There was a sickening, sharp sound. The grip around Harry's neck loosened. He bent over, clutching at his neck, trying to breathe. There was the sound of a thump; he felt something heavy hit the ground near him. He had no idea what was going on around him, he was only trying to gulp down as much air as he could. His body felt light and his head was throbbing from the lack of oxygen. He could hear the sounds of glass shattering.
He stood there, shaking, and feeling grateful to be alive. By the time the world stopped spinning around him, Draco was done destroying the monitors and data server. He was holding onto the hard drive. Harry looked up at him. It still felt like someone's hands were pushing down on his neck. He kept rubbing it, trying to make the feeling go away. He remembered the certainty he'd felt about his life ending. Why was he still breathing?
He looked down and saw Lucius lying on the ground. How had Draco been able to overpower him? His brain was still fuzzy. He could smell something strange, but he wasn't sure what it was. He looked at Lucius's body again and for the first time saw the pool of blood under him. He looked at himself; there was blood everywhere. On his hands, his clothes, the walls.
"You-you stabbed him," he croaked.
Draco looked down at his Father's immobile body. His hands were shaking. There was a shocked expression on Lucius's face, as if he'd never expected his own Son to stab him in the back. Draco had blood on him as well and it stood out especially because of how pale he was looking. In seconds, he turned green, leaned over and threw up on the same chair that the living Lucius had been perching on only minutes before.
"We have to go," Draco said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "We've been loud. The guards will be here soon."
"I'm not going back out that window," Harry croaked again. His voice was raspy from the force it had been under. It made him feel sick. He wasn't too far from emptying the contents of his stomach either.
"Neither am I. We'd both fall to our deaths, in this state. We'll take our chances with the guards."
Harry followed Draco in a daze. Lucius was dead. Draco had killed him. Somehow it had never seemed possible to Harry for someone to really get hurt in this scheme. It had all seemed like hide and seek; a playful game of pretend. They'd passed all the obstacles swimmingly; hadn't been spotted by any guards. But now it was real. How could they ever get away with this?
He stumbled after Draco through the halls. A part of his brain was aware of Draco's shouts and commands to hide from gunfire. But the other part was lost, not understanding or taking in anything. He watched as Draco stabbed a guard, turned him and used him as a shield to get them downstairs. He looked down as a bullet grazed his leg. He didn't feel it. Was that right?
He saw Draco holding up his arm with his other hand, blood dripping from it. He'd been shot. He looked at Draco as they ran down the halls, the pain in his leg nothing more than a nagging undertone in the back of his head. More guards were stabbed, more shots were fired. Harry felt helpless and a burden. Draco, with one working hand, was getting them out of here.
Why had they ever come here? They were children, playing adult games. He'd been naive, thinking that everything would go smoothly without anyone getting hurt. He'd never thought people would get hurt, let alone die, because of him. He looked blankly at the dead bodies they were leaving behind. People with hopes and dreams and futures and loved ones. None of them deserved to die.
When Harry was sure he would faint from the blood loss, they finally got to the car and jumped inside. The doors behind them opened as Fred and George followed suit. Draco started the car and they sped off. He was aware of Fred and George shouting at Draco about dead guards, but he felt his consciousness getting further and further from his reach. It was slipping away and he made no effort to hold on to it.
He was aware of the car being emptied of Fred and George as silence engulfed them. When they reached home, he sat in the car looking at Draco blankly. They'd left here just a few hours ago, feeling whole and being victims. Now they were shattered by the murders they had committed. He wasn't naive enough to blame Draco for this; Draco had only been trying to save his life. Their love was toxic; it was burning down everything around them.
They changed out of their clothes and washed the blood off. Draco's arm had been grazed worse than Harry's leg was, but at least he hadn't been shot like Harry had suspected. They patched themselves up as best as they could using the first-aid kit that they had at home. Draco put the hard drive and the USB that he must have taken off of Lucius in the microwave. The sight of it brought images of Lucius's shocked expression to Harry's mind. They microwaved the hard drive and stood there staring at their hands. They had scrubbed so hard that the skin was irritated and red; red like the blood that had stained them. The stain would never wear off; it was ingrained in their souls.
They went back to the car and drove to the lake in the next city. Neither of them uttered a word. What was there to say? By the time they reached the lake, the sun was starting to rise. They had stuffed their bloodied clothes into the microwave and now threw it into the lake together.
"What is even the point?" Harry murmured. "Our DNA is all over that room, that house. The guards that are still alive are witnesses that will testify against us. What is the point of getting rid of our clothes?"
"So we don't have to look at them anymore," Draco uttered. His eyes were as blank as Harry's entire being felt.
"The blackmail is over. We saved those people. Our job is done," Draco said hollowly.
"I don't feel much of a savior right now," Harry muttered. "Let's go home."
"And wait for what? To be arrested?" Said Draco, a fire in his eyes. "No. I refuse to pay anymore for what that man has done."
"He didn't do anything," Harry said, breaking down. He crouched down, sobbing. "We killed him."
"He was going to kill you!" Draco shouted. "And get away with it!"
"Maybe it would have been better," Harry shouted back.
Draco pulled Harry up and slapped him. "Don't you ever say that."
Harry touched his cheek, stunned. He looked at Draco through the tears in his eyes. If the situation were reversed, he would have done the same. He would have made sure that Lucius let Draco go at all costs. The thought brought him back to reality. Very bad men had had to die tonight, but that didn't mean that they had deserved death.
"We have to go to the police," Harry said. "We have to explain it to them. They will understand."
"Are you insane? Why would they believe us?" Draco retorted. "All they will see is the break in, the murder, the burglary, and the vandalism. They have witnesses against us. They won't care if our reasons were justified."
"They didn't deserve to die, Draco!" Harry screamed. "We took their lives! We have to pay for that!"
"We will, for the rest of our lives," said Draco, sounding broken and defeated. "But not here. We're getting out of this goddamn place. We should have left a long time ago."
"We can't go on the run!" Harry argued hysterically. "Our lives are here, our friends! We have jobs here, a home!"
"And all of that will be taken away when we go to jail for what we've done, can't you see that?" Draco said as he took Harry's shoulders and shook him.
"It's no less than we deserve!" Harry replied angrily, breaking himself loose.
"I'm not going to jail for self-defense. That's what it was, Harry, it was self-defense. But we can't prove that, all those guards will testify against it. There is no other option. We have to leave this place."
"This is my home," Harry whispered.
"No," Draco took his hand. "I am your home. And you are mine."
Harry looked up into Draco's eyes.
"Run away with me, Harry," Draco murmured, leaning closer.
"It will never be the same," Harry said, taking a step back.
"No, but we'll be together. That's what Lucius didn't want. Don't let him win. Don't let him come between us."
Harry dropped his hands out of Draco's hold. "Take me back home."
Draco sighed. "Okay. Fine. I'm tired of arguing with you. You want us to spend the rest of our lives in jail, fine!"
"We'll pack and take the next train out of here," said Harry, looking at the skyline.
Draco stumbled and looked back at Harry.
"You're my home," Harry echoed.
"And you're mine," Draco replied.
They held hands throughout the drive back. Harry felt sick, he felt sick that he was running away from what they'd done. He was learning things about himself that he'd never known before. He'd never been the kind of person to run away from the consequences of his actions. And yet, here he was, running away from possibly the worst crime there was. He was doing it for love, for the love of a man that now he couldn't bring himself to look at because all he saw were the images of bloody hands and all he felt was disgust and shame.
He wanted to ask, how do we get past this? But the words caught in his throat. Those people were dead. Their families would be devastated and if they ran away they would deprive them of the justice they deserved. And here he was, worrying that they would never get past what they'd done. Before they reached home, they withdrew all their money.
They packed the bare essentials and shredded all their IDs. Harry swallowed as he looked at the butterscotch toast on the cabinet. It had been a day since they'd eaten but he didn't think he could ever eat again. Even the thought of it was enough to make him nauseous. They took the car back to the rental place and then took the bus to the train station. They had two backpacks. Only Draco had packed his laptop. Harry couldn't bring himself to even look at his laptop. It was what had started it all. If he hadn't been in this course, if he hadn't had the interest he had in computers, none of this would have happened.
At the same time, all those people would have still been under blackmail. It wasn't a justification for what they'd done or a fact to make them feel better, but it was enough to keep Harry from total break down.
Draco bought the train tickets. They sat down to wait for their train. Harry didn't ask where they were going; it didn't matter. His life felt over. He had to wear the skin of a new person. A person who lived with murder on their conscience.
Draco took his hand and laced their fingers together. He looked up at Draco with a pain in his stomach.
"I am still the same person, Harry," Draco said knowingly. "And you're still Harry. We did what we had to in order to survive. It's over, it's done. We can start our lives over, away from this mess. Please. Give us a chance, away from the corruption."
Harry felt something inside him soften. Yes, this was still Draco. The Draco that loved him and protected him fiercely. They would have to work hard to atone for what they did, but they still had each other. He wouldn't let anything like last night happen again. They would start over, start fresh. Their story here had reached its final chapter. The Harry and Draco who had lived here were dead now, but their memory lived inside them. He would be the phoenix, rising from his own ashes, and lifting Draco with him. Draco had held him up throughout the events of last night. He couldn't abandon him now.
He squeezed Draco's hand as they got up and boarded the train.
"We'll get through this," he said quietly.
"We will," said Draco, holding onto Harry's hand as hard as he could.
The train sped away, taking them to an unknown location to start their new lives.

The End