Disclaimer: If J.K. Rowling were to have suddenly given me the rights to her wonderful story, I would have dropped out of school and spent the rest of my life living off the royalties. As I'm still suffering with homework, you may all safely assume that I also still own nothing of her books save my own plots twisting the characters.
Draco gazed at the sleeping form of Harry next to him, his face stoic, his mind in turmoil. He knew he would never see Harry again. His eyes traced up the soft curve of Harry's bare chest to his face. The angular jaw line. The thin, straight nose. The smooth sheen of pale skin silver with moonlight. Draco's eyes took in the way Harry's long lashes rimmed his eyelids, like delicate stitches sewing them shut.
His vision shifted outside the glistening window over the disheveled bed to the blinding half-moon. It had stopped raining only moments before. The lunar beams shone behind the raindrops clinging to the glass, throwing tiny round shadows across the bedroom, splattering across the bodies of the two lovers. Draco took in all in, wanting to remember every possible detail. Though he will not have to carry this memory long.
They will kill him. To them, what he did was no worse than a direct betrayal. And such actions could only be punished with death.
But it was worth it, thought Draco. If only to be in the former Boy-Who-Lived's arms once last time, bodies colliding in naked embrace. To experience the passion once forgotten from years spent in darkness. Yes, it was worth it.
He fingered the creased parchment in his lap. It was the only way he could think of to end this. His heart tightened at the thought of the other man waking to find the creaking shack empty. He will spend a minute looking around for Draco, listening for any sign of him. Then he will see the note. His hand will slowly reach towards the cold papyrus sheet, unfolding the page open with shaky fingers. Draco imagined the lurid look that will cross Harry's eyes, all traces of sleep having vanished. In his mind he saw those gentle emerald eyes cloud over with fury, the sparkle darkening with hatred. Harry would then throw the paper away in disgust, berating himself for being so foolishly trusting.
Draco leaned back against the scratched wooden headboard. Harry must never know the truth. He must never know how much he meant to Draco, how he loved him. This knowledge would only bring more pain to Harry. It was better that Harry celebrated news of Draco's demise rather than mourn. Otherwise, Draco knew Harry would never forgive himself, blaming himself for not protecting another soul he hapless enough to befriend.
Still, never in all his life had lying hurt so much.
Draco pulled the covers off and lethargically left the bed. He dressed with a heavy heart; the only sound besides Harry's even breathing was the soft rustle of cloth. Carrying his boots so as to not wake Harry prematurely, he walked towards Harry. Resisting the urge to kiss him, he laid the note on the nightstand, next to a pair of thick glasses.
He crossed the small room towards the door, sparing one last glance back. Only when he was outside did he don his boots. He turned once more to the moon to find it veiled with dark clouds. A light drizzle began and soon increased to a downpour. Draco trudged resolutely into the darkness, determined to place as much distance between them as possible.
The coming dawn would find him a wanted man. A traitor to both sides. He tilted his face to the dark sky, enjoying the feel of rain on his face. This was his last day and he would leave this world without any regrets. That was all that mattered.
He stopped at a safe distance. No one heard him mutter his last "Apparate" and no one will hear the loud crack that whisked his his form away.