Harry Potter scanned the neat rows of the dead, desperately searching for some impossible trace of life in their faces. He only recognized too many of the faces; friends and foes alike, but now, none of that seemed to matter to him... Nothing would change the fact that they would never live another day, that they would never live to see the day when witches and wizards everywhere could live free from the fear that had died with Lord Voldemort.
To his back in the Great Hall, the sounds of a melancholy celebration echoed. The sounds of relief and grief mixed together in some unbearable wave that seemed to echo around every fiber of Harry's being. He just wanted it all to be over, the sounds, the faces, he wanted them all gone, out of his mind. However the haunting scenes of the battle resonated in his mind, refusing to be driven out; Fred falling from the curse of a Death Eater, bodies of unknown victims hitting the floor around him with a sickening thump, muffled by the screams of those yet to fall in battle, and the shock and hatred fixed in Voldemort's eyes as he realized he had fallen.
Harry felt sickeningly alone and exposed, even the company of his own friends, those who he loved, did not seem to provide any relief from the thoughts that tormented him. Wondering if he would ever escape his thoughts, Harry forced his eyes away from the dead's cold blank faces and forced himself to look around for his friends, hoping that they could provide some level of comfort. Instead he found the small hall he stood in empty... Everyone had gone to the great hall to celebrate. His eyes scanned the hall once more, looking desperately for someone he could take comfort in... He stopped cold as his eyes swept over Lucius Malfoy.
Harry felt his face inexplicably grow hotter as his eyes rested on Malfoy who stood alone, his head bent, staring at one of the dead. Harry surveyed the man's long, silvery blonde hair that, despite it's disheveled state, still seemed to reflect the torchlight perfectly, his silvery, grey eyes, bright, but reflecting a war-torn man, and his once proud face, disheveled and covered in stubble and bruises, a testament to Voldemort's displeasure with the Malfoy family.
But for once in his life, Harry did not feel disdain for this man, nor did he feel resentment.. Harry felt a connection, one that went farther than just survivors of a war, a deep emotional connection almost an attraction. An attraction to the very man he had once wished to see dead.
Lucius Malfoy looked up, noticing Harry's stare from the corner of his eye, if he was surprised by Harry's stare, he didn't show it at all. Instead he just stared right back at Harry, his silver eyes not quite meeting Harry's green ones. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Harry began to walk slowly towards him.
Harry stopped, his face inches from Lucius's, "Lucius..." he said quietly, his eyes meeting Malfoy's for the first time.
Harry stared into Malfoy's silvery eyes, their faces mere inches apart. "Lucius..." He murmured once more, their faces closer than ever.
Harry leaned forward, his lips meeting Lucius's, "I'm sorry..." Harry mouthed, his voice but a whisper, feeling Malfoy's lips on his.
For a moment, shocked by the situation, Malfoy seemed to resist, but after a second of so, he pulled Harry into an embrace, feeling his warmth against his chest, feeling the beat of Harry's heart against his chest, the feel of Harry's lips, surprisingly soft for a man's, against his, and the warmth that ran between their two bodies.
Harry and Malfoy held the kiss for what felt like an eternity, a beautiful moment that each wanted to continue forever. The spell that seemed to be cast over the two of them was not broken when Harry pulled away from Malfoy's lips and burrowed his head into Malfoy's chest, feeling more and more comforted with each beat of his heart, seeking solace in the warmth that he radiated.
As Malfoy opened his mouth once more to say something, Harry shook his head, savouring the very moment itself. The feel of Malfoy's lips still fresh on his, a memory he wanted to keep forever: a kiss and an embrace.