A/N: Just a quick one-shot that I wrote in my Psychology class lol. Hope it's not too incredibly angsty, though given the time, it's warranted. Enjoy and let me know if you liked it!

WARNING: Lots of angst and mentions of death.

While The Other Survives

The dust hadn't even settled yet. The unseasonably chilly wind whistled through the cracked and crumbling walls, making the dead, cold feeling in the air that much worse. Fallen soldiers in the form of pieces of suits of armour littered the near decrepit Entrance Hall, telling of the other fallen soldiers who had no armour to protect themselves but their wills and their wands.

It felt like he was dragging lead weights behind him as Harry made his way through the rubble and debris, his destination seeming miles away as his heavy heart added to the weight of his journey. His calm and collected façade was quickly slipping as his sharp, shuddering breaths caught on the seemingly permanent lump in his throat. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers lingered on the lightening shaped scar on his forehead, tracing the jagged line almost lovingly, yet with so much disgust that the bile rose in his throat. Clutching to the crumbling rock of the sixth floor corridor, Harry finally lost control and let his tears burst forth. His shoulders shook with long suppressed sobs as he drug his hands through his lank, usually unruly hair, which seemed to wilt with the rest of his self-control.

Harry didn't dare close his eyes, even as the cool air stung and prickled at the salty tears there. The rows and rows of cold, still bodies were forever imprinted on his corneas, burning themselves like acid onto his memory. As the more familiar faces stuck out to him, Harry thought his very heart might explode from the pain. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin; the list went on and on, including those that Harry didn't personally know. But he did know them, really; all those that lay dead were his own personal heroes, his saviours, and his unfailing army of support. Nobody owed Harry a thing, but Harry owed them all everything. Chosen One or not, the true heroes of the war lay cold and still, not crouched against the wall of the sixth floor corridor sobbing uncontrollably, all alone.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, his knees pulled tight to his chest. He didn't even flinch or blink as the pale hand brushed the hair away from his eyes. Deep pools of silver peered into glassy emerald ones. The evident concern held there was shocking, yet it received no reaction. His hearing seemed to slide back into proper working condition as the soft tenor of a voice called his name over and over.

"...Harry, come on, come back to me."

A single blink and the real world seemed to slam back into place with an obscene amount of force. "Malfoy?" Harry asked in a confused, croaking whisper.

Draco nodded, the blonde tresses hanging lank over his smoke-smudged face swinging wildly. "I have to hurry; they don't know that I'm gone. I'm probably going to Azkaban tonight, just on sheer principle, but I had to come find you first. I need to apologize and thank you while I still have the chance. I'm so sorry, Harry, for everything I've done to hurt you and your friends. I was wrong, so wrong, and I wish I could take it all back; every single second since I offered you friendship on our first train ride. I know nothing I say now can save me from my fate, but I need to say it, for my own peace of mind. Thank you for saving me back in the Room of Requirement, even though I didn't deserve it. And...and thank you for setting me free, for setting us all free from the hell that has descended upon us. Thank you, Harry..."

Tears were sliding down Draco's grimy cheeks by the time footsteps could be heard thundering towards them. The two teenagers continued to just stare at each other as people approached ever closer.

"There he is!"

"What is he doing to Potter?!"

"Get him!"

"No...No, leave him...leave him alone..." Harry rasped out, but nobody was listening to him. They pulled Draco forcibly away from him, pinning his arms painfully behind his back.

"No...Leave him...LEAVE HIM!"

The shout stopped the Aurors in their tracks, their stunned faces turned towards Harry in slow motion. "Harry, he's an active Death Eater, we've got to take him with the rest of the scum," Kingsley Shacklebolt said viciously as he tightened his hold on Draco's arms.

"Look at his left arm," Harry instructed as he rose slowly from the floor, his legs shaking weakly beneath him.

"What? Harry, this is insane – "

"Do it!" Harry demanded in an angry roar. His eyes were narrowed and he looked ready to explode.

Kingsley reluctantly loosened his grip on Draco's left arm and stretched it out, tugging the sleeve violently up to reveal smooth, pale flesh. The Aurors grouped around the restrained teen stared down at the unmarked stretch of skin, some of them making disbelieving sounds, others just staring dumbly.

"I see no Dark Mark on that arm. Leave him be and go find the real Death Eaters, Kingsley...Please, for me?" Harry added, his voice wavering pathetically as he gazed pleadingly at the tall, dark Wizard.

Kingsley looked around at his loyal Aurors, all with varying degrees of outrage displayed on their faces at Harry's request. He turned his gaze back towards Harry, then let his eyes fall on pale teen which he was still holding tightly to. The blazing silver of his eyes held a certain innocence that Kingsley could not deny, and he knew he'd be wrong to take the boy away and place him amongst rubbish like his father. Kingsley sent pointed warning glares at his Aurors as he released Malfoy's arm from his grip.

"Don't make me regret this, Malfoy. Make no mistakes; if I hear of any foul play involving you, you'll be sharing a cell with your dear father."

Draco just nodded as he leaned against the wall beside Harry, looking and feeling as though he would pass out with relief. He watched as the dark Auror whispered something to Harry, and then signalled his clan of Aurors to move on, leaving him and Harry alone in the corridor. Draco turned to look at the dark haired Saviour, his eyes clouding with tears of gratitude.

"Thank you, Harry...Oh Merlin, thank you so much." Before he knew what he was doing, Draco moved forward and wrapped Harry in a tight hug, his face coming to rest in the crook of the Gryffindor's neck.

"You're not out of the woods yet, Draco...But I know you didn't do anything wrong; I was there, I saw it all. I'll even testify if they try to accuse you of his murder. You lowered your wand; you weren't going to do it. I know the truth; Snape killed Dumbledore because he was dying, not because he was doing it for Voldemort. Snape was on our side the whole time. Well, my side at least," Harry said as he pulled away from Draco slowly.

Draco chuckled a bit humourlessly, his arms still partially wrapped around Harry. "I knew you were there, I could just feel it. Plus, the two brooms and the way Dumbledore kept looking over at the wall...You must have been under that cloak of yours. I always suspected Snape of not being loyal, but I was wrong; he was loyal, just not to the Dark Lord. I can't believe He's gone...Finally."

Harry nodded his agreement, not making any move to put distance between himself and the blonde Slytherin. It felt strangely good to be held, even if it was Malfoy holding him. Maybe he was desperate for some sort of comfort, but he couldn't deny that it felt wonderful all the same. "Yeah, finally..."

Loud groans rent the air as chunks of the historic Magic school fell away, exposing the raw innards of the long buried stone beneath. Distant voices could be heard, shouting out instructions and calling out the names of the still missing fighters. A loud wail could be heard as yet another body was found. Harry's head hung as the tears welled in his eyes and trailed down his cheeks once more. He felt a warm hand wiping the tears away and looked up into Draco's amazingly silver eyes.

"'...For neither can live while the other survives...' You can live now, Harry...We all can."

And so they did, though those who had been lost were never forgotten, nor were their struggles. Life would never be the same, but at least they still had their lives.

A/N: So, was it ok, was it horrible? Let me know!