Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

I Wanna Die With You	By : KitBaiu Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1547 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-I Wanna Die With You
- 1
Betas: Mustange and PrettyPinkDepression

A/N: This story was originally going to be this huge complex, epic. I had got a good chunk of it done before I kicked it to the curb, deducing that it took too long to get to the point. But, it still sat in the back of my head. I thought it still had potential. So, I condensed it way down into a one-shot and thought it fit well with the song "Lonely Day" by System of a Down. ^.^

This story is non-linear and takes place after Order of the Phoenix (HBP and DH non-complaint).

Warnings: There are references to character death and sex but neither is actually shown. It does contain a bit of graphic violence. You've been warned. :)

Another loud roar sounded before a massive wave crashed into the side of the jagged, dark cliff. It shot millions of droplets of mist that hit Harry Potter in the face. He didn't bother wiping it off of him. He was already drenched from the raging rain gushing from the endless overhead clouds. The winds howled, traveling through the bar-clad windows of the massive structure like a woodwind instrument as if to exude a mournful melody. What little sun shined through the weakness of the clouds' thick density reflected a ghostly silver glare against the deep black waters.

"Bit queer, isn't it?" came an unpleasant drawling voice. He was here, again. Harry was hoping he'd be only too lucky to escape His presence for one day.

"What's queer?" Harry voice's was dry. It had long lost its luster. As if he spent so much time creating hollow screams of despair that he could no longer speak properly.

"Even though the dementors are no longer here, you still feel that emptiness at this place as if they were." He explained. Harry sighed, not caring to answer Him; he didn't even bother looking in His direction. It wasn't Him that he was here to see. He had been waiting about a half an hour now. He expected them here at any moment and only hoped that he wasn't too late.

"Oh, choosing to ignore me now?" He asked, "Don't see why you bother, Potter. You know that's not going to make me go away." His statement flowed into a maniacal, derisive laugh.

Harry crossed his arms. The distance faded in gradually from foggy white to stormy grey to total blackness. It was like being on a completely different plane when he was here. He wiped a droplet of water that had been clinging to the tip of his nose for far too long. There was another angry clash of water against the cliff, followed by many sudden popping sounds.

It was whom Harry had been waiting for. There was a group of wizards draped in black robes. In the center of the group, a single wizard slumped, covered in tatty, black and white striped linens. The prisoner was heavily shackled in chains, many leading off to be held by all five wizards. But, Harry was only interested in one of them, Gawain Robards, Head of the Aurors Office.

"Potter!" came a very surprised voice.

"Robards." Harry returned the greeting, but only just, "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Scrimgeour ordered that we leave you out of this. When he heard about your last interrogation, he was. . ." Robards hesitated, as if afraid of Harry's reaction, "alarmed. Not by your actions, mind you. He was simply afraid that if word leaked to the Daily Prophet, people would criticize him for hiring you as an Auror at such a young age in the first place."

Harry snarled lowly, impatiently running his fingers through his rain-sodden, ebony hair. It didn't surprise him that Rufus Scrimgeour would make the right decision, albeit against Harry, for the wrong reason, his concern only for his image. "I- I have to interrogate the convict." Harry said flatly.

"Harry, we don't have any Veritaserum." Robards appeared to be frowning slightly, as if he knew this wouldn't stop him.

"I don't care. I have my own methods of getting information, sir." Harry's arms dropped to the side, his fists clenched.

"As we've learned. . ." Robards sighed, "Not that I disagree with your methods!" he quickly recovered. It was true. Gawain Robards commended him when many of the Aurors condemned him. Even Tonks distanced herself from Harry when the hearsay spread.

"We don't have time for this, Robards!" A broad, wire-haired man shouted impatiently. The other wizards murmured agreeably.

"Calm down, Dawlish!" Robards snarled, turning toward the group of wizards. He turned back to Harry, his hazel eyes swimming with sympathy, "There are so few Death Eaters left and. . . everyone you've interrogated knows nothing of the Malfoys' whereabouts. It's been almost a year, Potter. I think you need to accept the fact that young Mr. Malfoy is probably d-"

"Don't say it!" Harry shrieked, desperately grabbing chunks of hair on either side of his head. He blinked to fight back his tears, but could feel warm droplets form in the corners of his eye, contrasting harshly with the cold rain water that saturated his face, "Please!" Harry begged, "Just five minutes!"

A high-pitched cackle echoed wildly in his ear. There He was again, "Didn't you hear him? I'm dead!" He was so overjoyed at the chance to rub misery into Harry's face, "You'll just demonize yourself for no reason!"

"Shut up, you!" Harry screamed.

"Excuse me?" Robards' eyebrows arched in shock. The group of Aurors curiously whispered so low that it was inaudible against the sound of another wave assaulting the cliff.

"Nothing." Harry replied with great haste. He swallowed hard and scratched the back of his neck nervously, "Did you ask him about the Malfoys?"

Robards' face flickered another grimace for half a second. His eyes strayed from Harry's to the frenzied waters, "No." he finally replied, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"Please!" Harry clenched the shoulders of Robards' robes, "I won't take long. Please, let me!"

"Robards!" Dawlish impatiently shouted.

Gawain Robards waved the other Aurors off lightly, "Potter, we have strict orders from Scrimgeour to bring him straight to Azkaban." he said, "We're taking him to his cell right now. We can't go back to the Ministry-"

"Please!" Harry desperately begged; he could now longer hold back the warm tears that thickly poured down his cheeks, "We don't have to go back to the Ministry; I'll interrogate him here. I only need five minutes!"

Robards sighed, taking Harry's wrist and setting them down gently. He covered his face for a moment, shaking his head slightly with his eyes closed, "You have five minutes, Potter."

"Such a lonely day

And it's mine

The most loneliest day of my life

Such a lonely day

Should be banned

It's a day that I can't stand"

An owl lightly hooted followed by the mild sound of a cricket chirping faintly in the distance. But, other than that, the dark forest was almost dead silenced. A loud pop ricocheted off the burly trunks of the many surrounding trees, and a shaky voice whispered, "Lumos."

The moonlight made the leafless woods cast ominous shadows, like a mass of desperate arms trying to flee from a fire. Harry pulled a letter from his robes. Slipping the parchment from its envelope, Harry reread what he had already read over so many times:

Harry Potter

If you wish to see your pretty ginger-haired friend alive again

then you will arrive in the Forest of Dean tonight at Eleven.

Come alone. Inform anyone from the Order of the Phoenix

or the Ministry, and she dies.

The envelope was also enclosed with a long lock of red hair. The parchment had a small blood stain. Harry put the letter back in his pocket and looked at his watch-- 10:58. "Nox." he whispered.

There was another loud pop, and Harry instinctively turned, pointing his wand at whomever just arrived. He sighed with relief, realizing who it was immediately, "Draco," Harry scolded, "I told you to stay at Grimmauld Place!"

"Harry, we have to go back now!" Draco grabbed Harry's arm and lifted his wand.

"No!" Harry smacked Draco's wand out of his hand, so that he couldn't Disapparate them, "Ron, Fred, George, Charlie, Bill! I can't lose Ginny, too!"

"I was just contacted by Mr. Weasely, Harry!" Draco shook him frantically, "It's a fake. Ginny is with him and is fine. It's a trap!"

"What?!"

"The Order has been informed." Draco said. He broke from Harry and started searching expeditiously for his wand.

The quiet forest was overrun with echoes of pops after pops. Harry and Draco were suddenly surrounded by at least thirty hooded, masked figures. Within seconds, Harry was also disarmed, and in the chaos, neither boy had any idea where their wands went.

Every Death Eater had their wand pointed at the couple. Harry threw his arms around Draco. He embraced him back just as tightly. He was so sure this was their end, sure they were both going to die. But, at least he was comforted by the morbidly happy thought that they were dying together.

"LOWER YOUR WANDS!" came a booming voice. Harry arched an eyebrow; that voice was definitely familiar.

The Death Eaters' wand arms slackened, but they didn't point their wands away from the boys. Those in the middle of the onslaught were shifting slightly; one of the Death Eaters was making their way forward. He stopped right in front of the boys; long silvery blond hair flowed neatly to his collar bones.

His mask faded into black smoke with a wave of his wand, "Draco." Lucius Malfoy whispered.

"Father?" Draco gasped, making his already firm embrace that much tighter, "But, I- You. . . I-I thought you were d-d-"

"Dead?" Malfoy smirked, "No, but I most certainly wished I had died when I caught word that my wife and only son were traitors."

"Well, Mother is dead!" Draco shouted, a small tear caressing down his left cheek.

"Pity." Malfoy replied; his tone was rather indifferent, "But you, my son, can redeem yourself. Come back to us. Step out of the way so we can finally silence Harry Potter. There is no reason for you to die, as well." He extended his free hand to Draco.

Draco's grip loosened. He turned to his father. Harry's heart beat frantically; his eyes were wide with worry. Draco slowly extended his arm. Then he suddenly jumped, so that he was in between Lucius Malfoy and Harry. The extended arm reaching back and pulling Harry firmly against his back, "No!" he spat.

Lucius Malfoy's cold grey eyes narrowed. He scoffed at the sight of his son's defiance, "Why do you protect him? Half-Blood! Son of a Mudblood! You are a Malfoy! You owe him nothing!"

"I owe him everything!" Draco shrieked, "You'll have to kill me if you want to kill him. I love him!"

Harry was sure that his heart had just skipped a beat. Draco had never told him that he loved him, not once. But, he must have meant it as he stood defying his father and willing to die for him. Harry could've never predicted this sudden display of bravery from Draco. There was a sudden upsurge of curious murmurs among the crowd of Death Eaters.

"No." Lucius Malfoy whispered to himself, "No!" his scream echoed throughout the dark forest. He waved his wand, screaming, "Incarcerous!" Draco was immediately bound and fell to the cold earth.

Everything happened so fast. Harry threw himself to Draco and managed to free one arm. Then, his nose ached with pain and his glasses cracked as Lucius Malfoy had kicked him away. He saw a flash of green light shoot toward him and barely managed to roll out of the way in time. When Harry was on his feet, he saw the back of Malfoy, running away with his captured son slung over his shoulder.

Harry ran, screaming Draco's name. Draco called desperately back for Harry, his free arm extended toward him. The Death Eaters were swarming with confusion. Harry caught up, reaching for Draco's hand. Harry felt Draco's smooth skin brush against his fingertips for a mere moment. That was when Harry was suddenly surrounded by at least five Death Eaters, all physically restraining him.

"Draco!" Harry screamed, feeling someone's wand sharply stabbing into his throat.

The owner whispered, "Crucio!" with a wheezy, female voice.

Harry screamed as his body contorted. The restraining Death Eaters dropped him and watched his body spasm uncontrollably. Every pain-receipting nerve in his body flared to its peak. But this pain was nothing to the fear burning deep inside him-- the fear of losing Draco.

Harry was quick to his feet. He lunged to the direction that he had last seen Lucius Malfoy and his son, but was suddenly surrounded by the cackling Death Eaters, again. "Draco!" Harry screamed, only to hear his voice echo and not be returned by Draco. The Death Eaters clutched onto him. Harry's own blood filled his mouth from his broken nose. He could not make out the Malfoys' in the distance through his fractured lenses. One of the Death Eaters pressed their wand in between his eyebrows, "No! Draco!" Harry cried.

Harry's heart pounded fervently. Sweat beads immediately formed across his forehead. His skin grew rapidly warm and tingled with exhilaration. The Death Eaters that were touching him quickly drew back, screaming. Their hands and any other part of their body that was touching Harry were emanating thick layers of smoke and making a quiet sizzling sound.

Before the other Death Eaters could get to him, there was another wave of pops. Tonks, Moody, Kingsley, it was the Order! A second wave of pops aroused; Harry recognized them as the Aurors. He was soon crawling on hands and knees to avoid the multiple shooting bulbs of red and green light. He had to find Draco.

But, neither Lucius nor Draco Malfoy was anywhere to be found. Harry pushed himself to his feet, "Draco!" he hopelessly cried, futilely trying to rub off the mass of blood that covered the lower section of his face.

"Harry!" came a familiar female voice. He turned to see Tonks running toward him. Her hair grey and mousy; her skin pale with a grey tinge, and her figure far too thin. She never really looked the same after Lupin died. "We have to go!" she shouted, grabbing Harry's arm. She waved her wand before he could protest.

Harry wanted to scream but his lungs were compacted as he felt he was being forced through a narrow tube. His green eyes flashed against the dim light of the street lamps, as Harry found himself sitting on the sidewalk before Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Harry dropped to his knees, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" he screamed, his fingers aggressively clutching onto large chunks of his hair on the back of his head. Tears coursed mercilessly down his face. Birds fled in fear as Harry's agonizing cry echoed throughout the entire block.

"The most loneliest day of my life

The most loneliest day of my life"

Harry woke when the rising morning sun, which was beaming through the window, finally hit his face. There were scores of newspapers scattered across the desk; he had to peel his face from them. He had taken Mrs. Black's old bedroom and turned it into his personal study. He found himself falling asleep in here frequently. His bed was growing quite lonesome.

All kinds of paper chaotically littered the room. Muggle newspapers, articles from magazines or printed from a computer-- Harry spent much of his free time in a library in Muggle London to use the internet. He intricately combed through each of these sources for the smallest hint of Draco Malfoy. He even filed a missing person report with the Muggle police. They hadn't the slightest lead.

Glancing at his watch, Harry realized he needed to leave for work soon. He applied to be an Auror after Draco's abduction and because of it. The Order was not pleased, but Rufus Scrimgeour took him on immediately, not even having him take the three years additional studies which were required. Harry even thought that he didn't quite do up to par on his trials, but assumed that they were probably just making him take them as a formality.

The floor creaked as his feet heavily slumped to the bathroom. Turning a rusty faucet, Harry set his glasses on the side of the sink, lowering himself to the running water. Cold water splashed across his face, sending a shudder down his spine in response to the shock. When he looked up in the mirror, he gasped in surprise.

"Aww, not happy to see me?" He asked, tauntingly. Harry scowled. From the reflection of the mirror, he could see that The Blond was standing behind him with a smug look of satisfaction plastered on His face. Grabbing a towel, Harry dried his face, then put his glasses back on only to see that The Blond was still there.

Heaving a sigh, and choosing to ignore Him, Harry headed to his room, which was formerly Sirius' room. The Blond was already in there, leaning against Harry's dresser and stroking a gentle finger across one of the many framed pictures that adorned the top.

"Do you still miss her?" He asked. Harry's gaze averted to the picture that The Blond was touching. Hermione beamed with a friendly wave. Ron had his arm around her, smiling sheepishly. His cheeks were flushed, and his wave was even shy. The photograph was taken not too long after they had officially declared themselves boyfriend and girlfriend.

"It was your fault she died, you know." He drawled. Harry growled quietly. He lowered himself to the middle drawer, pulling out a clean shirt and trousers.

The Blond was suddenly right behind Harry after he stood. His lips were right next to Harry's ear, so close that they almost touched. He whispered, "You called her name. She was battling against a Death Eater, and you called her name."

Tears formed in the corners of Harry's eyes. He clenched them shut, holding the tears back with dejection. He took a deep breath and opened the topmost drawer to get a clean pair of socks and underwear. The Blond was now sitting on top of his dresser. His legs effeminately crossed, with His arms held stiffly and hands sharply arched, resting on His knee. Most people would've been very shocked at The Blond's rapid relocations, but Harry's indifferent body language suggested this behavior was not out of the ordinary.

"What kind of MORON would call for someone when they were clearly in the middle of a duel?" He threw his head back and giggled animatedly, "She looked in your direction all right! BAM! Didn't even see the Killing Curse coming!"

"I didn't know she was dueling." Harry angrily muttered, while stripping off his clothing.

"Oh, of course you didn't!" He smirked, "You were in the middle of a battle. There were Death Eaters everywhere, and YOU DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS DUELING!"

Harry turned away from him, pulling on his fresh underwear, "But, the Weasel noticed didn't he?" He continued, "Sure, he had you, his dad and his sister left, but he loved her. You didn't stop him when he killed that Death Eater, either. That was horrific. He didn't even use his wand, and you didn't even try to stop him when he was senselessly beating a bloody corpse. But then again, you like Death Eater brutality, don't you?"

"I don't regret it." Harry stated bluntly when he finished dressing. The Blond was suddenly right in front of him.

"But, you regret the Weasel's death." He said with a large grin spread across His face, "The last to die in a long list of many dead Weasleys. Although, he was the only one of the Weasleys that the Dark Lord killed himself. I imagine he�s wandering the afterlife, boasting of self-importance!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Harry screamed, storming over to his bed and kneeling down. He reached under the bed to grab his trainers. His green eyes narrowed with annoyance when he lifted himself to see that The Blond was laying stark naked on his bed.

He rolled onto His stomach and rested His chin on His palms. His feet swayed, oppositely back and forth like a little girl. "Remember the first time I fucked you on this bed?" His mouth curled into a wry grin.

Harry rolled his eyes with a sigh. After slipping on his shoes, he walked to the doorway. The Blond was blocking it, still completely nude, "Oh, should I say do you remember the first time I made love to you on that bed? We lost our virginity together; it was so sweet!" He covered His mouth with a hand, girlishly snickering with pseudo shyness.

Harry's hand clenched into a fist. He swung right at The Blond's face, but He immediately vanished.

Harry ruthlessly descended to the drawing room. The Blond was laying across the couch, His naked body effeminately curving, "What about here?� He asked, �Or the kitchen? Or Regulus' room? Correction, MY room! Or the bathroom?"

"Let's get something straight!" Harry screamed, "We" he put an extra exaggerated tone on the word, "have never fucked or made love. The only person I have done that with is DRACO MALFOY! AND YOU ARE NOT HIM!"

"Master is losing his mind." Harry jumped somewhat startled, and his eyes immediately darted to the scruffy house-elf walking across the room, "Kreacher would worry if Master wasn't fouling the home of his old Mistress. Oh, Master is always talking to himself nowadays."

"Speak for yourself!" Harry snapped.

"Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear." the old house-elf muttered before exiting the room.

"Ooh!" The Blond grinned, His grey eyes sadistically glazed and wide, "Temper. Temper." He taunted.

Harry scoffed and opened the front desk. He grabbed his wand, and stayed staring. The night Harry had lost Draco, Kingsley Shacklebolt had returned with his and Draco's wands. Harry always stored them together. Gazing at Draco's wand longingly, Harry touched it barely with his finger tips. He sniffed loudly, and a tear slowly rolled down his right cheek.

"You miss me so bad." Harry knew The Blond was right behind him, "How hard does your heart ache just to have your fingers brush against me? Like the night I was kidnaped? Do you remember that? You didn't catch up to my father. You failed. You couldn't save me. You didn't really love me."

Harry's face contorted with rage. Spinning around to face The Blond, his eyes maliciously narrowed, and his teeth bared. He held his wand directly to His face, "You are not him! I love Draco Malfoy! You're not good enough to be Draco! You're not even good enough to be Malfoy!" Harry always looked at Draco like he was a different person than his teenage school-day self.

The Blond cackled and bounced around, full of excitement, "Are you going to kill me, Potter? You've tried this before. You know it won't work. Go ahead! Try! Say it! Say Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's hand fell to his side. He was defeated; The Blond was right. Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly lifted his arm, digging the point of his wand into his own temple, "Do you dare me now?" he asked.

The Blond swallowed hard, His face was stricken with fear. Harry smiled, delighted because he had never seen Him like this.

"Don't be a fool, Potter." The Blond's grey eyes were wide. His tone was delicate, which was unusual, "That will only kill you-"

"And if I die, you die." Harry's eyes flared with madness.

"You wouldn't- You'd never-"

"Try me!"

"You c-can't k-kill yourself!" The Blond's voice cracked with fear, "You can't f-find m-me if you're d-dead."

"Go away, and don't ever come back." Harry ordered.

"I-I c-can't go away! You c-created me!" He pleaded.

"Fine!" Harry agreed, "Then admit that you are not him!"
The blond swallowed again, remaining stationary and silent.

"SAY IT NOW, OR I'LL FUCKING DO IT!" Harry bellowed, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm not him! I'm not Draco Malfoy!" The Blond's body was visibly trembling all over with panic.

"Good. Don't bother me at work today." Harry stated simply, lowering his wand. Walking to the main entrance, he stopped right at the door. With a wave of his wand, Harry Disapparated with a single pop.

"Such a lonely day

Shouldn't exist

It's a day that I'll never miss

Such a lonely day

And it's mine

The most loneliest day of my life"

Harry sat, his palms up, tingling from hours of using them to support his forehead; the evidence displayed as red splotches on his forehead. The wooden floor of the drawing room was coated with a thin layer of dust. Stale death tinged Harry's nostrils. Even two years after Sirius' passing, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place clung to its ominous appeal.

The door to the room burst open; although, Harry didn't avert his gaze from the age-withered floor, "I'm hungry!" Draco Malfoy's complaint sounded more like an order, "Your ruddy house-elf is worthless and won't listen to me, keeps calling me a blood-traitor. Me! Being insulted by that filthy urchin, it's completely disgraceful! Not that it matters; he'd just make us rotten food, anyway."

Harry clenched his eyes shut for a moment, then just as quickly opened them, not bothering acknowledging Malfoy's presence further.

"Have you gone deaf, Potter?" Harry could hear Malfoy impatiently stomp over to him, "Look, I didn't exactly ask to be paired with you when we had to be put in hiding. We're just going to have to grit our teeth and tolerate each others' presence. You know what happened when I tried to cook, so you're going to have to make us dinner!"

A small sigh was the only response Harry relayed to Malfoy's demands.

"Are you just going to sit there for the rest of your life?" Malfoy scoffed, "Mope and wallow in self-pity until your body eventually rots away from starvation?"

With a low contemptuous growl, Harry finally pushed himself to his feet. He very well knew that Malfoy wasn't going to shut up until he got his way. Slowly making his way to the kitchen, Harry's eyes remained half-lidded as if in a vacant stupor. Yet, his mind was not blank, far from it. So many thoughts raced before him, it was relatively easy to ignore Malfoy persistently rambling in the background.

Sighing, Harry noticed his meal options were limited when he opened the cupboard in the kitchen. He'd have to notify the Order that they needed more food. He and Malfoy weren't allowed to leave, not even to shop for groceries.

Pushing aside dust-covered boxes, Harry found a large jar of rice. He knew Malfoy would complain if he made that, but he didn't care. How could he care over a disagreement of dinner when brutal memories plagued his mind?

Ron and Hermione were dead, along with many others that Harry was close to. But, his two bests friends' deaths stung him the worst. He remembered each incident as clearly as the moment he had to witness them. Even though so many fought gallantly, even though Harry had defeated Voldemort, the Death Eaters had not disbanded. There were many of them still at large. It was as if everyone had put forth their greatest effort, only to be needlessly sacrificed in vain.

When Harry pulled out the jar of rice, it slipped from his trembling fingers. With a loud crash, rice and large shards of glass scattered across the floor. Frustrated, Harry pounded a fist against one of the ajar cupboard doors.

Harry knelt next to the mess, drawing his wand. His hand quivering, he just couldn't bring himself to speak the incantation. Dropping his wand and sitting against the cupboard, Harry tossed his glasses aside and buried his face into his hands. Tears drenching his palms-- he couldn't help but wonder what was the point? It all seemed so meaningless, now. It wouldn't matter if they had an absolute victory if no one he cared about was left to share it with.

A stray hand felt around for his wand, but was poked by the sharp edge of a glass shard. Harry snatched the shard and held it close to his face. He could make out a small trickle of blood running down his palm. Holding out his other arm, Harry plunged the jagged end of the glass into his wrist, pulling it roughly toward his body.

"What is going on in here?" Draco Malfoy had abruptly burst into the kitchen, "Potter, what are you. . . Merlin!" he ran immediately to Harry's side, kneeling down and grabbing his blood-drenched arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Malfoy snarled, "That is so idiotic. My God. You know what. . ." he suddenly stood up, "If you're thick enough to do that, then I should just let you. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll tell the Order I was too late to save you."

Malfoy walked over to the door. He grabbed the knob and stopped, "Fuck!" he angrily whispered to himself, walking back over and sitting next to Harry, "Why did you have to save me, Potter?" he muttered, more to himself than to Harry, "Now I feel all obligated to return the favor."

Pulling out the shard of glass, Malfoy drew his wand. Harry's head remained bowed, small tears still falling down his face; he appeared to not even notice that Malfoy was right next to him. With a wave of his wand, Malfoy cast a spell that ceased Harry's heavy bleeding. "You need Dittany, Potter." he, once again, said more to himself than to Harry.

Malfoy stood up, running over to the door. With an annoyed scoff, he turned back around and ran back to Harry, "I can't leave you alone. You'll just do it again." he quietly groaned, slipping an arm under one of Harry's shoulders and lifting him to his feet.

He managed to drag Harry out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into the bathroom. Along the way, Malfoy lowly muttered to himself, ". . . forced to live with you, now I have to babysit you. . . servants work. . . idiot Potter. . . completely degrading. . ." Harry had grabbed onto Malfoy's shirt, burying his face into the curve above the taller boy's collar bone and soaking that area of his shirt with tears. Malfoy groaned and rolled his eyes, but surprisingly didn't push away Harry's head.

In the bathroom, Malfoy made Harry sit on top of the toilet seat. Searching a cabinet around various bottles of potions, he found the Essence of Dittany. Harry hunched over when he sat. His mouth hung slightly slack, and his eyes glazed over, staring at nothing.

Malfoy knelt next to him, pulling out his injured arm. Spraying the potion across the self-inflicted wound, he watched as it perfectly healed over like it was never there.

"Come on." Malfoy sighed, "I'll even try to help you make dinner."

"Kreacher." Harry said with a dry rasp.

There was a quiet pop, and the old house-elf was standing right in front of him, "How may Kreacher serve his Master?"

"Make Malfoy dinner." Harry quietly spoke, then added, "Don't use rotten food. Do not poison it or lace it with any potion. Just make a normal meal that won't cause any ill side affects."

Kreacher's gaze remained on the ceiling for a moment, until he sighed. His eyes narrowed at Malfoy with pure hatred, similar to how he'd look at Sirius. Kreacher seemed to take it as that much more of a personal blow when the "blood-traitor" was in someway related to Mrs. Black.

"Kreacher lives to serve his Master." he finally added with an obviously forced smiled. Snapping his fingers, the house-elf immediately disappeared.

"What the hell, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, "Are you seriously just going to let yourself waste away?"

Silence.

"Damn it, stop crying all the time! It's pathetic!" he shouted.

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Harry finally lifted his head, his swollen red eyes were narrowed, "It's not that easy, okay? Almost everybody that I cared about is dead!"

"Well, plenty of people I cared for are dead, too!" Malfoy snarled, "It's not just about you! Severus, my mother, more than likely my father, even Crabbe and Goyle-"

"Crabbe and Goyle were Death Eaters!" Harry interjected disdainfully.

"Yes, it's so easy for you to see a Death Eater as just a Death Eater." Malfoy said, "Do you think it was just easy for me and my mother to go against our family? Do you think it was easy to go against everything I was raised to believe, everyone I ever cared about? After Severus was killed, my mother and I realized we had to take his place. We could not support this life completely reigned by fear! Pure-bloods, blood-traitors, Mudbloods, it didn't matter anymore. The Dark Lord was not creating a revolution of purity as he once claimed. He was a power hungry sociopath that only cared about his existence and longevity.

"When we were caught and they killed my mother; I should have died. But, no, you had to save me. Save me so-"

"It was the right thing to do!"

"Oh, there you go about the right thing to do." Malfoy sneered, with his arms crossed, "You should've let me die. It's not like I was ever kind to you, even when my mother and I spied for the Order. Now, if there's one person the Death Eaters are after just as much as you, it�s me! So, now we are stuck in this shallow home of raped nobility.

"We can't even serve the Order, anymore. We are stuck here like rats, posing more of a burden to the Order than an asset. And here you are, crying about yourself all the time. Well, open your eyes, Potter! We've all lost loved ones! We're all suffering! It's not just about you!"

"Is this how you cope with the pain, Malfoy?" Harry asked; his tone contained a hint of irritation, "Console yourself with the sound of your own voice? Just keep talking until the listening ear is so sick of hearing you, they'll do anything to just shut you up?"

"You just don't fucking get it, Potter!" Malfoy turned away, pressing his forehead against the bathroom door. He folded his arms above his head and continued with the quietest murmur, "I don't cry in front of you. This war has haunted me. I've seen things I should have never seen. I wouldn't wish such horror on anybody. But, I was raised to never look weak. It is a habit I cannot strip. My father always told me that it was indignant for a man to cry in front of people. I never saw him cry. Never. But, my mum cried. She cried all the time.

�Of course, I get depressed. Of course, I cry. I think about those people all the time. . ." he clenched his eyes shut, so desperately trying to hold back those tears that reddened his silver eyes but dared not drop.

Harry swallowed hard, saying nothing. He was so used to Malfoy's rude and superior presentation, that a peek behind the mask was a little daunting. Guilt also overcame him. It was true; he had been only considering his own heavy emotions. He realized it was foolish to ever believe that Malfoy wasn't equally gripped with agony just because he refused to show it.

Standing from the toilet, he stepped toward Malfoy. A gentle hand rested on the taller boy's shoulder, when Harry silently said, "I'm sorry."

Malfoy instantly spun around; his body trembled like he was using all his strength to keep the tears back. Harshly smacking Harry's arm away, he grumbled, "You have nothing to be sorry about! I don't want your pity."

Harry didn't speak. Flinging his arms around Malfoy, he firmly grasped the wrists of his other hands, locking the embrace. He was certain that Malfoy would protest.

"What are you doing?!" Malfoy very predictably snarled, aggressively shoving his palms against Harry's shoulders.

"It's called a hug, Malfoy." Harry flatly explained, "Typically, people do it to express care for their loved ones. In this case, it�s because I'm trying to be kind and comfort you in your time of distress."

"Did you not hear me? I wasn't raised to be weak in front of others. This is so uncomfortable--and humiliating!" Malfoy added.

"I don't care how you were raised." Harry's knuckles whitened as he absolutely refused to loosen his hold. His nails dug firmly into the wrists of the opposite hands. He continued, "You need a hug, so bad. You've probably needed one for a long time. And since the option of contenders in this house is limited, even you have to admit better from me than Kreacher."

"I don't need anything! Get the bloody hell off of me!"

"No! Just because you're not used to it, doesn't mean you don't need it! You were right, Malfoy. You are feeling just as miserable as I am. We are in this together whether we like it or not. So, just shut the fuck up and accept some comfort for once in your life!"

Malfoy's struggle abruptly ceased. He threw his arms around Harry, finally letting the tears fall from his eyes. Harry's embrace loosened, although not letting go of Malfoy. Tears poured from his own eyes. The boys� legs relaxed, and they slid down so they were sitting on the floor. They remained wrapped in each other's arms. Harry's face pressed into Malfoy's chest; together, they mournfully wept into the night.

And if you go

I wanna go with you

And if you die

I wanna die with you

Take your hand

And walk away

"He's ready, Potter." Gawain Robards said, stepping out of the solitary confined cell, "I will be back in five minutes. Even though he is chained, I have to lock the cell once you are inside."

Harry silently nodded, stepping around Robards and into the chamber. When he heard the door click shut and lock, he immediately turned to it, extracting his wand from his robes, "Muffliato." he whispered. It was one of the many spells Draco had taught him in the time they had together.

When he turned, he saw the prisoner. He was heavily chained to a metal chair. The top of his messy brown hair faced Harry, as his head was slumping. Convicts weren't typically bound to chairs once they were placed in their cell. But, with Harry's request, the Aurors felt it best as a precautionary safety measure.

"Look at me." Harry ordered, any sorrow in his voice could not be found.

The prisoner lifted his head. His eyes were swollen and red. His cheeks were hollowed, and he had a short scruffy beard. He couldn't have been much older than Harry, maybe seven or eight years. His voice rasped harshly as he pleaded, "Sir, nobody believes me. Please, listen. I was under the-"

"Quiet!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand directly at the prisoner, "I do not care what you were convicted of or why. You will do your best to only speak when I ask you a question."

The prisoner swallowed hard.

"Where are the Malfoys? Where is Draco? Where did his father take him?"

"I-" the prisoner stuttered, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Crucio!"

The prisoner screamed, his body struggling against the chains. They were too tight; his body couldn't contort the way it should when one is hit with that curse.

"Lets try this again." Harry said, not showing the faintest sign of remorse, "The night Lucius Malfoy abducted his son, where did he take them?"

"Please, I'm not lying." the prisoner's breath trembled with panic, "I don't know anything that happened with the Death Eaters because I was under-"

"Liar! Crucio!"

"Potter, I think he's trying to tell you he was under the Imperious Curse!" The Blond appeared right behind the shrieking prisoner.

"I told you not to follow me in here!" Harry's eyes immediately darted to Him.

The prisoner glanced behind him, then back to Harry with the most confused glaze in his eyes, "I-I didn't- You d-didn't-"

"I told you not to speak unless I asked you a question! Crucio!"

The prisoner screamed. The Blond madly cackled, "That was really humane! It's not like he can see me. He thought you were talking to him."

"And I told you not to come here!" Harry spat.

The prisoner bit his lip, as if trying to prevent himself from making any noise. His facial expression was a mixture of terror and confusion.

"The Cruciatis Curse isn't going to make you talk, is it?" Harry asked, redirecting his attention to the prisoner, "Your lot uses it on their own so much, you've all become numb to it. You know. You shouldn't discriminate all Muggle methods. Some of the most primitive methods can be very effective."

Harry walked right next to the Death Eater. Waving his wand, the chains around the prisoner's arms lifted enough so that his arm was free from the elbow down. The chains were charmed to only let Auror's manipulate them. Harry seized the prisoner's wrist, "Draco taught me this spell. He learned it from Snape. Surely, you remember Snape? Your lot killed him when they found out he was a spy." He pressed the tip of his wand against the base of the prisoner's index finger.

The prisoner trembled, to alarm-stricken to answer.

"Where are the Malfoys? Are they even in this country?"

"Please, sir." The prisoner pleaded, "I really don't know anything. I'm telling you. I was under the-"

"Sectumsempra!"

The prisoner screamed as his index finger fell to the floor. He jerked his wrist away from Harry. His eyes widened, horror-struck at the sight of his bloody hand, "Oh my God!"

The Blond howled with laughter, falling to the floor and clutching His stomach, "That's fucking twisted, Potter, even for you."

Harry snatched his wrist again; the prisoner desperately tried pulling back, "Stop struggling!" Harry ordered, pointing his wand in between the prisoner's thighs, "Or I'll do it there." The prisoner let his body go limp immediately, tears trickled down his cheeks.

The Blond sat up, still overly amused with Harry's actions, "Oh, the humanity!"

"This is your last chance." Harry whispered, pressing the wand against the base of his middle finger, "Tell me where Draco is now!"

"You can't do this to me." the prisoner sobbed.

"You're a convicted Death Eater." Harry said, "Nobody cares about the quality of your treatment. Now, tell me!"

"P-Please, sir." he cried, "I-I would t-tell you if I-I knew. H-Honest."

"Sectumsempra!"

The prisoner jerked so hard that the chair toppled over to its side. Blood spouted uncontrollably from the missing digits of his hand. "You're mad! You're fucking mad!" he screamed.

The Blond stood with a bemused grin drew across His face. He lifted His arms, and clapped slowly, "Well done, Potter. You impress me. This kid is probably innocent. You are just as bad as they are. Oh, and it has been five minutes."

"The most loneliest day of my life

The most loneliest day of my life

The most loneliest day of my life"

Birds sang animatedly. The sun partially hid behind fluffy white clouds, making the bright day a perfect temperature. Grimmauld Place was a relatively quiet neighborhood, so children could play merrily among the streets.

With a small pop, Harry appeared on the topmost door step. Such an abnormal occurrence should've stirred the neighbors, but they never saw Harry Potter or his home.

Harry entered with a sigh, The Blond was standing there, like He had been waiting for some time. He had kept quiet since Harry threatened to kill himself, and didn't even appear as much. Harry decided just to ignore Him, brushing past indifferently, so he could go upstairs to his study.

"Harry. . ."

Harry stopped, instantly brimming with fury, "You have gone to far." he muttered, spinning around and grabbing The Blond by the collar of His robes. He roughly slammed Him into the wall, keeping Him harshly pinned, "You are not allowed to call me that!"

The Blond's eyes broadened with shock and swarmed with tears. His breathing was heavy and quivered, appearing to be at an absolute loss for words.

Harry's eyes narrowed with pure contempt. His clenched fists fanatically twitched. That was when it occurred to him that he could not touch The Blond. Oh, he tried on plenty of occasions. But, whenever he had tried to hit Him or grab Him, He'd always disappear.

Letting his grip fall, Harry took a step back. "Oh my God." He whispered, staring in awe at the man before him in utter disbelief, "It's you. It's really you."

"Harry," Draco whispered, "Are you okay?"

"I haven't been, but now. . ." Harry slowly reached his hand to Draco's face. Hesitating, he was unsure whether he'd be allowed to touch or not. When Draco didn't protest, Harry let his fingers gently brush against his jaw-line, then the back of his fingers caressed down his cheeks. He let his fingers slide down the curve of Draco's throat, remembering what he'd almost forgotten.

Draco's skin was just as soft as when Harry last touched him. It had been a little over a year since he last saw him, and now he was here. He was really here standing in front of him, letting him touch him. It was like having a departed lover suddenly come back from the dead.

"Oh, Draco." Harry burst into tears, throwing his arms around him. Draco immediately cradled his arms around Harry, tears abruptly falling from his eyes, as well.

"I'm so sorry." Harry sobbed, planting his face into Draco's shoulder. Inhaling slowly, Draco's natural pleasant scent filled Harry's nostril. His aroma was just the same.

"No, I'm the one that should be sorry." Draco whispered with a sniffle.

"You don't understand." Harry continued, "I've done horrible things trying to find you. Horrible things. And some of the things I did. . . were to people who were probably innocent."

"You couldn't have done anything worse than what I did for you." Draco said, rubbing the tears from his eyes, "Let�s sit down."

"I don't want to let go of you." Harry felt this irrational panic, like if he let go of Draco he would lose him again.

"You don't have to." Draco maneuvered Harry so he could still hold onto him from the side. Then he walked them to the drawing room and sat on the couch.

"I have so much to tell you." Draco said with a sigh once they sat down. He let a hand wrap around the back of Harry's head. His gaze averted to the floor, and his bottom lip quivered.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes I do!" Draco interrupted, "I wasn't strong enough, Harry."

"I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't even catch-"

"Please, Harry, let me explain. My father said you had to have been dead. There were so many Death Eaters; he was sure you couldn't have survived. But, I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't. The Order had been informed. They would come with the Aurors. That's what I told myself."

"And they did." Harry said, "Tonks brought me back before I could find you."

"It wouldn't have mattered." Draco explained, "My father Apparated way too fast. I don't know where he took me. It was a very small home. It could've been anywhere. He kept me under the Imperious Curse. He said he didn't want me to be killed, but couldn't let me leave. He was afraid I would look for you. I tried to fight it; I tried so hard. I could, kind of, but not enough. . ."

Draco's face fell into his hands as tears started pouring heavily from his face again. Harry said nothing, he just kept his arms around Draco and let him rest the side of his face against his head.

"It was like being imprisoned in your own body. I could fight it enough to be conscious and fully aware of what was going on, but my father still controlled my actions. But, when I realized it had been a year since I last saw you, it was too much. The pain was unbearable and eventually I knew I could break fully from it.

"But, I had to wait. Wait until my father let his guard down. Since I didn't know where I was, the only way I could escape was by Apparition. When my father finally let his guard down, I stole his wand and I- I- I had to do it. It was the only way. He would've come after me if I didn't."

"It's okay. I understand." Harry said. Although, he felt sad for Draco for having to go through such a thing, he was immensely relieved that they'd never be bothered again by Lucius Malfoy.

Draco wept quietly for some time. Harry gently rubbed his back, letting him take his time before he finally continued, "Then, I came here. I was relieved I didn't splich myself because I didn't know how far I was. When you weren't here, I was so scared that my father was right. I had to argue with Kreacher a lot, but I finally managed to get him to admit you were alive and still lived here. Damn it, Harry, I wasn't strong enough!"

"Yes, you were." Harry said, "You escaped. Me, I just lost it. Like I said, I did terrible things. I was ruthless, and I didn't care about anyone anymore, just you. And all I could think was that I couldn't catch you. I failed you. If I had just-"

Draco pulled Harry's head to his own and firmly planted their lips together. Draco whispered when they pulled apart, "It doesn't matter, Harry. Whatever happened to me, whatever happened to you, whatever we've done. . . It doesn't matter; it's in the past. No one else matters, as long as we have each other. I love you."

Harry's eyes brimmed with tears, but he smiled, "I love you."

Draco leaned to Harry, who snatched his platinum blond hair like he were afraid Draco would escape. He reached around Harry, digging his nails into his shoulder blades. Their lips crushed one anothers� as they slid and sucked on the others� lip.

When their mouths parted, Draco slipped his tongue in Harry�s mouth to which he retaliated. He shuddered, ecstatic to be tasting the boy he�d ached for and believed would never see nor touch again. It was like Draco had never been captured; it was so surreal.

Harry wouldn't trade the moment for anything in the world.

"Such a lonely day

And it's mine

It's a day that I'm glad I survived"

fin
- 1
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I Wanna Die With You