Hey guys!

Sorry for the massive delay! I really didn't want to mess it up and apparently moving to a new country doesn't help one's writing skills...

Anyways, Here is the epilogue. I finally decided what I wanted to do to this story and how it really should end.

So, no follow up epilogue. It just doesn't feel right...

Epilogue

"This is kinda nice, you know."

"So," Draco said softly as he pulled at the grass stems gently. Harry watched him as the sun shone upon his golden hair and pale and high cheekbones. The curse had taken his parents down rather quickly, but with Draco, its last victim? It sure was taking its time.

Not that Draco was complaining, really. He barely commented on it. And for someone who could see what was happening, someone who cared, someone like Harry… well, it wasn't easy. Not knowing how to even feel deep down to himself. To feel slightly better for the more time they were granted so he could have Draco a little bit longer, or to feel even worse. For seeing the unknown hero in hiding take all that pain and fade away slowly, every day a bit more, in front of his eyes. Harry was suspecting that in the more recent weeks, it wasn't Draco's flesh that was melting away, but his bones.

The curse really was taking its time. Harry could feel his trousers getting damp from sitting on the grass, still wet from the mid-spring rains. But he couldn't care any less. How could he? When his uptight Slytherin was sitting right beside him, leaning more on one hand than the other, and looking down at the grass between his finger tips so mesmerized. With his hair untidily pushed behind his ear, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and the top of his shirt unbuttoned.

"So." Draco repeated, this time looking up to Harry's eyes, confirming that he was, in fact, talking to him. "I've been wondering. What are you actually going to do? After school, after…" Don't say it. Don't say- "After all these stuff." He didn't say it. He looked at Harry patiently. Patient, like he had all the time in the world.

Harry took a moment to actually think about it. He hadn't really given it much thought since Draco. "Well, I'm not sure anymore. I mean before the war, wow it feels like a lifetime ago." It was a lifetime ago, actually. "for years I was set on becoming an auror. Then I thought, maybe something with less…" blood, loss, death "violence. So I decided to give Quidditch a shot." With Ginny. "But…"

But Harry had changed in the past few months, too. Now that he had spent silent and peaceful hours of just doing nothing with Draco… Now he couldn't imagine himself in crowds, around noises louder than the thousands of small splashes of raindrops, or the mute dumping of snowfall, or the wind slipping past the leaves… or the gentle, calm whispers of a fading boy…

Draco didn't say anything, he kept watching Harry as his eyes drifted back to memories and thoughts and resurfaced back to the present time. With eyes so calm as if nothing was ever going to happen. "Now, " Harry cleared throat. "Now I'm thinking of taking a few years off. Retiring and everything. I mean I have enough money to live quite good for at least 200 more years without needing to think about my bills… So, a tiny wooden house in a small muggle town sounds nice." If I survive what comes before that, what comes after this.

Nope, he wasn't wasting such a good day, specially when there are very few left, moping. "What about you?" Harry asked. Knowing it sounded silly. Draco gave him a look. "I plan to die of old age, in a farm, actually." Harry let out a chuckle.

"Well, you could always turn into a ghost, you know?" Then we could spend years on a bench, looking at the sunsets. "Maybe take Bloody Baron's spot in school even." Then I could teach here. "Maybe move in with Myrtle?" Harry suggested. Not knowing how to fit himself in that scenario.

Draco gave out a breathless laugh. "Nah, I'd rather build a cottage from burning bones and rest peacefully in hell… or burn peacefully, I guess?"

It wasn't easy, but Harry had mastered the art, or self torture skill, of humoring the pain.

"A house of fire, in the middle of hell, among all the sinful cries of agony. Draco Malfoy, sitting inside, on rocking chair, looking outside the window. What a dramatic image!"

Smiling was a lot easier on Draco's lips these days.

...

A nice thing about Draco was, that no matter the situation, no matter the bad, unfortunate and sad events going on around him, being with him, being around him… it washed away everything away. Every pleasant or unpleasant thing surrounding Harry and his life would lose color and importance in comparison to what was going on at that exact moment.

It was like sitting in a dark room with him, where no sounds could come through the walls and nothing could creep from beneath the door. A door so dark that one couldn't tell how big it is, if it's as small as his cupboard, or big and spacious… it there was a room at all…

Given Harry's childhood, it should be more traumatizing than comforting. But it wasn't, because all Harry could see in that room was Draco. He was the only reality in that room, even if he closed his eyes he knew he still was there.

He made Harry oblivious to everything around him… like that exact moment… Harry had completely forgotten what had just happened maybe not an hour ago with his friends.

...

...

...

"Will you marry me?"

The question hung in the air without any response. Well, except the shock and confusion. Hermione's mouth was hung open as she tried to blink the shock away. The silence was deafening… but hilarious. Draco's eyebrows were almost touching his hairline, as he opened his mouth in an attempt to make a comment, a smart one probably, and closed it without a sound.

Thankfully after two minutes of four young adults sitting on couches in an awkward silence, Harry found his voice.

"What?" He asked and didn't miss the silent mouthed 'The. Fuck.' on Draco's lips.

Ron didn't take his eyes from Hermione, still waiting for an answer.

"D-Did… Did y… Did you just propose to me?"

Ron nodded with a smile.

"While sitting on a couch," Draco said, finally finding something to say. "In the middle of a discussion about whether muggle course books should be taught at or at least available in wizarding schools."

Harry could only mouth 'what' again.

Hermione still was too surprised to even feel disappointed for Ron's choice of time and way of proposal.

Ron's face turned red in matter of seconds. "Yes, well, it wasn't the best timing, but…"

"Yes, Ron. Not the best timing. Probably a few years early." Hermione was trying to sound calm and collected, at least she was trying.

Confusion replaced embarrassment quickly in Ron's voice. "Years? What? Why? Why should I want to marry you years later?" Draco grabbed his head with both hands dramatically. "Salazar, I'm getting a headache from his lack of thinking equipment."

Hermione, not really listening to Draco, exploded at Ron's words. "Ron, WE'RE NOT EVEN TWENTY YET!" to which, Ron shrugged way too easily. As if it wasn't any deal at all, let alone a big one.

"Okay, So? I've loved you since fourth grade and I know that you are the one that I love now and will love two and five and ten and fifty years from now. so what difference does it make? You're the smartest person I know and I know as a fact that whatever your answer is today, it will be the same ten years later. Because you already have chosen to be with me and although I still don't know why that one happened, I know you've done your research on me and have studied me enough to choose to be beside me."

He talked so easily and fast about his love that everyone else in the room got silent again. After a few seconds Ron continued.

"You can slow this down if you want, Mione. You can prolong it all you want. For a year or two or ten. But in the end it's inevitable. In the end no one is stopping me from loving you and wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. In the end I will ask you to marry me… and I hope you say yes… You will say yes, right?"

Now Hermione had gotten too emotional too talk. Harry was so amazed by Ron's speech. Ron wasn't a smart or remarkable person. He always would get passed by unnoticed while he stood beside Hermione's genius and Harry's fame. But there were times that he shone brighter than anyone with only being a Gryffindor and speaking his heart so easily.

"Wow, Mate." Harry finally managed. Ron turned red immediately again after he remembered the other two guys in the room.

"I think we should leave, Potter." Draco whispered quietly to Harry. Harry nodded and with Draco, they left the two lovebirds some alone love time to discuss their love stuff.

Both boys puffed some air out as they got in the hallway. Draco's followed by a small cough. They stared at each other for a moment and laughed quietly as they failed to comment on their friends' love style.

"Out?" Draco suggested. "I think it stopped raining a little while ago."

...

...

...

Trauma. It was one way to describe almost all of his life… and death… and even most of what followed. And normally, he should be a mess. He should look at every corner and see a dead body. He should close his eyes and have empty, unblinking eyes of all the ones he loved stare back at him. He should look at anything green and see a very different shade of green light engulf him. He should mistake every loud burst of laughter with a person's dying, torturing, mourning, painful screams.

He should be burning himself out, or seeking help from a therapist…

But… somehow… he wasn't… not anymore.

Somehow his life didn't seem dull and colorless and meaningless as it should.

Somehow he looked at every corner and saw Draco… Draco leaning on the wall, Draco sitting down, Draco collecting his books… Draco…Draco…Draco…

Somehow Harry closed his eyes and he would find himself in that dark room again. Where everything is silent and calm and… just steady…

Somehow he saw green and would think of the forest, and grass, and a Slytherin scarf, hanging loosely around Draco's neck…

Somehow he heard bursts of laughter and, yes, he did flinch at first from the loud voice, but would end up thinking how different how every laughter, every chuckle sounded.

Somehow, Draco had taken all the trauma in Harry's head and had melted it away.

Harry turned to look at Draco again. He was looking at the sun slowly descending from their view. The red and orange lights reflecting on the lake. It was amazing, magical you could say. Not long ago Draco had once said, Harry recalled, 'It's amusing, how we are this secret community and world that know magic, what no one believes in, and aren't we proud of it. But in the end, the most mesmerizing and untouchable magic isn't stored away only for a special group. In the end of the day, nature is the biggest magic and it's for everyone.'

It was an amazing sight, the lake. And yet, Harry's gaze was glued to Draco's face. How the burning sun lit his face, his pale face coloring up with a blush granted by the sun itself. A strand of rich red and golden hair dangling too closely to his eyes, leaving Harry wondering, which did he want more. To let this perfect picture stay in front of his eyes with all of its imperfections. Or to reach out and push that strand away, and let his fingers linger on the 'naturally' blushed skin.

Feeling his gaze, silver eyes turned to him. Now shining like pure, heated gold. Harry's eyes spoke books of all that he was feeling.

Draco wasn't daft, or ignorant. His eyes softened and a small smile lit up his face. A safe, embracing smile, reassuring Harry the he- that they were okay. That he knew. That he cared. That maybe, he, too, felt this way.

Draco wasn't perfect. He never was. He never would be. Not for himself, not for Harry, and not for the world.

But he was the best thing to ever happen to Harry. In that year. In that time. In this scenario.

For one moment, Harry imagined leaning forward, closing this small gap and touching that safe smile, feeling… tasting the safety, the sweet calmness if offered.

He thought of running his lips, after his fingers, across his jaw, his high cheekbones…

He thought of resting his forehead against his, of letting their lips brush, of inhaling his scent.

He thought of breaking the unspoken vow he had set for himself and throwing away every red line he had ever drawn.

He thought of putting his knees on both sides of his hips in one move, barely touching them.

He thought of letting his hands lightly climb his chest, up to his neck, of burying his hands in his blond locks, of his of his thumbs caressing his cheeks.

And he thought of leaning down and finally locking those lips with his own. Of swallowing the tiny gasp that would- he knew it would- escape his lips.

He thought of touching this affection that's been growing in months. Of remembering and memorizing every second, every breath, every sound, every inch. Of feeling this safety, this calmness, this emotion that he couldn't describe, somewhere other than his heard and his head, of having it on his skin.

For one moment, Harry knew he could do it, and he knew Draco wouldn't stop him. He had seen it in his eyes.

For one moment, Harry understood how bad he needed this fragile, fading boy to stay with him. How bad he had fallen for him. How bad he loved him.

And for one moment, he didn't do anything.

He kept staring at those eyes. After that one moment of doing nothing Harry knew that this wasn't just about love. It was about connection, about maturing out of fairy tales and fantasies, about finally letting go of the childhood he never had but part of him subconsciously kept clinging on to it.

It wasn't about falling in love. It was about a hand clasped into his as he started to love. About steadily loving. Safely being in love.

Draco was still looking at him, with an emotion that Harry could read, because they could read each other. Because they had healed from the stinging scars of the war, the past, together.

Draco's eyes spoke to his again, talking of understanding. He looked back at the sky but moved closer to Harry. Their shoulders brushing lightly. Watching the sky, where once, the sun had shone. Waiting for the starts to appear.

"This is kinda nice, you know." Draco said slowly as he inhaled the fresh air. Harry smiled. He didn't need to approve in words. Draco had already heard his silence. This small amount of time that Harry had spent with Draco, it had taught him things. It was short, but it would remain for years.

Draco wouldn't die when he would cease to breathe, not for Harry. He would stay with Harry. Not just out of love. But in the way he would live. He would live because that's what he learnt from this fading boy. For the first time since Harry had known about Draco, he didn't feel sad that he was dying. He felt lucky that he had had a chance at this, no matter how short.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Harry felt like this truly and unconditionally.

He felt happy.

Sooo, that's it.

Sorry, this was never supposed to have a happy ending. But sorry anyways if it wasn't what you wanted.

But please tell me what you thought of it.

Good? Bad? It truly sucked? OMG it was amazing? (Yeah, I know it wasn't!)

I really would love to know how you felt.

...

Well, That really is it!

Sorry again for all the delays, and thanks for bearing with me.

I solemnly swear to never post an unfinished story ever again. (I'll try!)

BYE!