Author's Note: I think I've waited long enough… so this is it! Harry's POV.

Chapter 7

"Draco, NO!" Harry tried to reach out for the other boy and make him put the wand down from his head but no matter what he did, he was still tightly bound from Bellatrix's curse. "Please kill me!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the dreaded words being shouted, tears rolling rapidly down his face. "NO! NO! Oh gods, no! no no no no NO..." His words were caught in his throat as his sobs became louder. He heard a multitude of yells and curses, heard people running around the room. But he didn't open his eyes or try to move. He knew now that Draco was out of the way, there was nothing stopping Bellatrix from summoning Voldemort and killing him. But oddly, he didn't care that he was about to die. There were so many people he loved who had already died for Harry, so many people… and now Draco was gone too. He wouldn't let anybody else die for him. If this was his end, so be it. He'd go quietly.

Suddenly, all was very quiet. Harry's eyes flew open when he felt someone grab his arm and start to drag him out of the room. He managed to turn his head and saw that it was Snape, whose face was grim and controlled. He glared up at the man in pure hatred. Harry could handle Bellatrix handing him over to Voldemort, but Snape? No. That would be too much. He wriggled around, trying hard to make Snape lose his grip on his bundled body and drop him.

"Get off!" He tried to scream, even though the binds were covering his mouth.

"Shut up, Potter!" Snape growled under his breath. "I'm trying to help you here!"

Oh, that was likely. "I'm sure, after all the help you've just contributed." He suddenly remembered the Headmaster and he tried to glance around for him, but his head wouldn't turn. "Where's Dumbledore? Has your lot killed him already?" Harry demanded.

"It's fine, I've taken care of him," Snape responded, still struggling to drag him away. Harry slammed his lower body into Snape's legs, and the Potions master grimaced in pain. "Will you stop that?" he snapped, shoving him into the corner of the room. "And shut up!"

Harry shot him another defiant glare before glancing around the room, certain that he'd see Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters crowded around, gleefully watching Snape manhandle him. To his surprise, the room was entirely empty, save a few crumpled bodies on the floor. Confused, he scanned the faces. He saw some Death Eaters scattered around, but he didn't see Bellatrix or Fenrir Greyback. It was like they completely disappeared.

Snape muttered a quick spell and Harry felt the binds around him fall slack. He pushed himself out of the ropes and looked up at Snape, who put his finger to his lips to silence him. Bewildered but reassured, Harry complied. Snape looked around to check his surroundings, and then tossed Harry the wand he'd dropped earlier. "Be alert just in case anybody else comes around. I have to go check something." Harry nodded at his professor's words, and the man crept out the door and disappeared.

He settled back in the corner and observed the gloomy moonlight shining down, a dull glow upon the fallen bodies. He shuddered, suddenly cold by the eerily haunted atmosphere in the room. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them, overwhelmed by the events of the night. He had so many questions, but nobody to answer them. Where was Pansy and Dumbledore? Were they all right? And how did all these Death Eaters fall, what happened to Bellatrix and Greyback? Why was Snape helping him? What had happened when his eyes were closed? And Draco…

His head shot up, hope suddenly filling his chest at maximum speed. Maybe if Snape had saved Draco before he did anything, or maybe if he'd had done all this damage himself somehow… Harry's heart plummeted southward with a sickening thud as his gaze fell on a lone body in the centre of the room. He gasped, a weird sort of animalistic noise escaping from his throat, and he threw himself from the corner of the room to Draco's side.

Draco's body was positioned like he had fallen quite hard on his head. His arms lay by his side and his wand was only a few inches from him, as if he'd dropped it there when he fell. Harry felt fresh, warm tears falling from his eyes as his gaze dropped to Draco's pallid face, illuminated by the moonlight as if he were a fallen angel. His eyes were closed as if he were just sleeping, with light blonde eyelashes creating a thick curtain to shield them. Harry raised a trembling hand to Draco's cheek, lightly brushing it and shivering at the temperature of his skin. Ice.

"Draco," Harry whispered. He could hear the pure agony even in his own voice. "Draco. I'm so sorry. I should've stopped you. It's my fault you're like this," his voice broke as he imagined the responding smirk he would never get. "It should've been me. Why wasn't it me?"

Harry felt a strangled, hysteric laugh escape him and he shook his head. "Oh gods, I wish you could answer me. You'd probably tell me how dramatic I'm being, or to stop whining like a bloody Gryffindor. But I'd take any of that, any day. Can you hear me? You could punch me in the face, or laugh at me, or tell me I'm incompetent in a condescending tone. Anything. Please?"

"What are you doing, Potter?"

Harry whipped around as he saw Snape reentering the room, brushing off invisible lint from his black robes. He glanced down at Harry kneeling by Draco's unconscious body, but he didn't look fazed. Something about that offhand look made Harry's blood boil. And even if the man had saved him in some way, it didn't stop Harry from speaking his mind. "How can you just stand there with that expression of indifference? Didn't you care about him at all? I thought he was your godson!" Harry yelled.

Snape was still unperturbed. "He is my godson," he replied.

"He was your godson," Harry corrected, "and now he's dead!"

Snape smirked. "I think you are mistaken, Potter."

"What…—? How the hell am I mistaken? Do you see him? He's dead!"

"I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing."

"No! I demand you tell me what you are talking about! What happened? Where are all the Death Eaters, where's Pansy, what about—"

Harry was interrupted by a flash of light hitting him square in the chest and knocking him unconscious.

~x~

When Harry woke up again, he was lying in the infirmary dressed in nothing but the flimsy hospital gown provided for him. When he sat up to look around, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his head. Groaning, he lay back down on the pillow gingerly. Gods, what happened? He remembered frantically rushing to the Tower, but then what? He tried to move his body around again but found that all the muscles in his arms and lower body were tense and sore. Ah, that must've been a result from the binding hex Bellatrix put on him. Now he remembered. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced to his right, surprised to see Dumbledore sitting calmly next to him, watching him notice him with a smile. "Why hello, Harry. Good to see you up and moving," the Headmaster greeted.

Harry blinked at him, confused. He closed his eyes and rubbed them again. "What day is it?"

"It's Wednesday. You've missed almost a week of classes, dear boy. We'll have to get you caught up again."

"Oh. Merlin, my head hurts."

"Yes, Severus says he feels bad about that, but I don't believe he's being quite truthful. You were having a hard time coping with things, so I suppose he had to calm you with a spell. Though he won't tell me which spell. Funny one that man is."

Harry turned away from him, his eyes still shut. "I don't suppose you know what happened," he said.

"Oh, I do. But I'll just condense it for you. The Death Eaters are all awaiting their trials sentencing them to a lifetime in Azkaban, save for Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback, who I've heard had both accidentally been killed in crossfire." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously at that. "Ms. Parkinson is fine, a little bruised up, but fine. She's been in here a couple of times to check on you, too. In fact, she sent these with me today, in case you woke up." The Headmaster gestured to a vase of flowers on his bedside table.

"Hm, that's nice. Pansy's not usually the type for flowers, but I do appreciate them," Harry observed. "What about Ron and Hermione? Have they—?"

"Oh yes. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger have both been in here non-stop. Madame Pomfrey can't seem to get rid of them, they're always at your bedside. Actually, they were just rushed out of here a few minutes before you came around because they had to go to class. I tell you, Ms. Granger has been absolutely harried by your state, and I presume that Mr. Weasley isn't faring much better. They've been kind enough to bring you a few things though, as well."

Harry glanced over at the table again and found a few chocolate frogs and a Quidditch magazine resting by the flower vase, clearly from Ron, and some reading books and class notes neatly arranged in Hermione's careful script next to that. It was nice that his friends cared about him so much. He'd be sure to thank them when they came back. "What about you, Headmaster? Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I'm quite all right. Severus made sure I got out of there unharmed. You know, I'm an old man, a little assistance couldn't hurt at that point."

Harry was quiet, trying to remember what exactly he'd been doing there. If the Headmaster was okay, that meant the Death Eater mission had failed. The mission Harry had been coming to prevent. Wasn't he trying to stop Draco from—?

Wait, Draco!

Harry's eyes flew open and he looked around frantically, ignoring the sharp pains in his head. "Draco!" He called. "How's Draco?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Don't worry about Mr. Malfoy, he's not suffering anymore. I can assure you, he's doing better now."

Harry's heart felt heavy when he heard those words. He closed his eyes again and leaned back, bright, dancing spots filling his vision as a result from the pain. "I'm glad he's better now," he murmured.

"Yes. Well, I believe my visiting time is over, for now. I'll leave you to rest," Dumbledore said. Harry heard him shuffle out of the room, leaving him all alone in his thoughts. For the next few hours, he kept his eyes shut and didn't speak, even when Madame Pomfrey rushed in and out, feeding him vile medicine and fretting over him as much as possible. Even when his friends came in to comfort him and catch him up on the latest news.

It was pitch-black nighttime when Harry finally opened his eyes again. He stared at the ceiling, wishing he could look up at the stars and pretend he could see the entire universe and its contents, wishing he could gaze into the faces of his loved ones and tell them he was sorry they were up there and he was not. He thought of Draco's scrunched up features, twisted with regret and grief and pain as he said his final words to Harry. And then he imagined Draco's beautifully pale face, devoid of that terrible expression, lying still and serene on the floor of the Astronomy Tower. And Harry decided that he really was glad that Draco wasn't suffering anymore. His life had been a struggle. And now it wasn't. But even the knowledge that Draco was better didn't fill that dreadfully empty void in his heart. "I wish I could've saved you," he whispered out into the darkness to nobody in particular. "But I don't want to hurt you by wishing that. I want you to be happy. I want to be happy. So even though I never had you, I'll let you go."

"As pleased as I am to hear that you want me to be happy, you're not getting off the hook that easily, Potter."

Harry jerked up in surprise at the familiar voice. He sat up eagerly, peering around in the darkness to find the source. "Draco? Draco! Is that you?"

"Of course it is, you prat. Do you think it was Snape sitting here listening to you ramble?" Harry heard the voice, but he couldn't find where it was coming from. Was this all in his head? Was he deluding himself into thinking he was hearing Draco's voice as a result of his bottled grief? "Oh please. I know you're thinking that you're going crazy, but I assure you, I'm here." Harry jumped a little as a sudden light came from the tip of a wand by the seats next to his bed. And the owner at the other end of the wand had blonde hair, grey eyes, and a smirk on his face. "Miss me?"

"Draco!" Harry practically leaped out of bed and clung to the other boy's arm, bringing him down onto the bed with him. "You're alive! But how?"

Draco straightened himself out and sat down on the bed next to him, letting Harry clutch his hand tightly. "I was never dead," he replied casually.

"Huh?" Harry tugged a little, urging him to come closer. He tightened his grip on Draco's arm, not wanting to let go in case he disappeared altogether again.

"I never said the curse."

"...but I heard you. You said it."

Draco shook his head. "No, that wasn't me. I was about to do it, but then I heard somebody else yell it—I think it was Snape—and I looked over and Bellatrix was on the ground, and mass chaos was going on around me as the others started ganging up on him. You were just lying there with your eyes squeezed shut and I was about to grab you and get us both out of there, but I got caught in the crossfire and hit with some hex. Pomfrey said it was a twisted but unsuccessful form of the killing curse, so I was out cold for a couple of days before anyone figured out I wasn't actually dead. I think Snape knew though, because he prevented them from turning me to ashes before I came around. He was probably the one who hit me with it, the awful bastard. Anyway, I've been up for a while now. But you really had me worried here, being all unconscious for a week now! I mean, here I was, coming back from the dead, and you didn't even have the sense to be awake for it! I was a bit offended, to be honest."

Harry gaped at him in awe, amazed by the surprising turn of events and how easily Draco spoke of them. All this time he was grieving over a boy who hadn't actually died in the first place! And Snape! Harry would get back at the conniving professor for putting him in the hospital wing with some questionable spell, and not telling him that Draco wasn't dead. But he would save that for later, because as of right now, he had some explaining to do. "About the things I said that night—" Harry began.

"No, let me," Draco interrupted. "I meant every word and every action. I would've kill myself for you, Harry."

Harry felt his eyes well up with tears, but this time of happiness. "Really? But I would rather you'd think to kill me than yourself."

Harry saw Draco bite his lip at that and smile sadly. "You know that I would never do that."

"But what if I told you that if you really loved me, you would do it. For me."

Draco shook his head. "No. But we will never have to go through that again, love, I promise."

Harry sat back and observed Draco quietly. How his white-blonde hair just barely swept across his fine eyebrows. How his fair skin looked against the blackness of the room, his grey eyes bright with emotion. The way his thin, pink lips curved up just so in a small smile. And Harry couldn't remember why it was he hadn't realized that he loved this boy from the very beginning. "I love you, Draco," he said softly.

Draco smiled and leaned forward, pushing his dark tousled bangs out of his eyes. Then he pressed his lips to Harry's, gently, chastely. Harry tried to deepen the kiss, but Draco stopped him by pulling back. "I love you too, Harry. I promise I'll never let anything happen to you. Ever again."

Harry shot him a sly smile. "You do know that by saying that you'll have to face Voldemort to defend me."

"I'd battle a thousand Voldemorts if it means you'd be safe."

"I'll never let you."

"When has that ever stopped me?" Draco argued stubbornly.

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back with a sigh. "It's truly a mystery why ever I disliked you," he commented with just a hint of sarcasm.

Draco leaned back with him, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist protectively. "Because I was quite the charmer, of course," he laughed and squeezed him a little. "I'm surprised we even made it this far."

Harry turned to look into his eyes. "But we have. And we've got a war to fight, now that you're officially in the Light side's good graces. Considering you've rescued me and didn't kill Dumbledore, and all."

Draco sighed. "Save one Boy-Who-Lived and a barmy but brilliant old wizard and suddenly I'm the pride of the pure," he remarked.

Harry grinned. "I suppose so." He sobered a little and bit his lip. "Are you ready, though, really? We've got a long way to go from here."

Draco nodded and took his hands. "I'll be ready for every bit of it if I'm with you," he declared.

Harry smiled and leaned forward again, capturing Draco's lips in his. He'd be content to stay in this moment, just him and Draco, forever and ever. But Harry had to go out and fight this war, if only to keep it. To make sure that his future was filled with moments like these instead of horror and fear. Because he would have this in his future. He would have Draco forever, safe and happy. He would make sure of it. He closed his eyes and leaned into Draco's touch, drifting off into a comfortable sleep with thoughts of a bright and Voldemort-less future ahead of him. A future with Draco.

And to think none of this would have happened if he had fought with Draco instead of comforting him that day in the bathroom.

Author's Note: And that's a wrap! Love you guys to pieces for sticking with me this whole time and dealing with all my dramatics and craziness! Thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it :) xoxo