Author's Note: Before any Air Gear fans start screaming at me to work on the ABC's, I must protest that this is an old piece that had been written before that, so I just edited it and stuff. I'm tired.

And Life Goes On

The war. It was always the war. It had taken its toll on all of them. Harry didn't quite like the sound of all. He still didn't like the fact that it had been on behalf of him that all of the chaos had occurred.

But he had learned to accept it and let go. He stopped blaming himself.

And he had told people to stop blaming each other. The whole thing was the cause of one man, he told them all. Many remembered, when the time came for the Malfoy family to be sentenced, how he defended them. Lucius, he said, was the one he disliked the most. Not hate. He never said hate. But the man was scared. For his life. His wife. His son.

Harry defended Narcissa with the same argument, and provided the evidence that she had even aided him during the battle.

And Draco. Some of the students from Hogwarts were at his trial. They were the ones whose families had been tortured by the Malfoys. They gave their testaments, some even breaking out in tears. And then their faces grew red with anger as they shouted over the stands that he should be sentenced to Azkaban. A few even cried out for the Dementor's Kiss.

The new Minister of Magic felt their pain and sympathized with them. He knew Harry did as well. Which is why he was surprised when he saw Mr. Potter defending Draco as fiercely as the witnesses were protesting. In fact, the young man's voice rose until he was shouting back at the others who shrank three sizes in their seat. They didn't wish to face the Chosen One's wrath.

In the end, Draco was sentenced to house arrest, if he were to have a guardian. Harry volunteered immediately, offering to house him at 12 Grimmauld Place. No one was quite sure why, but he didn't care. His life was his own; he could do as he pleased. He figured, with the war being over, he would have nothing better to do.

That was how it went.

Harry understood that the war had taken a toll on his rival as well. His eyes were red most of the time, as though he had been crying in secret. His cheeks were sunken in, skin ashy colored. Harry noticed that he rarely ate any of the meals prepared for him.

Malfoy never spoke to him. It seemed that he had practically fallen mute since his trial. The silence of the Grimmauld Place was deafening when they were alone. Of course, Harry constantly had his friends over and they would laugh and strike up a ruckus, remembering old times and making good ones. Draco would lock himself in his room. And when the people left, the house seemed to lose its life, its spirit. Harry felt like he was living with a dead soul.

A month passed. At the start of the second month, Draco broke. Harry found him slumped over in the bathroom, shivering, crying, bleeding. Harry panicked. He mended the broken mirror and healed the cuts on the young man's body. Then he dragged him to his room, muttering to himself angrily.

"Not going to let you ruin it. Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you have to make everyone else miserable. I want to be happy, and I am. I don't see why you're complaining. Get over it." He stripped him down to his skivvies and snatched his silk pajamas from a chair. "You're going to bed early. Not going to let you do that again. Merlin's beard, I'm going to make you happy if it kills me. Whatever it takes. Now come here."

Draco's icy hands caught Harry's wrists before he could dress him. When he spoke, his voice sounded rusty, having not been used for days. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Harry snapped. "Dress you? You're going to do it yourself?" The other shook his head. "Then what? Let you sleep like this? You'll catch cold. Can't have you sick now, can I?"

Draco seemed to shiver to emphasize his point and Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself." He turned to leave but the Slytherin's grip tightened. "What?"

"…Don't." The wizard's eyes widened. "Don't go."

Harry pursed his lips and cursed himself for taking on what he now believed to be an impossible task: babysitting Draco Malfoy. Then, with an annoyed sigh, he stripped down to his boxers and shoved Draco over in the bed, slipping in next to him. "Fine. Since you won't dress warm and you don't want me to leave, I'll kill two birds with one stone." He felt like he was trying to convince himself.

When he pressed against Draco, he shivered at the cold skin. But he gradually warmed up and tugged Draco's arms around him, burying his face in the pale neck. He felt a ripple go through Malfoy's body and he grinned a bit, trying to bring some humor into their situation. "Getting a little excited, Malfoy? Didn't know you fancied me that way." He looked up, hoping to see some spark of hatred in the other's eyes, a sign of the old Malfoy, but the reaction he got was completely different.

Gray eyes had darkened and swam with confusion. A bit of happiness. Anger. Lust. The last one made Harry's breath hitch and his gaze switched to pale lips. After a moment, Draco spoke haltingly.

"You could…have used a…warming charm."

Harry snatched his wand up from the nightstand and pointed it at Draco, briefly confused as to why he hadn't thought of that. A second passed as they locked eyes. Then he changed his mind. He muttered a spell and the bedroom door shut.

It was the click of the lock that set them at each other. It became a blur, both unsure who moved first, but both not quite caring at all. Hands roamed, mouths meshed, hips ground together urgently. Draco let Harry take him. He practically begged him to. Harry found that the man certainly hadn't lost his voice. His moans echoed about the large room and would have carried throughout the entire house had Harry not shut the door.

When the white light finally left their eyes at the end and Harry collapsed on the blond, he saw tears in the other's eyes. He lifted his tired head, alarmed. "What's wrong? Did it…hurt?"

Draco's jaw tightened and he shook his head. "I…hate you."

Harry was taken aback. "What? I…we just…you were…" He couldn't form a coherent sentence; he thought that Malfoy had…

The other young man turned away, placed his hands over his eyes, and gritted his teeth. "Just…get out…"

Harry quickly obliged. He grabbed his clothes and left, a bitter taste in his mouth, heart beating in a mournful progression. What had he done wrong?

Malfoy didn't seem to speak ever again after that, much less acknowledged the other's presence.

Harry went on. He let Draco do as he pleased. Why should one git ruin another's happiness?

Harry found a reason to smile in the mornings as sunlight streamed in through the windows of the building. His days were spent visiting friends and being visited, looking into jobs at the Ministry, and just lounging about in general. On occasion, he got together with Ron and a few other old school mates and played Quidditch.

But he noticed that Draco seemed to be losing himself at a rapid descent. He rarely left his room now, always seemed like a shadow that wandered about. And Harry was growing rather annoyed with it.

A month flew by again, and Harry woke up one morning with the resolve to find Draco's source of misery. He came downstairs and was surprised to find the platinum blond shuffling about the kitchen, looking through cupboards, poking through the refrigerator.

"Malfoy."

Not even a twitch of acknowledgement. Harry sighed tiredly.

"Draco."

Ah. Now the man turned, wide-eyed. Harry bit his lip. What was he going to say? Might as well be blunt about it or the bloke would never answer. "Can you just tell me why you hate me?"

A snarl. "Back off." At least he was talking again.

"Just tell me," Harry insisted, yawning, still trying to cast off sleep. "It's not really fair. Is it because we…" He couldn't quite find the right word to say. Fucked? Too cruel. Made love? Not even close. "…Slept together?"

Draco made a strangled noise. Harry wondered if he was going to have to force the truth out of him, but the other muttered, "Why are you always so happy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be? We're in times of peace."

"But don't you ever think of the lives that were ruined because of you?"

Harry flinched and his reply was harsher than he intended. "You hate me because I'm happy? Is that it? Sure, I think about it once in a while, but there's nothing I can do now! That was in the past. In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, life goes on." He softened his tone quickly. "You shouldn't hate someone because they're happy. Instead of wasting your time on that, try to find your own happiness."

Malfoy snorted. "I don't deserve it. I…" He looked out the window, eyes dulling. "I hate you."

"We've established that."

"I hate you, but not because you're happy."

Harry took a few small steps forward so as not to discourage him from speaking. "Then why?"

"Because you…made me feel happy." Malfoy couldn't meet the other wizard's eyes. "I don't deserve it, but you made me happy. You made me feel that at least one person forgave me for all of the horrible things I've done." He gritted his teeth. "And I'm not supposed to feel that way!"

Harry wanted to smile. That was such a silly reason. Everyone could be forgiven. But Harry didn't smile, because Draco was in pain and believed that he was so steeped with sins that he didn't deserve to be forgiven, to be happy.

"I'll prove that you can deserve to be happy." Harry reached out his hands and slid them over the pale cheeks of his companion. "I can prove it. Because I forgive you. It may not mean that much to you, having one person say that, but it's the best you're going to get now, so—"

He wasn't quite ready for Draco to lean forward and press their lips together. The former Slytherin kissed him hard, then kissed his cheek, his neck, and then bit his collar bone. His thin frame trembled and Harry's arms immediately circled the other's waist.

"Thank you." Draco's breath ghosted over Harry's skin and both shivered simultaneously. "You are the first who has. Oh, Merlin, thank you, thank you…" And he went on, peppering skin with kisses, forcing his leg between the other's.

Harry couldn't keep up with Draco's abrupt change of mood, but he finally did laugh. "Alright, then," he chuckled when one of Draco's hands slid up his shirt. "So I guess you don't hate me any mo—oooooh…" The other hand had gone down to cup him between the legs, and a squeeze forced the moan from his lips.

He heard a chuckle and when he looked down, he was greeted with the familiar smirk of Draco Malfoy. He couldn't help but smile shyly in return. It was good to have him back.

"Alright, then, Harry," the wizard whispered breathily in his ear. "You forgive me. Wonderful. Now make me happy."

Harry ducked his head down and nipped Malfoy's neck. "There's nothing I'd love to do more." He felt the bulge in his pants growing. "But do you really think that shagging in the kitchen is going to make you happy?" Spikes of pleasure shot through his body as Draco ground his hips against him in response. "Okay, probably. But remember that we have to make food in here. I'd like to keep this one room sanitary. And think about it: when I have friends over and I'm making food, I'd rather not think about this."

Draco whimpered and tugged at his black locks, forcing him into another kiss. Their tongues slid against each other and when they separated both were flushed. "Anywhere you want, Draco," Harry groaned, bucking. "Just not in the kitchen. That would make me happy." He tried to sidestep the blond, but surprisingly strong arms kept him in place.

Eyelids lowered seductively, Draco already had his fingertips at the elastic waistband of Harry's pajama bottoms. "Didn't you tell me to get over the past?" Oh, he did not like the sound of this. "Well, when this little thing is over, you can do the same."

Harry squirmed as those slender, pale fingers slipped between fabric and skin. "Draco, something like this is not easily forgotten."

"So a traumatizing war can be pushed out of mind, but a quickie in the kitchen will haunt you forever? Is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly."

Draco shrugged him off and leaned in to kiss him again, smiling. "I suppose you'll just have to live with it. Life goes on."

Harry sighed against the warm pair of lips. He couldn't argue with his own wisdom.

And life goes on.