Restlessness

'Draco, I know this is hard for you, but there are others I can save. Harry is beyond medical aid now; it's in the hands of fate. Stay with him if you will. He could wake up at any moment or he might never wake. The longer he stays as he is, the less the chances are. Do you understand?'

A tall slim man with white-blond hair caught behind his head in a ponytail gave the infirmary nurse of his school years a curt nod. Still clad in the sweaty, bloody battle clothes he had fought in only a matter of hours ago, Draco Malfoy sat on the crisp linen sheets of Hogwarts infirmary, the tightness of his grip on Harry Potter's hand alone evidence of the fear clutching at him. His face was tired but blank; many called him cold and heartless, but Harry had learned to see past the prejudice to the frightened child living inside the shell of his former school rival. Harry couldn't die. Draco wouldn't survive it.

At some point during the night, tiredness won out and Draco fell asleep.

Into the abyss of darkness before him his tormented soul was plunged. He woke to find himself without faith in an unutterably stark and barren wasteland He stared at the miles of dry ground around him, not a tree or an animal to ease the harsh sight. He knew for the first time in his life what it was to be totally alone. In that moment there was no god, no family, no friends. There was only him, standing alone in a vastness so incomprehensible that his own existence seemed irrelevant. In that moment he was everything that terrifies him, everything he wanted to turn his face from. But there was nowhere in the vastness of his own company to hide. In the conflicted spirit of his own dreams, Draco slept, waking long before dawn. He rose, desiring no more dreams, and stood at the window, silently watching the sun rise on a new world, a world that was free, but a world that had paid a great price for its freedom. Allowing himself one glance at the comatose figure by his side, Draco sighed. Perhaps too great a price.

The bed shifted slightly as a barely conscious (yet conscious still) Harry Potter turned slightly, his green eyes opening and wincing and the bright lights of the infirmary. He was seeking something, his eyes searching with the skill of a seeker even through their light-induced temporary blindness. Finding the object of his search stood by the window, barely three paces away, Harry smiled slightly despite the pain that wracked his every waking moment.

'Draco…' He said it as loudly as his damaged body could manage, but the sound protruding from his lips was weak and he was almost surprised when the blond haired boy at the window turned from his musings to stare at him. The grey eyes that locked onto Harry's own were filled with shock and something akin to fear before all emotion was replaced with an overriding and inconceivable happiness.

'Harry,' The word was more breath than articulation as it escaped from Draco's mouth. His eyes filled with tears; unshed in pain and fear, they now ran freely with relief. He fell to the other boy's side, clasping one of the rough and calloused hands in his own. 'I thought you were dead.'

'Takes more than a madman with some master-wand to kill me,' Harry whispered back. He paused for a moment, then asked, 'Hold me?'

Draco climbed up onto the clinical bed of the infirmary and wrapped his arms around his lover, who nestled back into his embrace and was asleep almost immediately. Draco sent a silent prayer of thanks up to whoever might be listening before burying his head Harry neck, inhaling the scent of the one man who would always be there, making sure Draco was never alone.

WRITER'S NOTE: This has a happy ending. I feel confused. This never normally happens to me. Review if you like, flame if you like, ignore me if you like. The writer's dead – I'm not particularly bothered.