Warnings: Slash, Angst, Character death, Language
Disclaimer: Everything (with the exception of the idea) belongs to Tamora Pierce.
Mouth opened wide in a silent scream, hushed only by shock, Draco watched as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, savior of the Wizarding world, received a knife in his stomach, the last act of Voldemort before he collapsed at the ebony man's feet, finally dead.
He stood still in shock for several long, agonizing moments as the other man fell gracefully to the bloody ground of the battlefield. Coming partly out of the haze that seemed to engulf him, he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, at the moment, not that quickly, as his entire body was shaking with fear, to the side of their rescuer. He didn't notice the battle that was taking place around him, too intent as he was on getting to him.
Malfoys don't run.
He collapsed on the ground just feet away from him, unable to go the small distance, too weak was his body. So instead, from his position on the ground, filled with bodies and the dirt tainted by rivers of blood, he crawled over to the Boy Who Lived, praying that he could somehow help the boy. Praying that their rescuer, their light would live another day. He knelt on the ground next to him, tightly gripping his hand.
Malfoys kneel to no one.
He whiped away the blood caking the other's face, tracing circles with his thumb on his hand as he did so in a soothing gesture. He watched as this boy, who he had grown up with, had competed against and fought with his entire school life, silently and miserably died on a battlefield with no one, no one except someone totally and completely unworthy, sitting beside him as a small comfort, a mourner. He could not help but pity him, this boy not even out of school, barely seventeen, but doomed to die as he saved the rest of the world.
Malfoys feel no compassion.
Finally, Draco forced himself to look down and examine the wound and gasped at the sight. He had to push himself from not turning away and retching, and the only thing that kept him from doing so was that this tormented body in front of him needed his help, despite how little it was and how poorly it would probably be received, he had to help.
Malfoys don't give without receiving.
He had to give his aide, he couldn't leave him here to die. Ignoring once more the battle raging around him on the slopes of Hogwarts school, he charmed the knife out, wincing at the flash of pain on the other's face. Quickly, he cast a healing spell, knowing that it wasn't enough, that it wouldn't be good enough, that he wasn't strong enough right now to heal it accurately, especially without the proper teachings, but pleading to every God he could name that he would live to see another day.
Malfoys do not beg.
The wizard's jade green eyes had long since closed, leaving Draco to stare at his sickly pallor, made all the worse by the dark, onyx locks, eyebrows, and spiked lashes. He watched, openmouthed, before leaning over and tracing a finger over the boy's lips; they were cracked and peeling, but still so enticing. Unknowingly, he leaned over and brushed them with his own, giving into a long time desire.
Malfoys surrender to nothing.
For a long time, he just watched the young man in front of him, willing his eyes, those wonderful emerald orbs, to open. Willing him to live. He knew it was not something he should be wishing for-after all, he and Harry Potter were enemies. It had always been that, in the past. But then, he had turned to the light, after realizing what a weak fool his father was, how horrible Voldemort was. Though he knew that Dumbledore was a meddling old coot-an intelligent meddling old coot, he allowed- he preferred him and his methods to that of the Dark Lord. That day, the day he had been inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, had been the best of his life, if only because, for the first time, the bright beam of the Boy-Who-Lived had been directed at him, filling him with warmth. He and Harry, after that, had become friends, and it had evolved into more, before he had fucked everything over with his stupidity. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made in his life, and he regretted it more than anything.
Malfoys have no regrets.
He remembered back to their school days, those days of antagonizing each other, those days of their bitter rivalry. Oh, how he had hated Potter then. Perfect Potter. Everything he did was so right; he was the best Seeker, always catching the Snitch, excellent in his studies, had amazing friends. Everything in every aspect of his life was so bloody perfect. Yet so fucked up at the same time. He was so much better than everyone else, yet had it so much worse.
Malfoys are always the best.
He looked down, at the person in front of him, and watched as he drew a loud, uneven breath. His chest rose and fell at a quicker pace now, and Draco knew the end was coming for the boy in front of him. He gripped his hand more tightly.
Malfoys don't show weakness.
As the young protégée, the savior of the Wizarding World took his last breath, Draco sat there, holding his hand, shoulders shaking, loud howls escaping from his throat, and he didn't bother to even wipe the tears away, to try and collect himself. Those eyes, clouded over now, mere shadows of what they had been, opened one last time. "I love you," was the last whisper, almost lost in the sounds of battle. The ivory-haired man continued to cry, unable to stop the sobs racking his body.
Malfoys never cry.
He sat there, not knowing how long, and held the body of the boy, a boy who had deserved so much more than life had given him, and cursed everything he knew for dealing him such a hand. Cursed everything for his death. It wasn't until the sun had set behind the school and the heat left the other that he stood up, the body still in his arms. He looked down and said, clearly into the night, "I will always love you, Harry Potter."
Malfoys love no one.
One final tear escaped his silver eyes as he turned away from the battlefield, leaving behind the one he loved.
A/N:( I can't believe I just wrote that! It made me cry! sobs Of course, I'm overly emotional (even more so than usual!), so it was assuredly just me. Lol. I cry too easily…mention the death of one of 'my' characters, and I'm sobbing…It's just so sad, to imagine Harry leaving Draco….sobs