Pity
Harry Potter looked up, but he wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. At least, he knew he didn't want to watch his former enemy in the eye – and see what he was seeing right then.
Draco Malfoy was looking down at him, the fallen hero, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die-In-The-Battlefield, with pity. The killing curses flew through the air, hitting on the trees and making holes anywhere – but they had yet to reach the both of them.
"It doesn't have to be this way," Draco said, shaking voice.
"You know that's not true."
"I can't kill you."
A wand was lowered.
Truth
"I was never able to cast Avada Kedavra," confessed the blond shivering. "I can't kill you either."
Harry was grateful but confused – surely Draco was a Death Eater. He remembered the night Dumbledore died. His eyes widened in comprehension.
"You couldn't kill Dumbledore."
Draco only smiled sadly. "It isn't important now. I have to kill you if I want to survive."
The truth of those words hit Harry like a train. He was going to die then – but not at Draco's hands.
"Why? Why can't you just cast Sectumsempra and let me bleeding here?"
Draco gulped.
"Because I love you."
Hope
Someday, he would understand his sacrifice meant the world to someone. Someday, he would understand the true meaning of love. Meanwhile, all he had were those silver eyes and the confession that had just escaped them – floating in the air between Harry and Draco.
Harry looked up at Draco, who was gathering his wand and holding out a hand to the fallen hero. If enemies could forget about their past and fight together in the same battle, then there was hope out there for the ones that didn't know a world any better than that war.
"I love you too."