To Be Loved

The Last Game

He had just begun to drift off to sleep, when something in the room startled him, and his eyelids once again opened. There before him stood a boy, with green eyes, and messy black locks. His long fingers were curled about his chin, as if he was thinking, yet his facial expression was calm. He did not appear worried, angry, or upset in any way. He just merely stared at Draco.

"H-Harry?" he meekly whispered.

Harry's expression did not change, he continued to stare.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he said quietly, with his eyes still bearing into Draco.

"Well, what are you doing here?" he said, with his eyes darting about the room, attempting to find an answer.

"You know." Harry's eyes met with Draco's, he could read Draco's soul through those eyes, and he already knew his answer.

Draco attempted to brush off Harry's intuition with a chuckle and a cocked eyebrow. "Know what? I know that it is late, I know that I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow's-oh wait no- today's Quidditch match, as you do also, I know that you are thoroughly creeping me out with that psychopathic-scary-watching-me-as-I-sleep-thing, however, what I don't know is how the hell did you get here?"

Harry held up his father's old cloak as an answer.

"Dear lord, does everyone in the entire world have an Invisibility Cloak?" Draco irritably sighed.

"No, only I own one, this was my father's."

"Don't be a git, Harry, you're not the only bloke in the world who has one, my father has one. Anyways, so you came here to tell me 'I know', would you fancy to specify what it is that 'I know'," he said as he propped himself on his side with his elbow.

Harry sat down upon the bed before him, adjacent to where Draco lay. "You-you know, bollocks, I thought this would be easier. I had it all planned out, what I was going to say, how I was going to say it, but you're little interlude, Draco, fucked it all up."

"Ah, well, I do fuck things up sometimes, but I believe today we're speaking of your fucking," he smirked, "I mean, fucking things up."

Harry's mouth dropped a bit, his eyes looked to the ground. "I-I'm sorry Draco, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Draco let out a cold laugh. "Didn't mean to hurt me? Well you did a pretty bad job with that."

"It was just-I'm a man Draco, you can understand, I crave sex constantly, I can't help it."

"That's your reasoning. Pretty pathetic, I'd say, but let me tell you this, if you had restrained yourself for a mere few hours, your craving would have been fulfilled, without any betrayal. I was there, Harry, I was going to surprise you after work. Instead, I got a bit of a surprise."

Harry stared at him in pure shock. "You-you were there? How?"

"Invisibility Cloak, my dear boy, I stood under it as I watched you snog that Muggle," he snarled.

"Well, what about you and Blaise Zabini," Harry snapped. "I saw him embrace you, and I've seen the way he looks at you!"

"Don't change the subject, Harry, but if you must know: he was in my room upon my return from my delightful visit to you. We did fuck, it was quite nice, but I stopped all relations with him after that. Which I doubt you did equivalent with that Muggle-boy. I'm sure you two blokes began a little summer-love affair, yet broke it off as soon as the school year drew near, and then you came fleeing back to me. Am I right on target?" Draco smirked as Harry sat in silence. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'm sorry," Harry finally whispered after a long quiet.

"Yes, well, stuff like that happens, now would you leave? We do have Quidditch in the morning and I plan to win. Good night."

"Are we over, Draco?" Harry said as he wrapped the cloak about him, and disappeared from sight.

"Yes, Harry, I believe we are. Now goodbye," he said as he turned his head on his pillow and slipped away to sleep.

****

The morning was cold and crisp, the soft gusts danced about the large field. Draco flew above the crowd, watching their expressions of glee, their feelings of freedom, they had no horrid problems lingering about their minds, everything in their worlds was perfect, and he envied them.

Life without Harry, for even the few hours it had been, was incredibly barren. He couldn't think of anything besides his lost Harry. But he could not go back to him, being with him made the pain worse. He knew Blaise was right about Harry, he wasn't worth the trouble. Draco had given up so much in his life to be with Harry, he had betrayed his father, his family name, the Dark Lord-and then after giving up so much, Harry went and slept with a Muggle.

Draco now could not flee back to his family, he had already been locked in the dungeons for countless weeks during the summer break, and when released was told to never step foot on Malfoy Manor again. His father had disowned him, the Dark Lord had threatened his life, he had no where to turn anymore. His entire world that he had known since the day he was born was gone. He was poor as soon as school was out-the only reason why he was able to even return to Hogwarts was because of his dear mother's insisting that he at least retrieve a decent education. His life was ruined.

Yet he did not wish to be bitter about it anymore. Harry had been worth every bit of pain, even if their relationship only extended as far as it did.

He felt someone's eyes barring into him, he turned his head from the stands and focused his gaze across the field to find two emerald eyes watching him. The boys hair tossed about his face as the wind delicately pushed it. His expression was sorrowful; Draco knew he too was pained by his own absence.

The game had already begun, the miniscule Golden Snitch darted throughout the air. Draco's eyes followed its path, watching its dance; he flicked his gaze back to Harry. Harry's game-expression was on his face, with that very face Draco always knew Harry would be victorious. Draco had never beaten Harry, try as he might, Harry was a better flyer. In his younger years Draco had despised the fact that he was no match against Harry, so he camouflaged his jealousy with insults and of course attempts at cheating. None of which ever helped him beat Harry.

Draco looked back at the crowd. They cheered and chanted. Since fifth year his fellow Slytherins had thought of better more catchy tunes then "Weasley is Our King", and of course every song or cheer they wrote involved insulting the, in his mind, pathetic Weasel. He never understood why the Gryffindors insisted upon keeping him, he was really quite awful.

Suddenly a gold object flew near his face, interrupting his reminiscing. He saw the Snitch flying in a circle towards the center of the field, and he took off after it.

Harry too saw the Snitch, and he too flew after it at a rapid speed.

Each boy was nearly to the small golden ball that flew about taunting them. Harry's distance was equivalent to Draco's. The Snitch lunged higher into the air, and so did each boy. They continued to climb in altitude quickly, neither boy looked at the other.

Two boys, one flaxen one dark, were now high above the stadium, out of distance to hear the wild cheers. They neared the Snitch, Draco extended his arm, as Harry did. The boy's long fingers curled around the small Snitch, he felt the lively wings flutter in his grasp, he stared at his hand in pure astonishment.

Below the two boys the crowd roared, and from within that roar came...

"AND DRACO MALFOY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, SLYTHERIN WINS!"

Harry grinned at Draco. Yet Draco did not appear to be happy. However, his expression was not of sorrow or anger either; he seemed to be at peace with something.

His stormy gray eyes peered into Harry, reading his every thought.

Draco's mouth curled up into a grin, and he called out to Harry, but as he yelled his words a gust of wind blew into Harry's ears, and he did not hear what Draco had said. He opened his mouth, but then shut it. Draco raised his hands from their position on his broom. His beautiful head tilted back. His pale eyes were wide open, and watching Harry.

His fall seemed to last an eternity. Harry tried to scream his name, but his voice could not be retrieved. He could not cry, he could not move. He only watched Draco, as gravity took hold of his body and brought him to the earth violently.

As he was held in the air, he looked happy and peaceful, as if he weren't about to die, but about to fly away with the birds. Harry almost expected him to sprout wings and soar from the stadium.

But he did not sprout wings. He hit the earth at a tremendous rate. His body became disfigured. And there he laid, Draco Malfoy, the gorgeous blonde boy Harry would always love, dead upon the center of the Quidditch field.

Harry's eyes swelled with tears.

He flew to the ground, where a crowd had already formed around Draco's body. But he could not bring himself to go near his love's form.

Harry's ears could no longer hear sound. His eyes became hazy, yet he saw people running around him. He saw their fear, he watched them scream. His feet couldn't carry him anymore, he staggered and stumbled, until finally, his legs gave out, and he too fell to the ground, unconscious.