A/N: Please note that these events are not in chronological order, with one or two exceptions. This story was inspired and written to the lyrics of 'Let me be your hero' by Enrique Inglasias (Sorry i have no idea how you spell that.) Please comment, it would be much appreciated. And so, without further ado, i give you my new and probably best work yet:

Let Me Be Your Hero

Draconis Lucius Archimedes Malfoy-Potter watched the blazing orb inch closer to the Western horizon. For days now, he had watched the world passing him by, taking no note as to what was happening around him. He did not care for the outside world anymore, it had betrayed him.

So many times, they had escaped Death's grasp by a breathe of hair, only for it, ultimately, to end like this. They had come so far…together. Who would have thought that two such perfect opposites could be such a perfect couple.

It had ended so suddenly; their heavenly world. With just two horrendously cruel words, Draco's newest and most pristine reality had been shattered, leaving him to try to pick up the tattered pieces without him. He knew he was failing. Every second that passed stole another piece of his life force; his will to go on; tearing and battering them until they were no more than unbearably distant and dying memories.

As Draco took a single step towards the edge of the cracked and rocky cliff that lead down to the ocean, memories of his recent past came tumbling through his mind.

Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?

The masked ball could only be described in one way; beautifully stunning. Even with his father's training within the society of purebloods, what his eyes fell upon when he entered the Great Hall was beyond anything his father could have imagined, let alone held, the result being that his mouth dropped open ever so slightly.

The sky above was darkened, stars speckled the darkness letting small blessings of stardust float down, only to disappear just above the brightly decorated heads of the crowd below. The four house tables had been lined up, each along a separate wall, and contained an array of every kind of food or drink imaginable. The atmosphere of the celebration was thrilling.

The other seventh years milled around each other gracefully, as if, over the past seven years, they had learned to co-ordinate themselves according to the familiar people that surrounded them. Masks of beautiful feathers protruding from behind long, golden representations of beaks. Masks of radiant silver caressed with glittering patterns. Masks of shadowed bronze garnished with immaculate specs of jewel.

Draco was aware that his own mask did not stand out at all. A delicate, silver piece that perched upon a long emerald rod, which he held elegantly within his fingers. A single jade gem rested above his nose, just below the barely visible line of his eyebrows. He had chosen the mask for its petite quality where weight was concerned, but found he quite liked the way it spiked down over half of his cheek on either side of his face. It glittered in all forms of light, different from every angle. Although the colour of his hair should have made his identity plain for all to see, he was confident no-one would realise it was him. Whereas he would usually slick the locks back, this fine evening he had left the near translucent strands to droop down into his face, effectively framing the mask instead of his lower face.

As soon as he had managed to rid his abused arm of one Miss Parkinson, he had wedged himself into a corner chair, hoping he would only be noticed by one person in particular. He sat in their meeting place for a full two hours waiting for his lover. He began to worry that he would not arrive.

An hour and a half before the night was due to end, a slim figure approached him, a hand held out towards him. Draco's eyes studied the other boy, well man really. The before mentioned hand was slightly tanned and calloused. A small scar was all but hidden by the gold entwined hem of a dull scarlet dress robe. Of his face, only the upper half, like Draco's, was hidden. The mask was a sparkling gold littered with ruby dust. Shimmering and gentle green eyes were bordered by minute obsidian gems that flickered in the starlight from above.

Draco tried, he really did, to hide the smile that wanted to grace his lips but all he succeeded in doing was making the other man laugh. He allowed the smile to come into view for only a second, their little secret, before he was swung onto the dance floor and the pair began to simply fly.

Not once in the entire next hour did Draco see the grin leave his black haired lover's face nor did he catch the emerald eyes without the burning of a mischievous glint. He enjoyed himself thoroughly and after a short time, gave up trying to hide his smile; no-one knew who he was anyway.

Draco felt as if heaven had come to collect him. He wished for the night to never end. Although his feet ached, they felt as if they had not even been touching the floor. Although his head was beginning to bang from their constant spinning, he felt as if it were all part of a magnificent new world; their world.

The last half hour of the evening was spent out in the gardens under the pristine and real sky. Even the lightning in the far distance did not dull their time together, if anything it made it more magical.

They talked about everything and nothing at the same time not letting the nearing time when they would part dampen their moods. And all the while, they studied each other, both knowing every decimetre of hidden skin by heart that they did not need to remove the masks, both felt mutually, although it was never said, that by doing so some sort of spell that made their time so perfect would break.

As the night drew to an end, Draco began to wonder when the next time he would see his lover would be. They were not able to see each other often, their respective friends were suspicious and if either set found out…

People were beginning to leave and so, not wanting to draw attention to themselves, the lovers exchanged a chaste and yet somehow fierce kiss, filled with longing and reminders that it would not always be this way.

Would you run, and never look back?

Draco awkwardly fired another curse around the corner in the vague direction of the grand stairs that took up most of the space in the entrance hall. The Death Eater next to him slid down the wall, slamming into the unforgiving stone floor, stunned. Draco shifted further from the man as his new head wound began to bleed profusely.

Lucius yelled at him from across the hall, the words could not be heard over the shouts of people falling and curses flying. Pattering footsteps above signalled new arrivals for the side of Light. His Aunt screamed and hurled herself at a figure that had managed to make his way to the bottom of the stairs. The Death Eaters, encouraged by her show of pure passion, renewed their enthusiasm and began to move forward.

Draco, pulled along with the crowd, stepped forward as well but not before shifting his gaze upward to check to see if his love was present; he was not, he must be safe. The crowd of black robes moved to take their first steps onto the stairs when, quite suddenly, the number of jinxes raining down on them almost doubled. Most of them were struck nearly immediately. Cloaked figures around him collapsed en masse and he felt the tips of his hair begin to simmer and singe.

Instinctively, he ducked, all but crashing into his father as he did so. The elder Malfoy tried again to tell his son something but this time, although their surroundings had gone eerily silent, Draco could not hear him; everything had gone numb. The world seemed to spin and an itching, stinging sensation rippled from his back. He tried to cry out but his vocal chords refused to obey him, instead his father grimaced and leaned away as a keening shriek pierced from his lips. He crumpled to the floor, twitching, his entire body wracking with spasms and convulsions. And yet, the relief of unconsciousness did not come.

He saw his father sneer at him and spit onto the floor near him, before mouthing something that looked horribly like 'useless' and turning away, fleeing to the safety of the Great Hall, although if Draco had been able to think at that time, he would not call it safe, especially when the Dark Lord found out his minions were failing him only a mere hundred metres from where he stood.

A number of people around him had already risen as if from the grave and, with fighters of the Light now on the ground floor, were duelling. Draco himself, lay – finally – still. He felt pathetic but alive. His vision was beginning to blur though and he was starting to find it difficult to identify the people around him who had long since lost their masks.

He did not know how long he lay there, completely paralysed with all his attempts to move being futile and resulting in a deep self loathing and disappointment. The Light were pushing the Death Eaters back towards the Great Hall and Draco began to worry he would be trampled.

Feet, twisting and spinning as their owners duelled, stamped towards him and all he could do by now was twitch his toes slightly. The feeling of being utterly useless weighed down on him. As his vision cleared he could see, from his peripheral vision, Snape gliding towards him and, on his other side, McGonagal shuffling his way as well, her free hand clutching her side. He had a suspicious feeing rising from his gut they were planning to start a rather vicious duel right over his head, and yet he still could not move.

A red flash attacked his eyes as a litter of sparks cut through the air above him; it had started. He flinched as a dense mass of sapphire embers rained down from above him and he felt his skin begin to scold. He would have cried out had he been able to open his mouth or constrict his throat in the needed manner.

Then, just as be was beginning to give up hope that he would survive the people closing in on his defenceless figure, a strong hand grabbed at his collar and began to full his stiff body backward and away from the aggression of the battle.

He did not know how long he lay in the darkness before he was able to move his limbs again or until he could feel the pleasant warmth of another human curled up to his back. Draco smiled.

The broom closet was not cold but then with another heart beating so close, he did not fell the icy fingers that were attempting to curl around him. The other figure stood, pulling him upright. He felt the softest brush of lips upon his, the touch did not last near long enough for his liking, but he had no time to protest as a light, feathery material fell over them both and then the door swung open.

The battle was still violently active; but as they moved out into the fray he immediately noticed that no-one seemed to be to see them. They moved quietly around the outer edge of the combat.

Then, disaster struck. As they squeezed between Snape and a particularly grotesque gargoyle, the cloak caught on said statue's fingers and the black haired boy came into view for all the world to see. He cried out, alerting Snape. The ex-teacher threw up a shield and whirled around to face them.

Immediately all faces turned to them, features twisted into malevolent sneers. Curses flew like knives towards them. Draco's lover ran and he followed. It was just unfortunate that so many dead and stunned corpses were scattered across the floor. It is also unfortunate that many of the Death Eaters' curses could not keep up with the boy's running. The result was that Draco tripped, the cloak falling from his shoulders. He cried out to his lover, who turned instantly.

The world around them stopped as his face was revealed to all those whom were watching and the room fell into a staggered silence from both sides. Draco's hand was grasped and he was pulled along after the Gryffindor. The Light were obviously astonished by his sudden appearance as they made no move to stop the renewed vigour in which spells were being fired at them again.

"Draco! Run!"

And he would have done, had the entrance hall not gone eerily silent and had Voldemort himself not stepped out of the Great Hall only ten metres in front of them.

Would you cry, if you saw me crying?

Draco had always found his prefect's rounds a complete bore. It was only three weeks into the new school year, his sixth, and he was already fed up of them. Nothing ever happened and even so, he tended just to ignore it and say it was never there. But that night…that night was different.

That night, when the moon was new and the sky was cloudless, he found his lover for the first time. Not in a physical way, no. Physically, the first time he saw him was six years ago having his robs fitted. Emotionally, he found his lover on that day, although he did not know it for several weeks.

He was wondering along all the millions of goddamn corridors the bloody castle held, trying his absolute best not to get lost. He did not often visit this part of the school, it was dangerous for a Slytherin, even if you were a prefect. It was a well known fact that the seventh floor was Gryffindor territory, just as a single step past the potions classrooms in the dungeons would lead any unsuspecting Gryffindor into the snake's pit.

The night, Draco came across the Gryffindor perched precariously on a windowsill, looking up at the shadowed sky. At first, Draco could not tell who it was, but upon taking a few steps closer, the boy turned to face him. His hair was windswept and his eyes illuminated by an apparently invisible force. As he curved his neck back to see him better from his sitting position, a star from the heavens caught a gleaming tear upon his cheek, crystalline and heartbreaking.

Later, Draco told him that was the moment when he first truly saw him, but in candour, he first saw him in such a way many years back. But that was the first time he every really felt his heart twist for the other boy. Ever really noticed the hypnotic beauty that glinted mischievously behind those emerald eyes. Ever really thought about he way his ebony hair looked so natural in an artistic sense. Ever really took note of how strong his jaw line was compared to the glittering liquid on his cheek that told otherwise.

Draco stepped toward him and for the first time he had a civilized conversation with his soon-to-be lover.

"Why are you crying?" he had asked as gently as he could.

"What am I not allowed to cry now? Are you going to report me to Snape?" The reply was vicious and Draco had to make an effort not to step back a few paces.

"No, I simply was concerned," he said in response. It only surprised him slightly that he did not hesitate to answer in such a way. He had been raised not to show such emotions.

'Kindness is a weakness, Draco, and as my son you would do well to remember as such. Never show emotion, it can always be used as a method against you. If you are concerned about someone, it means they are showing you a weakness, you should exploit it. Trust must be turned to distrust and truth to lies if they will benefit your cause. Or else you will never get anywhere in this world. As your father it is my responsibility to teach you these things. Take note and listen carefully. Do you understand me, Draco?'

Draco remembered many of his father's lessons clearly, yet he chose not to follow them.

He never did find out why the Gryffindor had been crying that night, but did remember what had happened. It was the first time they touched each other, at least when they were not throwing punches.

They had both slid down to the wall, side by side. No more words had been spoken between them the entire time they sat motionlessly in each others company; they did not need words to convey their mutual understanding of their suddenly changed relationship and the situation.

Draco had not planned on doing so, but when he saw the Gryffindor silently beginning to let a few small tears slip down his cheek, he had reached out a hand and, with a long and delicate finger, brushed away the pearly liquid that was illuminated by the moonlight.

'Don't cry.' There was no need to say it aloud.

An olive hand extended towards his own face a tenderly smeared a salty moisture across his cheek. The boy next to him laughed mutely.

'Then why are you?' The calming touch began to slide away. Draco swiftly reached up and held the hand back to his face, a smile caressing his features.

'No-one should have to cry alone.'

Would you save my soul, tonight?

His heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. The stone room was colourless and ice cold. His lover, along with a number of Gryffindors, ex-teachers and his mother, was being contained within a cage of bars, stronger in magic than over one hundred wizards.

The Dark Lord stood before him, a sadistically satisfied smile twisting his already ugly features. His Father, his mask removed, knelt behind him, his face passive and frozen, his heart no longer warm enough to be called human.

A ghostly figure was hovering towards him and would have been graceful had it not been for the cracking of eternally dormant and dead bones. A grey and daunting mist surrounded it as it drew closer and closer, its hood sliding back ever so slightly.

"DRACO!!!!" He managed to tear his eyes from the horrendous sight of his fate that was approaching him to glance sadly over to his lover. Hands were curled around the bars of the cage, rattling them furiously despite the cackles of dark magic that ripped and snapped at his fingers, causing them to bleed and welt. Precious tears of crystal streaked down his cheeks, cutting paths into the grime that had taken residence there, and he doubted it was from the pain.

He managed to keep his gaze upon his lover as the ominous, cloaked figure descended upon his curled up form. His face was becoming more desperate as he watched from the distance. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime, and in each one of those lifetimes, his lover was dragged ever further from him.

He did not recognise when he began to feel his soul loosen from his body; it was far too gradual. All he knew was that he had to stay conscious, he had to make sure his lover was the last thing he saw before he plunged into what he imagined would be the darkness of eternal pain, surrender and servitude.

He could see his breath clouding in front of him for mere seconds before it froze and dropped to the hard floor as icicles and splintered. The world around him had gone eerily numb and silent. His vision was blurring and a sapphire orb was glowing from his throat, he could feel it.

It should have been his final breath when that orb breached his lips. His new and lonely world should have begun there. But, as he managed to sink once more into those lush emerald eyes, he saw something that set his heart ablaze.

The Gryffindor stood, one arm extended, no longer enclosed by bars. Blood twined around his bare arm, collecting at his fingers and almost dancing down to the floor. Those eyes, God those eyes, were alight with a mixture of pure emotion. Fury. Power. Bravery. Determination.

Love.

Sparks shot from his palm like lightning bolts, gathering before him, sending shivers wracking down the room's occupants' spines from their sheer raw power. Draco already felt his ability to breath coming back in puffs and pants.

The silver stag exploded from the magical array of electricity and plummeted towards Draco with more speed and energy than a drugged bludger towards the ground. The mighty creature catapulted straight into the dark beast, causing it to hurl itself, screaming torturously, away. The heavenly creatures anger wafted from as waterfalls of intensity. Draco could not help liking the protection he felt from the possessive stance of the creature.

He was safe.

And his lover was already beside him again.

Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?

The light that curled around them was dim, barely allowing them to see more than the faint sparkle of the other's eyes.

Their touch was enough.

Draco lay on his back, breathing hard. One arm was slung above his head, stretching out from under the covers, pulling them down; that did not matter, he was hot anyway. His other arm coil protectively around the man beside him, whose breathing matched that of his own. The atmosphere, although heated and passionately raw only seconds before, was now so tranquil and peaceful it almost felt to Draco that heaven had reached down and was allowing them to temporarily lay upon one of its clouds, he certainly still felt like he was flying.

"Hey, Draco?" His lover suddenly murmured quietly into his ear, causing him to shiver slightly.

"Hmm," was his only reply, he could already feel the comforting arms of sleep and the promises of what was to come in his dreams descending down upon him.

"What made you…that day, why then?"

"What day?" For his question he received a light and playful smack on his shoulder near where his lovers head now rested.

"That day. When you…for the first time." Draco felt his lover sigh as the vibrations of his laughter made him shudder.

It was a warm day, well, warm for winter, with only a slight smattering of drizzle hissing down outside. Students hurried from corridor to corridor hoping beyond hope that they would be able to make it to their classes on time without the help of their outside shortcuts.

Draco stood outside the Charms classroom, thanking whatever deity existed that he had not had Care of Magical Creatures. He and his friends had been punctual as usual, that was only to be expected. What they did not expect was for the Gryffindors to take time from their busy schedules to actually be on time for class.

He had been finding for the past two months that every time he caught sight of one person in particular he could not stop the blush from spreading across his cheeks or the small quicken in the pace of his heart. This day was no different.

As soon as the group of Gryffindors stepped around the corner and came to a halt only metres away, ignoring them completely of course while most of the Slytherins did that same, Draco felt the now familiar pounding in his ears of his racing heart and the warmth upon his usually pale cheeks rise to the surface.

He could not stand it anymore.

When they were called into the classroom by their professor, he snagged the Gryffindor by the arm before anyone, including the other boy himself, could even realise either of them were gone. It was not until they were in a luckily abandoned classroom that the other boy even seemed to realise he had been moved.

"Malfoy." He snarled, reaching his hand into his robe and drawing his wand. "And here I thought we'd come to some sort of understanding."

"Put it away, I just want to ask a question," was Draco's reply. He had refused to continue until he was no longer at wand point. The Gryffindor had hesitantly stuffed his weapon back into his pocket and raised a hand, motioning for Draco to continue. Draco did not fail to catch the lowering of his eyebrows to a frown, though, that signalled he would not necessarily answer.

"Why were you crying?" The Gryffindor's eyebrows shot up comically quickly into his hairline.

"Why the hell are you asking that? That was, what, two months ago."

"Two months, three days and six hours." The Gryffindor had backed away from him then, a startled expression covering his face.

"So, are you stalking me now or something?" Draco shook his head. "If you must know it was because of a letter I received, but that's all you're getting out of…"

His words had been abruptly cut of as Draco shoved him against the classroom door, pinning his hands to his sides in the process. The Gryffindor, shocked into silence, looked as if his eyes were about the pop from their sockets and Draco would have laughed had his heart not been threatening to shoot from his chest and had his nerves not been so big that he felt his stomach had risen up into his throat.

"Let go, Malfoy." The command was low, filled with the warning of oncoming menace at any time.

"No," Draco had growled in reply. They had stared into each other's eyes then, both refusing to be the first to look away.

"Well? Draco?"

Draco would always remember the alarmed breath that his lover had taken when he had pressed their lips together, gently, that first time.

"We'd already wasted enough time."

"Two months, three days and six hours?"

"You remembered?"

"I'll always remember our first kiss."

"No, far longer than that. We'd already wasted sixteen years."

His lover snuggled against him then.

"So how did you know such a specific time then? You really weren't stalking me, were you?" They both laughed then, revelling in the joyous sound as it echoed around them in the silent room.

"No, I wasn't stalking you. How long ago was our first kiss?"

"Three hundred and sixty-three days and…six hours ago."

"See, you'll always remember our first kiss."

"I know, I just told you that."

"And I'll always remember the moment I fell in love with you." Draco whispered, kissing him on the temple tenderly, causing a light tremor.

"Mmm. Happy Anniversary, Draco."

"Happy Anniversary."

Would you laugh, oh please tell me this.

Two hours after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, Draco trudged into the now thoroughly deserted Gryffindor shower room. Venturing into Lion's territory could be fatal for a little Snake if one did not take the greatest of care, hence the two-hour wait.

Steam wafted through the room from the single shower that was still running. The sweet aroma of shampoo and that blessed thing called soap drifted to his nostrils, effectively covering the smell of stale sweat and dirt that tends to reside in a locker room. Draco could hear his lover washing, albeit clumsily, and humming sweetly to himself, if a little out of tune, blissfully unaware of Draco's intrusion.

The Slytherin toed off his shoes whilst wriggling out of his buttoned shirt. He then proceeded to slip all remaining fabrics from his person, trousers, pants and all, and tiptoed, as naked as the day he was born, towards the shower that was billowing wickedly hot steam, nabbing a fluffy and, to his disgust, bright crimson towel on his way past. However, his fun was stripped away as he drew near to the shower and a husky, silken voice spoke out.

"You'll have to be quieter than that if you want to sneak up on me, love."

The dripping curtain, also a bright crimson – 'Merlin, this place is nearly as bad as their common room' – was flung back to reveal a very wet, very naked, Gryffindor.

"You caught me again," Draco murmured as he pulled his lover towards him and into his arms.

"Care to join me?" He was asked as delicate fingers slid into his already dampened towel and pried it open, dropping it unceremoniously next to another one on a nearby bench.

"I thought you'd never ask," he almost whispered as his spread fingers crawled up the hard chest, over smooth shoulders, around and up a tantalizing neck and nestled into the dark trestles that, even sopping, trailed messily through his wandering fingers. He spent leisurely minutes twirling his lover's thick mane within his fingers, before sliding them along a firm jaw to tilt his face upward towards him. Their lips met in a fiery kiss and Draco felt needy hands pulling at his waist. He gently steered his lover back into the water and was fascinated, as always, by the low moan that vibrated through his lips and tingled down his spine. The Gryffindor tugged insistently on his back, bringing him forward into the spray of water.

An intense burning inferno suddenly flamed across his skin as what felt like molten fire hit his back and head. Draco yelped and leapt back out of his lover's reach. His breaths were coming in short pants as he hopped around with his newly retrieved towel, cursing under his breath. He vaguely noticed his lover shaking as if he were crying and a hand was clasped over his mouth.

"Why is the water so fucking HOT?!"

"…burnt my beautiful skin for…"

"…you see, it's all red and blotchy!"

"…fuck, shit, wank, arse-head-and-hole!"

The Gryffindor stepped out from under the water hiccupping, tears streaming down his face.

"Ah shit, don't cry. I'm sorry. It doesn't hurt…that much." His lover was quaking from head to toe and he now had both hands pressed against his face, his long fingers hiding his features. "I didn't mean…" he trailed off as his lover looked up at him with jewelled eyes. 'Was he…?"

It was sudden, like the squid in the lake sneezing. The Gryffindor's hands fell to clutch at his stomach and his breathless hiccupping turned to wheezes of laughter.

"You're laughing at me." Draco stated moodily, before yanking his clothes towards him and marching towards the door.

"Hey, Draco, don't be like that," Draco just knew, even as he did it, that the pout that inevitably resided on his lover's face would sweep any anger he felt away if he turned back. "I'm so sorry…" Draco felt his face soften as the black haired boy slinked towards him, droplets of water sliding over him at every movement, "…but you should have seen your face."

A round of giggles vibrated across his neck, where his lover now buried his face. "Forgiven?" Draco heard the muffled question as silky fingers brushed up his sensitive back. He smiled and reached up to turn the Gryffindor's face upwards. Then, as his arm possessively encircled the slim waist of the other boy, he flicked tears of mirth away from those fantastical, emerald eyes with a flourish.

"Forgiven, my love."

Now would you die, for the one you love?

The roaring of the crowd around them was immense, resounding off the stone, and amazingly still solid, walls of the Great Hall. Nothing remained of the Dark Lord. The few ashes he had disintegrated into had already been blow away by the righteous winds that swept through the shattered windows of the room, bringing with it the promise of a new day and a continued life.

His lover stood on the other side of the hall, between his friends. The redhead looked close to passing out at his side while the muggleborn sported a dazed expression as she stared down at the single tatter of material that was left, wedged underneath the madman's wand.

But the last Gryffindor, he was staring straight at him, his intense emerald gaze fixed solely on him. Draco was so caught up in those eyes he simply forgot everything else. He forgot the breeze that circled around them from the darkness of the night outside. He forgot about the mass of Light members around him, working to clear up the mess that the final battle had brought whilst attempting to celebrate all at once. He forgot the worried glances people were throwing him and the words he could practically hear circulating around him; 'He's a Death Eater, shouldn't he be taken with the others?'

But with all of this, he also fatefully forgot, already completely lost within those deep eyes, the string of Death Eaters that were being marched from the Hall.

Perhaps that is why he did not notice anything was wrong until those eyes suddenly widened and fear turned his lover's face ashen. Perhaps that is why he did not hear the sound of his lover's scream as the hero began running towards him as if in slow motion, pushing past the startled people brutally. Perhaps that is why he did not know what had happened until it was too late…

His lover was only half way across the hall when the shriek cut him from his daze, dashing towards him as if in flight at a speed that seemed not quite fast enough, or so Draco thought by the desperate expression that had claimed his face.

"TRAITOR!!!!" He whirled around, defenceless, as his aunt flew at him, her once beautiful face twisted with years of rage and hate. There was nothing Draco could do.

"TARDUS NEX!!!"

The violently violet spell whizzed towards him and the high pitched laugh that began was cut off with a flash of green light that hit her square in the chest. Her spell, slow in comparison, loomed over him; it's target.

He closed his eyes, almost waiting for the impact.

But the spell never hit him.

A body slumped before him, powerful convulsions wracking it. The sight before him did not register. Draco could remember the look of agony, raw and in plain view for all to see, clenching the boy's face. And that's exactly what he looked like at that moment. He did not seem like a strong hero who had just moments ago rid the world of the existence of a Dark Lord. He looked like a young boy of only seventeen in pain.

The scream of his name from a girl, he noted that she seemed to be drawing nearer every second, roused him from his thought and the fact that his lover was curling and clenching on the floor before finally, and abruptly, registered to Draco.

An anguished wail escaped his lips, halting all movement around him including the patter of footsteps that were approaching from behind him, as he fell to his knees.

Hold me in your arms, tonight.

Draco lay with his lover, on the cold stone floor of the Great Hall, hushing his whimpers; kissing his cheek to distract from his shivers, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear when his breathing became exceptionally laboured. No one dared approached them, instead they stood transfixed by the sight before them.

"Do you remember when we walked to Hogsmeade and you wouldn't let me buy that ice-cream?"

"I remember." His lover's voice was parched and scratchy, barely audible through his gritted teeth.

"You said it was because it was a disgusting flavour."

"I remember."

"And when I told you it was my favourite you walked away and sulked for an hour?"

"I remember."

"It's not really my favourite."

"I know."

"Do you remember when we went to the beach that summer afternoon last year?"

"I remember."

"And you told me you wanted to live in the country?"

"I remember."

"With two dogs and a cat that always got along?"

"I remember."

"And were named after our godfathers?"

"I remember."

"And you said you wanted three children? A boy and two girls?"

"I remember."

"The girls, Lily and Cissa, after our mothers. The boy, James Albus?"

"I remember."

"Do you still want that?"

"Yes."

"And we can move to the country. Do you want to live by that beach?"

"Yes."

"That's lucky," a choked sob gurgled in his throat, "because I bought that beach house you liked on top of the cliff last week. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"We can live there together forever and watch our children grow old and watch our grandchildren grow old and our great grandchildren grow old. But we won't grow old. Our love will keep up young."

"Yes." Draco gripped his lover's hand possessively, which lay entwined with his own upon his stomach, as the Gryffindor's voice grew ever fainter. A small shroud of passionate violet was starting to expand over his warn shoes, swelling progressively more quickly.

"Draco?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I can't…I can't feel my toes."

"Hush." Draco resolutely refused to let a single tear fall, he would not let his lover see him crying. Those green eyes pierced up into his soul, diving straight into him and Draco felt they knew exactly what he was thinking even if he did not know it himself. But he absolutely refused to believe these thoughts, even as his lover smiled sadly up at him. A shot of pain twisted Draco's heart when that angelic smile lasted only a second before it was replaced with a grimace.

"Do you remember when we got that detention together at the end of last year?"

"I remember."

"You were furious at me for getting myself into trouble."

"I remember."

"But I hadn't had a moment alone with you for two days. I needed to have that time with you."

"I remember."

"I would have gone mad, you know, without you."

"I know."

The light was spreading swiftly up his lover's body, already to his torso.

"Draco?"

"Hmmm?" Again he did not trust himself to say an actual word.

"I can't feel…feel my legs."

"Hush now." Draco used his free hand to curl further around his back and up to stroke the Gryffindor's hair. The strands were not silky, they were matted with sweat and grime, but Draco did not care.

"Do you remember when your friends almost walked in on us?"

"I remember."

"Up in your dorm?"

"I remember."

"They were meant to be at a meeting in the Room of Requirement?"

"I remember."

"And you shoved me into your trunk?"

"I remember."

"And I cut my hand on those shards of glass at the bottom?"

"I remember."

"And you didn't forgive yourself for three weeks no matter how much I begged?"

"I remember."

"And you didn't think I'd ever forgive you either?"

"I remember."

"I forgive you."

"Draco?" Draco again gave another noncommittal sound, glancing down at his lover's body. His entire abdomen shimmered with the violet light, all except a small space just above his heart.

"I can't feel…feel your arm around me."

"Hush, it's alright. I'm still here." A shuddering cough wracked through his lover's body and a minuscule trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Draco reflexively rubbed his back soothingly through the shining glow, even though he knew his lover could not feel it, until the Gryffindor lay still again.

"Do you remember when we spent an entire day last summer flying?"

"I remember."

"And you said I was stupid because I was showing off?"

"I remember."

"And that I didn't need to do that because you already knew I was a brilliant flier?"

"I remember."

"And you asked who taught me when I was young but I wouldn't answer?"

"I remember."

"It was my father, he used to be a Slytherin seeker too."

"I know." As these words left his lips, the glow extended to his face, covering all but those lips, his eyes and his nose. A further skim of his lover's body told him that his arms, to his elbows, were now submerged and that the expansion rate was slowing.

"Draco?"

He gulped, taking a deep breath of stale air that hit the back of his throat like a rock, and nodded slightly.

"I can't feel…my…my arms."

"Hush, we'll be back at our cottage soon." From the slackening of his lover's probably numb face and the darkening of his eyes, Draco could tell he did not believe him. He squeezed his hand in what he had meant to be a reassuring gesture but turned out to be more of a closing.

"Do you remember when your house elf brought us breakfast in bed?"

"I remember."

"When we were staying at your house?"

"I remember."

"And it almost had a heart attack when it saw us in bed together?"

"I remember."

"And Mrs. Black shrieked non-stop for an entire week about how you weren't worthy?"

"I remember."

"Because I'm a pureblood?"

"I remember."

"It never mattered to me; that you were a half-blood. I never cared."

"I know." His voice was so soft that Draco could hardly hear him now, it was almost as if they were speaking within each other's minds. He was leaning so close to his lover he felt they could have been having a reminiscent discussion in bed one morning had it not been for the radiant glimmering that surrounded the Gryffindor and was, he saw with a painfully saddened glance, slowly drifting over the skin between his fingers. The violet was also beginning to swirl inwards towards his heart upon his chest, as if it would plunge in and plug the last gap at any second.

"Draco?"

"Yes?" He whispered so faintly it rivalled even his lover's voice. Draco pulled the Gryffindor to him. He could feel his heart beat against his chest. He felt his hand being squeezed gently before the light covered the fingers completely and the swirling over his lover's chest charged viciously over his core.

"Draco, I can't…"

The hand went limp. The heart that beat against his own stilled. A single, last breath escaped his lover. And Draco finally released the anguished sob that had been welling up.

I can be your hero, baby.

"Why do you have to be so Goddamn cold all the time, Draco?"

Draco winced at the ferociousness behind the stinging words. Despite his will to remain silent, he found himself retaliating immediately.

"And why do you always have to play the hero? I don't need your help!"

He had not meant to shriek but his partner crept upon his nerves with such ease it only served to fuel his annoyance.

"Yeah, then why do you always come to me? When you're lonely, or hurt, or sad? Why do you purposefully show me what you would call weaknesses?"

"It's not something I'm proud of," Draco growled, "but isn't that what Gryffindor relationships are all about; not keeping secrets?"

A small puff of air followed before the other boy spoke again, this time his voice held a calm and understanding quality that had not been present only a few moments ago. "So it is, but you're not a Gryffindor, Dray, and you shouldn't pretend to be something you're not. That's another one of our beliefs."

"But…"

"And besides, don't you think I'd try dating another Gryffindor or perhaps a Hufflepuff if that's what I wanted?"

"I…dating?"

"Isn't that what this is? A relationship? We date?"

"Well, yeah, but…hang on a wand waving minute, there is no way I would ever allow you to date a Hufflepuff!"

"You're moving off-subject."

"That was rather the point."

The hallway fell silent. It was at that time in the conversation they had both lost the ability to think of ways to breach the Gryffindor's subject. The winter sun shone, crisp and icy through the clear window, isolating them from the outside world and emphasizing just how uncomfortable they both were to be having this conversation.

"Look, why won't you just let me in?"

"You said yourself only seconds ago that I always come to you, isn't that open enough for you?"

"No. That's you trusting me, not opening up to me. You never tell me what's wrong, it's only ever about familiarity."

"Snape was right, you wouldn't have lasted a day in Slytherin, you're far too blunt and to the point."

"Draco." Draco's head snapped around at the warning tone in his lover's words. He was serious…

"Look, I told you, I'm not some damsel in distress that needs saving. I don't need a hero."

Suddenly, arms were reaching around him, enclosing him within the warmth of a snug embrace. The cruel world closed off around them. The harsh light of the frosty sun was cut off and he felt protected.

'But I don't need protecting, that's the whole point of this argument. Pull yourself together man!'

"Talk to me, Draco. Tell me your sorrows. I want more than your trust." The Gryffindor's voice was so soft as he murmured into Draco's ear, that he felt he could have melted into the other man's arms right there. A shiver tingled up his spine as a heartbeat of breath ghosted rhythmically over his ear.

"What more is there for you to want? I've given you trust, what more is there?"

His breath hitched as the softness of lips pressed lightly just below his ear. Nimble fingers ran up his spine, pressuring the hills and valleys of his back. Hot, open-mouthed kisses were trailed carefully down his neck before his lover gently nibbled at his collar bone, successfully marking him as his own.

"Let me have your heart."

A quiet and tender path of nips mapped out the other side of his neck. By the time a particularly emphasised nip sank into his jaw line, Draco's breathing was coming in jolts and pants. His lover softly leant down and slid his fingers between his own, entwining them securely together in an intimate and somehow possessive gesture, and gently began pulling him towards the stairway at the end of the hall. It was time they retired to somewhere more private, Draco's private room for example.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the two were against each other once more. Fingers locked desperately into now loose strands of hair, pulling and tugging lips back together as they manoeuvred themselves towards the bedroom.

Clothes were quickly discarded. Hands leisurely reminded themselves of every contour of the other's body. Moist skin slid against moist skin. Vocal chords quivered and quaked as moans and gasps resounded from them into the room, which was otherwise quiet except for the crunching of new sheets and their harsh panting. Necks arched back, exposing themselves to impulsive lips that kissed and sucked and bit down. Darkened eyes blinked away drips of perspiration, flew open at particularly pleasurable motions and dropped closed when the multitude of colours and flashes of a purest white became too much to stand.

Their movements became desperate after only a short time and not long after they had entered the room, they lay still, their bodies entwined around each other. Echoes of their breathing sounded loud to their own ears. Finally, after what felt like a heavenly long time and yet a devilishly short period at the same time, one looked at the other. Emerald eyes blazed as the Gryffindor spoke and then sealed his words with a final kiss before sleep overtook them.

"Let me be your hero."

I can kiss away the pain.

Draco paused by the stone pillar at the foot of the stairs, snatched enough time to gulp down two mouthfuls of air and then began to leap up three steps at a time. The borrowed invisibility cloak flapped out behind him but it never even occurred to him what an odd sight it must have been. Only one thing resonated around his mind.

The moon was just passed full outside on this bright, starlit night. Torches burned intensely in their brackets on the walls, flickering as he sprinted along next to them. His destination was in view; the hospital wing.

He had been lucky in that no one appeared to be on patrol that night. At one point he thought he heard Filch's blasted cat screech somewhere nearby but he could not be sure, he was sleep deprived and he could not hear much outside his heavy panting anyway.

The Slytherin slipped through the thankfully unlocked doors and made a desperate attempt to quiet his heavy breathing as he tiptoed past the fussy Matron's office. Sweat glued his light night shirt to his back and plastered his ashen hair to his forehead. The cloak was uncomfortably hot and stuck to his body in odd places but eh dared not remove it from his person, who knew what ungodly hours the nurse decided to check her patients at night.

Draco's heart clenched when his eyes fell upon his lover. He was lying still, his chest barely moving with each shallow breath. His blankets were tangled around his legs and as he crept nearer, the stench of stale sweat and dried blood hit him like a tsunami, churning his stomach.

As he collapsed into the chair beside the bed, the dim green eyes flickered open to stare up at the high ceiling blankly.

"Who's there?" The words grated at the back of his throat and they sounded more like incoherent rasps.

"It's me. I came as soon as I heard."

"What happened?" Draco felt an itch of pride at the fact that he had managed not to wince at the strangled sounds he heard.

"Pettigrew attacked you in Hogsmeade."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

"Why can't I see?"

"Granger was saying to Weasel-ey that your sight should be back by tomorrow. It was only a bright flash of light. You'll be up and about in no time, Salazar knows you need a bath."

Draco did wince this time at the scratched chuckle that gurgled in the back of his throat.

Shrugging the cloak from his shoulders, he reached out a hang and brushed the matted fringe from his lover's face forehead, then continued to soothingly stroke the overheated skin. With his other hand he entwined their fingers, squeezing the smaller hand within his own every now and then, for no reason other than emphasise he was still there and to show his support.

The moon slowly journeyed across the window as the night progressed. Its eerie light shed abnormal shadows across the silent hospital wing. Draco spent these hours staring at his lover, who had finally fallen into a presumably peaceful sleep. His face was aglow making him seem more ill due to the new ashen, translucent sheen. His eyelashes were still perfect though, despite the clumps of that would have dirtied them had Draco not been brushing them back. The fragile hairs that framed those infamous eyes splayed across his high cheekbones, twirling the moonlight in such an innocent way. Despite the sweat and the dirt, he looked so vulnerable that the Slytherin felt a possessive urge gush through his veins. He had to protect his love.

When the clock at the end of the ward chimed out seven, Draco wriggled back under the cloak, his hand remaining within his lover's. Madam Pomfrey scurried in soon after, waking the Gryffindor to drink some potions.

"How are you feeling today?"

"It hurts." The green eyed boy whimpered back pitifully.

The Matron clucked her tongue a few times in displeasure before bustling back towards her office. Draco took the chance to lean down to his lover's ear and whisper, "Where?" as gently as he could.

"My fingers." With a slight smile, Draco lifted the hand he still held within his own and placed a small peck upon each fingertip and his palm before returning to nestle his nose in that pitch, and admittedly stinky, hair.

"And?"

"My eyes." Draco chuckled, placing his lips against one eyelid and then the other.

"And?"

His lover let out a small, fragile laugh before replying deviously;

"My lips."

Draco's smile grew slightly before he sobered and brought their lips together. Their kiss was short, courtesy of a certain nurse, but it was sweet and left the Gryffindor in a shallow, happy daze. Draco squeezed his lover's hand and felt a minuscule response back.

I will stand by you forever.

The memories had flooded over him as such a great tidal wave of emotion that they actually had a physical effect. The bench he sat upon, made from a dark, expensive wood, was perched atop the cliff a little way from their cottage. Draco had crafted the gold plaque that was bolted to the right side of the bench himself. He looked down at it now.

'In loving memory of Harold James Potter-Malfoy

to whom I made so many promises I could not keep

and so many memories I shall keep forever.'

The sun had fully set before him.

It was time.

Draco stood and moved back to the edge of the cliff, glancing once more at the thatched cottage and the surrounding, darkened and peaceful fields.

He smiled at the figure before him as he turned back to the ocean. Scruffy, black hair drifted ethereally around him, undisturbed by the vicious sea breeze. Expressive, emerald eyes sparkled openly with happiness. The slim body drifted toward the cliff edge with his arms open, holding out his trusting hands.

Draco distantly heard the splash of his body as it hit the ferocious and rocky waves below, but it was just a shell. Empty.

When people visit their cottage, they will sit on their bench and read Draco's last loving and living words. But that is not all they will read, for on the other side of the bench, a second silver plaque reads:

'In loving memory of Draconis Lucius Archimedes Malfoy-Potter

who will always remember.'

"Do you remember, Draco?"

"I remember." It was then that the heavens opened and rain began to fall, crying for them and their departure. They did not feel the cold. Draco squeezed his lover's hands.

You can take my breath away.

"Harry."

Tardus Nex - slow death.

Review if you are kind enough.

Dark Raven