When the World Ends

"Harry," Draco whispered as he lightly stroked the arm draped across his hip. "I've got a brilliant idea."

"Again? Draco, I know how happy you are to see me, but..." Harry trailed off as he buried his face sleepily into the back of Draco's neck.

"No, not that. Although --. But, no," he continued, pushing thoughts of turning over and reminding Harry just how much he had been missed in the last weeks. "Let's get out of here."

"What? It's nearly two in the morning."

"So? Let's go. Let's get up right now and pack up all our things. Let's leave this place."

"Draco, what are you talking about? Where do you want to go?"

"Away. Away, Harry. I've had enough of this war. No more worrying and planning and training and being apart. Screw Voldemort, screw Dumbledore and the Order, screw it all. Let's get away from all of this."

"Draco," Harry said carefully, propping himself on an elbow. "We can't just leave. The Order needs us. The whole wizarding world needs us. If we just abandon this whole thing, think what will happen."

Draco turned back to Harry, ignoring the painfully Gryffindor bravado of that, and answered, "Yes, Harry. Think about it. Voldemort will take over. But who cares? We'll be so far gone by then that we won't even know what's happening. Let's get the hell off of this continent. Let's see how we like the next one over. We'll move to Hawaii and hula and eat roast pig and drink cocktails out of coconuts forever. Or maybe Las Vegas, where we'll live fast and die young. On our terms, Harry." Draco's eyes burned with an almost painful intensity into Harry's as Draco gripped his lover's hand in his own. "Ours, not theirs."

"Draco."

Draco closed his eyes as he took a long slow breath. When he opened them again, Harry saw something there that hadn't been before. "I imagine it will be beautiful," Draco said, his voice barely a whisper. "All those streams of red and blue and yellow and, and green. We'll Disillusion ourselves and fly over the battlefields, too high to really know what's going on.

"You've heard the reports, Harry. Voldemort's ranks are getting stronger every day. All those damned Death Eaters and nearly every dark creature. Harry, we've got next to no chance as it is. So what if we aren't there to be killed bravely in the field? And so what if they win? We are going to die either way.

"Call me selfish, but I don't want to be killed in battle, fighting pointlessly for the losing side. If it's going to happen, it will, whether we are there or not. Let's go out together, watching everything fade away from high enough that it looks beautiful."

Harry thought of the prophecy about he and Voldemort. He thought once again of confessing it to the one person whom he ought to tell. He thought again of the look that he knew he would see in that face, the worry and fear and sadness. He thought again of how unfair the whole situation was. Not that he had been thrown into it--he had come to terms with that--but that he would have to drag all of the people he cared must about into it as well. Not yet, he thought.

"Harry," Draco pleaded helplessly. "I don't want to die out there alone, in the filth and sweat and blood, surrounded in screaming and death. I want to be making love to you when the world ends."

Harry laid back down on the bed and gathered his lover in his arms, who was now shivering lightly with each hitch of his breath. "I will not let that happen to you. I promise." I will save you, Harry vowed silently, kissing the top of Draco's head. I have to.

~~~~~~~~~~