Promise Me Forever

by Laser Lance 720

Love was hard. Especially when one was at war and all too willing to deny themselves the chance

Written for Who's My Soulmate (Draco/Harry, playing card)

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter, or anything of association with it. I won't pretend that I do otherwise. This out of the way, please don't sue me.

-oOo-

-oOo-

There was something off – no, not quite off, more like uncomfortably familiar – about Malfoy these days. Habitual was a good word for it, and it left Harry slightly unsteady at the fact. Malfoy had fallen into a familiarity since joining the Order nearly a year ago, and he had only furthered ingrained himself with each passing day. The crisped haired blond no longer seemed an enigma among those who had once hated him so strongly. He was relaxed, restrained, and had somehow managed to stopped holing himself up in the kitchen anytime a ginger so much as sneezed in his direction. So why Harry had suddenly become so apprehensive around their fellow soldier was beyond him.

"You know, if you want to shag Draco, you could probably just ask him. Glaring across the room at him isn't going to make him take his clothes off."

That's why he was so tense. Shifting himself on the couch, he glared at the far too enthusiastic redhead. "I am not pinning after him, so don't even go there."

Ginny only grinned wider. She pulled her small form over the back of the couch and dropped down on the cushion beside him. She threw herself back, wedging herself against him. Harry adjusted himself, stretching out the leg she had sat on. He shifted the ripped playing card he was holding into his other hand as to prevent it being crushed against the couch. His finger drifted across the familiar texture, taking in every fold, and the ting of warmth he got from it.

"You totally are pinning," Ginny said. She dared a glance across the over spacious den. Draco was paying them no mind as he poured away over some thick book. He was scribbling something down in that tattered and overstuffed journal of his. She watched as he marked something in the book before searching through the mess of parchment he kept within the leather bound pages of his journal. He was too invested in whatever it was Kingsley had him working on to notice Ginny's stares. More impressive, was how oblivious he was to Harry having been drilling holes into him with his eyes. The quick flash of a grey gaze their way told Ginny that maybe he wasn't as oblivious to the stares as they thought.

"Why don't you just ask him out," Ginny asked, looking back up to Harry, who only sighed.

"Out where? We're at war, Gin. Not much opportunity to date you know."

"You have to make time for it. You can't let the bad times keep you from the good. If it's meant to happen, you'll find a way to make it happen. But sitting here sulking, isn't gonna get it done. I mean, for Merlin's beard, you guys are in your twenties. You've been pinning after each other since you were eleven."

"I don't pin," Harry grumbled. "And you didn't even know us when I was eleven, so how would you know?"

Harry's finger bent the corner of the playing card. He watched it flick itself back straight.

"I knew you at twelve, it's not how to guess how you two started." Ginny slipped the playing card from his hand and turned it over. She frowned at the torn jack of clubs. "I've seen you fiddling with this thing. It's ripped. Why do you keep it?"

Harry shrugged, rubbing his fingers together. They felt colder somewhat. "I don't know. I got it off a fortune teller a few years ago. Just have kept it."

Ginny handed the card back. "A fortune teller? Do tell."

"There really isn't anything to tell," Harry said, slipping the card into his shirt pocket. "It was after sixth year. With everything going on, I needed out if the house. I needed to breathe. So I snuck out, wandered town, found this little muggle magic shop. Figured it was all rubbish stuff and what not, but the lady offered a free reading and, I don't know, I kind of hoped for some kind of good news. Even if it was probably all just some cheesy scam."

"What she tell you?"

"That I was destined for great things. And that there was a great weight on my shoulder that would soon be lifted. That I should look to loved ones in this time of struggle."

Ginny let a small smile cross her lips. "She wasn't wrong."

"No, she wasn't. She said there was this mark on my soul. I thought she was talking about some mark Voldemort might have left behind, but she said it was a love mark. Something about how some people are born with the marks and it's supposed to mean that there's a soul meant to match yours. She said the card would lead me to them. So far, all it's done is be a bookmark."

"Maybe your card is pointing you towards Draco. You'll never know until you ask him."

"Why are you so invested in my love life?" Honestly, Harry really wanted an answer to that question. Ginny had been subtlety and not so subtlety trying to shove him off on Draco for the last four months, and didn't seem to be finding a new hobby anytime soon.

"Because you're my friend, and I love you and I want to help. Besides, at least one of us should be getting shagged at all times and seeing as Luna is still out of country, you have to carry that torch. So, go do the nasty since I can't."

"Gross."

-oOo-

His conversation with Ginny stayed with Harry in the back of his mind over the next week. Thankfully, he hadn't had much time to actually dwell on her words, what with the war and all. Maybe thankful wasn't a word to use in context to war, but Harry really didn't want to think of what his feelings for Malfoy meant. He'd been able to manage to avoid the implications of his feelings so far, he figured he could keep up the denial for a little longer.

But stuck in the kitchen with the man in question was making it difficult for Harry to continue avoiding him.

Draco was too busy stuffing his face with Molly's roast to pay Harry any mind to his companion at the kitchen table. Harry wanted to tell the guy to slow down, because sweet Merlin he was going to chock, but he just couldn't bring himself to interrupt. The poor guy had just spent the last three days locked in the cellar of some Death Eater hold out, who was Harry to take the joy of a meal from him. And strangely enough, the trail of light brown broth looked quite attractive against his pale skin.

"Mrs. Weasley makes the best roast," Draco spoke around a piece of bread. He moaned as he stuffed a chunk of beef into his mouth. Harry could only watch, marveling that this man was once the aristocratic, snob with his perfectly ironed robes, and slicked back hair. Now he was hunched over the kitchen table, shoving a pot roast down his throat, and not having even bothered to wash the dirt from off his face and hair. Oh, how war changed people, Harry thought.

"Can you pass me the jug of juice?"

Harry had to shake himself from his staring to grab the jug of apple juice. He took the extra step, and refilled both his and Draco's glass. The blond stared at the glass for a moment, before muttering a thanks and taking a swig to wash out the rest of the pot roast. He let a deep sigh escape his lips before leaning back in his chair. Harry wondered if the guy had any idea of frustratingly attractive he looked right now. Judging from the way he casually was glancing out the window, he did. The bastard.

"I think someone called my name," Harry muttered. Rising from his chair. He pushed the pitcher of juice closer to Draco, before exiting the kitchen in a hasty retreat. He had a moment to breath outside air, before a hand snagged his arm and dragged him off by a few feet.

Long red hair danced through the air as Ginny turned, hands on her hips, and a frown on her lips as she regarded him. "What are you doing? I thought you were going to ask him out?"

"The guy just got back." Harry defended. "I didn't want to freak him out."

"Ask him out!" Ginny flicked half a playing card between her fingers, waving it in front of his face.

Harry snatched it from her, realizing what she was holding. His finger rubbed over the object, finding it familiar in his hold. "Did you steal this from my stuff? Not cool, Gin."

"Listen to your little magic card." There was a familiar play of sarcasm in her voice, but a sincere light to her gaze.

"It's just some stupid trinket. I'm gonna throw it away."

"Ask the idiot out."

"Have you always been this blunt?"

"Do it!" Ginny knocked her shoulder against his as she walked back into the house. Playing with the card in his hand, Harry sighed. He'd been avoiding these feelings for longer than he cared to admit and it was starting to wear him down. He glanced through the kitchen window, smiling at the way Ginny and Draco were laughing. He looked so comfortable; like he belonged in the cluttered little kitchen. Harry smiled at that. He shoved the card in his pocket, and stepped back into the kitchen. Ginny smiled at him, before wandering out.

There was quiet as the pair of men took in the other. Draco stayed seated in his chair, fidgeting just once under Harry's heavy stare.

"Did I do something to offend you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, dragging a chair from the table and dropping into it. "No. Nothing like that."

A smirk crossed the blonde's lips. "So you've been avoiding me for what…? Just can't handle having to look at my magnificent self?"

Harry bit the corner of his lips. He begged his haze to roam elsewhere, but it kept roaming back to that smug face in front of him. There was a fresh scar that ran along his soft white cheek. It was bright red, clearly a souvenir from his resent imprisonment as Harry didn't recall seeing the mark before now. He knew the lines of scars that crossed along the man's arms, and the ones that stretched across his face and neck.

Where one would think scars could destroy someone's beauty, Harry found himself being drawn in by those marks. He imagined kissing them. Running his tongue over them. He imagined digging his fingers into Draco's back and leaving little marks of his own with his lips over skin. He tried to chase such images from his mind. He did not need to be distracted now.

Did war usually cause one to become a right horny bastard, or was he just a special kind of fucked?

"Potter…" Oh, the brow raise. Yep, Harry was fucked.

"You wanna have a quick shag?"

It took Harry an embarrassingly long moment to realize what he had just said. In the time he sat there, oblivious that the words had escaped his lips, Voldemort himself could have popped in, cast a killing curse on his young rival and been on his merry little evil way, before Harry even registered his words. It didn't take Draco nearly as long, as his eyes lit up with understanding. He regarded the man in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Harry didn't have words. He sat there, watching Draco and wondering how hard it would be to convince Hermione to try and make him a time turner. He had to fix this, but he had no idea how.

Draco stood, his back straight and eyes looking anywhere but Harry. He straightened his sweater, and brushed some dirt from his shoulder. He didn't speak a word as he crossed the table. Harry worried Draco was fleeing the room, but the blond stopped just aside Harry's chair. He kept his gaze forward. A slight upturn itched at the corner of his lips.

"Well Potter," Draco spoke with a seductive drawl. "Are we going to fuck or not?"

Harry didn't get to give a response. He was too distracted when Draco grasped his shirt collar, and all but dragged him off to an empty bedroom. Harry hoped the Slytherin was good at silencing charms because he doubted he would have the right state of mind to cast anything right now.

-oOo-

It was purely sexual between them. At least that's what Harry told himself as the two found themselves sharing each other's bed night after night. Harry found himself eager to fulfill every fantasy he had envisioned concerning the other male, and Draco seemed eager to provide his role in them.

It lasted four months of blissful, mind blowing, and unattached sex, before Harry decided he wanted more.

The pair laid in the bed, chests rising and falling as they tried to work themselves down from the high they had brought about together. Harry glanced over at Draco, watching a drop of sweat roll down his jaw line. His hair was tossed about and looked nearly as messy as Harry's own brown locks. He was smiling. He looked so happy.

Harry scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling the thinner boy close so that his back was pressed against Harry's front.

"Are you cuddling me?"

Harry let out a chuckle. "Just shut up and enjoy it."

He rubbed smooth circles along Draco's collarbone and shoulder. It didn't take long for him to relax, close his eyes, and practically purr at the touch. Harry knew he had won. The length of time they spent like that was unclear to either. They merely enjoyed the feel of the other, both doing their best to forget the war taking place beyond these walls with their hideous wallpaper.

Harry trailed his fingers up and down Draco's arm in lazy rivers. He let his lips nibble along the skin of his neck. It was nice to lay there, with the man he loved in his arms and to forget-

The line of thought was gone from Harry's mind as he replayed that word. Love. Love? Was that really what he was feeling? He wanted to write it off as lust and sex on the brain, but he couldn't deny that what he was feeling, he felt outside the bedroom as well. He doubted if Draco felt the same way, but there was only one way to find out.

"I love you," Harry whispered into the space behind Draco's ear. He waited for a response. Waited for Draco to push him off and accuse him of ruining a good thing. He waited for Draco to turn around and repeat those words and to allow Harry to show him just how much he had come to love him. He waited and all he got back was a soft snore. It seemed all the lazy little lines Harry had been rubbing into Draco's skin had been relaxing enough to send him off to sleep. Harry would have laughed if he wasn't still filled with so much tension.

It was purely sexual between them. At least it had been before Harry had gone and ruined it by falling in love.

-oOo-

Sometimes even the best miracles can prove to be a pain in the arse. Harry would learn this when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would be shown into the safe house nearly six months after he and Draco had started… whatever it was they were doing. Draco had let down the last wall of dignity he had left standing and thrown himself into his mother's arms, the pair crying onto one another as Lucius stood a step away, a hand on his son's shoulder and a look of weariness on his face. No one dared comment on the scene, for after almost two years of being apart, they couldn't begrudge the family this moment.

Mrs. Malfoy melded into life among the rebel army quickly. With a little help from Andromeda, the Malfoy and Weasley matriarchs had crossed whatever bridge had divided them and joined in arms for the sake of their children. This newfound comradery wasn't good for anyone, let alone the young adults that made up their army. If Mrs. Weasley's yelling and scolding didn't make you instantly repentant for whatever sin you had caused, Mrs. Malfoy could get that done with one cold stare and a few sharp words. Harry had taken to tucking in his shirt after one too many scolding's from the women had left him feeling like an errant toddler.

Mr. Malfoy was a different story. He had declared himself finished with the Death Eaters, declaring them responsible for him nearly losing his wife and son. But despite no longer being their enemy, he wasn't really their ally either. He appeared to be there more for the sake of his family than anything. It was an awkward divide between them that for now, they were working around.

In the center of the pair, was Draco. He had changed a bit since his reuniting with his parents. The mask he had worn for those first few months among them had returned. Harry could practically watch as Draco rebuilt the walls he had begun to tear down. He sat up straight in his chair, spoke with a slightly iced tone, got into extremely petty arguments with Ron, and most devastating, he had stopped spending the night in Harry's room.

Draco was retreating into himself and he didn't seem to notice. And Harry wasn't going to have that. He had come to love the other man, and in the three weeks they had been separated, Harry had found that he couldn't deny it any longer. And he wasn't going to.

He was going to knock politely on the door but after spending twenty minutes trying to find the room he was staying in (he understood why they had moved headquarters to Grimmauld Place, but now he barely remembered who was sleeping where. They needed a map) Harry wasn't in the mood to be polite.

Draco was pressed in the far corner of his bed that tattered and overstuffed journal in his lap. He shoved a small thing of paper into the pages and closed the book upon Harry's entrance. Normally Draco's protectiveness of whatever was on those pages left him curious. Now it just served to piss him off further.

"Been avoiding me, Malfoy?"

"Back to formal names it seems." Draco scoffed, reopening the journal and shifting his gaze into it. "I thought avoiding was your job. You were so good at it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." There was something in Draco's voice that made Harry almost regret snapping. "Is there a point to you being here?"

"I want to know what the hell your problem is! You've been avoiding me the last few weeks. We haven't… I thought that we were…"

Draco snapped the journal closed. He stood, placing himself just inches from Harry. "We were what? A couple? Did you think you were anything more than just an easy shag to me?"

"You don't mean that!" He couldn't mean that.

"I do. What did you think would happen, Potter? That we would marry. Settle down somewhere. Adopt a kid. Maybe get a dog. That's never going to happen. This," he motioned between them "is never going to mean something. It can't."

"It's your parents isn't it?"

"You don't know what you're-"

"Talking about?" Harry cut him off. "I do. You started acting like this when they showed up. So what is it? Are you too scared to tell them? I didn't think you were a coward, Draco."

Harry found himself slammed against the wall. Draco looked torn between hitting him and kissing him and Harry took that choice from him. He pulled Draco close, pinning his lower lip between his. It didn't take but a moment for Draco to respond, burying himself into the kiss and digging his hands into Harry's hair.

Draco shoved himself back, breathing heavily. He looked like he was physically holding himself back. There was a look of pleading in his eyes that made him look so vulnerable. Harry didn't like him looking that way.

"I can't. I just can't."

"Give me a reason." It was costing Harry as much to keep the distance between them as it was Draco. "Tell me what I did wrong."

"That's the problem. You didn't do anything wrong." Draco dropped onto the bed. He looked so pale compared to the deep purple blanket he sat on. He ran his fingers along the cuff of his button down shirt. Harry knew that motion.

"My parents… have certain views on… certain expectations they expect fulfilled once all this is over. I always lost them once, I won't risk losing them again. Not over this. Not if you can't promise that this isn't going to end."

"It won't."

"It will. When it does…" Draco stopped speaking. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes growing cold as he tried to reset that mask of his. "Where does that leave me? I could die. You could die. And if by some miracle we survived, would you really go out into the world with me standing beside you? The great Harry Potter and his Death Eater boyfriend."

"You're not a Death Eater." Harry was on his knees in front of Draco in a second.

"I have the mark to prove it."

"I love you!"

Draco froze at those words. "You don't mean that."

"I love you!" Harry had been keeping his secret buried for so long, that now that he had finally said it, he couldn't stop. "I love you. I love everything about you. And I won't let you go. Not without a fight. I love you and I will fight for us for as long as it takes. The question is, are you willing to fight for this? Are you willing to fight for us?"

Draco looked away. He was fiddling with a checkered page sticking out of his journal. Harry tried to look closer at it, finding something familiar in the red and white pattern. He couldn't figure it out before Draco grabbed the journal and stood, knocking Harry back as he did so.

"All we ever do anymore is fight," Draco muttered the words. "Don't you get tired of it?"

He left the room, not bothering to say more. Harry rose to his feet to follow. When he made it to the hall, he caught a glimpse of Draco's soft blond hair as he made his way down the stairs. Taking a breath, he noticed Ron standing in the hall. He looked rather sheepish about being there.

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"How long where you standing there for?" Harry asked instead.

"Long enough. Do you want me to talk to him?"

Harry shook his head. "No. If he's not willing to fight, than I don't know why I bother."

Ron nodded. "For what it's worth, we all kind of knew that you guys were getting it on and… and we approve of him."

"You knew. How?"

"Neither of you were really very subtle about it. I mean you both suck at silencing charms. No one wanted to say anything to embarrass you guys, but we sometimes heard more than we wanted."

That got a chuckle out of Harry. Ron smiled, hoping he was doing a good enough job of cheering his best friend up. "Just give him time okay. He just needs to figure all this out. He loves you."

A scoff touched Harry's lips. "And how do you know that?"

"You can see it when he looks at you. He's got love plastered all over his face. He lights up when you walk into the room."

"Hermione told you all this?"

Ron had the gall to look offended. "I have you know I figured it out on my own. I'm pretty perceptive you know. Don't get enough credit around here."

Harry allowed himself to laugh, grateful for a moment where he could forget the argument he'd just had. Where he could forget how much he hurt right now.

-oOo-

In all that was going on, Harry almost forgot that there was a war going on. Caught up in his own little pity party, he had been able to forget that outside these walls, the wizarding world was still at war. He only wished a certain blond was as easy to forget as the manic out to kill him was.

They were all camped out in the dining hall of Grimmauld Place. The majority of the Order was there for this meeting. Tonks and Remus had even brought Teddy, who was currently being bounced on Hermione's knee. Harry watched his godson, trying to ignore Draco who sat next to them. It had been almost a week since their argument and still Harry couldn't look him in the eye.

They were discussing infiltrating a Death Eater gathering being held at the end of the week. Three days to plan. The higher ups would all be there according to Mr. Malfoy. It was the perfect time to gather information. It was just the matter of who would go. Harry knew they wouldn't allow him.

"I'll go."

Harry's gaze snapped at the voice. Draco seemed determined as he stared down McGonagall and volunteered himself.

"No!" Mrs. Malfoy shock her head, reaching for her son. "Absolutely not. You aren't going anywhere near this meeting."

"Mother," Draco placed a hand over his mother's. "I've done it before. I've always made it back, I can do it again."

He turned back towards Kingsley and McGonagall. "I know how these meetings run. I know the people there. I grew up knowing them and their families. Blending in will be easy."

"And if someone recognizes you?" It was the first words Harry had spoken to him since their argument.

Draco watched him a moment, something dancing behind his eyes, before turning away. "Polyjuice. Transfiguration. It's a recruitment rally, they'll be more concerned with numbers than one individual amongst them."

"Someone else will go," Mrs. Malfoy cut back in. Her son's reassurance of his safety hadn't swayed her. "If you expect me to sit here and let you walk into the lions dens, you are sorely mistaken. Those people will kill you if they got their hands on you. I will not allow you to do this."

"Cissa," Mr. Malfoy spoke. "It's his choice. He's an adult."

"Just barely," Mrs. Malfoy countered.

"I'll go with him" Tonks added, reaching out to place a hand on her aunt's arm. "We'll keep each other safe, get a read on the recruitment numbers, see what else we can dig up and get back here. A simple recon."

When is anything simple around here, Harry wanted to grumble. He watched as they tried to persuade Mrs. Malfoy that everything would be alright. They called the meeting, disbursed to go about their daily routines. Harry left the table pretty quickly, dragging Hermione with him and giving an excuse about wanting to do some Horcrux research since they still needed to find the last few. She agreed readily, filling him in on a locator spell she had been working on that could prove to find the missing cup. Harry only half listened, just wanting her voice to drown out Draco's as he promised his mother he would be safe.

The three days of planning for the recon went by quickly. Harry had buried himself in Horcrux research, hoping to find answers there. He cursed himself for letting his focus slip. There was a war to be fighting, a war he was destined to lead, and he had spent the last year worrying over a doomed relationship with a guy who clearly didn't care enough to bother participating. It was pathetic.

"Potter?"

Harry didn't look up at the call of his name. He didn't need to. "Still on formal names, I see."

"Harry. Please. Just look at me." The way Draco said his name was what brought his gaze up. He was already dressed in the black robes for the mission. He looked so young, so broken standing there in the uniform of monsters. Harry had to wonder how difficult it must have been to put those Death Eater robes back on after he had spent so long distancing himself from them.

"I have something I need to say before I go, and I need you to listen. You were right."

Harry allowed a soft chuckle. "I often am."

The smile that crossed Draco's lips touched his eyes. It fell a moment later. His fingers played with the edges of his robe sleeves.

"I told my parents. About us. Or, at least about what was us."

Harry closed the book he was reading and fully regarded Draco. "When?"

"A few days ago. When we started planning the recon. It just sort of, came out. I was tired of pretending."

"Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I wanted to wait till I knew how they would react before I said anything to you."

"And how did they react?"

Draco motioned to join Harry on the loveseat. He adjusted himself so that Draco could sit. "They were confused. Couldn't quite understand why I couldn't just ignore it and pretend otherwise. So I told them about you. About us. I gave them a few days to think. They don't really approve of my choice, but they don't want to lose me over it, so they accepted it. Said they would do their best to understand and be supportive. I mean, I didn't really give them a choice. When I told them I loved you, they said that all they wanted was for me to be happy."

"You loved me?"

Draco looked at him fully. "Love. I love you. And I'm willing to fight as long and hard for this as you are. If you're still willing to fight for us."

Harry smiled, leaning himself against Draco's shoulders. "What do you think of a dog? I'm thinking a big dog. Lots of fur."

"Are you cleaning up after this dog? Cats are much lower maintenance you know."

"Cats are bastards. Dogs are the way to go."

Draco chuckled. The sound touched Harry's ears and he joined in the laughter. Their hands intertwined and the pair sat there, laughing, and relishing what they had missed of the other.

"You know-"

"Sorry to interpret you guys," Tonks stood in the doorway, wearing a similar set of robes as Draco, "but it's time to get going, kid."

"Give me a moment," Draco asked. Tonks nodded and left down the hall.

"Just be safe," Harry said. "Don't do anything reckless."

"Says the king of reckless."

"Don't do anything I would do."

"Shouldn't be a problem." Draco smirked. "I have a sense of self-preservation. And someone to come back to."

That last part was whispered like a question. Harry didn't vocalize his answer. He leaned forward, touching his lips against Draco's. There was a fire as their lips moved against the others. Harry would have been fine letting himself burn in that flame.

Draco was gone a moment later, heading out to find Tonks so they could run a few facial transfigurations before they left. It was fine though. Harry figured he would spend the rest of his life kissing those lips, he could wait a few hours more.

-oOo-

He found himself toying with that ripped playing card when he heard the calls for towels and medicine kits coming from downstairs. It had taken only a moment for his fear to set in. He threw the card from his hand, too frantic in his worry to notice how cold his fingers were now that he no longer was holding the item.

The stairs proved to almost be his undoing. Harry had taken them three at a time, and had fallen down the last four. He ignored an offer of help as he followed the sounds coming from the kitchen.

Shoving his way through, he began to chock down a sob at the body laying on the table. The transfiguration spells over him had been removed, by who he didn't know. Draco lay on the hard wooden table, his hair was shades of red and brown from the blood caked in it. His robes were gone, the pair of trousers and button down ripped apart. The half of Draco's face that Harry could see was cut from ear to lip and they were trying to stop the bleeding.

Harry tried to push forward but was held back. He fought against Ron and George as they carried him from the room. He passed by Tonks who was trying desperately to fill Mr. Weasley in on what had happened. Something about pansies and babies and old friends. Later on he would learn what had all transpired; would learn the full story of Pansy Parkinson, her muggleborn lover, the halfblooded child inside her, how Draco had been unable to allow his old friend, and her unborn child to be killed for the entertainment of those attending, and how he had given his life to save theirs.

He didn't know all that though. All he knew was that as he was being lead out the room, as he passed Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy who had sunk to the floor holding one another, he heard them call it. Before the door to the kitchen shut, he saw them all step back, trying and failing to accept that one of their own, one so young, was gone.

Harry couldn't accept it. Not now. Not like this. Not when he knew his love had been returned. Not when he had been promised forever.

It was a hard week after that. They had a funeral only a few days after. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had wanted their son buried in the Malfoy family cemetery, like all before him had been. They wanted it proper. But the wards over the cemetery had been overtaken and the pair had been greeted with the cruel knowledge that someone was preventing them from burying their son where he belonged. In the end, he was buried among a cemetery of Weasley relatives. Harry had almost expected the Malfoy's to complain, but Narcissa had hugged Molly when she offered a resting place – at least a place until he could be placed back home.

Mrs. Malfoy had hugged him as well.

"My son loved you," she had whispered into his ear. "And you loved him. As far as I'm concerned, you were family the moment he told us. Anything you need, we are here."

He had returned the sentiments and offered his condolences. They had gone off and Harry didn't know if they would stay and continue fighting or leave now that their reason to fight was gone. He didn't want to think on that. He didn't want to think on anything.

When it was over, when they left Draco buried under six feet of dirt, Harry excused himself from everyone else and wandered up the stairs. He had planned on going for a shower, a scolding hot one preferably, but he didn't make it to the bathroom. Instead, he found himself in Draco's room.

There really wasn't much to the room in way of decorations save for the original deep purple curtains and matching bedspread. Draco had a few personal touches, but not many. He hadn't brought much when he has joined the Order – almost two years now – and hadn't bothered to acquire much beyond that. There was something though that Harry was looking for.

Harry threw back the comforter, and let the pillows fly off the bed. The leather on the journal was old, worn, and faded. It was the size of a small textbook, and despite being crammed with lose pages, it weighted nothing. He held it, waiting for Draco to show and take it from him. Always so private that one. No one stopped him.

He almost stopped himself. This wasn't his to look at. It had been such a private thing. No one had touched Draco's journal unless he gave permission; so of course no one knew what was so secretive among the pages.

Harry's knees gave out. He sunk to the floor, back against the bed for support. There was a discarded sweater on the floor beside him. He grabbed it, was about to toss it into a hamper when he stopped. It was a Chudley Cannons hoodie, given as a joke gift the year before. Draco had grumbled about it, muttering ill will against the team, but in the end Harry knew Draco slept in that thing all winter. He held it close to him, slipping his thumb under the front cover.

The pages were full of various information. There were elegant scribbles of ancient runes, potion ingredients lists, and a whole two pages marked 'Things To Debate Granger On'; proper hair control was at the top. He found dates, both new and old, and a whole section of lose pages that were apparently notes from their fourth year defense class on dark curses. There were letters to him from family and friends folded and shoved between pages, the oldest being one from his mother, dated to their first week at Hogwarts. A series of photos were tapped and shoved among the pages. There were pictures of Draco and his friends at various stages of growing up. They all looked happy, smiling into the camera like life was going to be good to them. There were various pictures of trees and a soft grey cat and Harry wondered if Draco had been the one to take them and why. There was at least two poems, written along the edges of the pages and half scribbled out.

There were notes and plans for recon missions. Family trees marked for who was an ally, and who wasn't. Lists of Death Eater homes and which ward were over each house. It was pages for a war, and Draco had taken great notes.

The most fascinating were the drawings peppered through. The first had been shoved between two pages of old charms homework. It was of a bored looking girl Harry had recognized as a young Parkinson. There were a few other sketches of his friends. There were a lot of recent ones, sketches of Order members going about their life. The first one Harry found that he was in, was one of a younger him, Hermione, and Ron sitting at a table together. He wondered how long Draco had been watching him for him to be able to get every aspect of a teenage Harry just right on the page.

That wasn't the only drawing of him. There were four more littered among the pages. One was another of him at Hogwarts, sitting across the Great Hall, a look of distrust in his eyes. The second was him in the Burrows living room, laughing with Ginny. His favorite was one Draco must have done during their nights together because it was a perfect sketch of him sleeping, drool and all. The last one, and the last page to have any marks on it, was a sketch of Harry lying on the couch, trying to read a book.

He didn't look long at the page though. Clipped to the top of it, was the paper with the checkered patterned. He pulled it from where it had been clipped to the page and looked at the other side.

If anyone ever questioned if fate was a bitch, Harry could confirm it. He closed the journal, shoving it under his arm along with the hoodie and stood. It took his knees a second to stable themselves before he bolted from the room.

"Harry, slow down!" Hermione screamed at him after he almost knocked her over. He responded with a quick apology, before shutting and locking the door. His eyes scanned the room, looking for that damn playing card.

"Harry, if you need to talk," Hermione spoke through the door. No response was given and she knew well enough to leave him be.

He dropped the journal on the bed, before going to his knees and rooting about along the floor. He hadn't thought about the card in the last week. It had been the last thing on his mind but now it was the only thing there. He kicked through a pile of discarded clothes, and pulled everything from under the bed. He found it stuck to the bottom of a muddy pair of shoes.

Taking the ripped playing card in his hand, he whipped off the dried mud. He'd held this card so many times, thinking absolutely nothing of it each time. Dropping himself onto the bed, Harry pulled the matching card from Draco's journal. His hands shook as he held them there, the cut down the center matching for both.

Harry put them together, watching as the separate half of the cards connected. He held the now solid card in his hand, biting down on his lower lip to keep from screaming. A frustrated chuckle tried to escape his lips as he wrapped his fingers around both ends of the now solid card.

With a quick action, he ripped the card back in half. His eyes were closed tight, and he missed the spark that trailed through the air. A heat of magic crossed his fingers before the room grew cold. His fingers went loose over the playing card, the pieces falling to the floor.

Harry threw his head back, sighing deeply as the tears began to cloud his vision. He'd held it together for so long, but he couldn't do it anymore. The tears feel hot and heavy down his cheeks. The tightness in his chest grew so thick he was sure his heart was going to stop under the pressure. His finger brushed against the playing card and he no longer felt the heat that it had so often given off.

He just, he just needed the moment to get to grieve. Every other moment of the day he had to be Harry Potter, the boy meant to save the world. But right now, he just wanted to be Harry, the boy who'd lost love before he'd even got to enjoy it.

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A/N:

I want to thank you for reading, and encourage you to leave behind a review if you wish to let me know your thoughts. I'm happy to finally have this finished, been working on it for weeks now, and finishing it right before heading to work. I'm not the greatest fan of the ending, but I wanted to write something with a sad ending and I achieved that at least.