A/N: Alternate title was Goodnight, but who would wanna read something with that sort of title?
Warning for tragedy. DracoxxHarry warning for Boy love
"Goodnight, Potter."
"Goodnight, Malfoy."
This was always how their conversations ended, if they did have any. At anytime of the day, as they end their discussion, they would always affirm it with the puzzling statement. No one would ever ask why, but as the Golden Trio disembarked the train and stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, Hermione Granger found the nerve to ask the intriguing query.
"Harry?"
"Yes, 'Mione?"
"I just noticed, and I'm sure everyone else has, too, that you say goodnight to Malfoy instead of goodbye. It's been baffling everyone else as you say goodnight in broad daylight, so would you care to explain?"
"Well. You see. Um."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at this, suspecting it came to the awkward topic of him and Draco once more. She wasn't thick skulled like him, so she obviously knew something inside that bushy hair of hers.
"Go on…?"
" You should know what goodbye means. It puts an END to meetings. And. Well. Between me and Draco, you should know that that will never happen." He muttered under his breath, afraid that anyone else would hear. He wouldn't lie to her, he just hid the fact that they secretly meet at night using the lakeside as their rendezvous'. The perplexed bookworm just looked down and tried to absorb what he just said. Even her massive intellect didn't seem to comprehend. She took Ron's hand and led him somewhere else, seeing that Draco was coming.
Harry approached him and took his hand in his own. Draco looked up, a taut smile on his lips. The ebony haired boy smiled back as Draco kissed him full on the mouth, obviously having had carefully surveyed the empty platform for any watchers.
"Draco-"
"Dray-"
"Draco, stop." He demanded with a stretch of finality in his voice as he struggled with the blonde's tongue in his mouth. He pulled him away by the shoulders and looked deep into puzzled grey eyes.
"I'm not coming back."
"But why?"
"We've discussed this. I'm off with Hermione and Ron to destroy the horcuxes. It's now or never."
"I know, but why can't I come?"
" It's too dangerous. I can't let you come Draco. You know I would never put you in a situation like that."
"It isn't any safer here at Hogwarts, you should know tha-"
"I know. But you still can't come. That's final." Harry ended with affirmation in his voice as he struggled to discipline his lover as if he were a six year old kid asking for an extra scoop of ice cream. He had the same expression too. Draco Malfoy was on the verge of tears.
And Harry felt responsible.
He let go of the shaking shoulders, but clutched his hands tighter. Draco would not look up.
"I'll write. I promised."
The flaxen haired boy nodded as tears streamed down his face. He wrapped his arms around the taller boy and bit his lower lip to stop form whimpering. Harry would have held him tight and kissed him and make the pain go away like he used to. But instead, at this bitter memorandum he simply looked at the side of the train, secretly hoping he could jump into it for making Draco feel this way.
DxHxDxHxD
And his promise was fulfilled. He wrote daily, never missing a single moment of Draco's life, rereading the whole message all over again and again until he was satisfied.
Likewise the Slytherin. Sometimes he would sacrifice slumber and the comfort of his warm and toasty prefect quarters to await the return of his owl with the shabby piece of parchment, addressed to a certain Darius Malcolm from Harriet Patterson. (They had an argument on who should have the male name)
He watched his breath fog up a certain amount of air, evaporating as fast as it was created. It was a frosty Autumn night, supposedly colder than the other fall nights; it made him wonder if the temperature was just dropping ever so quickly or was it because it gets colder the longer he was out of Harry's arms. Flaxen strands whipped sharply against his face as the autumn drizzle drenched his hair. Letters were not enough to sustain him anymore. He gripped the border of the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and gazed hopefully into the dark skies, in hopes of any sign that he was coming back.
Swoosh.
He opened his eyes and saw his own eagle owl fly over his head and towards the Owlery. He looked down on the floor in disappointment, his tears the only warm source in the scenery. What he missed was the tattered piece of parchment. It was incredibly shorter and shabbier than the other ones he had received. He knelt down and picked it up; it had the simplest inscription: "Look down". And so he did.
His grey eyes brightened and glistened with tears as he saw emerald eyes shrouded in a dark hood, a smile beaming from the eternal black abyss. Without another thought, he sprinted down the lofty tower, his bare feet clashing madly against the concrete stairs. As he reached the bottom step, he grabbed hold of the marble pillar and swung himself into the garden where his Golden Boy was patiently waiting. His heart raced rapidly, but not as fast as his feet took him, occasionally tripping over his satin pajamas.
"HARRY!"
He couldn't hold in the flurry of emotion now streaming down his face: the passion, the happiness, the longing, and even the anger. But that didn't matter right now. He was laughing, tears streaming down his face, allowing Harry Potter to sniff in the scent of his damp flaxen locks.
It took him a century to realize he had just knocked down Harry and was now on top of him. He looked deep into gleaming green eyes, speechless as a sheepish smile forced itself onto his lips as Harry laughed at the very sight of it. His happiness had betrayed him.
"Hey Dray."
Draco squealed in delight, not really minding that he sounded like a playground kid. The grounds were filled with their private laughter. They spent the next eternity savoring the sight of each others faces, something they knew oh too well that they wouldn't see in another lifetime. Then they started to talk, mostly telling stories about the agony of each other's absence. But throughout the whole conversation, Draco didn't mind looking at Harry's face; he was more than content with just hearing his heartbeat; a sign that he was still alive. Something that he needed to be assured of. As the background threatened silence, they heard a faint chuckle-or was it a growl?- somewhere in the woods.
"What was that?" Harry asked.
"Someone there?" Draco echoed.
"So what if someone sees?"
"What do you mean? We've been hiding this for three years now! You even used the Weaslette as a cover-up." Harry cringed guiltily at the accusation.
"I know what I did. But I didn't know why we had to hide it. I promised you we will have our time. Don't you think it's about time?" Harry confided, smirking up at the blonde boy, who was evidently beaming in glee. He arched his back to kiss him, realizing how much he missed the tantalizing taste of the boy's lips. And yet, it wasn't quite the same. Was it because of Parkinson's lipstick that it tasted like iron? Was that also the reason why his lips were slowly succumbing from a light coral shade to a forlorn blood red? It was just as his lips turned frozen that Harry had realized he had been spurting out blood all the while. Harry pushed him off and examined his horror-struck face: his pupils were dilated, looking like tiny specks of black drowning in deep pools of grey. His mouth was shaped in an elegant "O" and a sickening elixir of maroon was flooding the inside of his mouth and now staining green satin. In a flurry of panic, Harry laid him down on the grass and his eyes searched and scrutinized the grounds for whoever may have done this. His eyes were satisfied as he saw a dark hooded figure of a chuckling woman with wild dark hair and emitted a signature blood curdling chuckle. Bellatrix.
Fury gushed out of him in the form of tears as he looked down at Draco who was still splurging out blood. He would have done something-anything- about it, if he hadn't lost all common sense at the sight of blood from his beloved, who happened to be turning paler by the second. The pale boy was squirming in the grass and felt cold to the touch as Harry cradled him in his arms, staring at the placid liquid now staining his robes. He swept off strands of flaxen from the boy's forehead, still slightly panicking as the boy gasped for air.
"H-Harry?"
"Yes Draco?"
"I. L-love you."
"I love you too Dray." Harry replied, choking.
"Harry?" Draco asked once more, maybe for the last time, finally looking more at peace, which stirred Harry's insides.
"Yes Draco?"
"…Goodnight." He said with finality in his voice, arching his back for one last taste before his soul embarks. Harry met his lips and felt the other boy's breath come out in wild gushes of air, before his very life was drained from him.
Harry, in amidst the realization of what just happened, laid Draco's lifeless form on the wet grass. His eyes, a sickly green and bloodshot, met the dark starry skies, a new vengeance flooding them.
"Goodnight, Draco."