- I own nothing! Even parts of the idea of this story were put together from Harry Potter, and L. J. Smith's Nightworld. All that is mine is my writing style. And my persistent muse that refuses to show its face for all the long years it held me under its thrall.

I deleted a chapter in which I went slightly beserk. Heh. I was extremely upset when I wrote that, and I took it out on the characters and nearly messed up the entire plot. Bad Avvy.

… and I apologize in advance for what I am going to do. Please don't hate me. It made me cry to even think about writing this chapter. I don't even know what made me write it, but I know that if I refused I probably would be cursed with writer's block for a month. So please forgive me, and hope. Hope that something good will come about from Draco and Harry's pain.

--PART ONE--

The heat of battle. Everything was strange, confused. Focused on the one in front of you, nothing except the struggle to stay alive existed.

Harry stared down at Voldemort's still form when the dark wizard finally fell. He blinked. It was over? He smiled, wearily. Finally. It was all over.

He blinked again. Someone was calling his name. He had come alone. Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy running towards him, a look of absolute panic on his face. That was odd. He had thought that the blond wizard was dead…

"Harry!" Draco realized that there was no time. No time at all. He threw himself bodily at Harry, not thinking except that perhaps maybe it would be enough. This time.

A sharp pain exploded through his back, and he cried out in pain. At the same time he heard Harry do the same. It hadn't been enough. They were going to die, again. And it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as they fell.

They landed facing each other, which was good - he wouldn't have been able to move. And having the last sight in this life be Harry's face… it was a small comfort.

"Draco?" Harry asked, confusion clear in his dimming green eyes. The whole in his chest matched the one that went through the young Malfoy. The dark haired wizard tried to sit up, tried to call for help, anything… but he could not move.

"I tried… but I could never save you," Draco murmured sadly. We always die at seventeen. Why? "Draco?" Harry was getting worried. Draco wasn't making any sense. He had a feeling the other boy was fading fast. The otherworldly look in his eyes was scaring Harry, and he was more than a little confused by the Malfoy's words. That there was no time to sort through his confusion… he couldn't dwell on it.

"I love you," Draco sighed, reaching out with a hand wet with his own blood. He smiled when Harry took his offered hand and weakly curled his fingers around those of his beloved.

"Love…me?" Harry watched a tear slide down the other boy's face.

"It's not fair," the voice was barely audible now. The light nearly gone from his eyes. "One last chance…"

"Draco," Harry forced his body, weak from blood loss, to his former enemy's side. "One last chance for what?" He stroked the other boy's cheek to try to get his attention. He was fading fast. Suddenly that seemed like the worst possible thing that could happen. Harry stared in horror realizing he'd smudged blood across Draco's cheek.

"To be together," Draco said simply, his eyes flickering open one last time. "We should have been together since the dawn of time… see you in the next life, darling. Hope we're not so stupid next time."

"Draco?" Harry somehow found the strength to pull the still form into his arms. "Get up you prat, you can't leave yet. Draco!" His bottom lip trembled, and he bit it. He looked around to see the fighting still going on around them.

And Bellatrix stood above him, smiling cruelly. He didn't feel her last curse. Didn't hear the screams of his friends as they ran to his prone form, didn't see Hermione tackle the other witch and get into a vicious fight full of biting and clawing. He couldn't see or hear.

All he could feel was Draco. Draco's corpse. And that was getting cold. "Don't leave me," he begged, uselessly, silently. He clung to his soulmate's still form. When his friends tried to separate him from the dead wizard, he lashed out at them with what little strength he had left. And that was fading fast. Love… me? Draco…"Harry, don't die," he heard suddenly. It was Ron, and his voice was broken and full of tears.

"Don't worry, Ron," Harry replied, a smile on his lips. It hurt to speak, but it hurt more to hear the pain in his friend's voice. "I'm coming back." Draco said so. "Look for me. It won't be long." That was just a feeling of his. "I'm sorry I died. I didn't mean to."

"Harry, its not your fault," Harry just felt a hand stroking his hair.

"Draco tried to save me," it felt important to explain that. For some reason that made Ron sob loudly. "'Mione?" He couldn't open his eyes, but he to hear his friends one last time.

"I'm here, Harry," Hermione whispered softly. He couldn't feel her hand holding his. But somehow he knew she was holding to it tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.

"I… take care of each other. Love you both." He was crying now. It had just struck him. He was dying. He had saved the world, and now he was dying, and it was going to break his friends. "I'll be back soon. Don't forget … to look for me." It was getting difficult to breathe.

"I won't," Ron promised in a voice broken by tears.

"Please." He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. His tears came faster. He had to get this all out. Because his past lives were unfolding, and he saw time after time of him and Draco … not together. Dying before realizing. "Don't let me forget him." He clung to the body of his love tighter. It was too late.

---

A.N. - Please forgive me? I didn't mean for them to die. It just happened. And I had to write it down… I'd like to promise that things get better from here, although I do not know that for sure. But how could it get any worse? BTW this moment is brought to you by FFX2. Hehe.