Too Late
by star of david
Draco/Harry

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters in this story; they were created by the genius, JKRowling. I do own the plot.

SUMMARY: Draco Malfoy is a son of a Death Eater, determined to please the Dark Lord. Or so everyone thought. A song fic to Fra Lippo Lippi's Later.

"I trust you have a plan."

"Of course, my Lord. I will be with him the moment he turns seventeen. We will be in a playground not far from his Muggle relatives' house. From there, Father and the rest will bring him to you."

"And I trust you will not fail, Draco."

"No, of course not, my Lord."

Dear Harry,

Don't forget, I'll be coming over there at ten tonight. I want to be with you the moment you come of age.

Can't wait to see you.

Love,

Draco

Harry read the letter for the millionth time, the hundredth that day. It was half past nine. He didn't know how Draco was supposed to come over, as he'd never even seen the inside of the Dursleys' house, but Draco told him not to worry about that. "I'll be in charge of that, don't worry," Draco wrote when Harry had expressed this concern.

Harry lay in bed, waiting for Draco. He hadn't seen the boy in months. The blonde's mere presence was a perfect coming-of-age gift, in Harry's opinion. Harry began swimming in thoughts and fantasies of him and Draco. What could Draco be planning for Harry's birthday? The former could do magic now – he'd turned seventeen when the summer began. Harry felt like a kid on Christmas Eve night, waiting for Santa Claus' arrival. Of course, he'd never gotten anything from Santa Claus, so this was the first time he was feeling this way.

Harry checked the time. It was five minutes to ten. Draco'd be there in five minutes. The thoughts and fantasies instantly doubled in Harry's head. His head began to hurt, straining under the weight of all the daydreams. He merely closed his eyes, not minding the headache.

The clock struck ten.

Harry opened his eyes to the sound of knocking on his window. He sat up and looked outside. He saw no one. Must have imagined it, he decided, and lay back down. The knocking began again, more persistently this time, the moment Harry's jet-black hair touched the pillow.

"Draco!" he realized suddenly, sitting bolt upright. Of course! Draco had never seen the Dursleys' house, he wouldn't know where to Apparate to. And since it was a Muggle house, it would be nearly impossible for him to travel by Floo powder. The only way was to fly. Draco was probably under the Disillusionment Charm, making it impossible for him to be seen.

Harry got up and opened the window. He felt a sudden rush of air come in. A few seconds later, Draco Malfoy appeared beside him.

"Forgot I'd be coming?" Draco jeered, his eyebrow raised.

"Huh?" Harry gave him a confused look.

"The first time I knocked, you sat up then lay down again," Draco explained.

"Oh…that." Harry's cheeks turned a bit pink. "Sorry."

"No worries," dismissed Draco with a smile. "Where's your broom?"

"Uh…in my trunk? Why?"

"We're going out for a midnight fly," said Draco mischievously.

Harry responded with a big smile. He liked that idea. He pulled his Firebolt from the depths of his trunk and mounted it.

"Ready?" asked Draco. Harry nodded.

Harry felt Draco's lips on his at exactly the same time he felt the familiar sensation of being Disillusioned.

"It's weird kissing someone invisible, it's like kissing air," Draco laughed as he Disillusioned himself.

"Hey, that was your fault," Harry stuck out his tongue at Draco, but the latter couldn't see it anymore. Both boys kicked off the ground at the same time, shooting out of the open window one after the other.

The two boys sped off into the moonlight. They couldn't see each other, that was for sure, but they could hear one another's laughs and shouts of joy as they felt the nighttime air whipping their faces and hair.

"Lift the Charm! We're too way up high for Muggles to see anyway!" bellowed Draco.

Harry obliged. In an instant, he was visible again. He looked ahead and saw Draco grinning broadly at him.

"Having fun yet?" asked Draco.

"I think I'd have more fun making out with you," teased Harry.

"Sure, let's do that…as soon as you catch me!" Draco sped off. Harry was instantly on his tail. They both knew Harry was a better flier, they'd seen it in their years of playing against each other in Quidditch matches. It wasn't long before Harry was flying right next to the blond boy. He grabbed hold of Draco's Nimbus.

"Fine, fine, you've caught me," said Draco, pretending to be sour. He began a slow descent, which Harry, his hand still on Draco's broomstick, followed.

The two landed in a playground, illuminated by a single lamppost. Harry dismounted and checked his watch. It was already eleven.

Harry sat down on a swing. Draco was still on his broom, which was floating about a foot from the ground.

"Won't your parents find out you're missing?" asked Harry.

"No, they're too busy with their own damn business to notice," said Draco.

Harry smiled. "Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"For this. This is the best birthday present anyone's ever given me."

It was Draco's turn to smile. He took his wand out of his pocket. With a flick of his wrist, he made a small fireworks display for Harry. The display was quite small, but Harry enjoyed it immensely, especially after the sparks spelled out "Happy birthday, Harry. Love, Draco."

"That was great. Thank you." Harry got off the swing and kissed Draco.

The church bell somewhere rang. It was twelve midnight. Harry Potter was officially seventeen years old.

"Happy birthday, Harry," breathed Draco and kissed Harry deeply.

Harry was lost in Draco's deep kiss. He didn't notice the five Death Eaters approaching them, ready to pounce…

"Harry Potter, at last."

Harry knew that voice. Impossible. He couldn't have gotten him. This must be a nightmare.

He opened his eyes to reality. He was once again in the graveyard he was in almost three years ago, the very same graveyard he'd visited countless times in his nightmares. His arms and torso were tied to a tombstone.

He looked up and saw Voldemort – red-eyed, slit-nosed and pale, as always. This sight left Harry unfazed – he had seen it a million times. He turned his gaze a few inches to the left, and his heart almost stopped.

Draco Malfoy was standing at Voldemort's right, among the Death Eaters. He looked more and more like his father with each passing second. But his gray eyes said something different – they were sorrowful.

Harry overlooked the sorrow. He couldn't believe it. He gave his heart to Draco, and the boy just sold him out.

"So you've been working for him all this time," Harry said simply.

"Yes, Draco's been very loyal," sneered Voldemort.

Draco shook his head ferociously. "I was Imperiused, Harry, believe me!" he shouted.

Harry was deaf to Draco's apologies. It was too late for them.

How could Draco have lured Harry into this trap? How could he have made Harry fall in love with him, when he knew all along that it was all a trick, a play Voldemort directed years ago? How could he have made Harry fall, pretending all along he knew nothing about the ploy?

"Harry, believe me! I love you!" Draco shouted.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix Lestrange cursed her nephew. Draco screamed and writhed in pain.

"It's too late, Draco," Harry muttered.

"Yes, Draco, it is quite late for outbursts of affection," Voldemort agreed. "It's time to say goodbye to your boyfriend."

Harry saw a flash of green. His shoulders slumped, his head hung. If he had not been tied so tightly to the tombstone, he would have fallen to the ground.

Harry Potter was no more.