped up. He had literally floated away from the walls, woeful eyes trained upon Draco, but shaking his head as though telling his friends he was disappointed in them. Draco had nearly fallen, then, but luckily (or not so much so) he fell backwards, crashing into Ron.

Harry had waved hopefully to Hermione, and then faded away.

"You've got to do something. You're wasting away." Blaise had been observing him carefully during the whole quiet, thoughtful moment. "Mayhaps we should drug you and drag you away to a cabaret of colorful girls imported from India in Boca."

Draco shook his head, mildly amused. "You had to think about that one, didn't you?"

"I try."

"Why're you here, anyway?" Draco stood, stretched a little, and motioned for Blaise to follow him as they talked. The pale-eyed boy smiled jovially as he bounced up the stairs.

"My mum's selling the house in Dublin to the new Mrs. Granger-Weasley. She and Ronald will be living in it."

"So?" Draco asked, being careful not to look as they passed by the study, with its open door. Blaise did not share Draco's sentiments, however, and waved as he saw the ghost. Harry perked up a little at this display of affection, and melted away into the desk. A moment later, he appeared to be walking on the banister, as carefully as a tightrope walker would. Blaise laughed. Draco scowled. The Harry-ghost grinned widely, and vanished again.

"Dunno why you're so upset. He obviously still cares to have stayed here." Blaise mused. Draco lifted his lips in a sneer that showed off his fangs, but Blaise pretended it was in a semi-amused way and followed Draco into his private rooms. It was layered, in true Slytherin fashion, with all shades of green. Silver and black occasionally snuck in, but it was clear green was the dominant color.

"Color of his eyes, eh?" Blaise said before he could stop himself. Draco didn't slow his stride until he had reached the window seat and was perched upon it, but Blaise knew the next time he came the room would have had a color change, and felt a twinge of guilt for it.

"So what's this about the Weasel and his wife? I should have forbidden them to procreate, you know. Saved face when I still had the chance."

Blaise ignored the remark. "If they have the house in Dublin, it means money. Money Mum is splitting with me, as I'm the one who recommended it. And money means--vacation!"

"Not getting it." Draco mumbled, still staring out of the window as though fixated on something.

"Only problem is, I already booked a vacation for two to Boca." Draco turned now, remembering the earlier joke. "And the same week I've got this un-refundable trip, Ginevra's gone and won herself a free tour of America for two. What's a man to do but satisfy his loving honey?"

"She threatened to take away the sex?"

"Like a fox, those Weasley women are." Blaise smiled again. "Think about it. I know you'll probably never get over--well, you know who, but at least bring along a friend. Like Theodore, you've been neglecting him lately."

Draco felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him; he had been ignoring most of his friends, too caught up in his self-loathing to even notice it most of the time. Outside, he could see Harry's ghost performing little somersaults over the lake on the grounds, as though he were on a broom. Draco watched for a moment, before turning away.

"Well?" Blaise asked, although by the brooding look on his friend's face it didn't look like he had gotten anywhere.

Draco opened his mouth to decline, but then saw the glittering emeralds peeking around the door. Feeling oddly culpable, he closed his mouth, and then opened it again with an answer flying out before he could stop it.

"When do I leave?"

*

Draco hadn't seen hide or translucent hair of the ghost for all of two days. The first day had been pure bliss; no nagging worry, no weakened wall threatening to fall and let the flood of emotion poor out. He didn't glamour his fangs for the day, and wandered without the tight constraint of the magic in his mouth.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Was not a cry he called out ever night in his nightmares, he decided, and slept for the first time through without them. When he woke the next morning, though, it was from a different sort of story.

"I dreamt of you," he said, still lying in bed, still clad in his silk pajamas imported from Spain. The ones Harry had always teased him about, saying his body was just too smooth; so much so, in fact, that nothing but silk could touch it. Draco would reply by saying that was the only reason Harry was the only one who could touch them.

"I dreamed you were playing Quidditch with me. We were back at Hogwarts, in our uniform." No shimmering in the air, no figure materializing with keen interest, but without ever speaking a word. Draco was used to the silence, but he was not used to being totally alone. "We were flying for the Snitch, and Slytherin was one hundred and forty points ahead."

Silence.

"It started raining really hard, and there was loads of lightning--you know, like in our third year, when the Dementors were around?" He shuddered. "Terrible, terrible things. I'm sorry for dressing up like one, by the way. I can't remember if I apologized already." He was lying. But anything to get a rise out of the one-sided conversation.

"And then this flash of lighting just tore down, and bam! It hit you, and I could have veered down and caught you but it meant I would lose the Snitch. I sort of floated there, watching you fall, and I wanted to save you" (another lie) "I really did, but then I flew forward and grabbed the Snitch. Slytherin won, Gryffindor lost, and you, Harry..."

No one came in, no peering eyes filled with worry and anger. Just silence, and the far-off clattering of the house-elves cleaning something in another wing. It reminded him of Hogwarts, and he dropped his chin in his hand before finishing.

"You were dead."

*

The morning passed by smoothly, after that, but there was always that hollow feeling. He glamoured his fangs again; the constraint may have been annoying at first, but he was finding it to be the only constant in his life. Like Harry had been. It was an itch he couldn't scratch, and Draco had decided by midafternoon that he hated being alone with a passion.

"Harry," he pleaded to the air. "Harry, come out. Please, I'm sorry I always ignored you, but I always tried to talk to you before! Remember, when you first came? But it's hard, so hard to talk when the person ignores you..." and then he felt ashamed, for it was the very way he had treated the silent ghost. Near tears, he sat down heavily under a large oak tree by the lake.

"D'you remember Hogwarts, Harry?" he whispered to the air. "We met for our first time by the lake. Remember? We were lakeside, and then our homework--which we were supposed to be doing--blew into the water, and I jumped in after it. Remember how the giant squid grabbed me and you were really frightened, but then when I came up, I treaded water for a moment before waving the papers in your face? But Severus gave us both failing grades, especially because we were supposed to be in his class when it happened, not by the lake."

He was stretching the truth there, a little. Harry had been frightened, but he had had the sense to use a spell to pull Draco out of the water. While the Slytherin was lying on the ground, panting, he dried the papers, and waited quietly till Draco could breath before snogging the breath out of him again.

Later that day, Draco was looking out of one of the tower windows, and he spoke softly, so that he imagined he could see his words dancing on the wind. "D'you remember, Harry, when you met Mum? She was so nice about everything, even though it was just days after Dad died. She really loved him, when they were young. Remember how she kept sighing when she looked at us, and she wouldn't let us wander off alone because she was forever showing you these gifts she had bought for Quidditch players she knew, and giving you the ones she didn't send out? She was devastated when you died. I didn't tell her how. She's far off now, Harry. You should have seen her, flying to Egypt with her hair knotted in a bun and on the back of a friend's broom. That's how I got the house, you know. Because of that and because Lucius died."

And again, sitting in his window seat, with his breath fogging up the glass and soft raindrops pattering against the window. "D'you remember, Harry, when we were celebrating because Weas--er, Ronald had finally asked out Granger? We were outside, in the stands and laughing when you kept charming my hair to stick up in spikes, and then it started raining? Remember how we both just sat there, and when it got cold, we both just hid under the stands and snogged? Remember, Harry?"

And that night, as he fell asleep, he thought that this had to have been the worst day of his life since the day Harry died and the few others that followed. He had missed the other boy, and missed him well enough, but it was not until the ghost of his memory had left also did Draco truly began to grieve. He fell asleep with tears still running down his cheeks, and a hand extended towards the other side of the bed.

*

Morning came too quickly for the ex-Slytherin, and he groaned as sunlight suddenly flooded his eyelids. His head had slipped past the covers as he shifted, and now he had to pay the price. His arms and legs felt oddly heavy, but he kept his eyes closed. He hadn't felt so well rested in ages, and the peculiar warmth surrounding him seemed to have finally chased away the cold. He couldn't feel the familiar weight in his mouth; his fangs were gone. Something was tickling his face, though, and although he didn't want to, he opened his eyes.

Green orbs stared back at him, blinking rapidly as though surprised. Draco understood immediately; it was legs wrapped around legs again, arms in arms, and breath on breath. His hold tightened, and he was rewarded with the feeling of flesh on flesh as well.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered, still afraid that they were all gone.

Harry smiled; in a way that was so gentle it nearly tore at Draco's heart. How he had missed this. "It's not a dream. But it's not real either."

"You're going to leave me again?" His tone was more frantic now, belying his normal nature. Harry shook his head, seemingly amused. His hair fell across his eyes, and Draco almost became furious before he heard something he had thought he'd never hear again.

Harry laughed.

Draco couldn't even join in, but after it became apparent that Harry was laughing at his expense, he tightened his hold on the other boy. "You are not going to leave me. If that's why you're laughing, stop now."

But Harry didn't stop. His laughter was bubbling out now, making Draco feel like joining in, making him feel like he should be happy, but he only tightened his grip even more. Slowly, the laughs subsided, and then Harry was serious again. Carefully, he reached out a hand and brushed Draco's hair.

"I'm not leaving," he whispered. "Because I've already left."

There was a moment of silence between them, and then Harry removed his hand from Draco's hair and pointed behind him. "Look," The green-eyed boy whispered. "It's the answer to all of our problems."

Draco craned his neck to look, but all he saw was a mirror. In the mirror was a large tree, swaying a little frantically in high winds. Rain was pelting down across it, and he could see a dark shadow running across the grounds.

"Run for me!" Harry said softly. "Run and do what you have waited for!"

It was dark, then.

*

"Draco?"

The blonde sat up quickly, blinking back his sleepiness. Had all that been a dream? Blaise was standing at the foot of his bed, looking vaguely surprised. Then he broke out into a large smile. It was only then that Draco noticed there was a basin of water set upon a chair next to the other boy, as well as a washcloth.

"W--what happened?" His tongue felt oddly swollen, and he had to try twice before he could convey his meaning to Blaise without biting down and accidentally sucking himself dry.

"Been sick. Your house-elves appeared at my house saying that you were mumbling in your sleep and feverish." Blaise sounded relieved. "But thank the Gods you're all right! You've been out for three days, mind you."

Three days?!

Draco shook his head, trying to get rid of the sudden weariness that had enveloped him. A crack of thunder startled him, and he jumped slightly as he looked towards the window. It was raining terribly, and he shivered as he thought of the cold. The dream (or should he call it a vision?) was superimposing all thoughts in his mind, and he barely listened as Blaise spoke.

"...Called a Healer over, she said it was stress. You're supposed to rest. By the way, you know that tree out by the lake? I'm thinking of cutting it down, making you a little bit of firewood. It is way too cold in here, and that's probably why you got sick, not stress."

Draco's head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Blaise looked surprised. "Er...it's cold?"

"No! About the tree!"

"Oh, that," Blaise said, now looking a little nervous. "We can just leave it. There's a big hole in it, you know, though, and I'm thinking that maybe it's some sort of creature. Maybe a wood nymph. It's probably not safe."

"Where's the hole?" Draco demanded as he threw back the covers and slipped out of the bed. Blaise stood in horror as his friend ran over to the large closet on the other side of the room and began pulling on a rollover and slacks.

"Draco, you're supposed to rest! All physical exertions and runs and--LISTEN!"

Draco stopped short as he heard Blaise yell, and held the cloak he had been about to put on loosely in a hand. "Yes?"

Blaise was shaking, but whether it was with anger or with fear Draco couldn't tell. "I've known you since we were both in our mother's wombs, Draco. You nearly died in these past few nights, you know. We're wizards! We aren't normally susceptible to Muggle diseases, so when they hit us they hit us hard! Whatever it is you're doing, you'd better have a damn good reason before I let you out of this door, or else you can just get back to bed."

A slow change took place over Draco's features. For one moment, Blaise thought the boy was going to scowl and yell, but he was even more shocked when a simple smile made its way across instead.

"I thank you for your concerns, my friend. But this is no stupid whim or run. I know how to get Harry back!" He kept the smile on his face, letting just a little of the elongated canines show as he breezed by Blaise, who was so shocked that the name had been spoken aloud that he just stood and let him by.

*

Outside, it was raining so heavily Draco nearly reconsidered. But then he pulled the hood over his head, hugged the ends of the cloak around himself, and stepped outside. With bleary eyes he walked the long-since memorized path to the lakeside and the tree.

A particularly loud clap of lightning and rumble of thunder nearly made him trip and fall in the squelching mud, but luckily he had already made it to the tree, and ended up slamming against that instead. With a compliant groan, he leaned back and looked up at the branches and the swaying leaves.

A soft whimper moved him to scramble through his haze of thoughts, and with his still weak frame, it was slightly too much. He fell to the ground, and for once didn't care that his preciously expensive clothing was quickly becoming marred with mud. He found himself clinging to the tree as he rounded its trunk, searching for the hole Blaise had mentioned and wishing that he had thought to ask before he had rushed off.

Lifting his eyes heavenward when no such hole was found, Draco sank to his knees. He sneezed twice, and cursed all the deities he could before finally letting his head and a hand rest against the rough bark of the tree, reminiscing as he gave up all his just gained hope.

**

Harry curled up in his lap, reading something while Draco tried to coax him off. "Food, love, we need food. We've been holed up in my room for hours."

"Only seven."

"I'm hungry," Draco said, raising his eyebrows. Harry smiled adoringly up at him, and the Slytherin melted. "Fine, but only one more hour."

It was the same thing he'd been saying for the past seven.

**

Draco was sitting in the library, reading glasses perched delicately on the end of his nose as he poured over some dusty tome. Someone suddenly jumped into the seat across from him, and he jumped himself.

"Harry!" he breathed, when he recognized who it was. He pushed his glasses, which were askew, back into place. "What's wrong with you? Don't do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Oh. Sorry." Green eyes radiated disappointment, and Draco was forced to bite back a smile as Harry attempted to get back in his good graces. "Er...what are you doing?"

"I was studying, until someone decided to come along and ruin this moment."

Harry stared guiltily at his hands, wringing them together nervously until a pale, thin one snaked under the table and was laid atop them. He looked up and found mercury orbs staring at him, prodding gently as though trying to literally get under his skin.

"But now, I think I'd rather be doing something else."

He motioned to himself with his free hand, and Harry stood up and walked over, still fumbling a little. "Sorry, really, if you want to study I'll just go, I've got quidditch practice anyway--"

"Quidditch--can wait."

**

The ghost of a smile flitted across Draco's face as he thought of Harry. Oh, what possibilities were to have been had, had they still been together. The blonde, aristocratic eyebrows kneaded together at that, and he forced himself to stand up again.

It was warmer inside. He should be inside, not chasing some half-fevered fantasy.

And then he heard it.

Another soft whimper, but a bit louder this time, just underneath where his hand was. Turning slowly, he fingered the bark. The image of someone running across his manor's grounds came back to him suddenly, and he frowned.

Moving away...mud...run...dreams...

Draco suddenly fell upon the spot, clawing away at it, ignoring the fracturing of his perfectly manicured nails and thinking only of Harry and Harry's smile, and laughter, and the soft sighs that made up their lazy afternoons, and Harry's arms wrapping around his neck while Draco whispered naughty little things in his ear and Harry blushing and Harry's grateful look when Draco helped him with Potions and Harry's habit of running his fingers through his hair when he was frustrated and Harry's love of all that was Quidditch and Harry's adoration of music so that he and Draco spent many a weekend listening to the things Draco had charmed to play his favorite songs and Harry's ability to heal nearly everything on sight (a side effect of the war) and the way he had used it when Draco had gone and gotten himself half-mauled in his nether regions by a baby manticore in COMC, and how Harry laughed at that and then slowly kissed away all the anger that was building in Draco's eyes and how Harry absolutely adored sitting in Draco's lap, curling up like a cat and sighing every few moments while Draco read something or just looked at him and--

Draco blinked.

The bark had peeled directly away from the tree, as though it had been plastered on there. Mud was falling from its previous positions in thickly congealing clots, and Draco sniffed slightly as his nose began to stuff up. There was an opening there...how long had it been raining? The mud seemed not to have ever dried, and it had been dry before, so maybe the cover was three days old.

Taking a deep breath, he quickly plunged himself into the whole, tumbling inside in a most undignified manner. He took a moment to compose himself, cursing under his breath as he held his aching side.

"Draco?"

The inside of the hole was small, merely a knot that had been worn away by some sort of magical creature, as Blaise had suggested. But someone had found it when the rain had started, and hidden away here, blocking the hole as best as they could to keep out the elements. But Draco didn't see that.

All he saw was Harry, who was now blinking blearily at him, and suddenly the always-a-Slytherin-at-heart jumped forward and hugged Harry tightly, with more vigor than he'd probably shown at anything but snogging.

"Oh, Gods...Harry..."

The green-eyed boy blinked, and then slowly, reached up and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, a slow smile working its way across his face. "I'm back, honest and truly?"

A sob tore away from Draco's throat as he clutched his thought to be long-gone lover to him. "I'm so sorry, Harry, so sorry--I didn't mean to do it and now I've got potions to take for it but--oh, Gods--Harry, I'm sorry--" And then he couldn't speak anymore, and the usually dominant Draco Malfoy suddenly became an emotional mess. "How did you--thank the Gods--when--"

Harry, bone weary as he was, merely tucked his head in the crook of his lover's neck, and shrugged. "How do any of us do anything?"

**

Second chances were a given.

It was all Draco could think in the flurry of the next few days, as Harry slept for hours straight, waking only for short meals before immediately collapsing again. Draco would hover around anxiously, licking the damned fangs that had caused him to be like this in the first place.

People were flooding in and out of his manor, Hermione and Ron and all the other Weasleys, as the first thing Blaise had done when he saw the two struggling back was to scream to a house-elf to alert them.

Now, in one of those especially rare moments that the house was utterly still, Draco lingered by Harry's bedside, feeling suddenly awkward. The (well, he'd always be so in Draco's mind) Gryffindor was just looking up at him, having just awoken. He smiled; that real, genuine smile Draco had missed so much.

"Hi."

"Hi." Draco cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious of his messy appearance and un-glamoured fangs. He hadn't slept in a while. "I just--wanted to offer my--apologies, once again, Harry."

There was a pregnant pause as Harry's eyes darkened, and for a moment Draco fancied he could see Harry reliving those last few moments, when his blood was seeping away by the one person he trusted most in world, all because Draco was too pusillanimous to tell him a little secret because of his own selfish needs.

"Why so formal? We are still--friends, after all." Harry's eyes twinkled with a light Draco had seen extinguished before his very eyes nearly two years ago. "That is, if you still want to be friends. I'd rather be more than that, if you get my meaning."

Draco's chest started to hurt--so badly, he nearly lost the ability to breathe. "How can you talk like that?" He felt a pang of guilt when he saw Harry frown and sit up straighter, but the words were flowing from his mouth in an unstoppable torrent. "I killed you Harry and I held your body in my arms! You were dead and I had done it and everyone was so mad but I wasn't mad just so very very sad--but no one gets it--because you were gone and then someone said it was a good thing Voldemort was gone and all this other crap but--Harry--all I could think of was your blood running down my throat and everything suddenly didn't matter! I'm so sorry, Harry, so very, very--"

He stopped. His breath was heaving, and he was sure that his heart had stopped beating. Harry was just staring at him, olive skin and messy hair and emerald eyes and all. The blonde collapsed on his knees next to the bed, put his hands to his face. He only vaguely heard Harry gasp before he reached out and enveloped the other boy in a ferocious hug, half-pulling Harry from the bed.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, "Just don't leave me again. I don't think I could stand it this time, Harry." There was a muffled reply, and when Draco pulled away, Harry was looking a little confused.

"I--I won't leave on purpose, Draco. And I don't blame you for what happened. It wasn't--it wasn't your fault. And even the fangs--," He reached out a hand hesitantly, and when Draco didn't move, gently prodded them. He smiled. "They're not that bad. I could get used to them..."

"Why are you so accepting about this?" Draco asked, suddenly unable to take it. "I killed you!"

The moment he said it, he wished he could take it back. He had killed Harry, but he was sorry, and Harry had forgiven him. The black-haired boy was quiet for a moment before he snorted. "Do you remember, Draco, when we first met, how I forgave you for near seven years of anger, and you did the same for all those years of frustration? Well, why should this be any different? I didn't--you didn't mean to do what you did, and that's what's important. The fact that you loved me enough to mourn--and enough so that I came back--makes me forgive you completely."

Draco was abruptly hit with all the reasons he had ever loved Harry in the first place. "Forgive and forget" was not a phrase anyone took lightly, especially Harry, but he seemed to have found a way to balance it out perfectly. He was so pure, so sweet, so naïve, and yet so devilishly bad that it sparked what Draco hadn't felt in ages; love. He lifted a hand and brought it to the nape of Harry's neck, and pulled the other boy towards him.

The kiss was soft, at first, but then grew more passionate. It was everything they had missed in those two years; the anger, frustration, love, sorrow, and all other emotions swirled around, filling their mouths with the acrid, bitter taste of it before it simply dissolved, leaving only the taste of each other. Now the mix was of renewed promises, new ones, murmured proclamations of love, and a future bright with fortune. When Draco pulled back, his head was swimming, and from the dazed look on Harry's face he certainly was too. The blonde brought their foreheads together, smiling for the first time in a long time.

"I believe, Harry," he said, eyes glimmering mischievously, "That we have two years worth of absence to make up for. Shall we?"

Harry blushed, but after a moment it was for an entirely different reason.