Disclaimer: Not mine... not yet, anyway. Strictly for entertainment purposes only.
Warning: The following story contains slash, involving, as was obvious from the summary, Draco and Ron. If you don't like it, I have other fics without slash . . . or if you just simply hate my work, there are many stories out there that are not mine.
It was a mistake.
One for which we shall both pay dearly when the sun outside these stone walls sets. But as I look at you now, sleeping in my arms so peacefully, I don't regret it for a moment. I can't regret it, for that would mean doubting myself, my actions.
And that would mean I'm weak.
The battlefield was littered with bodies. Some wounded, some dead and bloodied, and some simply dead. By some miraculous wonder, I remained alive. I was scratched, bruised, and perhaps broken, but I continued to stand my ground.
In the final battle, the fighting had only stopped when news came of the Dark Lord's defeat over Harry Potter.
It had had an instantaneous effect on the "Side of Light", as if all hope had promptly abandoned them. They put up no resistance as they were tortured and murdered.
A wonderful thing to see and I laughed. Evidently, the world of good wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and what's more, it didn't always triumph.
That was when I had heard your anguished cry. You were the only one still fighting and I smiled to myself, for that was so like you. I called for the Death Eaters to let you be and you looked up at me. I had expected hatred to blaze in your eyes but there was nothing except a vague look of recognition.
"Malfoy." was all you said.
"This wasn't quite how I had pictured our first meeting since school to be," I admitted slowly.
"Our seventh year isn't even over yet," you responded.
"Oh, I quite think it is, Weasley, considering the building has been demolished."
The wand slipped out of your hand, whether it was out of shock or tiredness, I couldn't tell. "You betrayed us all. You betrayed me."
"I've done worse," I replied with a shrug. I could sense how much you wanted -- needed -- to despise me for what I had destroyed, but those quiet nights we used to spend together were still too fresh in your mind. It had been so easy to fool you and I told you exactly that.
"I believed you loved me. That you still do." You had been hurt so much; I let you have your fantasy.
Because it was true.
It had been simple to claim you as my prisoner. Being right-hand man to the Dark Lord did after all have its benefits. And when I arrived at his headquarters with you at my side, no questions were asked.
It had been assigned to me to aid in the final attack that would render the wizarding world ours entirely but one glance at you put this to the back of my mind. Regardless of my leaving my post, he would find me as soon as night fell.
As we began our descent to my chambers, your legs gave out and I caught you just before you collided with the floor. I whispered comforting words in your ear and carried you the rest of the way.
When I laid you down on my bed, I was so taken with the contrast between your flaming red hair and my satin black bed sheets that I could not look away.
It was then I noticed you had been crying all this time.
I climbed in and wrapped my arms around you, shutting my eyes and recalling the first time we had been as close as we were at this moment. It had been the night Ginny died, murdered by the hand of my master. She hadn't been the only one, but she was the only one who truly mattered to you.
And it had been I, not the famous Harry Potter or your beloved Granger, who brought you peace. You said that night you were indebted to me.
You must never know it, but that debt has been repaid. For I, only hours ago, cast the curse that killed Hermoine. We are equals at last.
I opened my eyes and looked out the window. The sun danced merrily in the sky as if it could not see all the carnage that lay underneath it. There was time yet, plenty of it.
I leaned over and kissed you firmly on the lips. "Wake up."
You did, and it had been just like the first time. A wild storm of fire and ice. But now I realize that's all we truly needed.
Our secret rendevous wiped away all that we feared . . . Reality.
You caressed my left arm and gently stroked the Dark Mark burned there. To others, this may have seemed a loving gesture but I knew it was not.
"Stop this, Malfoy. Renounce it all; redeem yourself," you whispered, eyes locked onto my own.
"No, Weasel. It's too late for me to be saved. It was too late the moment I was born." My tone made it clear I desired no pity.
You pulled away from me and stepped lightly off the bed. I saw how you winced at the floor's cold. The room didn't suit you, it was cruel and unwelcoming. It was so unlike you, even though, as I well knew, you weren't someone who could be named the friendliest person. All the bitter words we had shared over the years presented themselves to me and still I felt no remorse.
"But why won't you, Malfoy?" you asked in a sincere voice. I broke from my reflections and looked up at you.
You had slung my cloak over your bare shoulders and donned a pair of trousers but stood, quite comfortable with or without them, on a dark green throw mat to insulate your feet. Sunlight spilled onto you, colouring your hair to a slightly more orange. I made to stand up but I found I could not, the sight of you more than I could bear.
Maybe I am weak.
An expression I had never seen before crossed your face, twisting it strangely. I knew you well enough to know you wanted to laugh, but it seemed as if you had forgotten how. You looked both divinely happy and acutely sad, and because of it, I was both frightened and pleased.
I laughed, and when you scowled at me, I laughed some more.
You flung the cloak off your shoulders, strode over, and kissed me dispassionately. But when I pulled back to end it moments later, it was you who laughed.
"You bastard."
You look so beautiful, Weasley. I should thank you for giving me the last few hours of your life. The sun has set, my sleeping angel, and the Dark Lord comes for you.
What do you think I should wear? A cloak and trousers perhaps?
"That felt like a 'one last time', didn't it, Weasley?" I rolled over to face you and you nodded. Reaching up, I brushed a lock of red hair out of your eyes and whispered, "Good, because it was."
I slid out of the bed and threw on the pants and cloak you had earlier discarded. My hand withdrew the wand in the pocket and pointed it at you. I had hoped I would feel a pang of guilt, but there was none.
You didn't move or flinch when the door flew open to reveal the Dark Lord in all his splendid glory.
"Master," I said, staring coldly at you, "I have brought the last of the Order to your hands."
You returned my gaze without any hint of malice and stood slowly to confront us both.
Voldemort smiled cruelly. "You'll die with more dignity than your friend did. He begged for death in the end."
"I don't believe that," you answered smoothly.
He didn't seem bothered by this admission and raised his wand.
You turned to me with what I mistook as fear in your eyes and said, "I know you killed Hermione, Draco."
And in the same instant you died, I felt the pangs of sorrow overtake me. They were followed by a flood of everything I had held back for the seventeen years of my life, but what truly destroyed me was the image of your fire frozen by my ice touch.
Yes, I had fallen in love with you. That was my mistake.
Author's Note: All right, I'm not sure exactly what I can say after this, but I had to do an end note. I apologize to any Draco fans (I seem to say that a lot) but I just seem him as a cold and heartless jerk. Sorry.