There was peace in death, as there wasn't – or hadn't been – in life.

Looking back, Draco couldn't find it within himself to regret the choices he'd made, since what he'd been through had brought him and Harry together.

It all started with the birth of a raven-haired boy, born almost two months after Draco. A year later, the boy's parents were dead, and his murderer had vanished, seemingly into thin air. Draco was raised to a life of privilege, fed stories of the Dark Lord's greatness, the power he possessed, and the rewards he bequeathed to those who were loyal to him and his cause, while this boy was neglected and starved for affection. Since he could walk and talk, Draco was trained to take his father's place in the event of the Dark Lord's resurrection, which many believed to be only a matter of time. Meanwhile, this boy had no knowledge of the tyranny he'd helped to end, or along what path his destiny lay. Part of Draco's "training" included being put under extreme torture so as to gain a high tolerance for pain. The unloved and unwanted boy received sharp words and occasional slaps. After his first time experiencing the Cruciatus Curse, as he lay panting and gasping for air on the plush carpet in his father's study, Draco swore that he would never follow Voldemort, sniveling and groveling at the feet of an insane monster. Love should be the inspiration for faith, rather than fear, as a remarkable boy wizard would come to discover.

Upon entering Hogwarts, Draco found his salvation in the form of a skinny raven-haired boy with glasses and a distinctive lightning-bolt scar. Harry Potter would save him, of this Draco was sure. Then he had the audacity to turn down Draco's offer of friendship. Later on, Draco would realize how arrogant he had been, and that he deserved Harry's rejection. Forced to abandon his original plan, Draco worked with what Harry had given him, and set about to deceiving everyone, including Harry, as to his true feelings. The next few years were spent firing insults – as well as the occasional spell – at his supposed "enemy." While Draco appeared to enjoy belittling Harry, his friends, and anyone who had ever come into contact with him, in reality, he hated it. Draco could see behind Harry's mask – even if his friends couldn't – to the pain he was feeling and subsequently hiding. His heart ached for the reluctant hero, and he wanted nothing more than to hold him close and take on all his troubles himself.

Draco's chance came during their fourth year, when he was approached to go into the lake as one of the "victims" that the champions would then save. He agreed immediately – anything to help Harry out, he thought. Needless to say, Hermione had been surprised by his presence, especially when it became evident that he was Harry's hostage. Draco took this opportunity to apologize for his past behavior where she had been concerned. He had genuinely wanted to be Harry's friend before, but had behaved poorly – he knew that. Hopefully, Harry would see him in a different light after this task was over, and they could move on – wipe the slate clean, so to speak. Draco vowed to apologize to Ron as well, the next chance he got. It was as if the floodgates had opened – he couldn't seem to stop talking. Hermione merely listened patiently and observed him with a knowing look in her eye. It almost unnerved Draco, and he found himself wondering whether she could see into his very soul (if he even had one) and know what he really felt for Harry.

At that moment, Professor Dumbledore entered the room and everyone fell silent, looking expectantly at the aged headmaster. Draco was less than impressed. He'd meant what he'd said to Harry and Ron back in their second year when they'd been disguised as Crabbe and Goyle. Though he'd just been repeating what Lucius had said on numerous occasions, Draco agreed – to an extent. He was aware of what Harry and his friends had been through each year they'd attended Hogwarts, and he was appalled at Dumbledore's carelessness. Harry was supposed to be his precious "Golden Boy". Yet he was willingly sent to face unspeakable dangers – like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter – that fully grown and better trained wizards would tremble at? Draco shook his head in wonder. Dumbledore's attitude only encouraged Harry's reckless behavior that would surely get him into trouble one day. It was a harsh truth to face, but Harry wouldn't always have others to die for him; he wouldn't always be able to rely on others' help, or on pure dumb luck. Yet that's what Dumbledore seemed to be teaching him, and Harry blindly trusted the old man's plan and ultimate vision, doing exactly what Draco had sworn never to do to Voldemort.

Dumbledore's rambling explanation over at last – I get it: you put us to sleep, we go in the lake, the champions "rescue" us, big deal, Draco thought – Snape began handing out the powerful sleeping drafts that would protect the hostages during their enchanted slumber. Draco took his without hesitation, savoring the thought that his dream would be coming true at last: he was going to be saved by Harry Potter, even if it was only from a lake and not from his family. Either way, Draco had faith in Harry's abilities. He wouldn't let Draco down, even when he learned who his chosen "hostage" was. At least, Draco hoped that Harry wouldn't simply leave him behind, not that Dumbledore or any of the other teachers would let anyone rot at the bottom of the lake. Draco needed Harry to rescue him, if only for the chance to explain, and maybe apologize, if Harry stuck around long enough to hear him out.

Of course, Draco's well-rehearsed speech was hardly necessary when Harry was falling over himself to apologize for taking so long in getting to him. Bemusedly, Draco wondered at the obligation and responsibility Harry seemed to feel – even for his supposed enemies – and was struck by the full extent of the pressure being placed on him.

As Harry kept talking, Draco found himself entranced with the shape of his mouth and the way his lips moved when he spoke. Abruptly, he raised a hand to silence Harry's stuttering apologies. "Shut up, Potter," he said, smirking at him with that trademark cocky grin of his. "The point is you came, you're here now, and that's all that matters."

"I will always come for you," Harry vowed.

An awkward silence now fell between them. They were still sitting on the docks – everyone else had already gone back to the castle, but Harry had asked to be excused, as he'd said that he had some things to discuss with Draco. Their feet were dangling over the edge as they stared into the murky water that they'd both been submerged in mere hours before.

"Thanks for saving me," said Draco quietly. "You didn't have to, especially considering our past encounters. Heck, I wouldn't even have saved me if I'd been you. I've been a real prat – I know that – but all I ever really wanted was for you to notice me."

"Oh, I did – believe me," said Harry, grinning back at the pale blond.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Draco. "I can understand if you don't want to give our friendship another try, but—"

"Are you kidding?" Harry interjected. "I've never enjoyed fighting with you, but everyone else seemed so convinced you were incapable of changing that I just went along with it. I'm sick of doing what others expect, though. I want to do something for me. So, Draco – yes, I would love nothing more than to be your friend."

Draco surprised himself by throwing his arms around Harry and holding on tightly. "Thank you," he whispered over and over against Harry's surprisingly-flushed cheek. "I knew you would save me. You just had to."

It was the start of a beautiful friendship that soon grew into something more. As the third and final task approached, Draco realized that the fluttering sensation he felt whenever he was around Harry was a clear indication that he was quickly becoming emotionally attached to the raven-haired boy, more so than he should be considering the sides of the upcoming war their friends and family were each on. However, when he tried to distance himself from Harry, despite having practically begged for his friendship before, Harry inevitably sought him out and coaxed the truth from him. It was at this point that Draco learned that Harry was not to be denied anything, and that resisting his undeniable charms were futile. Head bowed in shame at what he was about to reveal to an acquaintance of so short a time, Draco admitted to having feelings for Harry. Expecting outright rejection, Draco was a little surprised – and slightly stung – that all Harry could do was laugh at his confession. He was about to storm away when Harry gently caught his wrist in his hand and swung Draco about to face him, leaning forward to brush their lips together.

"I love you too," he whispered soft and low in Draco's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Draco was embarrassed to find that there were tears in his eyes at hearing that his feelings were returned. All he could do was cling to Harry, and ask that he never let go.

The third task brought their perfect world crashing down around them. With Voldemort's return, there were lines to be drawn and sides to choose. And Draco knew who he'd be forced to fight alongside, just as surely as he knew what Harry's choice would be. But their time wasn't up yet. Draco spent every waking second with Harry as the school year drew to a close. Draco comforted Harry when he became overwhelmingly depressed about Cedric Diggory's death, and the part he had played in convincing Cedric to take the Cup with him. They had many conversations about placing blame and what was whose responsibility. Draco had his work cut out for him in convincing Harry that he was not at fault. He knew that Harry would get no support from his muggle family – he'd be lucky to even get a decent meal. The ride from Hogwarts to King's Cross Station was spent with friends, laughing while they still could (though if Fred and George had anything to say about it, they'd be laughing for much longer).

Draco's summer was hell. There was no other way to describe it. His already-high tolerance for pain reached new levels as he was continually put under the Cruciatus Curse by no less than Voldemort himself. His first meeting with the man-turned-monster only confirmed the suspicions he had formed as a child. And while the sight of his mother writhing on the floor in pain was almost too much for him to bear, he kept silent and stayed where he was. Diverting Voldemort's attention to himself wouldn't do anyone any good. He'd only find new excuses for torturing them – and others. In the back of Draco's mind, he sometimes found himself wondering how Harry was. He must surely be having the better summer. Sure, his family didn't necessarily love him, but at least they didn't beat him simply for the pleasure of it, or for their own amusement. The thought of Harry wasn't always enough to keep Draco going, though. There were times that Draco wasn't sure he would make it another day, never mind about returning to Hogwarts. But return he did, and with his father advising him to continue sticking close to Harry.

"It may be useful to have a spy in Potter's midst," said Lucius with a sneer that Draco somehow managed to match, though his stomach roiled at the notion that he could ever willingly betray Harry.

The boys' reunion on the train was quite the spectacle – a sight to behold. Harry saw Draco first, and ran forward as fast as he could, crashing into the slightly taller boy and causing him to rock back on his heels in an effort to keep them both upright and stable. They quickly ducked into the nearest vacant compartment where they shared a proper kiss away from the prying eyes of their peers. Draco shared certain details of his summer with Harry, who listened appreciatively and didn't try to interrupt or to talk over Draco. He told Harry about watching his own mother being tortured, and how he'd been unable to help in any way. Luckily, he didn't need to tell Harry anything about Voldemort – his boyfriend had already faced him in his newly-regenerated form. Harry took his turn next, telling Draco about his relatively boring summer – the Dursleys had pretty much left him alone, not even forcing him to do any chores – up until the night of the Dementor attack. Draco gasped – surely this was proof positive that Voldemort was attempting to gain control of Azkaban prison. He shivered – his Aunt Bellatrix was in there, and just the thought of her sent shivers down his spine.

Everyone – not just Draco and Harry – soon had more to worry about than evil Dark Lords and Dementors and psychotic aunts. Hogwarts had a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that, with her spiteful vindictiveness, made even Snape look tame in comparison. Obviously planted at Hogwarts by the Ministry, Umbridge refused to teach any students magic, insisting that knowledge of the theory would be enough to help them pass their exams. Draco was frustrated, but at least he didn't shoot his mouth off every class period like Harry did. Despite his boyfriend's impulsiveness, Draco was unfailingly prompt in meeting him after every detention to heal his hand, the thought of which only added to his growing hatred of Umbridge (or, as many called her behind her back, "Umbitch"). Harry had enough scars already – he didn't need this one, especially since he was telling the truth. But that was the point, wasn't it? Draco mused. The Ministry was trying to hush up Voldemort's return, and the only way to do that was to silence the one person who had seen it happen with his own eyes: Harry Potter.

Unfortunately for the pair of boys, Umbridge's bigotry extended to homosexuality, meaning that they were forced to hide the truth of their relationship and became reduced to sneaking around in dark hallways, arranging midnight meetings in the Room of Requirement and wherever else they could manage. Their new situation revealed an unexpected benefit, though – Draco was free to seemingly align himself with Umbridge and then pass on information to Harry and the others. He used this to his advantage, and managed to warn Harry that Umbridge had discovered the location of Dumbledore's Army. However, he was unable to get to Harry in time to let him know that Umbridge was coming to her office at the same time that he was using her fireplace to try to contact Sirius. Seeing his boyfriend held at wand point made his blood run cold, especially when Umbridge threatened to use an Unforgiveable on him. Luckily, though, Hermione spoke up and managed to divert Umbridge's attention to her. Draco used the momentary distraction to send Harry all the love he could summon through his eyes. He had a feeling that things would change after that night, and he wanted Harry to know how he deeply he felt for him before either was given cause to doubt what they'd previously believed in.

With the departure of Harry and Hermione to the Forbidden Forest with Umbridge, the remaining Inquisitorial Squad members were easily taken care of with a well-placed Confundus Charm by Draco.

"Go. Hurry," Draco said tersely, taking up a fighting stance between the two groups of teenagers, not wanting to take any chances, despite the "opposition" having been essentially taken care of.

"Come with us," said Ginny, placing a gentle hand on Draco's arm.

Draco spared her a fleeting glance that he hoped would reassure her. "I can't, Gin. My father's sure to be there, and I can't help anyone if my cover's blown. Be careful, and tell Harry that I'll be waiting for him in the Room of Requirement, will you?"

Ginny nodded, before following her brother and the rest of her friends on their way to find Harry and Hermione.

Before sending the Inquisitorial Squad on their way, Draco made sure to Obliviate their memories so that they wouldn't recall that he had been the spell-caster. Perhaps that way, his position in Slytherin would be protected for a little while longer. With that done, Draco then made his way to the Room of Requirement, which provided him with a replica of the Gryffindor common room, including a cozy fire that emitted a soft glow, along with a pair of plush chairs and a couch. He settled himself down to wait, and as he sat, he thought (a dangerous pastime, he knew).

Draco recalled Harry's abrupt departure from Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, and how shaken he'd looked upon his return. Once Draco had finally managed to get his boyfriend alone, he was horrified to learn that Harry had not only witnessed Arthur Weasley's attack, but was seemingly the perpetrator. He shared Harry's dread of Occlumency lessons with Snape. Though the man was his godfather, that didn't mean that Draco had to like or approve of his teaching style. He'd never condoned Snape's treatment of Harry. Just because he'd held a grudge against James Potter didn't mean that he should take it out on the son. To diffuse the tension between Harry and Snape that would surely follow if Harry were to fail, Draco imparted him with his limited knowledge, hoping all the while for success. Apparently, he hadn't done enough if Harry had had a vision of his own godfather in danger.

At that moment, the subject of his thoughts walked through the door, looking shell-shocked.

"What happened?" asked Draco, immediately rushing to embrace his boyfriend and barely making it in time to catch Harry as he toppled forward, no longer able to support his own weight. Draco guided him to sit down on the couch and spooned him from behind.

"It was a trap," Harry whispered. "And now he's dead, and it's my fault."

"Who died?" asked Draco.

"Sirius," Harry said at last. "Bellatrix killed him."

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Draco, pressing a comforting kiss to the base of his neck.

As though his boyfriend's tender act were a sign, Harry broke down and began to sob in earnest. Draco merely held him securely in his arms, silently offering his support, sensing that he needed this release and that it was better to get the initial reaction over with, though knowing Harry, he would surely break down again. Losing his godfather, one of the last connections to his parents, was quite a blow. Harry's uncontrollable sobs and incessant trembling finally slowed, before coming to a complete halt. His energy completely spent, Harry collapsed limply against Draco, exhausted.

"I had a long talk with Dumbledore," Harry eventually continued, as though he and Draco were already in the middle of a conversation. "He told me the reason that Voldemort has targeted me from the start was because of a prophecy made shortly before I was born." Harry's voice took on a haunted quality as he spoke the words that would help to determine his fate, "And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . ."

"Oh, Harry," Draco murmured, subconsciously holding Harry closer to him as the enormity of their situation hit. They were on the brink of war, standing on opposite sides of a chasm. And as much as Draco wanted to make his stand with Harry, he couldn't without serious repercussions for both of them.

"Draco," Harry whispered, turning within the confine of his boyfriend's arms to look at him with a desperate, almost pleading, expression on his face. "Make love to me. Please?"

And when Harry looked at him with those emerald-green orbs brimming with unshed tears, Draco was hard-pressed to refuse him anything. "Of course," he replied, gently brushing the hair away from Harry's forehead and leaning forward to kiss his distinctive lightning bolt scar.

As was its way, the room changed to suit their needs. A four-poster bed with luxurious silk sheets appeared where the couch and chairs had been mere moments before, though the fireplace remained, accentuating the romantic mood that Draco was attempting to create with nothing more than a few sweet gestures.

When it seemed as if Harry was about to panic and back out at the last minute, Draco simply brushed their lips together, pulling away only to say, "Relax, love. Let me pleasure you."

Harry nodded, his trust of Draco outweighing any doubts he may have had regarding what they were about to do. Surrendering his control, Harry was soon gasping and moaning as Draco began to do things with his tongue and hands, displaying a newfound talent that Harry would never have imagined that he possessed. Later, they lay together with a sheet draped loosely over them, limbs tangled as the sweat dried on their thoroughly sated bodies. As Harry slept, Draco traced intricate patterns on his bare skin, relishing the few moments of peace they had been granted when everything was about to change.

And how right he turned out to be, as with the arrival of summer, Draco was whisked off to an initiation ceremony where he was gifted with the Dark Mark – a sixteenth birthday present, Lucius said. Though he smiled and acted please, groveling in gratitude to Voldemort, Draco wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and die. He'd unintentionally betrayed Harry in the worst possible way. Though Draco had suspected that something like this would happen, he'd thought that he and Harry would have a little more time together. Now, in order to protect Harry from Voldemort and his cohorts, Draco would have to break both their hearts. Despite having accepted that they couldn't be together anymore, Draco wasn't willing to give up fighting for Harry in whatever way he could. Having been informed that Snape was actually a spy for the side of the Light, Draco went to his godfather and begged to be allowed to help. No task was too menial – he just wanted to be assured that anything he did would help Harry in the end. Snape, sensing Draco's sincerity, revealed that Voldemort would be significantly weakened if certain Inner Circle Death Eaters could be delivered to the Order. Draco agreed instantly, even before Snape had outlined the dangers and the personal risk he would be taking. Draco didn't care. If it meant keeping Harry safe, he would do it.

His choice made, Draco now set out to survive the rest of the summer. When his duties as a Death Eater were completed, including the brief he received on his first assignment for Voldemort, he would meet with Snape and they would plan how he would go about luring Death Eaters to a location that the Order would already have secured. They finally decided on arranging an "invasion" of Hogwarts at the end of the year, and in such a way that would leave Draco untouchable – to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, at least, as Snape couldn't guarantee that the Order would see him as anything but a turncoat. Draco didn't care either way. If he couldn't have Harry, he may as well die, but as long as his life could be put to some use, he wouldn't stop fighting. Only after Voldemort lay defeated at Harry's feet would Draco give in to the desperation that was already threatening to overwhelm him – and he hadn't even broken up with Harry yet.

He didn't have long to wait to see Harry again. In Diagon Alley, their confrontation in Madam Malkin's was bittersweet. Both he and Harry knew that they couldn't publicly acknowledge that they were even close to being on good terms. What hurt the most for Draco was that he knew that he would soon be forced to revert back to his old habits of insulting Harry at every available opportunity. Soon, Harry would hate him as much as he once had – and the worst part was that Draco was doing this for Harry's own good. If he and Harry remained as close as they were, Voldemort could order Draco to deliver Harry to him, and Draco would be compelled to obey. He couldn't allow that to happen – he would rather die than see Harry fall into the clutches of Voldemort, tortured until he begged for death. So Draco chose to become a walking corpse in order to protect his love, for without Harry, he was nothing, dead inside.

Draco somehow made it to King's Cross in time to catch the Express. To be honest, he didn't remember how he got there, for all he could think about was that he would have to end his relationship with Harry before they reached Hogwarts.

He sensed Harry entering the compartment under the cover of his invisibility cloak – his aura, even while invisible, was unmistakable – and knew that he could no longer delay the inevitable. Motioning for his friends to go on without him, he spelled the shades shut to offer him and Harry privacy for what was to come, which wouldn't be pretty.

Whirling around, he brandished his wand. "Petrificus Totalus," he whispered, and Harry tumbled down from the luggage rack where he'd been hiding.

Draco pulled the cloak off of Harry's frozen form, whose eyes had widened to comical proportions. "Sorry, Potter," he whispered, smirking down at his helpless victim who found himself completely at Draco's mercy. "This may hurt a little." With that, he brought his foot down on Harry's face, smashing both his nose and his glasses in the process. "In case you missed the memo, this is me breaking up with you."

He threw the cloak back over Harry, effectively hiding him from view. However, he knew that as he was still visible to Harry, he couldn't allow his true emotions to show. If Harry even suspected that Draco wasn't really doing this of his own free will, then he would hound him until Draco broke down and told him the truth. And Draco couldn't afford for that to happen. His head held high, he walked outside, surreptitiously passing along the information regarding Harry's location to Tonks. Whatever Harry may now think of him, he was not a heartless bastard and wouldn't deprive his now-ex boyfriend of the only home he'd ever known.

Draco soon settled into a new routine. Whereas before he had hung out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in between classes, he now isolated himself, the better to complete his mission for the Order. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a killer – no matter what Voldemort thought and threatened – and would never consent to harming someone that many considered to be the greatest wizard in the world, if somewhat misguided by his feelings, and thus, manipulative.

The time flew – and before Draco knew it, the school year was almost over. He'd worked tirelessly on fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, despite Harry's persistence in finding out what he was up to. In truth, evading Harry had been more work than Draco had anticipated. He still cringed when he recalled their fight in the bathroom, but in a sick masochistic way, Draco enjoyed the thought that he was now branded with Harry's own special "mark" and that they both had scars to show what they stood for, though Harry would never know that he was being unreasonable in lashing out at Draco, when everything Draco had done over the past year, including their break up, had been to keep Harry safe.

The year finished with a bang as Death Eaters invaded the school – and ran straight into the Order's waiting arms. However, what Draco hadn't expected was for Snape to complete the task he had been set by Voldemort. Yet he shouldn't have been surprised, for someone had to do it if Draco's name were to be kept in the clear, not that he would escape punishment for failing to kill Dumbledore himself. A small price to pay, Draco thought, when answering a higher call, that of protecting Harry. Still, he had never actually wanted to see the old man dead. He may not have liked Dumbledore very much, but that didn't mean Draco didn't respect him.

As he fled the school on the heels of Snape, Draco could hear Harry's voice calling him. He turned, only to have his vision suddenly impeded by Snape's billowing black cloak.

"Draco, go," he ordered tersely. "I'll take care of Potter."

"Don't hurt him," Draco whispered, pleading for the life of his love.

"I've had many opportunities in the past to do so – every day he's entered my classroom, as a matter of fact – and yet I resisted," Snape informed him. "What makes you think I would give in to temptation now? Besides, I know of your feelings for him, even if the Dark Lord does not, and therefore, would never harm someone near and dear to your heart."

Draco nodded, satisfied with his godfather's answer for the time being, and with a final glance into Harry's beautiful but bewildered emerald-green orbs, he turned on his heel and Apparated away from the safety of the Lion's den, directly into the Snake pit that was Voldemort's lair. He soon lost track of how long he was put under the Cruciatus Curse, but he refused to cry or beg for relief. He may scream as though every nerve-ending were on fire, but he would not give Voldemort the satisfaction of knowing that he was broken. And it wasn't even Voldemort who broke him, but a boy with green eyes and the sweetest smile that could render Draco speechless.

The days blended together for Draco as he was compelled to participate in unspeakable horrors. He knew that Harry had the occasional insight into Voldemort's mind – he never had mastered Occlumency, after all – and Draco prayed that he wasn't seeing was He was forcing Draco to do. Harry would surely lose all respect for him then, if he hadn't already. Draco was numb. He'd forgotten how to feel. Even the Cruciatus Curse had little effect on him anymore, though he continued to scream and writhe on the floor as though he were in pain for appearances' sake. Then, on what began as just another ordinary day, Draco felt his heart flutter back to life – re-starting – at the sight of someone he thought lost to him forever. Though Harry was disfigured – probably the result of a well-placed Stinging Hex, most likely courtesy of Hermione – Draco would recognize his eyes anywhere, which had always seemed to have the ability to see into his very soul.

"Well, Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?" asked Lucius, desperation seeping into his tone. All he cared for was redemption. It didn't matter who or what got in the way as long as he was restored to his rightful place at the Dark Lord's side.

Harry was on his knees in front of Draco, his head being yanked back by the roots of his hair, which was being firmly gripped by Bellatrix to the point where it must have been painful to breathe. Draco winced internally. He'd always thought Harry to be untouchable. But here was proof positive that Harry could be just as weak and vulnerable as Draco himself. He knelt in front of Harry, tenderly brushing the strands of hair away from his face. He felt Harry lean into his touch, almost nuzzling Draco's hand, and would have smirked had they been anywhere else. Harry's eyes snapped open and locked on Draco.

"Please," he mouthed, begging Draco to spare him. They may not have been as close as they once were, but Harry was counting on Draco being loyal to what they had once had. Draco nodded minutely. There was never a question that he would help Harry and the others escape. They were still his friends, even if he was unable to acknowledge them as such.

Harry breathed an almost-inaudible sigh of relief as Draco rose abruptly to his feet again. "It's not him," he said decisively.

"Are you sure?" asked Lucius. "Think of it, Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven."

Draco could barely contain his repulsion for what his father had become – a sick fanatic. Suppressing a shudder, he raised a single eyebrow as though daring anyone to contradict his verdict. "I'm positive," he answered surely, "Must be some blood traitor on the run with Granger and Weasley. I'll take him to the dungeon with the others until a decision has been reached as to what's to become of them."

With that, he grabbed Harry roughly by the arm and began to drag him down many long and twisting corridors until they were well out of sight and ear-shot. When Draco felt that they were safely away, he quickly released Harry and pulled him into his arms. "You're here," he whispered, burying his head in the crook of Harry's neck.

"I said once that I'd always come for you. That hasn't changed," Harry assured him, holding the lithe blond close to his chest. Contrary to Draco's hopes, Harry had seen everything he'd been through, and his heart ached for his ex-boyfriend.

Suddenly struck by the premonition that this was the last time they would see each other, Draco clung to Harry, not caring how needy he was behaving or what Harry may think. He only wanted Harry's own unique brand of comfort. His touch alone had always been enough to calm Draco before. That still held true. The feel of Harry in his arms, warm and solid, brought Draco peace that he hadn't known in over a year. He eventually pulled away, albeit reluctantly. His eyes were suspiciously bright, even in the dim lighting of the corridor, and Harry could tell that he was trying not to cry. Harry was making no such effort. The last time he had seen Draco in person, he had been fleeing Hogwarts after threatening Dumbledore. Though Snape had been the one to commit the murder in the end, Harry had held Draco just as guilty for the longest time. Since then, though, he'd come to terms with what had happened. All that he now desired was a free world where he and Draco could love and live happily ever after.

But this wasn't a fairy tale, and no happy endings were in sight.

"You have to go," said Draco urgently. "It's not safe."

Harry laughed, "As if anywhere I go is safe." He and Draco shared a small smile at that statement. "Come with me," Harry pleaded, looking down at their clasped hands, which hadn't been joined for almost two years. "We can be together again."

"I don't belong in your world, Harry," said Draco sadly. "I'm a traitor to both sides of this war. What place is there for me?"

"Please . . ." Harry whispered, a single tear trickling down his cheek. "I can't lose you again. I'm not strong enough."

"Yes, you are," said Draco gruffly, "You're Harry Potter, the boy who won't bloody die. You've faced You-Know-Who countless times, and always managed to come out on top. If you can do all that, then you can do this too. Leave me. Save yourself."

"You're asking the impossible," said Harry.

"Think of Ron and Hermione," said Draco. Time was running out, and he needed to get Harry far away as soon as possible. "They're downstairs waiting for you. They need you."

"But I need you," Harry replied.

"I know, love," Draco whispered, the endearment slipping easily from his lips as he tenderly raised a hand to cup Harry's cheek, stroking the smooth skin. "I need you too. But they need you more."

Draco could see the moment Harry's mind was made up. His shoulders rose and he held his head higher; he met Draco's gaze squarely. Draco, for his part, nodded reassuringly at Harry. He knew they were both making the right decision, though for different reasons. As though sensing that the final hour was upon them, Harry launched himself at Draco, crushing their lips together desperately. Though initially startled, Draco soon began reciprocating, the pair slipping into old habits they both thought had long been forgotten. But who could forget something that used to be as natural as breathing?

When they pulled apart, Draco found a wand being pointed directly between his eyes – his own wand, as a matter of fact. Harry shrugged apologetically, and Draco responded in kind.

"Just make it look good," he said.

"Of course," Harry replied, surging forward suddenly for one more kiss, gentle and sweet. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Draco, smiling unreservedly at the boy – no, the man – who held his heart in the palm of his hands. His feelings didn't change, even when Harry swung back with his fist and broke his nose with a sharp snap. Draco felt it was fitting that Harry should do the same to him in the end. Harry's eyes were incredibly sad as he stood back to observe his handiwork. He, too, was thinking of when Draco had broken his own nose. But unlike Draco, Harry didn't feel that the blond was deserving of that kind of pain. He'd already been through enough – they both had. Harry leaned forward to brush their lips together for the final time. Pulling away, he leveled Draco's wand at its former owner.

He faltered, and Draco's eyes narrowed. "Do it," he ordered. "It's the only way."

"I know," Harry snapped. "I'm sorry, love – Petrificus Totalus."

As Draco toppled to the floor, his last sight was of Harry blowing him a kiss before dashing down the hallway in the direction of his friends and freedom. He lay there, unmoving except for his eyes, as he waited to be revived. Unlike Harry, though, he knew what would follow – certain death. He'd failed Voldemort one time too many, and Harry Potter's escape would be the final straw. However, Draco had accepted his fate a long time ago – he had never expected to make it through the war alive in the first place, much less in one piece – and he welcomed Death now with open arms. He was just so tired – all he wanted was to rest, preferably forever, and it seemed as though he were about to get his wish.

He didn't have long to wait. Harry never had been able to do anything quietly, and the Manor was soon in an uproar that their high-security prisoner had gotten away. His family descended to where Draco lay and cast the appropriate spell that released him from his binds and healed his injuries. He had barely regained his feet, though, before he found himself being restrained by his Aunt Bella – and he had even more sympathy for Harry now – and marched to the nearest cell where he was deposited until such a time as he would be brought before Voldemort to be punished. Left alone again, Draco sat down on the dank floor and drew his knees up to his chest.

Anticipation was the worst part of any confrontation, he decided.

When Voldmort finally deigned to grace the Malfoys with his presence, he was surprisingly calm and only spared a few moments to torture Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa under the Cruciatus Curse before sending for Draco. When the young man entered and had made the appropriate obeisance, Voldemort smiled disarmingly at him, and Draco found himself suppressing a shudder at his snake-like appearance. He stood in silence, head respectfully lowered, as he waited for Voldemort to speak first.

"Do you know why you are here?" asked Voldemort curiously.

"No, my Lord," Draco replied, deciding to play dumb for the time being in case there was a chance for his survival.

"Earlier today, a prisoner was brought here for you to identify. Do you know who this was?"

Wordlessly, Draco shook his head, resisting the urge to wet his suddenly-parched lips. He refused to show any sign of weakness.

"This prisoner was Harry Potter," Voldemort informed him, "And you lied about who he was. I think I know why. Would you like to hear my theory?"

Draco paled significantly at realizing that Voldemort knew – had probably known all along – about his and Harry's relationship. Knowing that Voldemort would speak anyway, Draco chose to keep silent.

"I think that you foolishly believed yourself in love with him, and thought that you could protect him by concealing his identity from me. Is this correct?"

Draco decided that if this was the end, then he would go with a clear conscious. No more lies, no more secrets, no more denying what Harry meant to him and how deeply they felt for each other.

Daring to raise his head and look Voldemort squarely in the eye, Draco smiled. "Yes, my Lord," he said simply. "Your supposition is correct. I love Harry, and he loves me. I chose to let Harry go rather than see him handed over to you, to be tortured until he begged for death. Though I myself may die for daring to love – a willing sacrifice that you are incapable of understanding – I see that as a small price to pay for contributing to your downfall. I have never been your man, not as long as you have persecuted Harry. He will win in the end, because he has the love of the people on his side, while all you will ever have is fear."

Having completed his speech, Draco stood breathing heavily as he waited for the pain to hit from what would be the first of surely many more curses. He wasn't disappointed.

"Admirable sentiments," Voldemort sneered as he raised his wand in preparation for ending Draco's life. "But Potter is a mere boy, while I am the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Love does not conquer all – that is the belief of fools. In that knowledge, despair and die."

The curse he cast was one that Draco knew well. In fact, Harry had used the very same one on him in a bathroom the previous year. Draco felt the laughter building inside of him and released a sound that was truly mad. But he was past caring. If it was his destiny to die here, then so be it. He had no regrets. Everything he had done had been for Harry, and nothing could ever make him regret Harry. Draco lost track of time – he was vaguely aware of his parents' distant cries in the background as they were forced to watch their son's lifeblood slowly drain away. Draco didn't even feel the pain. He felt . . . at peace, for the first time in a long while. With a serene smile on his face, he departed from the world of the living.

When Draco came to, he was in a field that he immediately noted was the exact same shade as Harry's eyes.

I've died and gone to Heaven, he thought, and found that he wasn't bothered by this realization. He slowly got to his feet, taking the time to look around and observe his surroundings. He hadn't spent seven years in Slytherin House, after all, without learning a thing or two about surveillance. At that moment, he noticed a group of people approaching him from across the opposite hill. If he really was dead, then no more harm could befall him, so he chose to stand his ground. As the quartet drew closer, he realized who exactly was making their way towards him: Harry's parents, James and Lily, his godfather, Sirius – and Draco's cousin – and his and Harry's former professor, Remus Lupin. Draco forgot for the moment that they couldn't hurt him, and he began to tremble. He'd been the bane of Harry's existence for so long, surely they were coming to exact some sort of punishment for the pain he'd caused Harry . . .

"Draco," said Lily, holding out her arms to him. But Draco stood frozen in place, afraid to accept what she was offering for fear of being rejected in some cruel trick of fate.

"It's customary to return a person's embrace when they make a gesture such as Lily has, cousin," said Sirius, grinning cheekily at him.

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to speak, but terror seemed to have stolen his voice. "I-I . . ."

"Yes, you're dead," James confirmed for him. "We made your passing as easy as possible by taking on your pain ourselves – or as much as we could, anyway, considering where we are and that we're all dead as well."

Draco gaped at them. "You did that . . . for me?" he asked, finally finding his voice again.

"Of course, Draco," said Remus, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Because you love Harry."

Draco lowered his gaze. Biting his lip, he looked up through his lashes at the group assembled around him. "But . . . I was horrible to Harry for so many years. And I broke his heart and his nose last year."

"Oh, Draco," Lily murmured, having finally realized what was bothering the young man standing before her. This time when she moved forward to hug him, Draco allowed the embrace. "We know that everything you did was out of love for Harry. And Harry understands that too – or he will, soon."

Draco finally let his defenses down and began to cry, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. "I-I'm so s-sorry," he stuttered. "I didn't want to hurt him . . ."

"We know, darling," said Lily, holding him close to her chest. After watching over the two boys from above for so long, she had come to view Draco as much her son as Harry was, for both had felt deeply and been willing to lay down their very lives to keep the other safe from harm. Lily let Draco cry himself out, rubbing his back soothingly and stroking his hair. Eventually, James, Sirius, and Remus joined her in supporting Draco as he hadn't been in life (except by Harry).

"Thank you," Draco whispered, pulling away to scrub at his face, embarrassed by his moment of weakness.

"Are you ready to move on?" asked Sirius, addressing Draco seriously for once.

Draco nodded, a few stray tears trickling down his cheeks, staining him with their salty wetness. "Yes, I'm ready. Will I be able to see Harry when he comes?"

"If he wants to see you, which I'm sure he will," Sirius replied. "When you die, the person – or people, whichever the case may be – who you want to see the most appears to greet you."

"Oh," Draco murmured, mulling over this new information. In a way it made sense that Harry's parents and their friends would appear to him when he died, considering how close he and Harry had been during their life together.

Wordlessly, Draco followed the Potters, Sirius, and Remus over the gently rolling hills. Though Draco didn't know for how long they walked, time didn't seem to have meaning where he was. He could be happy here, if only Harry were there as well. The group passed homes that were spaced sporadically throughout the countryside before they slowly began congregating in the form of a village that almost resembled Hogsmede, Draco thought.

Two figures in flowing robes were waiting for them when they arrived.

"Draco, my boy, you brave man," said Dumbledore, holding out his arms the same as Lily had before.

Draco froze, looking back and forth between him and his former Potions Master. Not that he was complaining that Severus was in Heaven, but he'd killed Dumbledore. Shouldn't there be a special place in Hell reserved for him? For that matter, shouldn't Draco be there too?

"Dumbledore's death was pre-arranged, Draco," Severus explained. "As such, I was safe, just as you have always been, due to the love you bear for Harry Potter."

"Sev . . ." Draco murmured, running forward into Snape's welcoming arms. Pulling away, he smiled through the tears up at the man who had been more of a father to him than his own ever was. He then turned to regard his former Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, sir . . ." his voice broke. "I am so incredibly sorry. You're right. I'm not a killer, but—"

"No need to explain, Draco," said Dumbledore, holding up a hand to forestall Draco's stammering apologies. "I understand the pressure you were under, not just from Voldemort, but from me as well. For that, I humbly beg your pardon."

"Everything I did for the Order was done willingly," said Draco.

"You mean for Harry," said Severus, taking the opportunity to tease his godson good-naturedly. Death had definitely mellowed his previously-snarky attitude.

"Yes," Draco replied, eyes widening in surprise at Snape's playful retort before his tentative smile soon morphed in a tender smirk at the thought of his . . . of Harry.

"Would you like to see your room, Draco?" asked Remus, breaking into the young man's thoughts. "You'll be sharing with James, Lily, Sirius, and me, at least for a little while. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Draco replied graciously. "I don't really want to be alone right now."

"We understand," said Lily, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Come this way."

The group moved on to stand in front of a modest dwelling. Draco had never pictured himself living in a house that small and simple – much less actually looking forward to it – but, ironically enough, he found that dying had changed his views on life.

"I love it," he exclaimed, despite having not even set foot inside yet.

The tour he received was brief – there wasn't much to see, just as Draco had suspected, not that it mattered much to him, one way or the other. His purpose now was to wait for Harry, however long that took. Heaven was as magical as Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement had been – for no sooner had Draco thought of something that he wanted, than it appeared right before his eyes. Despite this newfound "power," though, all Draco really wanted was Harry. It turns out that he didn't have long to wait. Draco had been looking out at the view from his window when he felt a tugging sensation at his heart, similar to what it felt like to travel by Portkey. He turned around and found his newly adopted "family" looking expectantly at him.

"It's time, son," said James. "Harry's calling to us, and we must answer."

Draco nodded mutely. Although he was excited to be seeing Harry again, he dreaded the guilt that Harry would surely feel at knowing that Draco had essentially died for him (not that he had any regrets – given the chance, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat).

Clasping hands, the quintet dematerialized, only to reappear in a forest clearing directly in front of Harry, who was sharply defined as opposed to their misty forms.

"Draco . . ." Harry whimpered at the sight of his lover. Turning to face the others, he said, clearly affected, "I never wanted any of you to die for me."

"It was our choice to do so," Draco informed him.

"We love you, Harry," Lily added, with James nodding his assent.

"Does it hurt?" asked Harry, before quickly looking down at the ground, ashamed of his childish question.

"Quicker than falling asleep," replied Sirius, easing his godson's worries.

"Remus," murmured Harry, turning to face his deceased mentor. "Your son . . ."

"He will grow up knowing that his parents died so that he could live free from fear," he said surely.

Harry nodded once and looked around at all the faces smiling tenderly back at him. "Mum, Dad, Sirius, Remus, D-Draco," he whispered, choking on the last name. "I love you all, and I'll see you on the other side soon, yeah?"

"We'll be waiting," said James, addressing his son for the first time. "We love you too, Harry, so much."

"Stay with me," Harry urged them.

"Always," Draco whispered, reaching out to clasp Harry's hand, but passing right through him. He smiled sheepishly. "I forgot. I'm still new to this whole "ghost" concept."

"We'll talk later," Harry promised him. "And don't think you're getting out of telling me why you're dead when we're supposed to be together forever."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco declared haughtily, grinning widely at Harry the entire time.

Bolstered by the support of his family, Harry walked forward to face his destiny, while Draco could only watch in helpless fascination as his lover was struck down by Voldemort's Killing Curse.

It wasn't long until they were together again, though. Embracing, Draco clutched Harry tightly to him, almost smothering the other man in his desire to fully express his love.

"Easy, Dray," said Harry, laughing, the old nickname rolling easily off his tongue. "I'm not going anywhere."

At this, Draco tensed, before reluctantly pulling away. "Actually," he began. "There's a choice that you have to make, like always. You can either stay with me, or go back and finish Voldemort for good."

Harry groaned. "My work isn't ever done, is it?"

"I'm afraid not, love," said Draco, chuckling at Harry's reaction.

Harry nodded resolutely. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll go back and finish Voldemort once and for all. But then I'm returning. After all, I made a vow to always come for you."

Draco nuzzled his head in the crook of Harry's neck, thrilled at his decision, even if it meant leaving everyone else behind. Call him selfish, but he was glad that Harry was choosing him, rather than living an empty life, alone and miserable. Cradling Harry's face in his hands, he brushed their lips together for the briefest of kisses. Nonetheless, it was perfect, soft and sweet, just what they both needed to tide them over until they were reunited once more.

"See you soon, Potter," he said gruffly.

"Later, Malfoy," Harry replied, getting up and turning to leave with a simple wave.

Draco waited impatiently for Harry's return, if only for the reason that he wanted to establish what they were. Were they back together again, or what? Draco wanted to know. Luckily for him, in what seemed to be no time at all, Harry reappeared in almost the exact same spot as before.

"Business all finished, then?" Draco quipped.

"Yeah," said Harry, somewhat subdued.

"Hey, now – what happened?" asked Draco, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling him flush against his side. "How did you even get back?"

"I just went to sleep and woke up here," Harry revealed. "I'll be fine, Dray. Don't worry about me. It's just . . . everything . . . all at once, you know? The war, all those deaths that I might have prevented . . ."

"You can't blame yourself for other people's decisions," said Draco. "Everyone knew what they were signing up for, and they did so willingly."

"Speaking of that, why are you here?" asked Harry, turning an accusing gaze on his companion.

Draco gulped. Harry's eyes were blazing with righteous indignation – that was never a good sign, even if it was a bit of a turn on for him. Draco decided there was no point in concealing the truth from him, so he prepared to tell Harry everything.

"After you left," he said slowly. "My parents and Aunt Bella came down to see what all the commotion was about. They revived me, and fixed my nose. Then Bella put me in the nearest holding cell until Voldemort could decide what to do with me."

Ignoring Harry's gasp at what that surely meant, he continued, "I was summoned to appear before Voldemort. He began baiting me, as though daring me to confess to what I had done. I thought I could bluff my way out, but when I realized the full extent of his knowledge, I came clean. I said that we loved each other, and if I was to die, there was no one I would rather lay down my life for – and that this was a willing sacrifice that he would never understand."

Harry gave a weak chuckle at hearing Draco give voice to what had turned out to be Voldemort's downfall in the end.

"Then," Draco whispered, refusing to meet Harry's eyes, "He cast Sectumsempra on me. I was supposed to bleed to death, slowly and painfully, which I did – to an extent."

He turned to face Harry fully. "Your family saved me," he revealed. "They took on the pain I was feeling themselves, as much as they could anyway, in order to spare me."

Harry stared at him in wonder. "Thank Merlin," he whispered, rushing at Draco and wrapping him securely in his arms. "What a horrible way to die. I would never have wanted that for you."

Draco returned the embrace, albeit hesitantly. "Harry, what are we?" he asked. At Harry's confused glance, he elaborated, "I mean, are we "together"? In life, we'd broken up, after all – which I'm extremely sorry for, by the way."

"It's alright. I know why you did," said Harry, tenderly cupping Draco's cheek in his hand. "And I would love nothing more than to be with you, only if that's what you want, though."

"Oh, it is, Harry," Draco assured him. "It is."

"Good, I'm glad," said Harry, smiling that adorable crooked smile at him. "Draco, will you take me to see everyone again?"

"Of course," he replied, holding out his arm for Harry to take. "Shall we?"

Harry slipped his arm through Draco's and they started to make their way through the mist that surrounded them. "Draco," said Harry cautiously. "When were you going to tell me about the Unbreakable Vow you made to Snape to protect me – with your own life, if necessary, I might add?"

Draco chuckled nervously. "Uh, never," he stammered. "That's kind of the point, Harry. You tell anyone, you die. And I didn't think you'd appreciate me dying before my time."

"But you did anyway," Harry pointed out.

"So did you," Draco quickly countered. "But we're together now, and that's all that matters."

"You're right," said Harry, halting their progress and shifting their bodies so that they were facing each other. His arms naturally came to rest on Draco's slim hips, while Draco simultaneously wrapped his around Harry's upper back. "We'll be together forever – nothing can ever separate us again."

"Never," Draco vowed, sealing their promise with a kiss. He felt Harry smiling against his lips, and he grinned in response. It felt good to be able to do this again – hold Harry whenever he wanted, take him in his arms and kiss him . . . They could do everything they had once done in life, only this time, they never had to stop.

"Let's go home," said Harry, as if sensing Draco's thoughts.

Draco smiled, and wordlessly offered Harry his arm again. They strolled off together, united forever. Later that night, after a grand celebration that lasted for many hours, Harry and Draco lay together as they once had in the Room of Requirement, having re-consummated their relationship and the start of their new life together. Draco's arm was draped across Harry, effectively pinning him to the other man's chest. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, as he instinctively shifted closer to his lover.

Yes, Draco mused, there's peace in death, after all.

Life was good.