I wrote this ages ago, for a friend, but I've decided to put some of my unseen fics up on the site, finally.

This is Harry/Draco, so if you don't like slash, please just leave, and don't flame me for it, because I like what I've got here. Otherwise, please review!

Funeral for a Friend

By skinnyrita

Harry staggered, choking on the mists of misfired and combining spell fumes as they covered the battlefield with their dense fog. His glasses were blackened and he cast a vague scouring charm at them as he squinted about for the remains of the deatheaters, and any sign of his friends and group of aurors and teachers. He was standing on what used to be parkland to the north of Hogsmeade, now a battle ruined heap, the remains of tree stumps smouldering sporadically along his path. As a swirl of indigo smoke whisped away, he made out a figure half huddled to his right. He made for the person, raising his wand in readyness, but made them out quickly to be Lupin.

"Professor!" His whisper carried harshly and he shut his mouth again quickly, squeezing his cold lips together. He dropped to Lupin's side.

"Harry, it's just my leg. Go on, I think the deatheaters are collecting in the lower valley -I'll be alright- keep going, I think I saw Ron running that way, he was looking for Hermione."

Harry nodded curtly and set off at a run down into the belly of the park. The darkness was clearing around him, the focus was now below him and he needed to get there. He doubted that the dark lord himself would join the congregation, but without the deterrent of Dumbledore things seemed to be unravelling fast now.

He tripped over something and staggered into an on-the-spot hop, trying not to fall over whilst seraching for what he had discovered. It was a body. Oh God, not Ron or Hermione? The person was lying on their front, obscured by voluminous black robes. He snatched the hood back and was confronted by a shock of unmistakeable white-blond hair. His insides froze. Malfoy senoir? Or Malfoy junior? Somehow he doubted that Lucius Malfoy would let his guard down so carelessly, the slippery white demon was too cunning a dark wizard for such impropriety. He turned the body over, wand pressed into the other man's neck so that a vein stood out blue and dark against the translucent-pale skin. It was Draco Malfoy.

The boy had clearly been stunned, he was unconscious with an air of lucid calm about him -a fallen angel. Harry sat back on his heels and stared at him, nonplussed -what to do? A part of him wanted to finish the bastard, but that was an honour he had sworn to save for Voldemort alone. Malfoy's head lolled on his lap, pale lips parting. A disarming picture of innocence. Damn it. A far-off cry echoing upwards to him jerked him out of his reverie. Whatever decision he made, it would have to be now. He felt about for Malfoy's wand, and discovered it lodged up the left sleeve of his robes. He marvelled for a second that Malfoy, the jumpiest, most devious and vigilant person he had ever known (besides moody) had not had his wand at the ready when he was attacked. Harry pocketed the wand, and rolled up the sleeve. Malfoy's dark mark was an inky shadow on his luminous skin. Harry grit his teeth. For some reason unknown even to himself, he had never really believed that Malfoy would go all the way through to being one of the deatheaters.

"Enervate."

Malfoy's eyelids fluttered prettily for a moment, then blue-silver eyes appeared, trying desperately to focus. They widened. Harry noted the slight contraction and then... dilation? odd- of the pupils as they registered who was staring into his face: Harry Potter, looking like death in corporeal status, eyes the shade of the killing curse and an expression to match. He swallowed.

"Potter." he stopped, and gaped for a moment, then repeated. "Potter."

"Get out of here now, Malfoy." Harry's voice was hoarse. "If I see you again tonight I will kill you myself." When Malfoy looked up again the dark-haired boy had vanished into the fog.

888

Harry stood silently, watching the bodies of Mundungus Fletcher, Charlie Weasley, and Nymphadora Tonks being set slowly into the hard ground. Watching Charlie go was the worst. For several years, this was the first time that he had ever felt entirely separate from the Weasley family, as they clung together desperately in a clump, as if gathering together those who were still left for a head count. The only person who he suspected felt more left out, was Percy, who he had noticed hovering awkwardly by a tree, not brave enough to make his presence generally known. But at least he had made an appearance.

Slowly, the crowd thinned and dispersed. Harry nodded to Hermione, who retreated, sniffling, half-carrying an ashen-faced Ginny, who looked bizzare dressed in so much black. Arthur, Ron, Bill and the twins loitered by the graves the longest. Harry felt it best to let them be. He meandered out of the graveyard of Ottery St Catchpole, wondering where to spend the night. He had Grimmauld Place, but was unsure who else might be making use of it that night, although Mrs Weasley had spent two days setting up a buffet in the back garden of the Burrow for people to congregate at after the funerals, her hair scraped back and her apron strings neatly fastened, a no-nonsense, no-more-crying demeanour positively radiating off her.

He touched a hand to the small sack of money he had in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He could easily apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and buy a room for the night. As he turned right out of sight of the graveyard and began scouting about for a safe apparition point, he did a double take. Standing in the shadow of an enourmous, knarled oak tree, was Draco Malfoy.

If he had passed Malfoy in a crowded street he would not have recognised him. The trademark hair had been dyed a murky brown, and his chin was stubbly. He was wearing black funeral robes and lifted his chin slightly in recognition as Harry stared at him.

"Malfoy?" Harry clarified, aghast.

Malfoy nodded silently.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Harry hissed, glancing about in alarm for any of the other funeral guests. "If the Weasleys see you they'll kill you!"

"You have my wand," he said, simply.

Harry flared his nostrils, enraged. "Shh! God, you little shit, Malfoy!" he hissed, "you can't stay here."

"I have a room at the Leaky Cauldron under Rungweed."

"Good, we'll apparate there and... and talk."

888

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded and elbowy when they arrived.

"It's room 37," said Malfoy, pulling his robes around himself like a shroud and disappearing into the crowd. Harry ducked his head, wishing he wasn't wearing a muggle suit, and praying that no one recognised him. For once it was so packed in there that his presence went undetected.

Harry shut the door of room 37 behind him, locked it, and threw up as many locking and warding charms he could think of without alerting Tom downstairs. He turned and leaned against the door. Malfoy was standing by the curtains so that he could look out of the window without drawing attention to himself.

"What do you want, Malfoy."

Malfoy continued to persuse the street below. "Where's my wand? It's been hell without it. I feel like a muggle."

"It's not on me."

"But you haven't destroyed it."

"No."

"I thought not." Malfoy shut the curtains. Harry blinked rapidly in the gloom. "Why did you save me?"

"I think you're stupid."

"How flattering."

"But I don't think you're a killer."

Malfoy turned to face him now. His eyes were like haunting memories. In a flash all the stupid things Harry had hated him for over the years turned to frivolities. They were like specks of dust compared to the events taking place now. Malfoy swallowed, shaking his head. "You don't know what I've done, Potter," he said, hoarsely. Harry wet his lips. Till that moment, he felt he had never known himself.

"Reverto," he said. Malfoy's hand came up to twist his blond hair. He peered at it before running his hand over his smooth chin, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Seemed ridiculous -I know who you are, Malfoy."

"Funny, you're the only one," Malfoy muttered, seemingly to himself. He crossed into a neighbouring room. Harry followed, warily, wondering if he should pull his wand. But what could Malfoy really do to him without magic? Besides leading all the remaining deatheaters, not to mention their revered lord, straight to you? asked a little voice in his head.

He walked straight into a bedroom, and was confronted by a shirtless Malfoy, dangerously close to him. "Mal-fuuf!" he cut short, his lips assaulted by Malfoy's. Malfoy pulled away again quickly, eyes wary.

"You are... you know...aren't you?"

"wha-what?" said Harry, thrown. One minute he was having some sort of odd conversation and now he was being kissed? oh god, kissed!

"Gay. Well, I thought maybe you were bisexual. Actually." Malfoy seemed uncharacteristically inarticulate, terrified that he was wrong.

"Yes. I mean, yes I- I am? Er, bisexual. How did you know? and -what?"

Malfoy managed to revert back to himself immediately. "You saved my life, Potter. I owe you."

Somehow looking shy and determined at the same time, he took Harry's right arm by the wrist and laid the palm on his own chest. Harry stared at the trim torso, dazed. "Haven't got much else, right now," said Malfoy flippantly, but with obvious trepidation.

Harry wrenched himself away and took a couple of steps back. "Let me get this straight. You're offering me... yourself? In exchange for your LIFE?"

Malfoy nodded, and looked at the wall.

"As in, sex." said Harry, incredulous. Malfoy coloured, and nodded. Harry scoffed, then glanced at his nemesis again. Harry turned around, and took off his jacket and tie. When he turned back, Malfoy didn't look quite so collected. Harry stepped up to him again, and heard Malfoy draw in a nervous breath. "I don't know Malfoy, I've never done it with someone who wasn't really attracted to me before."

Malfoy bristled, and grabbed him by the shirt, meeting his lips somewhere along the way and plundering his mouth. Harry felt a sudden, fiery desire envelop him from his toes to his ears and pulled Malfoy closer by the waist and hair, the muscles under the perfect upper-class skin making him moan involuntarily. Malfoy pulled back just enough to grin against his lips and growl "oh yes, Potter, I'd say you're vaguely attractive," his voice gutturally deep with lust, the sound waves hitting Harry in the groin as he felt his own black funeral shirt being ripped from his torso. He shoved Malfoy away from him, ridding himself of the rest of the shirt. The bed was barely ten strides away and he chucked the other boy in its general direction without ceremony, which gave himself a chance to take off his glasses and place them on the desk out of harm's way.

Harry settled himself on top of Malfoy, pinning the blond boy's arms above his head. He was about to devour those lips again when he caught a flicker of something in the other boy's eyes. "Oh my God," he rolled off Malfoy and sat up next to him.

"What."

"When were you going to tell me it was your first time? Afterwards?"

"How did you-?"

"You can always tell, trust me."

"Alright, so I haven't... you know, done everything. I'm not a general whore, Potter. Purebloods are supposed to save themselves."

"Then what the fuck do you want to throw it all away on me for? Merlin, Malfoy!"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to do it, Potter," said Malfoy, quietly. He turned Harry's face towards him, then trailed the hand down his torso, causing Harry to draw in a shaky breath. "Seems superfluous to a life debt, I know."

"That's not why I want you, Malfoy."

Malfoy nodded, pressing Harry back down onto the bed. "Same to you. I do want to do this, Potter, with you. So let me." the last words spoken into his neck as he undid Harry's jeans and trailed cultured fingers back up to his navel. Harry closed his eyes. Somehow knowing that it was Malfoy was making little snitches fly around his stomach while veela did the can-can on his ribcage, and his mind melted like a thin cauldron -bottom. He flipped them over, Spreading the blond Adonis out beneath him, removing Malfoy's trousers and underwear. He set to work kissing him everywhere, nibbling the side of his knees, butterflying the bunched stomach muscles, eventually working his way up to Malfoy's mouth again, it's owner reduced to a quivering wreck as he entwined their tongues with a sensual languidity.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, "I won't say I've never thought about it, but I never imagined this," before raising himself up and ridding himself of his own garments. He lay down sidelong with Malfoy, to let the other boy get used to his body - a clear signal that nothing had to happen.

Malfoy seemed to have lost the power of speech, caressing his thighs wordlessly then nodding bashfully at him, eyes looking unfamiliar as they sparkled with an open trust.

888

Harry awoke with a start, to find Malfoy wrapped around him, long neck looking extremely biteable. Harry lay for a while, revelling in the strage feeling of relaxation.

As he glanced down at the other boy, his heart stood still. The dark mark was growing in darkness before his eyes, and as it turned pitch black, its bearer woke with a harsh curse of pain, and stared at him in horror.

The End.