Disclaimer:  I own nothing. All characters belong to the amazing and wonderful J.K. Rowling. No matter how much I may wish that they were mine…..*sigh*

Summary: Harry and Draco have been having an affair, but it's not enough for Harry, and he's got to do something. Inspired by "No More Sad Songs" by Clay Aiken.

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: G

Warnings: slash, angst

~~~~~~~~

Harry felt the warm body next to him slide out from under the covers, leaving the space where he had been barren and cold. He heard his feet softly padding across the floor, then rustling as he began to pull his clothes on.

"Stay."

"No."

Harry looked away from the cold eyes of his lover, trying not to let him see how much pain such a simple word could cause him.

"Please, Draco."

Draco looked sideways at Harry as he pulled on his gray, cashmere sweater. "I can't, Harry," he said quietly. Draco tried to keep looking at Harry, but he could see the pain that Harry was trying to hide plainly written across Harry's open, emotive face. It was too much. He couldn't make more of this than it was. It would ruin everything . . . for both of them.

Draco sat on the end of the bed and leaned over to tie his shoelaces. Harry sighed and sat up, drawing his knees to his chest as he leant against the headboard, pulling the comforter up over his naked body. "Why, Draco? You always say no, but you never say why. Why can't you stay?" Why can't you love me?

"You know why." Draco's voice was cold and distant as he stood up and walked toward the door.

"Tell me."

Draco paused, and let the hand that was reaching for the doorknob drop to his side. He turned to face the boy huddled on the bed, and fixed him with his most severe, unfeeling look. "Because we're not friends, Harry. We fuck. Nothing more. It'll never be anything more."

Draco turned and strode from the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. His harsh words echoed around the eerily quiet room, and he never saw the silent tears that slid down Harry's cheeks.

This is the last time I'll cry for you. No more.

~@~

Draco knew something was different when he headed back to the Slytherin dungeons after Transfiguration, his last class of the day. It wasn't that anything he could see was different. The walls of Hogwarts were still covered in paintings filled with lively characters chatting with each other and the same ghosts were still gliding down the hallways. His faithful lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, still walked stoically on either side of him, as they had since his first year at Hogwarts. The dungeons were still cold and dank, yet something was different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong.

He knew what it was the instant he stepped into the Slytherin seventh year boys dormitory. On his bed was a box.

Draco stopped in the middle of the room and just stood there, perfectly still, emotionless, and stared at the box on his bed. He knew that Crabbe and Goyle were speaking to him, but he couldn't hear a word either of them said. All he saw was that box.

Finally, he regained movement in his limbs, and numbly made his way over to the ominous box. Just as he had suspected, it was all there. Every last memento from their three month affair. Every item that Draco had ever left behind. Every letter and note that Draco had ever written to Harry.

He had suspected, but he hadn't believed. Even though the minute he had walked into the room he had known what the box meant, he still felt his heart break.

It was over.

~@~

Harry leaned against the tree behind him and stared into the silvery water of the lake. The wind was picking up, blowing leaves from the tree into a swirling cloud around Harry's motionless figure. The water on the lake to rippled and occasionally flowed up onto the bank, distorting the images of clouds reflected onto the lake's shimmering surface.

Harry didn't notice when afternoon turned to dusk and then to night. He didn't notice when the storm that had been hovering overhead all day, broke, pouring down rain in sheets upon the school and its surroundings.

Harry just stood there, not feeling the rain soaking through his robes, his sweater, his shirt right through to his skin. He had actually done it. In the end, he knew it was the right thing to do. Draco would never love him the way he wanted him to. He could see it in the blonde's eyes when they were together. Their affair hadn't meant anything to Draco. Harry had meant nothing.

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the figure that approached until she sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The figure sat silently next to him for what felt like hours, and then finally, whispered, "I'm so sorry, Harry."

At Hermione's softly spoken words, Harry broke. He let out a choked sob before collapsing into her arms. He rested his head on her chest and furiously wiped at the tears that were threatening to reappear. No more. Never again. I won't cry. Not for him. Harry felt Hermione softly running her hands through his hair with one hand while she wrapped the corner of her robes over his shoulders and rubbed his frozen body. He closed his eyes and focused on Hermione's sounds of comfort.

Neither Harry nor Hermione saw the tearful blonde watching them from across the lake.