THE WATCHTOWER

Author's Note: This is a one-shot. Post-HBP. Post-war. Written for one, elysiastarlit,who is a loyal reader and reviewer, and recs my work to others. One angst ridden fic with a side order of regret coming right up. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Alas, Harry Potter is not mine. He belongs to that English mole who sits up in her Scottish castle, refusing to finish that fucking book already. Ahem … no infringement is intended.

"Whenever you do something because life is too short not to, you can be sure life will be just long enough to punish you for it." – Ann Brashares

Draco Malfoy wanted to jump. Right off the edge. Just jump off and soar. It wouldn't be a terrible way to go. You'd die instantly on impact. Your body would be completely mangled and no one would be likely to recognise you with all your bones crushed and just a shredded layer of skin holding your insides in, but really, it wouldn't be so bad. You'd be soaring and then just … dead on impact.

He held his arms up in the air and his thick, black robes billowed around him as the wind at the top of the Watchtower whistled viciously. Draco was pretty certain he was the only one who ever came up here. No one else would dare to. This was where Lord Voldemort was finally defeated, killing about one hundred wizards and witches single-handedly in the process. His Death Eaters did him proud too. You could smell the death in the air and on the trees and in the white stone of the Watchtower. The air was practically toxic everywhere but at the very top. There, only the sting of the dark magic still lingered.

Draco looked down. It looked very different to how it did the first time he'd looked down at those green meadows bordering on the imposing forest, but it did look the same as the last five times he'd been there. Lush, but somehow completely uninhabitable.

Draco lowered his arms and let out a painful sigh. He didn't know why he did this to himself. He was twenty-four years old. He had a job, a good one. He had a partner who loved him, who understood him, who was patient with him and let him top when he asked nicely. He had friends, he had his mother, he had his name, he had his money. Why couldn't it be enough?

Draco closed his eyes and wearily ran his hands through his hair, remembering the first time he'd been up here. He'd just dodged the Cruciatus from the werewolf, Greyback, when the fighting had suddenly stopped. Every eye had turned towards a figure falling from the top of the Watchtower, clearly lifeless. Each side had held their breath, hoping it was not their fearless leader. Draco was in luck, it was Voldemort. Draco had then charmed a sword out of the end of his wand and aptly beheaded Greyback, who was standing rigid, still in shock.

Draco had then glanced at the top of the tower and had seen Harry Potter, staring down at all of them, a strange look in his eyes. Draco didn't really know what had possessed him, but as the Death Eaters fled and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix attended to the wounded, Draco ran through the doors and up the steps of the ancient Watchtower.

He had stopped at the top step as green eyes had instantly met his grey ones.

"I saw you coming up," he'd said. "Want to make another declaration of love?"

Draco had frowned. Oh, how he had regretted ever telling him how he felt. But when you think that your death is just around the corner and you're living your life in constant fear, that nasty little saying, "life is short", suddenly rings dangerously true.

"No. That's not why I came here," Draco had said, steadily.

Harry had raised his eyebrows and Draco had thought it extremely odd that this young man had just killed Lord Voldemort and ended the war, but seemed more concerned with making Draco feel like shit.

"Do you not feel that way anymore?" Harry had crossed his arms and sported a cruel smirk. Draco had hated him for that. Why couldn't they just leave each other alone? Draco knew nothing was going to come of it.

"I feel the same. But I regret telling you," Draco had said honestly. Harry had laughed and it made Draco feel like a fool. His hurt must have shown on his face because Harry's face had suddenly soured.

"Don't look at me like that!" he'd snapped. Draco had gulped; he'd gone and got Harry Potter angry. "You have no right to look at me like I'm hurting you."

How very true. "I'm sorry," Draco had said quickly. "I shouldn't have come here. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm not okay, Malfoy!" he had shouted angrily and sparks had flown out of the end of his wand. "I'll never be okay! With anything! Least of all you."

He had walked right up to Draco's face and Draco had felt Harry's angry breath on his lips. "You went out of your way, for six years, to make my life hell. Then you play a part in taking away the last-" he'd shook his head angrily and his eyes flashed fury.

Harry's angry, untamed magic squeezed out of him and it had made it awfully hard for Draco to put on a brave face. "You," he'd continued, "will never be okay with me, not until you suffer like that at my hands."

"But I have," Draco had said softly and Harry had looked at him incredulously. "I went and fell in love with you. The ultimate payback."

Harry had shaken his head, that frown still there. "Prove it to me," he'd said. "And then maybe, we'll walk down these steps on equal terms." Harry had then stepped back and given Draco a disgusted look before turning away and walking down the stairs.

"Wait!" Draco had called out. Harry had stopped but he had not turned around. "How do I prove it?"

Harry had continued down the steps and Draco had thought he wasn't going to answer when he'd suddenly called up to him, "Come here … to the tower. Exactly one year from now. Then we'll see."

And so Draco had returned - his heart light. But Harry had not. Draco had thought it a blessing in disguise. Maybe now he could move on and forget about Harry? So he'd gone and got a job at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries. He was an Unspeakable and easily moved up the ranks. Draco had thought he was over Harry, but when March 14th came around again, he'd felt the pull and had again gone to the tower. Harry was not there. So he'd decided to put more effort into reforming his old friendships. He'd arranged monthly visits with Pansy and Blaise and Vincent. Draco had thought this would be enough, that his life might now feel complete. But once again March had come, and once again Draco had gone to the Watchtower, knowing that it was very unlikely that Harry would show up – and he hadn't. So Draco had started going to clubs and he'd met someone – Max. Max was in love with him and Max looked after him and Max made him happy. But still, that following year, he'd gone to the Watchtower.

Draco didn't understand why he hadn't been able to move on. He didn't understand why the very thought of Harry Potter made his heart arrest and his breath catch and his spine tingle. Draco hadn't even seen a photo of Harry in six years, let alone in the flesh. He knew that Harry had gone off trudging through the forests and deserts of the world with Granger and Weasley, but no one in his acquaintance was in contact with anyone that knew them. So why did Draco care? Why couldn't he just be happy with what he had?

Draco took in one last deep breath and turned on his heel to leave, vowing to himself to never return but knowing, deep down, that he probably would.

Draco looked up and started. His heart began to arrest. His breath caught. His spine tingled. Draco felt the wind change in an instant and he finally felt that lightness that he'd been praying for, for so many years.

"Hello," said the man that was once The Boy Who Lived. He looked the same, but of course, older. His face was more mature and his physique was burlier, but his eyes were the same, his hair was the same and he still looked positively heartbreaking.

"Hi," Draco managed in a disbelieving whisper. He cleared his throat and dug into the deepest corners of his mind to scrape up some courage. "You're a little late, Potter."

Harry tilted his head knowingly and smiled gently. This act made Draco's breath catch again and his heart began to arrest quickly after and then came those spine tingles. "I'm not late. I'm right on time."

Draco took a deep breath through his nostrils and looked for that courage again. "Six years, Potter, is hardly on ti-" Draco stopped … and he suddenly realised. The lightness immediately left, almost as quickly as it had come.

"You went out of your way, for six years, to make my life hell … You will never be okay with me, not until you suffer like that at my hands."

Draco felt like a fool. How could he have been so stupid? "You fucking bastard," he whispered, as a tear shamefully ran down his face.

Harry looked down, guiltily. "Yes, I really am."

Draco could feel his very being getting crushed by the instant feeling of complete and utter heartache. "Why would you- how could you … what I did to you … I was just a kid, I didn't know any better," said Draco, his existence shattering around him. "But you knew exactly what you were doing."

"Yes," said Harry, and he looked up at Draco his eyes full of tears. "I was so angry. And you were there. And you loved me. And I didn't think I deserved it. And it scared me … the way you looked at me, like I was going to save you from yourself."

Draco shook his head. He couldn't bear it, this pain he felt.

"I wanted someone to feel what I'd felt for those years, when I should've been living, but wasn't." Harry took a step towards Draco. "I wanted someone to go through their life, constantly feeling like they're missing the point, like they're missing what makes them who they are."

Draco looked away from Harry. He wouldn't look at him. There was no way that he could make him …

"I didn't realise the enormity of the damage I was doing to you," said Harry. "Not until I came her last year to see if you showed. I never wanted to-"

"Shut up!" Draco shouted, his voice shaking, tears glistening his cheeks. "Go away!"

"No," said Harry defiantly.

"Leave me!" Draco stepped away from Harry but Harry shook his head and followed him. "Please leave me alone," begged Draco, who hit the pillar at the edge of the Watchtower, he still did not meet Harry's eyes. Harry was three steps from him, then two, then one. Draco quickly decided that soaring to his death was now not a passing thought, but a real possibility worthy of his considerations.

"Don't be angry with yourself, Draco. You got me back," said Harry softly, right in Draco's ear. "I went and fell in love with you."

Draco finally met his eyes, though his body was screaming against it, his heart could bear it no longer. As he looked into those green eyes that had haunted him for six years, he could not contain his sorrow. His face crumpled and he bit his bottom lip, dropping his head.

"You hate me right now," whispered Harry, putting his hand on Draco's arm. "But you won't always."

Draco tried to push him away, shaking his head, but Harry held on to him. "I'm going to come here," declared Harry, "every night. Until you forgive me. For as long as it takes."

Harry took a gentle hold of Draco's chin with his free hand. He raised Draco's face to his, but Draco would still not meet his eye. "Look at me, Draco."

Draco reluctantly looked Harry in the eye. Harry moved his face closer to Draco, closer and closer … too close. Draco closed his eyes and Harry pressed his lips to his, in a soft chaste kiss that brought those spine tingles right back.

Harry slowly pulled away. "Every night," he whispered in Draco's ear. "Every night until you forgive me." Then he moved back from Draco.

Draco still had not opened his eyes and he turned away from Harry before doing so. Then, quick as a flash, he rushed past Harry and down the stairs, leaving Harry in the Watchtower - unsure if he would ever forgive him, but knowing he would never stop loving him.

Finis

Author's Note: As usual, thanks be to my beta, AbundantFear, who is in fact a goddess. True.