Lost

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sacrifice

Hermione was on her way to the library, the usual large pile of books in her arms, when suddenly she felt a harsh yank on her sleeve, almost making her stumble and drop her books. She regained her balance, knowing immediately who it was as he snapped, "Granger." Turning around angrily, she found herself glaring into a piercing blue-grey stare.

Gaze frigid, Draco asked tersely, "Where's Harry? I haven't seen him all day." After noticing that the hallway they stood in and the ones around were empty (it was lunchtime, after all), she turned her attention back to Draco. Pushing his hand off of her arm, Hermione turned to face him, searching his eyes for truth. She was surprised to find his concern genuine; it hurt her and simultaneously gladdened her that the Slytherin obviously cared for Harry, and Harry in return.

Impatiently tapping his foot, Draco cocked his head to one side, asking, "Well? Where is he?"

Hermione shifted her books in her arms. Regardless of their enmity, she mentally gave him points for being able to be so demanding and yet have that sweet desperateness in his eyes that forced her to answer. "He's...he's in the Gryffindor Boy's dormitory...he said he felt ill, and didn't get out of bed this morning."

"Ill? What kind of sickness is he down with? Stomach pain? Flu? Fever? Soreness?"

Shaking her head, Hermione said morosely, hesitant, "No, none of those. Bad headache. And he also said it was...it was his...h-his scar."

Although it had surprised and worried her, Hermione was still astounded at the sudden effect the news had on Draco. Several emotions colliding inside him, he repeated her words, saying, "His scar?!" Breathing hitched, he immediately slapped a hand over his own scar, tension and fear flickering in his gaze. Hermione's eyes flitted to Draco's scar, what she could see of it beneath his fingers, and for once she realized exactly how closely linked the two boys were. Never had it seemed so serious before.

Before she could quite comprehend anything, Draco was off to the Gryffindor tower, and Hermione had barely enough time to call after him, "The password is Canary Creams!"

-----*-----

Harry groaned in pain, rolling over to his side, the Quidditch magazine slipping from his hand to the floor. Not only was he hungry, but he was in so much pain that it was almost impossible to be bored. Due to the circumstances, this was not, actually, a good thing. His head felt like someone was banging a sledgehammer against it over and over again, inside and outside; he doubted he would even be able to stomach anything if he attempted eating. However, he reluctantly turned around as he heard the door of the dormitory creak.

Surprise failed him, so ill he felt, as Draco walked into the room; it was inevitable that the Slytherin would find out. He'd been hoping the other boy wouldn't, though. Harry's sigh was broken off as he yelped at another migraine coming on, then, as Draco approached, he sunk further under the sheets, till only some hair and his forehead were visible. As he felt the bed sink some underneath Draco's added weight sitting beside him, Harry mumbled, "C-could you get me...a drink of water? There's a cup on the bedside table."

He reached out his hand from the covers to hold the cup, and then, slowly, reluctantly crawled out from under the sheets like a gopher from it's hole. Eagerly gulping down the water, Harry moved a few inches further from Draco. He had to look up, however, as the other boy's hand cupped his chin, gently forcing him to gaze back at that blue-grey gaze. He answered Draco's unspoken question, saying, "I might be contagious, so I thought maybe we should stay at a distance."

"Don't fib at me, Harry, you aren't contagious. Granger told me--your scar hurts, doesn't it?"

Harry was too pained to be able to react to much at the moment. As well as being energetically drained, his emotions were dulled; it was as if someone had taken a pair of pliers, and begun to snap the wires inside his brain that made him able to think. Nodding, he handed the cup back to Draco, who put it on the table before embracing him gently. Voice raspy, Harry asked, "D-does your scar hurt, too?...I...I've been wondering that, all morning..."

Draco shook his head grimly, answering, "No, Harry...it hasn't been hurting at all. And it isn't glowing, either. Usually our scars only hurt...when we go against each other, disagree, or fight, or something like that..." Harry stared back at Draco, seeing the ton of questions, doubts, and fears that bunched up in Draco's gaze.

Shaking his head vigorously, he said, "It's nothing like that, Draco. I love you. And I don't doubt you, or fear you, or anything negative like that. We're fine."

Slowly easing his hand across the bed mattress, Draco took Harry's hand in his, and Harry was comforted by the other boy's warmth and the gentle, loving gesture of reassurance.

But Draco's next words were anything but reassuring.

"The only other reason your scar would hurt, Harry, was if Voldemort was still existent...or his spirit, at least..."

-----*-----

Harry watched, solemnly, as the hood of Draco's cloak bounced at every twitch of his neck. The other boy was nervous, yet determined as ever. When the Slytherin had joined Harry outside the castle, and they had joined the marching procession, the grim confidence and resolve sparkling in the blue-grey gaze had frightened Harry. But he knew nothing could make the other boy change his mind, and that this was all being done for his own sake.

Quickening his step, Harry slid his hand in a lock with Draco's, pulling down the hood to reveal the flaxen hair, and setting his head on the other boy's shoulder. Closing his eyes, he ignored the pain still pulsing through him, trying to will acceptance of what was happening into him with a deep breath.

"It's hard to cope with, isn't it, Harry." It wasn't a question.

A tremor in his voice, Harry whispered, "I couldn't stand it if this doesn't work...and I lose you forever! I would die."

Draco reached up his hand to place it over Harry's, and, voice firm, he said, "Never. I won't let myself be the cause of your death, or vice versa. This will work. I know I can do it! I'll be drained, and it will be frightening, because you won't be able to see the spirit me. Also, it will take some time for me to summon all that power, and once I use it, and transport my spirit self to the OtherWorld, my body here will look dead. But don't panic; one week of misery and then I'll be back, good as new. I promise."

"But you won't be the same...all that power...gone."

Draco heaved a heavy sigh, saying, "Don't bring it up, Harry. I'm making this sacrifice for you; I'll give up anything, as long as we can be together, and you'll be healthy."

As if the word healthy sparked it, Harry felt a sudden pain shoot through his forehead. He winced violently. Patting his hand, Draco nodded, saying, "See? I know it. This will be worth it...for both of us."

-----*-----

Harry stared in awe and fear, as, frozen in position, his hands risen in the air, Draco stood on the raised platform. Harry couldn't see the magic that swirled into Draco, but he, as well as the rest of the wizard/witch gathering, could sense it. It was extremely palpable; he could almost taste it.

So far, Draco had stood like this, summoning up all his power, for quite a long while. Harry remained sitting, watching, amazed that Draco was doing this for him. Suddenly, Draco's eyes opened, and, in slow motion, he fell.

It was as if a black cloud had encircled Harry. He suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, could barely see, as he stumbled up to reach Draco. He knew he wasn't dead, couldn't be. Although the body was indeed lifeless, there was another one. Draco's spirit was now in the OtherWorld, searching for the twin identity he had made of himself.

But how frightening it was, seeing the pale, limp figure of his love upon the ground, beauty shining out even in lifelessness. Pressing his lips against that cold cheek, a single tear fluttered from Harry's eye, to graze the slender neck. That was when Harry noticed it: the scar. Or rather, the loss of the scar. On the body's collarbone, where Draco's Eye of Flame scar should be, was just skin, blank.

Harry smiled.

Draco's plan had worked. Only one week he would have to wait, one week while Draco's spirit united with his new body in the OtherWorld. Then, Draco would return.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Pearl Necklace

Harry's breathing was labored, due to the excitement that spread through him like wildfire, tingling. He felt like jumping up and down, he was so excited. He had no need to worry, Draco had said it would work, evidence proved it, and so now, in only a few moments, he would be united with his beloved. Smiling, his emerald eyes sparkled radiantly, like the rays of a merciful sun striking a blooming garden.

Sucking in his breath, his hands trembled as, seeming to be made of dust, slowly, inch by inch, that familiar figure formed before him. Only moments after Draco had become solid and of the world, Harry jumped forward, embracing the other boy tightly in a warm, loving hug. Overwhelmed, it took a moment for Draco to comprehend anything, but then he placed his arms around the Gryffindor's waist, smiling as he breathed in the blessed scent that was Harry.

Shivering in pure delight, Harry reluctantly ended the embrace only to begin a kiss, yet before either boy could become totally enraptured in the other there was a knock at the door. Immediately pulling apart, both boys stood aside as Professor McGonagall came in, her every step dignified and authoritative.

Nodding curtly to Draco, pleased, she said, "Well, I see that you have returned, Mr. Malfoy. It is with pleasure that I welcome you back."

She paused, her gaze sharp and stern behind her glasses, glancing back and forth between both boys, as if sizing them up to see if they were worthy of her next words. "Gentlemen, I have come here to test. As I think you both know," her gaze flicked from one boy to the other again, "I am testing whether Mr. Malfoy here still has the powers of a Summoner. A week ago, for the sake of the health of one Mr. Harry Potter, Mr. Malfoy decided to banish his Summoner powers. We are unsure as to whether Voldemort is still out there. But the majority who have knowledge of Voldemort's defeat, and other such authority, think that Voldemort is defeated. Due to you two being scar linked, Harry's scar pained him because you, Draco, were perturbed by nightmares.

"Also, since Draco was then a Summoner, his defeating Voldemort may have sucked a little of Voldemort's power into him, thus Harry's scar pain. If a little of Voldemort's powers did get sucked into you, Draco, it is only because you are--were--a Summoner. Thus, Harry, the only way to banish Voldemort forever, to banish what was left of Voldemort--his not completely vanquished spirit in Draco--was for Draco to destroy his Summoner powers. If Voldemort's power did get sucked into you, Draco, and the banishing of Summoner powers didn't work, we might expect trouble for Harry and the rest of us. But let's hope not. Draco, instead of banishing his Summoner powers by way of an ancient song, instead made an exact replica of himself, which he put in the OtherWorld. By sending his spirit self to bond with that replica, we believe he used so much energy that his Summoner powers may now be gone, and he is a normal, albeit very intelligent and selfless wizard. So Harry should be safe. Now, he has returned in this new body, and I," the Professor smiled, "will stop repeating myself and babbling, and instead do the test."

Then, allowing the two boys only an exchange of smiles, and a tight, reassuring clasping of hands, McGonagall gently shooed Harry out of the room.

-----*-----

The test was finished.

Harry met Draco in their secret room, and only after a few minutes of sitting with the other boy on the windowsill did he dare to ask the question.

"What were the test results, Draco? Are you...still a Summoner, or not?"

Harry desperately wanted to know, yet just the question alone made him nervous. If the banishing had worked, he need not worry about Voldemort, or about being sick again, and especially not about making Draco get worried. Plus, the fact that Draco had sacrificed such power for him, such opportunity...it meant more to Harry than he could quite find the words to describe.

On the downside, this meant that Draco was not a Summoner anymore, and that thus there were no more Summoners on earth, and no more spectacular power. But apparently Draco, the Ministry, and other authoritative wizards had decided it was alright that there be no more Summoners as long as he, Harry, was safe from harm, and all traces of Voldemort, in all forms, were banished as well.

However, if the banishing of the Summoner powers had NOT worked, Draco was still all powerful. If it was so, then there was still a chance of Voldemort somehow returning in the future if he hadn't been destroyed.

So there were plus and minuses to the situation, to both left and right.

Harry wanted to know whether it went left or right.

Softly giving Harry a kiss on the head, Draco replied, "It worked. Voldemort is gone for good...No, Harry, I'm not a Summoner anymore. But you're safe, and that's all that matters to me."

Harry smiled, whispering, "Thank you. You do so much for me...how can I ever repay you?"

Draco wrapped his arms tighter around Harry's waist.

"Simple. Just never stop loving me, okay? You promise?"

"I promise, I swear it on...on Voldemort's grave." Both boys roared with laughter, immersed in the joy of love. Utterly happy for once, not a trouble on his mind, the Boy Who Lived couldn't stop smiling.

-----*-----

Life was a game. A game of strategy, of sacrifice, of losses and victories, constantly plaguing the game pieces and game boards with challenges and obstacles. It was the most complicated game, yet enjoyable, too, at times.

Harry and Draco were currently playing a game, two games, in fact: Life...and Chess. For years Harry had wanted to play Chess against Draco. It was the ultimate competition, a challenge. He had gotten good at it over the years, but wasn't a pro. He had seen Draco play Chess once or twice, hiding in the corridors with some Slytherin. He knew that Draco was good at Chess. The boy was cunning, clever, deceitful, and, as Harry soon found out, wondrous at strategizing. While Harry had to think and concentrate while calculating a move, Draco just sat impatiently, and moved his piece as planned once Harry had taken his turn. And it was difficult telling how to intercept Draco's planning, especially when Harry wasn't very good at planning himself.

Both boys sighed simultaneously, and then, looking up, Harry asked, "How about we take a break? One hour, I'm getting thirsty."

Nodding, Draco went to sit on his bed, being careful not to move the board or pieces when he stood up. Harry walked over and joined him, sitting in his usual position leaning against Draco. Both boys were content, and for weeks nothing had been able to dim the bright light of their joy. Inexplicably they managed to meet each other at various places: the Quidditch field, their secret room, Draco's room, the kitchen...It was a habit they had developed, formed by love.

This love was like a necklace, as they were linked in so many ways, by so many things, incidents, memories, and more. Each thing that connected them was a pearl. The pearls were linked by a tough thread, and clasped by one word:

ETERNAL

Never failing, not dying, not splitting, this necklace was their love, polished and unworn by anyone but them. This necklace of their love was in the box that was the lives of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Sweet and soft, their love framed the inside of their lives like feathers.

Cradled in each other's arms, identical smiles lit up Draco and Harry's features.

Both boys knew that, regardless of what happened from now on, they would never again need to be reassured that, once found, love can never be conquered.

THE END