A/N: One shot. Mild slash between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Rated PG-13 for moderate violence, mild swearing, and mild slash. Disclaimer: I do not own a single thing pertaining to the Harry Potter books and movies.

Just Like You

By: Roslyn Drycof

Shards of jade fire burning in the shadows of the darkest night. Diamonds sparkling crystalline in the faint lamplight of the abandoned corridor. Bloodred rubies, somehow liquified, falling mesmerizingly to the stone floor.

Draco Lucius Malfoy had never seen something so spell-binding, or terrifying. He stood in the middle of a rarely-used corridor on the fourth and stared at a sight he'd never imagined he'd witness. It floored him, scared him.

His greatest rival looked at him with unblinking emerald eyes dripping tears. Crimson blood trailed down his chest, soaking into his pajama bottoms, and finally pooling on the ground at his bare feet. Harry James Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, stared at him with hell in his eyes.

"Potter?" Draco breathed, his breathing hitched. The torch he'd been holding slid through suddenly numb fingers to tumble to the floor. It's flame sputtered out instantly.

Drenched in darkness, Potter smiled a smile Draco had seen a hundred times in his dreams. It was a smile of pain and darkness. . .and utter emptiness. It was a smile Draco knew by heart, having seen it on his own features enough times throughout the years.

"Surprised?" the word drawled from Potter's mouth softly.

The blood continued to drip from the long gash just below Potter's collarbone. In a play of macabre irony, the wound dipped low enough on the left side to be just over his heart.

"What has happened to you?" Draco couldn't help the question that tumbled freely from his lips.

The raven-haired boy took a measured step forward, bringing his body more into the meager lighting in the corridor. Draco gasped. Potter looked like a fallen angel, his pale skin glinting in the lamplight and covered with blood, his eyes glowing brightly and his hair falling loosely to his slender shoulders.

"I'm not going to be their savior any longer."

The blond stumbled back, his back slamming against the wall. "What do you mean? You have to. The Prophecy says you have to."

Potter let out a short, bitter laugh. "I'll defeat Voldemort, if that's what you mean. But I won't be the hero anymore. I won't be the bloody Boy-Who-Lived anymore. I can't."

Draco stared at the person who'd been the bane of his existence since he was eleven, the boy who he'd thought was so annoyingly perfect. This exotic boy bore no resemblance to him. Oh, the physical likeness was there. But that was all.

"Why?"

"Tsk, tsk, I thought you were smarter than that, Malfoy."

Draco hated the sneer on Potter's alabaster features, hated the condescending tone in his voice. "And what's that supposed to mean, Potter? You've just done a three-sixty character spin from the bloody perfect Boy Wonder to this. I'm allowed to be curious!"

"Malfoy, you know why. Deep inside, you know the truth. It's there, in the pain you hide behind cruel remarks. It's there, in the scar on your chest that mirrors mine. It's there, inside your heart and mind."

"Fuck it all, Potter! How the hell do you know about my scar?!" Draco shouted, a hand instinctively reaching up to trace the long-healed wound hidden beneath his silk pajama top.

A smirk settled on the bleeding boy's face. "I saw you make it."

Again, Draco stumbled. His face white, he remembered that night six months ago, when he'd cut into his porcelain skin. It had been the first day back from summer holiday, and he'd been up in the Astronomy Tower. At seventeen, and he'd wanted to die. Instead, he'd carved a long gash into the skin over his heart, symbolizing the cutting out of his heart.

He looked at Potter and knew the damned git knew everything. "I hate you."

"You've said that before."

"And I'll say it again! I fucking hate you!"

Potter took a step forward, and then another, until he was inches away from Draco. His emerald eyes were unreadable, but a smirk played upon his graceful lips. "Oh, I don't think you hate me as much as you want me."

Draco panicked, his heart thundering loudly in his ears. "Are you demented, Potter?!"

The Gryffindor shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm right about this. I've been watching you."

"Are you some kind of stalker?!"

Potter laughed. It was a brutal sound that made Draco wince. "Why would I want to stalk you? I already know everything about you, just as you know everything about me. It's what enemies do."

"Hah! Then why didn't I notice this?" Draco yelled, making a sweeping motion with his hand that included all of Harry's bleeding form.

Potter took another step closer, a bloodied hand coming to rest on Draco's chest right above the scar. "You noticed. You just didn't want to believe it."

"Why are you doing this?!" he cried out, shivering at the feel of Potter's hand on his chest.

"You know why," Potter breathed, ghosting his mouth over Draco's.

Draco stared at the emerald orbs only mere inches away from him and he took a shuddering breath. "No. I don't. You hate me."

"You're a egotistical jerk who delights in torturing people. I should hate you. . .but I don't."

"Then why are you doing this to me?!" Draco whispered hoarsely, his silver eyes pleading with the raven-haired boy in front of him.

Potter didn't answer with his voice. Instead, he moved his head a few millimeters forward until his lips were lightly pressed against Draco's. His breath was warm and Draco could feel his knees going weak. He knew Potter wasn't doing this out of love, hell, he didn't love Potter either, but he couldn't help but respond.

Hands calloused from years of Quidditch gripped Potter's shoulders, and the other boy moaned at the feel of Draco's nails digging into the skin. In return, Potter shoved him up against the wall and attacked his mouth more roughly. His tongue slipped through parted lips to battle with the Slytherin's.

Minutes later, they broke apart gasping for air. Draco stared at his enemy, anger beating furiously in his breast. "Why did you do this to me?!"

The other teen knew exactly what that furious statement truly meant. And he laughed, the sound hollow and grating. It was not a happy sound, instead one full of darkness and hatred. "Why? I did not cause this. Your body betrayed you, as mine betrayed me."

With that, the boy who'd carried the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders for over six years strode away into the shadows. He left a bloody trail, one Draco didn't feel compelled to follow.

Over the next few months, the two rivals had many more encounters of this nature. Blood was not present after the first one, except in overzealous foreplay. Each one ended the same way. Both would walk off after their unholy attraction was satisfied, nothing in their demeanors to suggest they'd just illicitly had sex.

Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter. And Harry Potter hated Draco Malfoy back with the same intensity. It was a fact of life. Their fights in the hallways during the day never ceased, nor let up. Neither let out a hint that they met secretly at night, because these encounters were inconsequential to them. Their shagging didn't change things one bit.

After that first encounter, the illustrious Boy-Who-Lived stayed true to his word and left his hero exterior behind. With that gash over his warmly beating heart, he changed into the kind of person everyone feared. The kind they hated. Malfoy's kind.

The emerald-eyed teen became a loner, ditching his friends. They didn't mind so much. Gryffindors just didn't hang out with people who had more in common with Slytherins than with them. Harry actually preferred things this way.

And even though people feared him, even hated him, they knew he'd kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was his destiny. They all just hoped he'd kind of disappear after the final battle. It was a plan that appealed to the former Boy Wonder a great deal.

Draco watched Potter in those next few months. He came to realize that Potter had more than hit the nail on the head. He knew everything about the green-eyed git, as much as it galled him to admit it. They'd perfected the saying, "Know thine enemy."

He hated it. Hated it because it made him realize that they were so much alike. Too much alike. They were both feared and hated by the wizarding world. They both had impossible names to live up to. They both were true Slytherins, even though Potter was in Gryffindor House. They both hid behind masks. They both. . .he could go on for hours about their similarities.

And as the cold, winter days turned into the warmth of spring, he felt a new feeling in his heart. The heart he'd thought he'd forever cut out earlier that year. He hated this feeling because it was one that should never have sprung up. It was the feeling of love. Not the flowery kind of love that makes you grin stupidly, but the hard love that twists your heart painfully because you know it'll never be enough. And it would never be enough.

Try as he might, the Slytherin Prince couldn't re-thaw his heart. Every time he saw the youth that had caused all of this, he felt his heart enclosed by an iron fist. He never gave any indication that his feelings had changed, and he preferred it that way. Potter would've hated to find the one constant in his life had changed. Their hate was the only thing the raven-haired teen could count on, and Draco knew he had to keep it that way.

Yet, Draco wasn't completely unaffected by this newfound love. He'd deferred from his Death Eater sympathies long ago, and now helped Potter train in the desperate hope that the other boy would survive the final battle. It was probably a futile hope, knowing Potter, but his love wouldn't let him stop hoping. He hated it.

On a mild day in the beginning of the month of May, Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters, Dementors, and other Dark Creatures attacked the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Draco was the one behind Potter as the last hope for the wizarding world walked out to meet his fate. His wand at the ready and his eyes burning like mercury, he made sure he had Potter's back.

Most gathered on the battlefield were astonished to see the icy blond standing with Potter, but didn't give it a second glance as the final battle between Voldemort and Harry Potter began.

Curses flew, hexes arrowed, and soon wizards and witches from both sides began to fall. One by one, two by two, ten by ten, they fell. The grassy hill in front of Hogwarts became littered with bodies and stained with blood. It reminded more than a few muggleborns of what they'd heard of Waterloo almost two centuries before.

Hours later, as dusk began to fall over the field of battle, the two most powerful wizards faced off for the prize they'd come to fight for, the fate of the wizarding world. No, it wasn't Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort battling each other. Harry Potter had surpassed his mentor months ago, a feat the teenager wasn't proud of.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and the savior of the wizarding world, stood facing the nightmare who had haunted him for too many years of his young life. Hatred hardened his features and his eyes blazed like jade fire.

Battling his father only a few feet away, Draco Malfoy happened to glance over at the boy he used to hate. Instantly, he was reminded of the night Potter had stood in front of him, bleeding and transformed from the naive boy he'd been.

Blood soaked Potter's robes, this time most of it not his. His eyes glowed emerald with the fires of hell. The only thing missing were the crystalline tears that had slipped down his face that fateful night all those months ago. But Potter didn't know how to cry anymore. It was an ability he'd lost with his heart.

Lucius tried to take advantage of his innattention, but he'd trained his son and heir too well. Draco saw his movement and finished him off with the curse he hated most in the world. Avada Kedavra.

"Ssso, Potter. It'ss jussst you and. . .me now," the monstrous figure known as Lord Voldemort hissed, flicking his serpentine tongue maliciously.

Potter smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like it, Tom. Do you like the destruction you've caused? All these needless deaths?"

"Of coursssse, my boy."

With that, the curses between the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived began flying. Potter didn't hesitate to use Dark Curses, magic he'd learned courtesy of Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately, none of the curses hit each other, their wands negating the power of the magic.

Draco saw the inefficiency of their fighting with wands made with feathers from the same phoenix's tail and knew something had to be done. In a move more foolish than he'd ever contemplated, he shouted, "Voldie, over here!"

Both Potter and Voldemort whipped their heads to glare at the interrupter of their fight. When the raven-haired Gryffindor saw who it was, he yelled furiously, "What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?!"

Draco smirked his familiar Malfoy smirk and let the situation speak for itself. Voldemort had lifted his wand and shouted an obscure Dark Curse. An stabbing pain attacked his knee, but as he collapsed to the grassy ground, he tossed his wand to Potter.

On instinct, Potter caught the wand and stared in horror at his rival as he realized what the blond had done. The curse Voldemort had cast was one that permanently damaged the area it hit. Malfoy had sacrified the use of his legs for him, because even if Malfoy was treated, he would never walk perfectly again. He'd done it. For him.

Not about the let this sacrifice go to waste, the emerald-eyed seventeen year old turned back to the bane of his existence and aimed Malfoy's wand at him. Only two words left his mouth, but they were the two most powerful words a wizard could say. "Avada Kedavra!"

And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was destroyed, a smoking hole the size of a cannon ball where his chest had been. At once, a stabbing pain rent through Potter's head and he collapsed to the field, unconscious.

Draco watched the death of Voldemort and the collapse of Potter with rapidly dimming vision before he too fell into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Have you ever loved someone so much, you'd give up your life so them? Loved them so much, you'd do anything to make them happy, if leaving them was what would do that?

Draco Malfoy did.

He left the infirmary immediately after waking up three days later in the infirmary. With nothing was his love for Harry Potter and a bad limp, he left Hogwarts and disappeared.

Actually, he went to Malfoy Manor, empty now that his parents were dead because of the war. He hid himself in his enormous rooms there, hiding himself from the world and from Potter.

The Daily Prophet he forgot to put in his cancellation to had headlines that screamed of how the Malfoy heir sacrificing his legs to help the Boy Who Lived defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all.

It disgusted him. Really, though. They'd made it seem like he'd actually lost his legs, when all he had was a bad limp. His left knee had been the one injured, and he couldn't walk to well on it. Although he hated appearing even more similar to his deceased bastard of a father, he had to use a cane to get around without great difficulty. He hated it.

But he'd done it for Potter, so he didn't mind as much as he would have otherwise. Love made a person more complacent. More stupid. He hated it.

He hated being alone the most, though. Even though he'd left before Potter had woken up, left before Potter could leave him, he missed him. He loved the git so badly, and yet he knew things were better off this way. Potter didn't love him and he would've hated being around him.

One evening, as Draco sat in front of the elaborate fireplace, the flames suddenly turned green and a familiar figure tumbled through to crash to the beige carpeting. Draco stared as Harry Potter stood up and brushed himself off before smirking at him.

"Didn't think I'd let you hole up here forever?" the insolent Gryffindor said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What the fuck, Potter?! Who do you think you are, bursting into my house like this?!" Draco burst out, his silver eyes glinting angrily.

He didn't want Potter to be here, and yet he loved the sight of him. In an effort to keep from grinning foolishly that the git had come after him, he slipped back into the familiar anger that had always erupted between them.

"Actually Malfoy, I have every reason to be here. You left without saying goodbye, after you stupidly risked your life to help me."

Draco glared balefully, looking away from the other boy. "I wanted it that way."

A strong hand cupped his chin and forced him to look up into a sparkling emerald eyes. "I know you did."

Reminiscent of that fateful night months ago, Draco stared up at him and pleaded softly, "Then why are you doing this to me?"

"For the same reason you ran away," Potter whispered, a crystalline tear slipping from an emerald eye.

Tears fell from Draco's own silver eyes. "Don't do this to me. You don't feel the same way."

Potter swallowed harshly, leaning closer to murmur in his ear, "I do. I love you, although I tried to hide it for the longest time."

Draco stared at his former enemy with searching eyes. And he saw it, he saw the love shining in Potter's eyes as deeply as he felt the love beating in his heart. "Why me?"

"Because you never changed. Because you helped me when no one else could. Because you love me. Because. . .I'm just like you," Harry told the lanky blond in a whisper-soft voice that spoke volumes.

And it was true. Harry Potter was just like Draco Malfoy. They'd denied their likeness for years, but now with their love entwining them together, they could finally accept it. They were the same.

With identical scars over their hearts and memories they'd always want to forget, they settled into a love that would rock the wizarding world. It was a love that many doubted, and many hated, but it was a love that never faded, never shattered. It was a love that had saved the wizarding world, and would always be remembered as the greatest love story of all time. It was magical.

But what did you expect with Harry Potter?

Music I listened to while writing: Papa Roach; Getting Away With Murder, Shinedown; Leave A Whisper