When I think back now, I realise that I should have seen it coming. In retrospect, it was obvious, anyone who took the time to think about it should have realised, but nobody did.

I remember it well, the fear, the confusion, the chaos. It all happened so quick.

Don't get me wrong, we knew, we had known for months that the final battle was coming, but nobody had quite grasped the reality of the situation, nobody knew just how much power he had, nobody had foretold the sheer devastation of that day.

That day, the day I lost everything before I even realised I had anything to loose.

I have many enemies, a lot of them where there on the grounds, mixed in amongst my friends and allies, there really wasn't time for much thought, but I remember thinking 'No one deserves to go through this'

The terror and panic were overwhelming, I was dizzy in the confusion and my body hurt all over, but the worse thing was the noise. Cries of pain and desperation, noises full of sorrow, more powerful than any words.

I was running desperately through the crowds, I stopped for a breather, glancing round, all I could see was pain. The same agony was reflected on everyone's face, no matter what side they were on, not even those loyal to the dark lord had recognised that his hunger for power would destroy everyone.

I realised right then that this was it, it was the end, the end of the world as we knew it.

Tragedy brings people together; I could see this now as I looked around the destruction. There were people from both sides of this mess we called a war, working together to fix what they could, and consoling each other in their mutual grief.

If I hadn't been so preoccupied with my own thoughts, I would have also offered my assistance to those who needed it, only I couldn't seem to focus on anything but my own pain, let alone anyone else's, I had a single coherent thought, and that was 'find him'

I started walking again, looking around more frantically than before. He had to be here somewhere; this is where I'd seen him fall.

I recognised the area from hours before; I'd seen it many times since, as I replayed those crucial moments in my head. I'd replayed it as I struggled through the crowds, I'd replayed it as I fought death eaters, and I'd replayed it as I…as I killedVoldemort.

As I walked my mind slipped back. Back to our school days, we'd been innocent then, young and free with our own ideals. Petty rivalry, built from a grudge the first time we'd met, had reduced our relationship to adolescent pranks, idiotic nick names and cruel words.

It's a shame really, if only we had given each other a chance earlier, if we had understood each other, things could have been different, and we could have been great.

As we grew up, our hatred for each other lost its meaning, we slowly lost interest in tormenting games, and learned to tolerate each other. For my part, in our last years of school, I learned that the best way to deal with him was to simply avoid him.

It was only after school, when I learned that he had no interest of following his father's footsteps, when we started working together in the war that we started to trust one and other, and I eventually saw him with respect. There was never any sign, no handshake or nod of the head. I never actually said I wished to be his friend, to put the past behind us.

I think he just knew.

As I staggered around the destroyed grounds of the school I'd called home for so long, I felt lost in my misery. I was torn, I so desperately wanted to find him, but I was terrified of how I would find him. I had seen him fall, and had a good idea of the state he would be in. I hated it, I longed to be back in a time and place where I felt happy and secure. I wished to be far away. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

As I continued my search, I once again found my self lost in fond memories, memories of him.

It seemed so long ago that we had sat together in the broken building I could see in the distance, but in reality it had been only a few years.

Immediately after graduating from Hogwarts, I'd turned my focus on becoming an auror, as well as dedicating myself to the cause. As I was pretty much constantly working with the Order, I quickly realised that I'd be seeing a lot of Draco Malfoy.

I recall the first time we met after our school days, for reasons known only to Dumbledore, several of the Order meetings were often held at Hogwarts. We were sitting in what appeared to be a conference room, the walls were cream coloured and the chairs scattered around the long table were battered with age. In all, the room had an official but welcoming feel.

I had known of course, through what I'd been told, that Draco was part of the Order, we had yet to cross paths but it was not a surprise to me when he walked in, I'd expected to see him eventually.

He entered the room fashionably late, and I couldn't help but stare. His hair had grown; the blond locks now fell effortlessly round his face, giving a feel that only a Malfoy could achieve. Despite his growing resemblance to his father, in looks, he was completely different from the elder Malfoy. Easy with himself he stood casually, but still maintained a charismatic grace.

Black slacks hung loosely on his hips, accompanied by a plain black shirt, and completed by a silver dragon pendant falling round his neck. To put it simply, Draco Malfoy looked edible.

Luckily my open-mouthed lust could be taken for surprise at his choice of muggle style clothes.

He caught my eye, if he noticed I was staring he didn't mention it, just offered me his trademark smirk and sauntered to his seat. I would never have admitted to Draco that I though he was hot.

I think he knew.

Even as I walked through the horror of reality, I couldn't help but grin slightly at the thought of Draco. I thought of the boy he'd been, the person he was growing to be, and the life he would never have. With time his views and values had changed, without his father's influence, after Lucius had been imprisoned at the end of our fifth year, Draco had, had the chance to experience life first hand and had eventually grown out of old prejudices.

It was once that barrier had been lifted from between us, that our relationship was free to grow. Out of hate had grown tolerance, from that there had been respect, and from respect an easy friendship had been formed between us.

Different in everyway from the love I shared with my eldest friends Ron and Hermione, I found that I enjoyed the blonds company. Now that we shared more than insults, I discovered that Draco was both intelligent and witty, with a smooth sense of humour that few people understood.

Despite our growing companionship, we still argued like school boys. We disagreed over everything from politics to quidditch. We could amuse ourselves for hours on end going around in circles adding endless, pointless statements, to endless pointless arguments. We would find ourselves more often than not, stuck in a stalemate. I may be a Gryffindor at heart, but I can be just as sneaky as any Slytherin, my points where always just as valid as his.

Draco would never admit to this, but I think he knew.

I immersed myself in happy memories knowing that if I didn't I would inevitably think about it again. That moment, the moment Draco had fallen. I knew that if I wasn't concentrating on something else, I would see it all again in my mind. The stricken look, the helplessness, he had been too far away, there was nothing I could have done.

Pushing away all thought of it, I carried on looking for my fallen 'friend'. I glanced around and scanned the people and the chaos. Ignoring the damage, ignoring everybody else, and ignoring the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. I just wanted to find my friend.

Friend? Sounds strange to call him that, though I really don't know what else to call him. Partner? Boyfriend? Lover? No, we never where, not like that anyway. Sure there was sex, lots of sex, but that's all it was. Our relationship could never be defined as anymore than friendship. There was never any romance or love expressed between us. To put it crudely, we were friends who fucked.

I'm not quite sure how that came about. We both always denied making the first move. All I know is that there was whiskey involved. After the first time though, it didn't seem to really matter. It was simply recreation, a way of relaxing.

We had woken up the first time, shocked but not regretful, and quite happy to do it again. We never said so in as many words, it would always just happen, we were quite content to indulge in the occasional shag as long as it didn't ruin our friendship.

I was pleased with this arrangement, I never told him that, but I think he knew.

When we reunited after long missions apart, or after having not seen each other for some time due to our lifestyles, as tradition had it we would meet for a drink, we would laugh, joke and catch up, I found that many of those nights would end in a bed; a mass of tangled limbs, sheets and sweat, both of us breathing heavily, tension gone and relaxed and safe in each others arms.

He could always make me feel relaxed. I'm not sure how he did it, he just knew. He knew what to do and what to say to make me feel at ease. He knew how to make me tremble and how to make me gasp.

He knew me.

I shivered, the cold November chill, mixed with my sorrow and my thoughts unnerved me. I longed to be wrapped up warm, somewhere safe. His arms once more shielding me from the terror of real life. Grief overwhelmed me once more as I continued my task.

I was reminiscing over one of our many petty arguments when I spotted him. His body clad in the usual black, his golden hair glinting in the moonlight that highlighted his features. I swallowed and took several short gasps of air, he was lying unmoving just a couple of yards away. Gathering my nerves I hesitantly stepped towards him, terrified of the condition in which I would find him.

It seemed to take forever to reach him, and I found that I could no longer push what had happened from my mind. I was tortured once more by the image of what was affecting me so badly.

I saw it all. I remembered feeling relieved, the worse was over, and we were okay. We had been together, side by side, when everything had gone so terribly wrong. Voldemort had tried to draw mass amounts of energy from the earth, the blast he created when he screwed up had come out of nowhere pure energy had rippled for miles, killing hundreds and destroying what got in its way. Nobody was ever sure why some survived whilst others did not, there's no clear pattern. All we know is that in one single second, half of the people who had been fighting on the land surrounding the castle were dead, no matter who they had supported.

This isn't what had happened to Draco though; thankful to have both survived, neither had seen the group of surviving deatheaters approach us from behind.

The two of us automatically had started to fight, but Draco had not been quick enough to avoid being hurt. He was wounded the muggle way, no curses, no scheme that only a 'pureblood' could think up, just an ordinary muggle knife. Ironic really.

Our eyes locked as it happened, his were full of pain and shock, which I'm sure where reflected in my own. Time seemed to stand still, I wanted to run to him, to help him, I couldn't but I think he knew, and then in slow motion I saw as he fell forward onto the hard ground.

I tried to get to him, but with deatheaters coming from all sides, I could not, I was now alone in the battle, it was battle I still had to fight. With no time to think clearly, I had turned my attention back to the task, and lost sight of Draco.

I approached him slowly, not knowing what to expect, I didn't really think he could have survived this long, bleeding slowly to death. As if one queue he twitched slightly and made a small noise.

I cringed, he was still alive, the fatal wound had not yet claimed the life of Draco Malfoy. I was horrified, he had been here for hours, he'd sufferedalone for hours.

I have to admit, however, part of me was secretly glad he was still alive, even though he wouldn't be for much longer, I was glad of the chance to see him once more. Even if the price was his pain.

It was incredibly selfish of me I know, but I'm only human after all.

I knelt beside him, all other conscious though had now deserted me, my only focus was the fading life in front of me.

'Draco?' I said, my voice barley above a whisper. His eyes opened slowly, and he took a while to focus on my face. His body was shaking, in fear? The cold? In exhaustion, I've never been sure. After a moment, with several gasping breaths, he finally managed to speak, just one word,

'Harry?'

Old habits die hard they say, even after several years of friendship we still called each other 'Potter' and 'Malfoy', mostly just to piss the other off. I could always tell when he was serious he would use my given name. Whether it was 'For fucks sake Harry!' or 'Harry, are you sure your not hurt?' my name was always used to show he meant what he was saying.

Only, this time I already knew it was serious; everything about the whole goddamn situation was serious. I realised as he said my name that there would be no more fights, no more jokes, no more sex, it dawned on me then what I already knew, Draco Malfoy was dying.

We'd talked about death, only a few months prior. We were lying together content in each others company, Draco had turned to me and asked 'Are you scared of dying?' I was shocked, I had no idea where a question like this had come from, but I answered anyway and we spent the next few hours engaged in a thoughtful conversation about life and death.

Draco's part of the conversation had been a mixture of intelligent comments, bold statements and witty comebacks, the occasional use of my first name the only indication that he was completely serious.

He was looking at me now, his silver eyes glinting. With what looked like a great effort he found the ability to speak.

'Harry,' he repeated again, at my slight smile he carried on 'I..I never thought that th..things w would happen this way….' He trailed of, once more trying to get enough breath to speak 'I..I, I thought I was a..alone, that, that I w w wouldn't see you again, b b but I needed to, I need to tell…'

'Draco..' I cut in, it was obviously hurting him to talk, I didn't want that, but I was interrupted as he carried on speaking once more.

'I needed you to to k know, that I l love you, I love you Harry Potter.'

This was the last thing I'd ever expected to here Draco say to me, sure I knew he cared for me, butloved me, Draco just wasn't the type, and we didn't have that kind of relationship.

I was silent. He had said what he needed to say, after that all the energy seemed to leave him, it was becoming harder for him to speak. We sat in silence, I had no idea how to reply to him, after several minutes of quiet reflection Draco conjured up the effort to speak once more.

'Harry,' he started quietly 'I'm scared, don't leave me…'

You think that you have it planned; you think you would know how to react in that situation, having seen it hundreds of times in trashy romance novels. Its all there, prepared and ready; reassurances, promises, and quiet words of comfort, I wanted nothing more in the world to tell him that he would be fine, but I couldn't, I couldn't form the words, and I couldn't lie to him. All words escaped me, so I done the only logical thing I could think of at the time, I took him into my arms and held him.

I held him like I had so many times before; numerous blissful encounters had ended like this wrapped in the comfort of each others arms. I held him close and tightly, and as his life slipped away, out of my grasp, like so many others that night, I found that I could no longer hold my self together.

As I sat there in the battlefield holding Draco's lifeless body close to my own, I wept.

I cried for my parents, I cried for Sirius, I cried for the others who had lost their lives in the war and those they had left behind, I cried for what could have been, what i should /i have been, and I cried for myself.

Most of all, I cried for Draco.

My school mate

My friend

My colleague

My Love

I never told him that I loved him, I think he knew.