A/N: So this is it: the last chapter!

This was possibly the hardest to write, and I kept putting it off because of it. I wanted the ending to be, dare I say it, EPIC.

This is probably a good place to add that J.K. Rowling owns EVERYTHING in this story besides the plot.

I promise you I am not a plagiarist :)

Harry's footsteps echoed as he walked down the dark and narrow stone corridor.

He had left the door he entered from slightly ajar, so a small amount of light seeped in and casted his own shadow in front of him. After a few steps, he didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing, but something in the back of his head pushed him forward as his scar pulled him.

Harry's wand shook slightly in front of him as he held it, continuing walk until he approached tall, wooden double doors. The knockers on each door were in the shaped of serpents. The bottoms of the snakes were coiled; their heads faced each other, sharp teeth barred menacingly.

Harry stood in front of the doors and looked up at the serpents. His scar pulsed in time with his heart as he instinctively reached his hands towards the serpent on the right and pushed.

The door slightly budged, and a frigid breeze hit Harry square in the face. Now even more enticed, Harry shoved his wand into his pocket, darkness now stinging his eyes, and pushed against the door with all his strength until it slowly creaked open.

Now with the door open completely, another gust of wind blew out and into the tunnel. Harry now stood in the doorway of a dismal and deserted dining room. The room was eerily still, except for a constant breeze that came from the shattered windows on the right stone wall. The wind coming in shook the unstable flames that flickered languorly from the chiming chandelier above. The several candles that were still lit irradiated the grey furnishings of the meeting chamber.

Just as Harry took a step forward, something on the ground stopped him. This caught Harry's attention as he was distracted from observing his surroundings, and looked down at the floor a few feet in front of him.

IT CAN'T- IT COULDN'T-

Harry fell weakly to his knees. That couldn't be him sprawled out in front of him.

Without any thought, without any sense, Harry reached out and picked up the lifeless body and cradled him in his arms. The white-blonde head of the Slytherin rolled around his neck until it rested heavily on Harry's right shoulder. His silver irises eyes were still open, but dull and unseeing. His mouth was slightly ajar, as though the shock of death had caught him by surprise.

Harry looked down at Draco, his Draco, and felt the tears well up.

All at once, Harry collapsed: his head thrown down onto Draco's chest, gasping and sobbing as he relinquished any ounce of constancy that had found a way to remain inside him.

He subconsciously knew this happened all along, that it wasn't just a hoax inserted in his brain to give him false ideas, but he half-heartily denied it. So why was he falling apart... again?

The actual sight, not a blurred mental encounter, of Draco dead smacked Harry right in his chest. The echoes of his crying echoed off the walls and high ceiling of the dining room as he clutched Draco; every ashen object seemed to absorb Harry's pain.

After a few moments of Harry weeping into Draco's robes, he sat up and wiped his tears on his sleeve. He tried to recollect the slowly fading memory of Draco's murder. So if Draco was a true Death Eater, he wouldn't have sacrificed his own life to defend him. So Draco wasn't following Voldemort's plan- or, he was, but then rebelled against it.

It wasn't a lie after all; Draco had truly loved him.

Harry now had a full understanding. After all these years, the thought of Draco as a coward were ultimately gone; he was a hero.
Harry looked down at the Slytherin Prince, whose eyes still stared emptily into space, and closed them with his fingers before placing a gentle kiss on the his white-blonde forehead.

Fin

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xo