Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the like are products of JK Rowlings creative mind. I just find plot holes and exploit them. ( Don't look at me like that, you know they are there!)

Rating: T for violence and very mild slash. Major Character death, but happy ending.

Characters: Harry/Draco. Mentor-ish Snape. Light Dumbledore irritation.

Summary: Spoilers for HBP... just in case some haven't read/seen the book/movie. Realization and understanding comes after a tragic fight. Draco and Harry's bathroom duel ends much differently, changing everyone involved. Two trapped souls learn that it's okay to be strange, as long as you have someone to be with. Mild HP/DM slash. AU.

A/N: I recently acquired the "Almost Alice" soundtrack and fell in love with "Strange" by Tokio Hotel and Kerli. After listening to it a few times, it dawned on me it fit both our boys to a 't.' I toyed with several storylines inspired by the lyrics, a few which will end up here after I have finished them. This one struck me the strongest, and I confess I was teary by the end.

Anyway, YouTube it. It's an amazing song. Hope you enjoy this little oneshot. No flames on the AU-ness of it. I tried to keep them in character as much as the situations allowed. The changes in perspective and tenses are deliberate. Reviews welcome. Flames are not. For those waiting for the next chapter of Foolish Games, I'm working on it.

Forever Strange

Cold.

It's so cold here. Cold and yet burning. Such a strange feeling, yeah? Do I feel that? Is it pain? No…not pain. Something much more. Agony perhaps. Is that what it is?

Yeah. Agony, anguish, languid torture.

I should be worried, shouldn't I? The red around me, the white heat streaming from the ribbons of flesh craved from my chest. Why was I here in the first place?

Malfoy. That's right. I followed him into the bathroom. He looked pale.

Well, paler than normal. Maybe he's a vampire? Hehe…

Should I be laughing right now? Is that okay? Can I laugh finally?

Does that fit with your view of perfection? The world you have build, the golden cage you keep me in, gilded and encrusted with the perfect gems.

Do you know I feel so absurd stuck in the spotlight? I hate it. You push and push me into a fantasy world you made. You praise me when I want judgment. I want to be told I'm wrong.

Yell at me, ream me out. Please. Look at me for once without your hazy glasses. Without your damned prophecy. Can't you see how imperfect I am? Can't you see what you have tried to make me into? A puzzle piece crafted specifically for filling that final spot.

Am I even human to you?

I can see something, white…black…gray maybe? There's words too, someone's saying something. My ears hear but I just can't understand.

Funny that. I really am the dunderhead Snape has said I was all along. I think he's the only person who sees me. The freak of nature, the strange little boy who didn't belong. I wish he knew I am thankful for that, even if I've never said so.

There are big silver eyes looking at me now. Malfoy again. He's hiding something, you know. Something big. And it is eating him alive. Can't you all see that? Can't you see the terror and conflict in his eyes? He doesn't belong here any more that I do. He's got a cage too. Silver and green. It glistens next to mine on your shelves.

And there we sit, wondering when we will be free. He wants it too. I can tell. Wants it as badly as I do. He was crying when I came in here. Since when do prideful, slimy little Malfoy's cry? He doesn't fit the picture you want to see either.

Pitted against each other, fighting for what? I don't know any more. I'm not too sure he does either.

I'm thrashing now as the nerves respond to the pain. My body has a mind of its own. But that's not new, is it? Have I ever had a will of my own? I wonder if I had been left alone, would I have made any of the decisions that I did? I've been told I was just like my father from the moment came here, for good or ill. Was I ever a really person? Ever just Harry?

Was Draco just Draco? Guess he's Draco now. Makes sense to me, even if it doesn't to you. He's kneeling next to me, his eyes huge and his mouth flopping open. I think he's saying something, but I still can't comprehend the words. He looks lost. I know how he feels. There is water around us. It's wet. Unless it's blood.

I don't know. I'm too tired to lift my head. Even keeping my eyes open right now isn't easy. I want to say something. To tell him to leave me, tell him not to come any closer.

Tell him to go, to run.

To Live. To fly away from his cage, to be normal and not feel strange.

But we are, he and I. We will never fit into the calm you conjure. We will forever be trapped in the spotlight, in the image you want us to be in.

Snape's here now. I'd know that hard velvet voice anywhere. It's yelled at me enough, 'specially last year. That was pretty idiotic, honestly. What was anyone thinking, putting us together and expecting us to actually work together.?

Wonder if he's happy seeing me laid out like this. I could ask. But my tongue is thick and my breaths hurt as they squeeze out of my lungs. I briefly hear a gurgle and then my throat is filled with crimson iron, slipping past bitten lips. There are hands, two pairs, a big one and small one rolling me over.

My hearing clears for a few moments and I can make out some words. It's enough to know what's going on now.

"P… Professor…" Draco stutters. He only does that when he is really upset, you know. Malfoy breeding, I think.

"What did you do, Draco?" Snape hisses. He kinda sounds like a snake when he does that. Wonder if he'd hex me if I told him.

My eyes are fluttering closed now; the pain is excruciating. There is a buzzing around me, low and dim, but there. I have to concentrate on what is being said now. Something about a 'duel' and a spell. Draco says he cast a shield and that my spell reflected off of it.

Oh yeah… that spell. It said it was for enemies. I didn't know what it would do, though. Stupid, right? I taught the DA last year. I should have been smarter than that. I should congratulate Draco on casting a strong shield. Could come in handy, you know. Already has, I reckon. For Draco at least. Not so good for me, though.

There are the hands again, and murmured words that sound like a funny song. The hush around us is deafening. I feel the wound, bleeding in rivers around me, try to close. I will them to stay open. I don't want to go back. Don't put me back in my cage, please.

I want to scream it out, beg and plead that they just let me be. Let the freak die, let your perfect world continue.

Let me go.

I open my eyes, feeling the gathering of hot tears in the corners, feeling them burn a fiery path down my cheeks. Draco's eyes are focused on mine, his mirroring mine, and I wonder if he understands. Snape is still there, still trying to put me back together. His voice is harsh now, barking out the healing incantation. His eyes flicker up to mine and then to Draco's. I blink once and see Draco nod.

Finally…

His hand touches Snape's, the long potion stained fingers white against the dark wood of his wand. Snape, tight lipped, shoots a frantic look towards me, and for a moment, I feel sorry for him. He might hate me, but I don't think he wanted things to go like this. Draco forces his wand down, then leans over me. I can feel his breath shudder against my cheek, his nose pressed against my temple…

"Wait for me… together we'll be strang," he whispers, his lips finally touching mine but for a second.

I breath out "Alway,s,"

And finally allow the blackness to claim me, setting me free.

The death of Harry Potter rocked the Wizarding world to its foundations. No one expected it, and no one knew what to do next. Their perfect little world didn't have its fantasy anymore. Without its Golden Boy in his cage, the powers that be were at a loss. No more so than the great Dumbledore, who had played puppet master with the boy for his entire sixteen years. With his pawn gone, the old man scrambled to rewrite a debunked prophecy. He was later killed by his spy, as requested. But it wasn't a hollow act, rather one filled with real malice.

The true behind both events was known only to the two who had seen them. Moaning Myrtle, strangely enough, became Silent Myrtle, gazing forlornly at the floor in the girls bathroom. Harry's body, after the wounds were healed, was taken to Madame Pompfrey, who after several diagnostics, concluded that his heart had given out. She speculated it was genetic. Severus and Draco said nothing to persuade her or anyone differently.

The Headmaster's funeral was ostentatious, unlike the quiet affair held for Harry. Draco thought it was fitting in a way, and refused to attend. He stayed with Severus after the end of his sixth year. Severus didn't seem to mind much.

Severus had learned much from his best student and the boy he despised. He learned there were choices to be made, that once a path was formed, it didn't need following. That enemies could come to understandings, and understandings turn to love. Draco had explained it all, one night late in the final legs of the war.

True, the two hadn't loved long, only minutes really. But they knew one another with the knowledge of old souls born and destined for each other. Draco knew the plague Harry had endured, because he had born it too. Squeezed into a mould cast by others, demanded that they change their very personalities to fit what others wanted. Harry became disillusioned the end of fifth year, after the Ministry fiasco. And Draco… well his whole existence hinged on a task he didn't want, given by a man he hated, his life held as the bargaining chip.

"You planned it?" Severus asked, looking at the thin and pale younger man.

Draco shook his head tiredly. His life was waning as the winter drug on, and the Potions Master couldn't see him living to witness the new buds of spring. "No. Harry didn't know about the spell's effects, and it was a fluke that I managed to cast a shield. I'm usually pants at it."

"Then how do you know all of this?"

Draco smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face. It had been so long since Severus had seen him look so that he could do nothing but stare.

"I just know him. We're strange together you know. Not as different as everyone wanted to believe. He only wanted what I have craved my whole life."

Severus gave him a searching look. "And that is?"

"Freedom, Severus. Simply to be free. He would never have had it. Even after this confounded war is over, they would have hounded him, criticized and idolized him. Harry didn't want that," Draco paused, looking into the fire with a far off glint in his eyes. "I know you think he was a coward. Maybe he was. But to me, he's just Harry. And Just Harry is free, the way he should be." He yawned and curled up tighter on the tattered sofa in Snape's quarters.

"And you, Draco?" Severus asked quietly, seeing sleep begin to claim the younger man.

Draco raised his face with a calm smile, his eyes bright. "I want to be just Draco." He held Severus' gaze for a few moments longer, than snuggled his head against the arm of the couch. As his snores sounded, Severus slipped his fingers through the silken hair.

"You will be. Soon I think," he whispered, sadness and understanding nestling in his chest. Finally, after so long, he thought he might have the slightest inkling just who Harry Potter had been. And with that knowledge, he could not call either boy a coward.

Draco did not wake the next morning, his body cold before the dawn lit the grey winter sky. But his face was peaceful and his lips stretched in a smile.

And for that, Severus could be thankful.

The war ended six months after, the victory, if it could be called that, going to the Light side. The casualties on both sides were insurmountable. Hogwarts had been bathed in the blood of her students and staff and the stains remain still, most notably the ones in the girls bathroom. Perhaps it is her way of admonishing newer generations to remember the mistakes and sacrifices of those past. The halls, repaired from the heavy damage taken, are once again filled with laughter and the footsteps of eager young minds begging to learn.

Headmaster Snape stands at the front of the Head Table and looks down on the small faces, a sad smirk on his thin lips. His eyes, still black, are tired, haunted with too many losses. He sees a mop of black and the strands of white gold in the crowd and has to blink away a few tears. No, it is not a Potter, or a Malfoy, but a Lupin and a Weasley, paying tribute to their heroes. He dips his head in acknowledgement to the two, and vows to help them, and all others fulfill their roles as Just Teddy, and Just Fred. Or Just Rose...and Louis... and Collin.

His speech is simple and direct, but warm. No, he doesn't sound barmy like Dumbledore did, but he doesn't want to. His Hogwarts will be much different than Albus' was. And that's okay. It's a new era, and he is glad to be in it.

Sinking into his chair in the quiet of his personal office, he glances up at the portrait directly behind his desk. Two boys lay side by side on the ground of the Quiddich pitch, hands intertwined and brooms beside them- forgotten. The blond raises up on his elbows, looking lovingly down on the messy black head of his lover. He's smiling as a tan hand wraps around his back and pulls him back down. Severus hears the tinkle of twin laughs and smirks. He clears his throat before they can get too carried away, and both heads pop up, neither looking very ashamed. In fact, their smiles, bright and glowing as they never had been in life, shine a warm light down upon the Headmaster.

With a small chuckle, he raises his glass of Firewhisky as a silent toast, flickering his eyes to the gold plate underneath the painting.

"Free and forever strange."

"Indeed," he whispers. "Indeed."