Title: Honor the Sacrifice

Author: NemKess

Gift for: Ravenpan

Pairing: Draco/Harry

rating: PG

Warnings: more angst than I'd intended? Slash

Disclaimer: The worlds and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and an assortment of other official people.

Summary: Living is hard enough, sometimes...

"What are you really doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco was thankful for the lifetime of training that kept him from showing his unhappiness at the question.

For months he'd been coming to this place, paying his respects to their monument, and vanishing back to his own little world. Everyone knew about it; their rabid curiosity with all things mysterious and potentially scandalous saw to that as had their natural paranoia to anyone with any connection to the house of the snake. But no one had called him on it. No one had dared.

Until now.

"Paying my respects, same as you, Granger."

"That's bollocks and we both know it." There was no hostility in the muggle-born witch's voice, not really. There was curiosity, though, and Draco knew which was the more dangerous. "Harry was your enemy."

Now that he'd aroused her curiosity to the point that she was willing to question him... It was only a matter of time before she pursued it more vigorously. It would eat at her until she simply had to have hard answers.

Unfortunately, those answers weren't his to give.

"Death eaters or Light fighters, Harry Potter freed us all, Granger. I'm as aware of that as you are, whatever you believe." Truly, she'd never know just how much of his soul Harry had managed to save, or how much he'd sacrificed to do it, before the end of the war.

Draco knew and that was enough.

She was silent for a moment, but he could practically see the questions tumbling around in her overworked brain.

"Perhaps..." He nearly twitched under her heavy regard, but managed to quell the desire. Whatever questions she wanted to ply him with, she managed to restrain herself. For the moment.

Draco didn't fool himself into believing it would last. Eventually they would overcome her.

Today was not that day, however. He nodded politely and placed the candle he'd brought with him at the base of the monument.

They stood there in semi-congenial silence for a long moment, reflecting on the hero who'd been lost. The sun was beginning to set, though, and Draco had other places he needed to be. He nodded to the witch. "Granger."

"Malfoy."

He could still feel her eyes on his back long after he left her sight.

"You're late."

Draco shrugged off his cloak, letting it fall atop the house elf that waited patiently for it and walked over to the figure that leaned with one hand braced above the fireplace. "Granger was feeling chatty."

"You shouldn't have gone at all."

It was an old argument, though there was a new tremor to the familiar voice. Draco waved an elegant hand dismissively before wrapping his arms around the trim waist. "One of us should."

"Why? Harry Potter is dead. Everyone should just leave him that way and get on with their lives."

"They miss you, Harry. They grieve, still, for their friend."

Harry sighed and leaned against Draco's chest. He let Draco twine their fingers together. "Their friend is dead."

"No, you're not. Don't you think it's a little selfish to let them believe otherwise?" It was a little ironic that he should have to be the one to point it out to the former Gryffindor, but he knew that Harry sometimes got so caught up in his guilt and self-loathing that he forgot to remember that not everyone viewed him with such harsh condemnation.

The hand in his clenched painfully, but Draco managed not to whimper at the abuse. He must have made some sound, though, because Harry dropped his hand and whispered a hoarse apology. "I'm sorry."

"You just forget your own strength, sometimes, Harry. That's nothing to apologize for." That didn't make it hurt any less when Harry forgot himself, but it was impossible to be angry at someone who would punish himself for every bruise far worse than Draco ever could.

"I'm not their friend anymore... I'm just a monster who hurts the people he cares about..."

With a sigh of his own, Draco tilted Harry's head up and pulled off the obstructing glasses despite the soft protests. Harry didn't need them anymore, he simply used them as a shield, something to hide one more piece of evidence of his... change. Draco stared down at the brilliant green eyes. Even the faint flicker of the firelight was enough to have the red-ringed pupils down to tiny pinpricks.

He pressed a gentle kiss to unprotesting lips. "If you could go back. If you could redo that night. Would you change it?"

Harry stared at him, considering the question with a seriousness that proved he was truly thinking about it. Finally he shook his head. "To save you... I'd do it again."

"We've both seen true monsters, Harry. The Dark Lord-" "Voldemort, you can say his name now, Draco. He's definitely not coming back." "V-Voldemort, was one of those monsters."

"He and I had a lot more in common than you know, Draco."

"Oh please. Harry, you'd walk out into the sunlight before you'd ever willingly harm another soul that wasn't trying to hurt you and yours. That madman got off on it. There's a world of difference between you and Voldemort."

Hands still calloused from long years of menial labor crept up to stroke Draco's neck. "I hurt you every night, Draco. I hurt people to live."

Sometimes his lover's Gryffindor stubbornness made Draco want to beat his head against a wall. "Believe me, Harry, there's no pain involved in that. And we both know you'd starve yourself if I wasn't perfectly willing." He could see the argument forming on Harry's lips, but silenced it with another kiss. "Give over, love. This is one argument you're never going to win."

Harry exhaled slowly before nodding. "Hermione actually spoke to you?"

"She wanted to know why I was there, paying respects to an enemy."

The vampire grimaced. "She'll be beating down the door looking for answers any day now. I told you going to the monument would get too much attention."

"Harry Potter died to give me freedom and continues an undead existence he hates to give me love. I can't not pay my respects."

"You're so strange." The love and affection were overcoming the self-loathing. For the moment, at least. He could rest later, knowing that his lover wouldn't follow some suicidal urge to greet the sunrise. Draco expected, though, that they'd be having this particular battle more than once over the years.

He was selfish enough himself to look forward to winning each one.