For Crissie, who shares my love of Drarry.

Ash, thank you for beta'ing. I'm sorry you had to force yourself to read 8000 words of Drarry haha

Enjoy reading!

Amongst the Rubble

He could still feel the last bits of adrenaline pump through his system as he slowly walked across Hogwarts' grounds and tried to not look too closely.

It had been about three hours since the Dark Lord had fallen, and Draco Malfoy didn't know what would come next. All of his life, he had been prepared to join a war in the making, to fight for a side he hated with all that he had. Yet, being a good son and afraid of what would happen to his family, he had done as he had been told.

He had repeated his father's mistakes, supported and helped his insane aunt, had been the reason that the leader of the light side had fallen, and had been the cause for so many lives taken and families ripped apart. During all those years filled with nightmares and regrets, he had forced himself to continue until the bitter end.

Why, you ask? Well, what else could he have done, really? His whole family had the reputation of being dark, and he had been pegged as a future Death Eater from the day he was born. His parents, although not totally convinced of and passionate about the Dark Lord, had followed him and had thus taken his chance of a normal life. He had been put together with other Death Eater's children to play, he had sat through so many parties and afternoon tea meetings with distant relatives, all bearing the Dark Mark.

At first, he hadn't really thought of it as something real, just like when kids played dress-up and pretended to be a superhero; he had wrapped himself in one of his father's black cloaks, and pretended to be a bad wizard, powerful and feared by all around him. It had been fun, so even as a teenager he had looked back at those playdates with a fond smile on his face.

Imagination and laughter had quickly turned into reality and nightmares. The screams from the Dark Lord's victims still echoed in his head as he tried to fall asleep, knowing fully well that just a few floors below him, his father's companions all had met up to get ready for the next summoning.

After the Triwizard Tournament, when Harry Potter had appeared outside the maze, cup clutched in one hand, and the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory in his other, he had known that the peaceful life had ended – that his peaceful and purposefully ignorant life had ended. The Dark Lord had returned, and once Draco returned back home, his father took him aside and explained to him what was expected of their family, and how he had to behave and act.

Fear so potent and overwhelming that he hadn't dared to move had flooded his body. Dread and a paralysing sense of acceptance had left him frozen on the spot.

Harry Potter had been his official enemy from that point onward, someone far more important than just a little school rivalry that centered around who caught the Snitch faster. Harry Potter had jumped up and straight into the bull's eye, being turned into a target for thousands of loyal followers of the most powerful dark Wizard there ever had been.

Nobody but Draco had known that he would be anything but a loyal servant. He hadn't wanted to be a servant at all. It hadn't been his decision as his father had woken him up one morning during summer break, had told him to get dressed in his finest robes and had taken him to his initiation ceremony. He had been forced to bow to the monster himself, standing in front of huddling and trembling cowards, and kiss his muddy boots. He had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed of himself as a person.

Disgust and hatred so strong that it burned through his veins with every breath he took from that point onward, and he blamed Lord Voldemort for it. His parents hadn't had another option but to sacrifice their only son to keep their family alive. If they had left the ranks and turned their backs on him, they would've been killed almost instantly. No, he hadn't blamed his parents, still didn't. The real reason behind this terror and pain was the remains of a man at the very top, someone who declared a boy of sixteen-years-old his mortal enemy.

The following school year had been the start of the worst two years of his life. Being forced to do something he knew would kill hundreds of innocents and start the second Wizarding War was his personal nightmare. He had stopped talking to his friends, who wouldn't have understood him anyway. They were just as misled as his father had been. He had stopped doing his homework on a regular basis or even go to class. And he had stopped eating. He hadn't noticed it, really, until one morning when he had looked into the mirror above the sink and had seen his sunken in, sickly-coloured skin and the huge bags under his dull eyes.

He had grown paranoid, fearing, or maybe hoping, that someone would notice, that someone would see his peculiar behaviour and care enough to get him to stop – and one person had.

Harry Potter had made it his mission to follow the blond nearly everywhere. He had been there for meals, always frowning in the direction of the Slytherin table. He had been there when Draco had decided to skip yet another lesson and had walked around the castle aimlessly. He had not noticed the Gryffindor following him at first, until one evening on top of the Astronomy Tower, his voice had caught him off guard.

"I would take a step back if I were you."

Draco whirled around and stared towards the heavy door leading to the inside of the tower. "Potter?" he asked and squinted. Nobody was there with him, the tower was empty.

"Wouldn't want you to fall, now would we, Malfoy?"

Draco gasped softly as the dishevelled head of way too much black-hair plopped up out of nowhere. "I should have known you have an Invisibility Cloak." He shook his head and scoffed softly, a smile tugging at his downturned lips. "Of course, the great Harry Potter has one."

"Please don't call me that," Harry said quietly as he let his cloak drop to the floor, and walked over to the Slytherin standing at the rail of the tower. He came to a stop right next to the blond and leaned against the metal, turning his spookily green eyes onto the horizon.

"Why not?" A wave of rebellion overtook him as his trained behaviour of 'Harry Potter is the enemy' took control of his brain-to-mouth barrier. "It's who you are, isn't it? The Golden Boy of Gryffindor, the Chosen One, the great Harry Potter."

Potter said nothing. His eyes were fixed on something Draco couldn't see.

Weird, that one, he thought, and shook his head softly.

They stood there in companionate silence for some time before Harry spoke up. "I've never wanted this, you know?"

Draco had all but forgotten the other boy standing next to him, and turned to look at him curiously. "You've never wanted to be the hero? I really doubt that. Your life is perfect. You have a family that worships you, even if they're Muggles, but that was out of your control. You have friends who, although they're poor and hideous, seem to stand by your side and support you no matter what. And you have fame and money. What's there not to like, except for the aforementioned drawbacks?"

Potter's piercing green eyes jumped to him and scrutinised him. He didn't like the knowledge shining in them, he thought moodily as he started to fidget under the intense stare.

"My life is anything but perfect," the raven-haired Gryffindor said after a while, and continued to watch Draco get more and more uncomfortable. "My so-called family hates me. They're scared because of my magic and have treated me like a house-elf for all my life. Yes, my friends are amazing, but I hate putting them into danger when they could have just led a normal life if I weren't around. The fame is the consequence of my parents being killed by Voldemort but having survived the whole night without anything but a scar. I'd much rather have a family that loves me than all this fame that will end up being the reason I die. So no, my life isn't perfect."

Draco blinked. He didn't know what to say as he took all of what had been said in. "But," he frowned, and turned back to the boy standing next to him, "but you are Harry Potter. Your life is literally perfect."

Draco scowled at his hands that were grabbing onto the rail. "I don't understand."

A scoff made Draco look up into the bitter face of Harry Potter. "Yeah, they probably told you all of that to make you hate me even more, am I right?"

He is right, he thought, the frustration towards his family grew even more. He couldn't believe it. There it was, yet another lie he had been told to turn him into the perfect Death Eater everyone wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the blond mumbled, even surprising himself with that exclamation. He was tired of hating Potter. He was tired of pretending to be someone he was not, and he was tired of being disliked for things he despised doing.

Potter's eyebrows rose as he looked at Draco with such wonder sparkling in his eyes that the Slytherin laughed loudly.

"Wow," the Gryffindor said, and grinned at his former enemy. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back and his posture looked much more relaxed than it had for the entire term. His laugh sounded genuine. "Never thought I'd see the day of Draco Malfoy apologising for anything."

"Yeah, won't happen again anytime soon, so don't get used to it."

Harry laughed again, and bumped his shoulder into the blond's. Draco froze and stared at the Gryffindor, who was still grinning widely. "Yeah, figured as much."

After a few seconds, Draco allowed himself to relax. Harry wasn't as bad as he had believed him to be. He actually quite enjoyed the other's company.

Draco grinned a light-hearted smile, and turned his gaze back to the grounds of Hogwarts. Somewhere in the distance, a column of smoke was floating up towards the clouds.

Maybe this year wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be.

Draco flinched as he saw something that looked eerily like a huge puddle of halfway dried blood underneath a fallen column. He couldn't believe what destruction one man could accomplish, just by finding insane enough people and others who have too much to lose that are either too desperate or too scared to not follow him, and torture and kill along the way.

He hated the thought, but he had been one of those people. He had been too scared to do anything but follow. He hadn't wanted to, but he had done it either way. It didn't matter that he told himself he'd only done it to protect his family. That was just a way to justify what he had done or helped doing.

He wanted to think that he was better – that he was a good person. No matter how often Harry had told him otherwise, he knew that good people didn't do what he had done.

Draco stumbled through the door and to the sink. His trembling hands blindly grabbed the porcelain, keeping him for falling down. The tears in his eyes were making it impossible to see anything as he groped for the tap and let the water splash into the bowl beneath.

Bending over, he splashed some into his hot face, its coolness having a calming effect on him. His thoughts stopped swirling around his head in that uncontrollable and hurried manner he had grown used to during the last few months.

He had failed. He had failed and he was scared to death, but not because it had not worked. He was scared because he had been relieved that it wasn't working. He didn't know what he would have done if that bird had come back chirping happily. That bitten apple had been enough of a shock to keep him from eating properly for three weeks.

He couldn't do this! He wasn't strong enough! He would fail and he wanted to fail, but he was scared shitless what would happen if he failed. More than anything, though, he was scared of what would happen if he didn't fail, if he managed to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, and the Death Eaters were able to come through and get into Hogwarts. That would start yet another war and he couldn't handle all that pressure! He just wanted to live without being forced to do anything!

He didn't want to do any of this! He wanted to be a normal boy, just living his life, not having to worry about who might die if he did one thing or another. He just wanted to be normal and have his life back! He wanted to have a life that he had never had!

"Draco?"

Draco whirled around, and nearly slipped on the puddle of water that had started to form on the tiled floor beneath the sink. The tap was still running, the water coming out of it too quickly to run through the drain.

"Merlin, Draco! Are you okay?" Harry asked worriedly, and jumped forward to catch the blond and keep him from falling. "Hey, what's wrong?"

One look at Harry's worried face sent off yet another, even more hysterical, wave of sobs. His knees gave way beneath him. He would have ended up in the puddle of water had Harry not caught him and held him upright. Warm arms wrapped around his trembling frame and held him tightly as he let go and broke down completely.

He allowed himself to let it all out, to let Harry feel all the pain, fear and hope that was too overwhelming for him to keep in anymore. And he allowed himself to be comforted by the Gryffindor, let him smooth down his dishevelled hair, and mumble sweet encouragements into his ears.

He didn't know what he had done to deserve Harry, but this relationship was the best thing of his life. He liked to think that Harry could see the good side in him, that he wasn't truly a Death Eater, mindlessly following a madman's bidding, but a scared boy trying his best to keep the damage as minimal as possible. But that was impossible right now – it was either kill or be killed, and he hated himself to be too scared to choose the selfless option.

Warm lips touched his wet cheek and pulled him out of his depressing thoughts. He sniffed loudly and forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself. Arms still wrapped around the blond, Harry leant back slightly to be able to look the other in the eye.

"What happened?" His words sounded sad and his bright eyes shone with so much compassion that Draco's throat closed off again. Another wave of tears flooded his eyes, blurring the image of the beautiful boy looking at him with so much love that he didn't know what to do but lean forward and kiss him.

The kiss was desperate, filled with pain and fear. Draco's chapped lips moved against Harry's smooth ones, needing to feel. He needed Harry, he needed their relationship, and he needed the strength to do what was right, to do this boy justice and to earn the trust that he had already placed in him.

Way too soon, Harry pulled back and watched Draco closely. Something was very wrong, even more wrong than the weeks before. He had noticed the blond withdrawing himself more and more, eating less the more days went by. His emotional eyes seemed to be the only thing really alive in this boy that he had come to fall in love with.

"It's going to be okay." Harry nodded furiously, and pulled his boyfriend into a tight embrace. He wasn't good with stuff like that – comforting others had always been something he had never really understood. So he squeezed the boy tightly, wrapping his arms around his trembling back, one hand resting on the back of his blond head, the other around his shoulders.

"It's going to be okay."

He pulled his horrified gaze from the puddle of dried blood and continued his stumbling way into the castle. He really hoped he didn't have to talk to anyone. He didn't know what he could say. Nearly everyone in Hogwarts had lost someone in the war that had only started because he had led the Death Eaters into the castle last year. It had been his fault that Dumbledore had been killed. It was his fault – his alone.

Head held low, he walked through the Entrance Hall, and shuffled through people who had started on the preparation and through those, who were wandering around aimlessly, still in shock of what had happened.

He stopped at the double doors which led into the Great Hall. The once happy room now held an air of devastation and death. The fallen had been carried in there, and had been laid side by side. It was a grotesque view. In between the rows of bodies, various wizards and witches were moving around. Nurses and Healers were scurrying through the injured; they gave out spoon-fulls of potions and waved their wands over one burned arm or a severed leg.

Draco ground his teeth and forced himself to stay rooted to the spot. He needed to find Harry. He couldn't think about what people might do or yell once they'd seen him. All he wanted, all he needed now, was Harry.

His heart made a slight jump as he saw a familiar head of bushy brown hair in a group of redheads. Hermione Granger had turned into a sort of friend during their sixth year, yet she had never truly forgiven him for what he had done since their first year.

Grimacing, he inhaled deeply and set out into the Great Hall, maneuvering around the injured until he reached the huddle of Weasleys. "Hermione?" he asked quietly and tapped her shoulder lightly.

The thin witch turned around, eyes widening when she set her eyes on the blond. "Draco?" she exclaimed, not believing what she saw.

"Yeah," he muttered awkwardly, and forced himself not to flinch as she threw her arms around his tall figure.

"You're alive," she sounded relieved, which gave him hope that maybe someday she might actually forgive him and maybe even become his friend.

"Seems like it," Draco laughed nervously, and pushed a hand through his hair. Harry was rubbing off on him in more ways than just one. "Is he alright?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

Hermione turned around quickly and said something to the mob of redheads, who were all glaring daggers his way, before she smiled at him, and motioned for him to lead the way out of the temporary mausoleum.

"He's fine," she said as they moved towards the stairs and away from curious eyes. "He fell asleep as soon as I managed to drag him into his bed." She chuckled, but the sadness still lingered in her eyes.

"He's in his dorm, then?" Dejectedly, Draco looked up the staircase. He wouldn't be able to see him then. He would have to wait yet another day to see and hopefully talk to him. The hole inside him grew as the newly acquired knowledge settled in.

"I can bring you up if you like."

Draco gaped at the witch standing in front of him. An easy smile lit up her face as she saw his reaction. "Y-You'd do that?" he stuttered, not caring how ridiculous his reaction had been.

Hermione laughed and grabbed his hand as she started to lead him up the stairs and onto the Grand Staircase.

She sniffed as yet another day went by without Ron. She still couldn't really make peace with the knowledge that he had left them out of a mood. Sure, Ron had been more accessible for the locket, but even he should have noticed that those moods weren't his but those of the Horcrux trying to manipulate him. But he hadn't noticed, so he had left them. He had left her.

She couldn't really blame Harry for participating in the fight. He had been jumpy for months now, the weight of the world on his shoulders growing heavier the longer they took to find each Horcrux. Not knowing how to destroy them had pushed him to his limit, and he was barely holding on.

She knew he was watching the Marauder's Map every night for at least an hour. It had started relatively early with a few minutes each time, but had gotten more and more the longer they were on the hunt. At first, she had figured Harry was looking for Ginny's name on the map, following her around and making sure she was fine. Now, though, she wasn't all too sure about it. Whenever she had asked him about Ginny, he would answer evasively, and scramble out of the room. He would then spend the next hour looking at the map, not moving an inch.

Just like he was doing right now.

Hermione sighed, and stood up. Trembling, she shuffled through the tiny tent into the kitchen area to boil some water. She couldn't really remember what it felt like to feel warm anymore, as she busied herself with the pathetic tea bags. They had charmed half of their contents out, and had made the same exact amount using the second half of tea leaves. The tea didn't taste as rich and delicious that way, but it would last them for a whole lot longer than wasting all of the leaves for only one cup.

She poured hot water over both tea bags and carried the mugs back to the bunk beds. Harry had climbed underneath his thin blanket, his shoes thrown hazardously over the edge, and had activated the map almost instantly.

"I have some tea for you, Harry," she said, and set down the mug next to his pillow, cautiously not trying to tip it over.

"Oh, thanks," he mumbled, and she was rewarded with a tired smile.

He looked horrible. His hair was too long, and a shadow darkened his jaw line. His skin looked sickly pale and dry, almost as if it was made out of parchment, and the bags underneath his eyes were getting bigger the longer she watched him. He was so thin that she was sure his ribs were poking out and every vertebra was visible. His eyes, once bright and sparkling with mischief, were dull and looked dead.

Hermione swallowed painfully as another wave of emotions closed off her airways. He looked terrible. She was scared for him, not only for his health but for his life. Something as big as the outcome of the wizarding world's future on shoulders as young and thin as his... she was sure he'd break under the pressure. Looking at him now, she wasn't sure how much longer it would be until he broke.

His trembling hand reached for the mug, and he sighed happily as he felt the warmth of it seep through his skin. "I needed that. Thank you, Hermione."

The brunette forced a smile onto her face and put her own mug down on the ground. Turning around, she grabbed her blanket and pillow, wrapped herself in all of the scarves she had brought, and sat down in front of Harry's cot. "You're welcome."

They drank their tea in silence.

After a while, Hermione set down her empty and cold mug as she snuggled into her blanket. "Harry?" she asked, and watched him as he raised his head and looked at her expectantly. "Who are you looking for on that map?"

Harry froze as he stared at his friend, eyes wide.

"I know it's not Ginny," she stated matter-of-factly, keeping a close eye on his reactions. She was right, it wasn't Ginny he was watching over. "Who are you looking for then?"

The raven-haired boy winced slightly. He didn't know whether he should tell her now. Someday, once the war was over and if he was still alive, then, yes, he would tell her, but now? They had more than enough things on their minds. He didn't want to add yet another.

"It's okay, Harry, really. I won't judge."

He looked at her, quarrelling with himself. She would find out soon enough, he told himself, looking down at the name penned next to the pair of feet. Draco Malfoy. It was a miracle that she hadn't figured it out yet, come to think of it.

"Harry," Hermione leaned forward, and Harry raised his head again. He looked sad. "Please tell me."

"It's Draco," he sighed, and took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. "It's always been Draco."

"Draco?" Hermione frowned, not really comprehending what he meant.

"I like him, Hermione. Very much so, and I like to think that he feels the same way."

"Oh." Silence once again filled the small space. "I didn't know."

Harry laughed humourlessly, and put his glasses back on. "We've made sure you guys wouldn't find out. But I'm quite surprised that we managed to fool you, Hermione."

The witch blushed at the hidden reprimand.

"Although," a grin spread across his thin face, "you've had other things on mind last year, didn't you?"

And there he was again – Ron. They would always come back to his betrayal. His words would always haunt her, no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of them. Maybe it would just need more time? He had just left a few days ago, so maybe that was the reason why it hurt so much?

Only time could tell, really. She sighed sadly, looking at the empty cot in front of her. Only time could tell.

They took turns to walk down corridors he believed he had never been to before. This part of the castle was the farthest away from the dungeons, yet not much warmer. Even up here, on the seventh floor, the battle had left its remnants – the outer walls had holes blasted into them, bricks and debris covering the floor. He couldn't escape the pain out here. He needed one person for that, and he really hoped that said person still needed, or wanted, him.

They came to a stop in front of a tall, empty painting. The canvas showed an Italian landscape with sunny hills, trees and some sort of building.

"I hope she's somewhere near," Hermione said as she cleared her throat before Draco could ask who she was talking about. "Fat Lady? Hello?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I have heard you alright, young lady, calm down. I'm not as fast as I used to be, you know? Not getting any younger here, I'm afraid."

A, well, fat woman shuffled into the frame, looking at Hermione with a reproachful look on her face. She huffed and let herself fall onto a low wall painted right behind her. "Well?" she raised her eyebrows, and looked from Hermione to Draco and back again. "What do you want? Do you want to give me the password or were you planning to just stare at me?"

"No, sorry. Pacem." And with that the lady in the portrait tutted and swung forward.

Draco's eyes widened as he set eyes on the Gryffindor common room for the very first time. Plush, red couches and seats littered the room, soft carpets covered the dark wooden floor, and the lighting was warm and inviting. This room was the exact opposite of the Slytherin common room, and he couldn't help but feel the slight tinge of jealousy that shot through him.

"The boys' dorms are on the left side, so just take the left set of stairs and look for the seventh year dorm," Hermione smiled at him and motioned him inside. "I'll go back down. You now know the password, so you can come back whenever you like."

She turned around and stopped, portrait frame in one hand. Hermione looked over her shoulder back at Draco, who had slowly climbed through the hole, and was now standing in the entrance part of the common room, looking slightly lost. "Good luck." She nodded at him, and closed the portrait behind her.

The blond stared at the back of the entrance way, not knowing what to do. She had just not only led him into the Gryffindor common room without asking any questions, but had also let him know the password to come back in the near future. He wasn't used to this kind of willingly given trust from people who barely knew him. The only other person who had trusted him with all their heart and soul was Harry; the boy sleeping some floors above him.

Draco smiled softly as he turned towards the stairs at the other side of the cozy room. Hermione had said they led to the dorm rooms. Summoning more courage than he felt at that moment, Draco started towards the left one, and climbed up the crooked staircase. He moved past the first and second year dorms before he noticed that each storey harboured one year of students.

Merlin, the oldest students had to climb the highest. How is that fair? The Slytherin dorms were all situated on one floor, a long hallway leading to the respective years' dormitories. No one had to climb hundreds of stairs when they were tired and just wanted to go to bed. He prefered it that way, and was oddly satisfied to prefer the Slytherin common room over the Gryffindor one in at least one aspect.

After a while, he reached the top of the stairs. A lone window overlooked the roofs of the castle that stood in stark contrast to the rising sun at the horizon.

He turned left and stopped dead. Gryffindor Seventh Year, the plaque said. No names were listed below, not telling the visitor who resided in this dorm. He didn't need the list the Slytherin plaques depicted, however, to know who was sleeping behind this wooden door – Harry, the only person who had ever trusted him fully, even though he had had more than enough reasons not to.

And all of a sudden, he wasn't so sure whether he should enter this room. He didn't belong here. The warm feeling that had engulfed him as he had entered through the portrait hole was exchanged by a cold sense of wrong. It was a feeling he had grown quite accustomed to, yet he despised it no less.

What if this wonderful, brave man behind this door didn't want him anymore? The last time he had seen him had been when he had jumped up from the ground, proving everyone that Harry Potter didn't just die without a fight. He had thrown his own wand towards him, leaving himself defenceless, but in that moment he couldn't have cared less. The shocked gasp that ran through the crowd, good people and Death Eaters alike, had barely bothered him at all. If at all, it had filled him with pride. He had, for once, acted on his own accord – he had wanted to do the right thing, so he had done the right thing, and it had felt amazing.

For once, he hadn't felt ashamed of what he had been forced to do or who he had been forced to join. Maybe the latter had been the reason for this pride that had filled him with life and energy. He didn't know, and he didn't care. It had been right, and it had been his choice and his alone.

They hadn't had any time to really look at each other, let alone talk, so he couldn't really count that moment as 'meeting him.' No, the last, real time he had seen his boyfriend had been a few weeks ago in his own house. He had never called it home, as home was a place one should feel safe. He had never felt safe in that huge manor. The only times he had truly and entirely felt safe was when he had been in Harry's arms.

That time, seeing him with a bloated and burned face, a determination so sickening and incredible that he had felt his stomach drop... His breath caught in his throat as he looked at his trembling hand, still holding onto the door knob.

"Is that Potter, Draco?" his insane aunt cooed, circling around him slowly, menacingly, daring him to lie. "Is that Potter that we have caught?"

Draco stared at the black-haired man kneeling on the floor in front of him. Even if his entire face had been covered in mud and a beard as long as Dumbledore's had obscured half of it, he would have known that it was Harry. These beautiful, bright green eyes staring straight at him, silently begging him for help, apologising for putting him into a position as dangerous as this one – he would have recognised them anywhere.

A mixture of warm love as ice-cold dread flooded his system, paralysing him to the spot.

"Draco! Is. That. Potter?!" Bellatrix was quickly losing control. He could feel fear and a manic determination radiate off of her. She was eager to call her master, yet she was scared to do so if she wasn't one hundred percent sure that she called him for a reason. "Is it him? Huh?"

His eyes jumped over to his parents, who were standing in the far end corner. His aunt had pulled him away from them, forcing him to stand directly in front of the injured boy, having nothing but him to focus on. His father looked scared, yet slightly hopeful. He had been thinking about the Dark Lord finding his enemy and him being part of the group who had ensured it happening. His mother was looking straight back, face giving nothing away, yet her eyes implored him to lie.

Draco swallowed and looked back at Harry, who was still staring at him with those beautiful eyes of his. He needed to hurry to ensure that the stinging hex that had disfigured his perfect face didn't wear off while he was in a room full of Death Eaters. If it came to a fight, Draco would instantly try to protect him, his mother might even join him, yet three against the rest wasn't a good proportion.

"I-I'm not sure," he stuttered as he stared back at Harry. He tried his best to convey that he would do everything to get him out of there. He was starting to formulate a plan the second he saw him. They would throw him into the dungeons, lock him into the same cell as the others. He would only have to somehow get his wand back or find the keys.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" His aunt – he hated the fact that a woman as cruel as her was related to him – grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. Her disgusting breath hit him in the face, and he retched. "You went to school with him! You have to be sure! We have to be sure it's really him before we call the Dark Lord!"

"Let's lock him and the others into the cell to give the stinging hex a while to lose its effect," Narcissa took a slow step towards her son, hands open, palms pointing forward as if to calm an out-of-control dog. "We mustn't call him if we're not entirely sure it's him."

Draco gulped, his eyes jumping back to those of his mother. A look of calm determination shone in her eyes as she glanced at him for a few seconds. She knew what she was doing. Maybe, if they let Draco out of their sight for a few minutes, he'd manage to get to a random wand, and get Harry and the rest out of that hell hole!

Slowly he turned the knob and opened the door. It had been oiled recently, as it wasn't creaking. Silently, he thanked the elves responsible for that bit of foresight.

The room was circular and contained five beds with scarlet red curtains. Each bed had a wooden night table standing next to it, as well as a heavy trunk resting at its foot – except for two. One of those exceptions was the only bed in the room that was occupied.

The curtains had not been drawn, and had been tied back neatly. Draco took a few cautious steps forward, hoping that the floorboards wouldn't creek. He stopped dead right next to the bed, and he felt his heart pummel to the ground.

He hadn't gotten a good look at Harry in a very long time. Back in the Manor, he had been disfigured by Hermione's stinging hex, and a few hours ago both of them had been busy shooting curses at Death Eaters to really look at each other. But what he saw now made it hard for him to breath.

He looked dead. Only the movement of his chest and the slight tremors going through his body calmed Draco down enough not to start panicking immediately.

His once slightly tanned skin looked sickly pale and was covered in wounds, some still looked raw and inflamed. Bruises covered half of his face, which was sunken in as if he hadn't been eating properly for months. His entire frame, clad in dirt and blood-crusted clothes, looked almost tiny. His clothes hung off of him as if he had lost a couple of stone, which he probably had. His hair was rumbled to such an extent that Draco was inclined to just cut everything off and let it grow anew. It was matted with so much grime that it was a wonder that his pillow still looked white.

Someone, he figured it had been Hermione, had taken off his shoes, and had neatly put them next to the bed. Mud had fallen off its sides and had spread on the floor.

Slowly, Draco moved forward and started to pry the blanket out from his motionless form. He lovingly covered his trembling body with it, hoping to stop him from freezing.

His eyes were focused on Harry's face, which looked so different from the last time he had been able to touch and kiss him.

Draco stood at the same spot every night on top of the Astronomy Tower which overlooked the peaceful grounds of Hogwarts. This spot had held so much hope and happiness for him throughout the last school year. This feeling was now tainted by the knowledge that not two days ago he had stood a few feet away from the railing, wand raised, breathing shallow and panicked, as he had watched his Godfather cast the Killing Curse on Dumbledore.

Now, standing here and looking at the horizon, he could only feel remnants of that happiness and contentment that he had grown used to. It was overshadowed by the image that was haunting him every night when he tried to sleep – headmaster Dumbledore, eyes wide and dead as he fell backwards off the tower.

"He's really gone, isn't he?" His voice sounded like that of a traumatised child as his eyes were fixed on a Thestral flying over the Forbidden Forest.

Harry sighed, and put his face into his hands. His elbows were resting on the metal railing, giving him the support he needed to not fall off the tower. He looked defeated.

Draco's stomach flipped as his eyes travelled along the Gryffindor's exposed neck, over his strong jaw and came to a stop focused on his dishevelled hair that he knew was way softer than it looked like. He raised a trembling hand and rested it on top of his head, gently running it through his locks. A satisfied humming rumbled in Harry's chest.

"You won't come back, will you?"

Harry sighed again, and straightened his posture to look at the blond. Draco's hand fell to his side, hanging there limbly. Nodding slightly, eyes focused somewhere around Draco's knees, Harry fell forward and clutched at the Slytherin desperately. His warm, strong arms wrapped around the blond's shoulders, pulling him into a tight and frightened embrace.

They both knew that their lives would change. That didn't make it any less painful.

He spotted a chair next to a door that most likely led into the bathroom, and carried it to Harry's bedside. He didn't want to leave him alone just now, mostly for his own sake. He had spent the last year without any information on where he was or how he was. He hadn't wanted to know where he was, as if he knew, it would have been a risk for both of their safeties.

Everytime his Death Eater relatives had left him alone, which hadn't been all that often, he had tried to listen to Potterwatch, a secret radio show he had found by accident. They never said anything about how Harry was or whether they had been in contact with him, but, as they had always repeated, in that case no news meant good news. If the Death Eaters had really caught Harry Potter, the world would have found out within five minutes.

He had only his hope that he was desperately holding onto. He had continuously told himself that if he didn't give up hope, he'd see Harry again some day. And that day was today.

A tear fell out of his eyes, and he sniffed softly. He had him back! Harry was back, alive and relatively healthy. He would be back to full health in no time! The only thing he couldn't know for certain was whether the Gryffindor's feelings towards him had changed, and that possibility scared him more than anything he had seen or had been forced to do during the last year.

Harry was the best part of who Draco Malfoy was, and losing him would mean losing his own identity. Harry was not only his hope and love, but also his life. He didn't know what he would do if the other didn't want him anymore. He knew that he would let him go if that was what Harry wanted, but he also knew that he himself might not survive the separation.

He couldn't help himself as he leaned forward and reached out to brush two fingers over Harry's dirty cheek. The skin was still as soft as he remembered it.

Harry threw his head back and laughed loudly. His eyes were sparkling with mischief and something else that Draco couldn't define.

They were cuddled up in a hidden alcove somewhere on the second floor of the castle. Harry had been the one to discover it, and Draco absolutely loved it. He had transfigured pieces of parchment and old essays into blankets and soft pillows, which had turned their little secret hide-out into a paradise.

They had met here on a regular basis, dropping their masquerade of rivals and turning into boyfriends. It was weird, and got increasingly more difficult to keep the pretence up.

"I'm sick of only being able to hold you when nobody's around," Draco mumbled against Harry's neck as he kissed his way along its enticing length. He had been prepared for Harry to freeze and tense, but that wasn't what happened.

A strong hand reached up and pulled Draco's face to Harry's. "I feel the same way," he whispered and kissed the blond softly. "But," he took a deep breath as the need for oxygen got more pressing, "it would be too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Draco frowned, brain still muddled by his tingling lips and the memory of Harry's smooth lips on his.

Harry pulled back slightly and looked into his beautiful, grey eyes. He felt his heart flutter and swell with so much love that it took him by surprise. "Imagine what your family would do to you if they found out, and they would find out! Most of your house is on Voldemort's side," the name caused Draco to flinch, "and they would tell their parents immediately. Until Voldemort's dead, we can't tell anyone."

Draco sighed sadly, but nodded anyway. He understood the logic behind Harry's words perfectly well.

"I don't like it either," the Gryffindor said, and pushed a strand of blond hair out of Draco's forehead. "I want to tell everybody how amazing, kind and loving a man you are! I want everyone to know how happy you make me, and I want to scream my feelings out for the world to hear.

"I love you, Draco."

A sob escaped his lips and he hurried to quench it by slapping his hands in front of his mouth. He should go. If he stayed here any longer he might end up waking Harry up, and he really did need the rest he was getting right now.

Heart aching and lungs protesting, Draco slowly stood up and moved around the chair, cautious not to stumble over Harry's boots.

He would wait for him. He had all the time in the world now, could do whatever he pleased, so he would wait for Harry to come to him. He would give him the time he needed, and when he was ready, he'd come to Draco, and Draco would be there for him.

The blond sighed softly as a sad smile pulled at his lips. They'd find each other again. He really hoped so.

Without torturing himself even more by turning back around, he reached out to open the door that would lead him out of the dorm room and away from the love of his life. Just as his hand touched the metal of the door knob, a weak voice reached his ears.

Draco froze, a shocked yet happy sob escaped his lips as he quickly whirled around and stared right into blinking green eyes that looked at him with both surprise, relief and love.

"Draco?"

"Harry! Did I wake you?" The blond hurried back to the Gryffindor's bedsite, and crouched down next to him.

A beautiful smile stretched over Harry's tired face, his eyes closed as he hummed softy. Draco couldn't help himself but reach out and cradle Harry's face in the palm of his hand. Warmth spread through his arm and up towards his heart.

Draco didn't want to do anything but kiss this wonderful, strong boy, but held himself back. A lot had happened since the last time they had really talked to each other, and no matter how much it hurt, he had sworn himself to follow Harry's lead. So, when he blinked away his happy tears and saw the love of his life smirk at him, his heart skipped a beat.

"What?" Harry asked, scrutinising the blond closely. His bright green eyes looked at if they were illuminating the entire room - Draco's entire world. "Don't I get a congratulatory kiss from my boyfriend?"

I hope you liked this one!

Until next time - see ya!