Title: The War Is Won

Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor

Rating: M Rated for: Smut, Strong language, Violence

Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione

Notes: From the end of Half Blood Prince.

Warnings: Contains slash pairings - Don't like, don't read. Non-canon plot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, they belong to the wonderful J. - I only wish I'd invented the beautiful Draco Malfoy...

Prolouge

His heart was thumping, hammering in his chest, threatening to break his ribs. His breathing was coming in ragged gasps, tearing through his entire body; he could have sworn his chest was about to split open from the force of it.

Shit, I've done it.

The room began to spin. He felt his eyes start to roll back into his head and blackness obscuring the edges of his vision as his knees buckled from beneath him. He wildly reached out for support, his hands coming into contact with a sturdy wooden shelf. Sturdy and reliable. He staggered towards it and he could faintly hear the sound of metal clashing with the stone floor as a number of objects were thrown from the shelf by his scrabbling hands, but he could barely hear over the deafening roaring in his ears as his blood drummed through his head, offbalancing him with every heartbeat.

I've actually fucking done it.

He didn't know whether he wanted to scream, shout, cry or laugh. He was vaguely aware of a shrieking sound that had no source in the deserted room other than himself, but it barely registered as he continued to scream out in dizzying relief.

It's all over now.

He shrieked hysterical laughter as he stumbled around the room, his vision almost completely blacked over and his head banging with every surge of adrenaline through his veins; making the impenetrable darkness sharper somehow.

There's no more.

His laughter was cut off abruptly as his features suddenly twisted and sobs were tearing themselves from his throat so violently he choked, coughing and spluttering, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks; quite out of pace with the thoughts that were racing through his head.

What the fuck have I done?

A sudden blinding panic tore through every fibre of his being like electricity as reality slapped him across the face.

Theres no going back now.

His deep, shuddering breaths rapidly became short and desperate as he gulped in as much oxygen as he could, anything to stop the imminent darkness taking him completely. The roaring in his ears continued to rage, his skin became cold and clammy and he began to convulse, bile creeping up his throat with every breath.

And now I'm having a fucking panic attack.

A voice that sounded most unlike his own whispered through the fog of his thoghts like a sharp knife, jolting him from his hysterical stupor;

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

His fear slowly gave way to relief again as his thoughts slowed processed these words.

It's true.

Overcome with a sudden exhaustion, he allowed himself to drop to the floor, his head coming into sharp contact with the stone wall as he fell. He gathered himself towards it; pouring his heart out in his tears; all the sadness, fear, relief, happiness, comfort and dread pour from his silver eyes as he rest his head against the soothing cold of the wall, his white-blond falling delicately onto his forehead.

I'm free.

Please review, if you liked it or not.

The chapters will be a lot longer; this is only the prolouge. I've got a lot of plans for this story I get positive feedback.

(Not very organised plans, I'll admit, but plans nonetheless, right?)

Thanks.