Perhaps, if he closed his eyes, he would wake up with Harry next to him, slowly breathing in and out. He would discover that it had all been a bad nightmare (A/N: is there such a thing as a good nightmare?) and Harry would wake up and hold him and it would all be okay.
"I was so scared," Draco would say, choking on tears. "I thought I'd lost you."
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry would reply, and he would just lie there until Draco's sobs faded and everything was fine again.
Then he would gently kiss him and the scene would morph into a huge house with a white picket fence, instead of a dingy apartment with the stench of cats, and 3.5 kids even though they both wanted more.
But they would both be content and Harry would smile and he would never leave, like he promised…
The closet door is roughly wrenched open and Hermione stands in the doorway, her hair tamed into a bun. Ron stands behind her, fiddling with his tie.
"Come on," Hermione says quietly. "We have to go."
She extends a hand to Draco and he accepts it, removing himself from the dusty floor. A tear trickles down his face as they trudge down the hall, and even Ron offers him a sad smile.
Then Draco enters the large room, smoothing his suit, and is startled by the vast number of people. They cry or smile nostalgically as he makes his way to the front pew and sits down.
Even Neville gives a half-hearted wave with his bandaged arm. Luna Lovegood is holding his good arm and crying.
Then, and only then, does Draco accept the end.
'Things always change,' he thinks, as a man in robes opens a book and begins to speak. 'Promises are broken, and heartbreak is inevitable.'
"I'll always love you, Harry," is what he whispers as he gazes into the coffin, so close, but yet so far…
"Always."