Warning: This story includes, rather centers upon, a relationship between two men. If this isn't your thing, please hit the back-button right now for your and my peace of mind.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, and I'm certainly not writing this story for profit, only for fun.

Harry's POV

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What's left of me

Why it was him, whom I watched transfixed, as if hit by lightning?

I don't know, I really don't.

Maybe because it was him who drew me from time and space like no other person by holding my gaze with those silvery eyes.

And yet, I can't say for sure.

All I know is that after the Final Battle he was there, suddenly holding me and carrying me back to Hogwarts, always whispering under his breath that I shouldn't die.

I was too tired to struggle with my thoughts or with the fact that it was him holding me, when there should have been someone else caring for me, someone whom I loved, whom I knew.

He had in the end fought for our side and had given us an advantage by making surprise attacks on fellow Death-Eaters during the Battle, starting with his father others following with the blink of an eye.

It was him who got me out of my misery, as there was no one else there who could have done that.

Ron had died of a hex aimed at him by Bellatrix Lestrange but not without taking her with him. Hermione was in St. Mungo's, not knowing who or what she was, unable to grasp a memory or a thought.

Lupin had been brought away by the Ministry and had been executed, before anyone could do anything, before the dead on the battlefield even were counted or identified.

During the War the Ministry had tightened up the laws on magical creatures, and had declared all werewolves to be too dangerous to live with.

At that time I was nearly unable to feel any emotion. I didn't laugh, I didn't cry, I did not feel anything but a great loss that I couldn't place or recognize.

Nothing could get me to grasp what had happened. That those people who were supposed to live were dead, while I, the one supposed to die, lived.

Slowly Draco got me out of my isolation, my despair and apathy and made me scream.

At him, at the world, at myself.

He made me cry for the people I had lost, for the way the world didn't seem to have gotten any better than before and even for myself.

And then one day he made me smile.

It was the day he looked at me with those icy eyes that were filled with warmth and then kissed me.

It was a slow process and it made me realize who I was.

I wasn't the person I'd been before and I'd never be that person again.

But what was left for me was a new beginning.

And the one thing left of me was my heart.

The heart that belonged to Draco Malfoy now.