Summary: Past HBP. Harry chases Draco all over Britain, but when he finds him it's not as he expected
Categories this story fits in: Darkfic, Character Death
Pairings this story includes: Harry/Draco
Rating: R/M for depressive tendencies,violence and character death.
Authors Notes: I for some reason really liked writing this story, it just kept on flowing the more I wrote, but after a while I just had to cut off, knowing that it'd go to hell if I continued.

Other inspiration I got from "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" - more specifically the quote where Boromir says "Have you ever been called home to the sound of silver trumpets? The white tower of Ecthelion glimmering in the sun." As well as from the song "Closing you" with Christopher Beck - a.k.a. Buffy&Angel's love theme.

Oh, and flames will be laughed upon – I'm not a sadistic b or anything such – trust me.
Claims: All characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I just play with them. I got the idea for the plot from Fritz - she's my goddess and muse.

Dedication: To Fritz - my favourite kitty

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Harry had been chasing him for months. Anger had driven him all over Great Britain, the deep and nervewrecking guilt of that there should have been something more he could have done – something that would have led to that Dumbledore's life was spared, kept on haunting him every wake moment. It was both a pledgue and a beacon in the darkness, something that would help to motivate him when everything seemed so hopeless. Anything was better than doing nothing at all - even though he knew that he should be preparing himself for the final battle this was something he felt that was more important.

Neither Hermione or Ron had managed to talk some sense into him, he craved this so badly that he knew that he'd go mad if he didn't do something about it. Not even after that Aurors had captured Snape three weeks previously had Harry's bloodthirst been stilled. In fact it had only encreased his frenzy to finish this all off, and do so as quickly as possible.

Then one day he had come to a small village near Hadrian's wall, for once and for all thinking about getting some relaxation. Every bone in his body had been aching, he felt so tired, the fact that he never found more than vague hints of where Malfoy could be located took so much of his patience. Harry had never been much for patience.

Sitting down in a pub – a muggle one, he restlessly poked the scrambled eggs and hamburger that he had ordered with a fork that clearly had seen better days. He wasn't hungry, even though he knew he should have been. There was something that kept on telling him that he had overlooked something, something that just wouldn't leave him alone.

Putting down the fork with a little more force than what was necessary to he leaned his face in his hand, glancing around at the rest of the patrons. Though a small village it was still quite crowded in there, it looked as if people preferred eating there instead of at their own homes. And even stranger was that both men and women dined in there.

Even though Harry had grown up where he had he knew that it was a bit odd that women were among the patrons, atleast this far up north he'd noticed that it was almost a taboo when a woman entered a pub.

He'd found that his gaze was drawn to one of the women, one which he had only seen from the back. She had nearly white-blonde hair that just barely reached down to her narrow shoulders, and wore a strange coat-like garb with a hood. Harry had seen when she had entered, but then the hood had been up and he had only seen that there were edges of mud on the clothing, as if she had been travelling recently. Sitting alone in another part of the pub she had been bent over a newspaper while eating - with her left hand none the less, and no matter what Harry did his gaze kept on drifting back to her.

He kept on telling himself that he wasn't looking at her because she reminded him of Malfoy, but the truth was that the more he looked at her, the more certain he was of that it was him. Then suddenly he saw her stiffen and turn her head around, looking around the semi-dark local, scanning the faces of the people to see what they were up to. This time Harry didn't deny the feeling of disappointment when he saw that it indeed was a woman and that her eyes were a deep shade of blue.

Harry abruptly rose from his seat, leaving more than enough money for the food before stepping out in the night, feeling how a gust of cold wind came in from the north, as if nudging him back into the pub. But he didn't go inside again, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and started walking aimlessly around the streets, uncaring of who saw him and what the town in itself looked like. If there were whispers about him he heard none, not even when a woman openly stated to her friend that it strangers really shouldn't come here.

But he did look up when he reached the borders of the village, almost startled to find that trees blocked his path. Then he frowned for a moment before dodging in between them, finding himself on a small path which he trailed for some time, once again sinking into his thoughts.

The sound of running water was lost on Harry until that he took a step and then found himself falling down, landing in a shallow stream and thus soaking himself down.

Cursing out loud Harry stepped out of the water, trying to shake some of the water out of his old sneakers but still hearing the wet, squelching sound when you hear when you step down into something really wet. Sighing inaudibly he pointed his wand to his legs and murmured a drying spell, finding to his pleasure that the wetness had left his trousers.

As he looked around himself he saw that he was in a small glade which practically radiated magic – even a muggle would have sensed that there was something strange with this place. Maybe it was because of the unearthly stillness in it or maybe it was something else, but he felt as if he stepped on holy ground, the way that he felt so refreshed and then at the same at awe for it all gave him a sense of completion. Though Harry was certain of that there were magical creatures that lived here he could see none, which for that matter didn't mean that they weren't there.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that he indeed had been wrong about what he previously had thought. Just some thirty feet away from him lay the item that he had been pursuing for such a long time, illuminated only by the white glow of the moon, which slowly crept up over the horizon. Or well; lying wasn't the exact term for what the other was doing – he was lounging on the rocks as even when being placed on your back on two large rocks he still had the air of dignity and as if he was above something as common as 'just laying down.'

For a moment Harry thought that he was dead, but then he saw the steady rise and fall of the chest, and that Malfoy's eyes were looking up at the starlit sky above as if nothing in the world could keep him from it. It seemed as if he was quite peaceful in this position, and Harry found himself at a loss of words for this, as he'd never encountered him in this state.

"It took you long enough to find me," Malfoy's voice was strangely soft, not the briefest edge of scorn or malice in it.

Harry was taken aback with this change in nature and was silent for some seconds before shrugging lightly, wand still loosely held in his hand.

"Even if it did I'm sure you've had a lot of fun laughing at me," Harry said with a little bit of edge.

"It's a long time since I laughed," said the blonde slowly as a wisp of air blew his hair from his face; hair which had grown longer and become more untamed since the last time Harry had seen him.

With a swift movement Malfoy had sat up and then risen, shoving long, slender hands down his pockets. Harry had instinctively raised his wand to this and pointed it towards Malfoy who still hadn't even looked in Harry's direction. There was something about this all that unsettled Harry a great deal, Malfoy's stillness and then that he was feeling quite a bit foolish as Malfoy made no attempt to defend himself or even pay attention to it.

"There's no need for that. I'm dead by the break of dawn no matter how this rendez-vous turns out."

Strangely enough Harry felt how something stabbed him in the heart by hearing those words, but still he put the wand away, for some strange reason trusting Malfoy.

"Why?" Harry asked, surprised when his voice came out as a whisper.

"Do you know what happens when you kill a child?" The question was so unexpected that Harry didn't know what to answer, but Malfoy hadn't been expecting one.

"You have taken something so pure and innocent that it in itself is a deprivation of your own life. By striking down a child that is incapable of defending itself you yourself deserve to die."

He stared off into the distance, as if he could see something else – something placed far, far away from where they were. Harry was puzzled and shocked by what he was told, had Malfoy killed a child? And how the blazes could he be so calm about it then?

"What do you mean by all of this?" Harry couldn't help but asking.

For quite some time the other one was silent, as if contemplating what his response would be.

"We aren't children anymore, Harry," Malfoy said silently, and Harry was so confused that he didn't even reflect over that he had used his given name.

"No," Harry agreed silently, reflecting over the things he had seen and done just in the last six months. An image of when he'd captured Bellatrix Lestrange briefly flashed to his retina, and he still thought that her screams would never stop haunting his dreams. But then he turned back to look at Malfoy with a frown between his brows. He had completely forgotten the original reason that he had come here, at the moment he was more concerned with finding out what it was that Malfoy had done - and what he was trying to tell him. "The time of innocence is long gone."

There was something in Malfoy's eyes that showed of approval, as if Harry had finally understood everything. But still the other hadn't even once met his gaze, all he saw was from what was showed as Malfoy gazed up into the sky.

"He is dying; poisoned from all that he has done to preserve his life. Most cannot see it, I know I couldn't until some time ago."

Malfoy's voice grew dark as if he was reliving something in his mind, something so awful that he wanted to shut it out.

"But it is happening – even at his strongest he grows weaker."

Not until now he turned around to look at Harry, and he was stuck with that even though Malfoy looked more beautiful than ever there was something in his eyes that showed of the tiredness inside – from endless nights on the run and from what he had to do - not to mention what he knew would come to pass.

"Death is only another step in the journey – one that we all must take."

Smiling wistfully he looked at Harry with something akin to pleading hinting in those gray eyes, and Harry felt his heart starting to beat faster. Was Malfoy asking him to do what he thought he did? Harry once again remembered why he had come here, but now there was something within him that wanted to protect him from what he knew, from what he feared would come to happen.

"Mal-"

What he was going to say died away when Draco raised his index finger and placed it gently against Harry's lips. Harry's eyes flickered up to meet the other's, uncertanity showing for just a moment, before his gaze was drawn to those thin lips that seemed to be calling his name. Absentmindedly he registered that they contrasted against the milky-white skin, being almost blood-red in the darkness.

Without knowing it they were suddenly standing only inches apart from one another, so close that he felt the warmth that radiated off Malfoy. Startingly enough he found himself leaning closer, this was so good – how could anything this beautiful be wrong?

Then Malfoy abruptly took a step backward, and then another one. Harry noticed that Malfoy's adam's apple was bobbing violently, and that he seemed to have some troubles regaining his composture.

"You should be going. The woods are crawling with his followers."

Malfoy turned away and clenched his hands so tightly that his knuckleas whitenened, but Harry still stood as if he had been hit with the most powerful stunning-spell there ever had been.

"Why are you going to die tonight?"

At this the other boy - no, young man Harry corrected himself, as the other one seemed far more grown up than he himself felt, turned his head around and smiled bleakly.

"Because I'm going to let you go." His voice was low but focused, and it carried all over the glade; however Harry felt it as if his whole world had been turned upside down.

Harry instantly walked closer to Malfoy and reached out, grabbing his lower arm and turning him towards him. Harry was completely unaware of that he held Malfoy's left arm, right above where the Dark Mark had been branded into the other's pale skin and now flared up in pain, but the other gave no sign of that he was hurting.

"Come with me, I'll... I'll make sure that you're kept safe from him and his followers." The intensity in Harry's voice made Malfoy raise an eyebrow and then shake his head.

"You can't do that. Even though I've been on the run for a while I know what a state the Wizarding World is in. I'd be given the kiss without a trial, and if I even managed to evade that society wouldn't ever accept me. And the Death Eaters would find me, no matter if I was put under a Fidelius or not."

Harry wanted to insist, wanted to rant or do something to help fighting the helplessness that was overwhelming him, something that the other one percieved clearly.

"You're sweet, but that won't help you in the long run. My path was put out for me a long time ago, and I've come to terms with it." Malfoy's words weren't condescending, only a little sad and wistful.

Placing his free hand above where Harry's rested on his lower arm he squeezed it gently before letting go.

"Will you allow me to do something?" At the brief flicker of hesitation in Harry's he clearified himself. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Feeling strangely out of breath Harry nodded and breathed "anything", his heart suddenly racing inside his chest. A voice in the back of his head kept on screaming at him, telling him that this was all fake, that he would get hurt and that he should keep his guard up, but Harry couldn't have paid less attention to it than he did now.

Malfoy smiled at this and closed the distance between them before reaching up to cup Harry's face with his hands, gently letting his thumbs caress Harry's cheeks before leaning forwards to place a kiss to Harry's lips, just the barest brush of lips. Harry could taste salt on Malfoy's endlessly soft lips, as if the other was - or had been crying. Responding to it he placed his hands on the other's sides, feeling the sharp edges of Malfoy's ribs. Adding a bit of pressure to it the kiss evolved into another but still so sweet and slow that it was almost painful.

Opening his eyes (when had he closed them?) he found that Malfoy was looking back at him, something so sad hinting in those mercury grey eyes. There were no tears in his eyes, but there might as well have been, a part of Harry's mind reflected. Harry frowned, uncertain of what to say.

Then Malfoy pulled back quickly, eyes shifting to look at something behind Harry. There was grief showing in his eyes, as if he had just done something that hurt so much that it was going to kill him. Unable to help himself Harry turned his gaze in that direction and noticed that in the edges of the glade stood a mass of robed figures, wands pointing in their direction.

Harry felt his spirits drop down to nothing, he felt so utterly betrayed - which he clearly had been. Mentally berating himself he felt the anger and hurt that welled up inside him, and he turned back to look at Malfoy with all the anger he could muster showing. His eyes clearly said 'I should have known better than to trust you', but Malfoy's eyes had gone neutral, efficiently disguising everything he felt or thought.

"Remember my words," he heard Malfoy hiss before something was shoved into his hand. Harry had about one second to realize that he'd been given the Malfoy signet ring the other boy always wore before he felt the familiar tug around his navel that told of that it was a Portkey.

Landing roughly in a forest Harry just narrowly avoided landing on a rock and thus breaking his body. For a few moments he just lay on his back, reflecting over all that had happened during this night, and he couldn't help but feeling guilty over everything. By now Draco would be dead - for saving him. There was a sinking feeling in the base of his stomach, and he really didn't feel like ever rising from where he lay. Tears spilled down his cheeks but he wasn't aware of them, all he knew was that he knew that once again he had let his emotions rule him - that even in this situation he should have done something to help Malfoy. But Malfoy should have been able to save himself, had he only held onto Harry. As the dawn crept over the moors Harry still hadn't moved, but neither had he uttered a single word of grief - no tear would fall down his cheeks. The circle remained unclosed.

---

Five days later Harry sat in another nameless pub in another nameless town somewhere near Glasgow, reading through the newspaper. Dark circles could be found under Harry's eyes and the ink-black hair seemed even unrulier than usual. Almost at the farthest back of the newspaper, just in between a large ad for Count Hé's finest wine and one that blared 'Mom's home-made cookies – nothing is better than home-made' in a bright red color was a small note about that a young man had been found dead in the woods just south of Hadrian's wall, but that the police had excluded murder as an option.

Reading the seven lines of text several times Harry stared at nothing in particular, as if everything faded out and became unimportant. All he could see was white-blonde hair, dyed a silver shade by moonlight as it spilled down a pair of narrow shoulders. In that moment he knew that there would always be a glade - deeply hidden inside the woods, where a young man would be seen when the full-moon would shine down on it, displaying that pale unearthly beauty that so few people could see, let alone understand.

And that beauty would tell of the mortality in the world, and of how the downfall of the Dark Lord would come to pass. And in the days after the war a sole figure would be allowed to leave that very glade, set free from what had been previously done. However the figure's shadow would always remain there, singing of what was, what were and what would come to be.

The circle had finally been closed.

Fin