Draco looked at the sleeping boy, the moonlight sneaking between the curtains of the four poster bed. It was so dark in their little nest that Draco could almost pretend that he couldn't tell what color the curtains were, he could almost convinced himself that they were green, that this was a dream, that this was some other life. Instead he knew, even if he couldn't tell the colors apart in the darkness, he knew this was no other world, no other life, that morning was quickly approaching.

His eyes flicked down to the sleeping boy, he looked so different this way, with out the weight of everything resting on his shoulders, absent was the ridge his eyebrows created on his forehead that Draco had thought for the longest time was just part of his face. But in sleep and without his glasses, it seemed to vanish. As if everything that made Potter himself disappeared when he slept, Draco had to fight the urge to move his hand and trace the spot where the V called home. Instead he moved his eyes away, and move his eyesight to the others boy neck, and then chest and followed to his hands. The rough hands that ghosted his body, that he had spent years days thinking about.

His hands told the story of everything that happened, of everything they lived through. And he wondered, if this had happened at a different time, a different world if he would be able to hear the whole story, with out filling in the blanks, with out sifting through rumors and lies, he wanted Harry to tell him, in every way again and again. This time he could not stop himself, his hand moved to ghost of the fingers of the boy beside him, hoping he wouldn't wake. Draco just wanted to memorize his hands, wanted to feel them so he could remember him. They looked dark against his own pale skin, rough in comparison, Draco did not carry his scars on his hands, instead, they trailed up, up his forearms, where a tattoo sat, faded slightly, but in the darkness, Draco cold see it. "You have a V, between your eyes when you frown." His bed mates rough voice broke the silence, and it felt like shouting.

Draco did not look away from his hands, he simply smiled in irony. "I didn't mean to wake you," he commented softly, whispering so that he could hardly hear himself.

"I don't sleep well," Harry answered softly. "Not anymore."

"You should." Draco half scolded. "The Savior of the Wizarding World deserves sleep." he did not mean to make it sound so harsh, but he could fell the ice in every letter and traveling up his veins.

Potter's body changed, but still Draco did not look up, he simply let the comfort and ease slowly drain. "Don't call me that." he whispered Draco almost felt guilty. "I can't - not from you,"

Draco said nothing, and the silence returned. And for a while he wondered if Potter had nodded off again, if he was oblivious to the ice storm that happened inside of his veins.

"This can't happen again." Potter whispered.

"It can't." Draco agreed with out a second pause.

Potter continued on. "It shouldn't have happened this time,"

"It shouldn't have." He once again agreed

"You're getting married." Potter whispered in a voice that cracked, the same way Draco's heart did.

His eyes flickered up to the green orbs that were looking down at him, as if he held all of the answers. And Draco, wished for a moment that he did, wished that there was a world where he would never stop looking at him like that. "So are you," He whispered, and Potter did not look away.

There was no argument, no excuse, because it was true.

The pressure on Draco's hand grew. He squeezed harder. "I have to."

"I know."

It didn't matter which said it, that was always the excuse, and that was always the answer.

"Go to sleep." Potter whispered softly, his body moving closer to Draco's.

"I'm not tired." It was a lie, but Potter know that, he knew Draco meant to say, I don't want to waste the last hours he had.

"I want to sleep with you," Potter whispered, finding a place against Draco's chest.

Draco did not argue, only squeezed Potters hand, closed his eyes, listening to the nothing, and felt slowly, the V relax from his forehead. Sleep took him beneath her arms, and when he awoke, He was alone.