The Boy Who Lived

by Aoife Malfoy

HPDM Slash. AU. PreHBP. Set after OotP. Harry Potter finally lives up to his name.

Title: The Boy Who Lived
Author: Aoife Malfoy
Pairing: H/D
Genre: Angst
Rating: NC-17 for language and violence
Beta: The lovely lucilladarkate who I now owe my first born child to. LOL
Warnings: AU. Pre-HBP. Set after OotP.
Disclaimer: Property of JK Rowling. Only borrowing for my own amusement.
Word Count: 6,136 (Yes it is my longest One-shot)
Author's Note: Heed the warnings. This is angst and it is written by me. But really it's not that bad!
Dedication: This is for haltlos who requested Depressed! Harry and Bitter! Draco. Hope you like it, hon!
Summary: Harry Potter finally lives up to his moniker.

It was ironic really how the event that caused the tide of the war to change happened on an idle Monday, the exact date of which, neither of them could remember now. One would think that it would warrant a big explosion, fireworks or other such garish display but the only evidence of it was a subtle shift of perspective. So inconspicuous, in fact, that its presence wouldn't be realized until months later.

Early October, 1996. Sixth Year.

Harry Potter trudged despondently along the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, scattering various gossiping students along the way who made sure he had a wide berth. Ever since the much publicized return of Voldemort and his subsequent duel with the maniac, most of his classmates treated him with a healthy bit of fear and suspicion. Not that he noticed. He was still too immersed in mourning his godfather, Sirius, whom he had lost the previous year.

In fact that was where he was going now; to his secret hiding place, which he stumbled upon one afternoon when he was frantically trying to get away from the ominous gloom that prevailed in the castle and his friends' pitying looks and imploring questions. He almost reached the alcove when he saw a something that stopped him dead in his tracks. There was Draco Malfoy, sitting on one of the benches in what he had come to think of as his own secret, secluded garden.

Seeing red at the thought of his only sanctuary being invaded by none other than his schoolyard nemesis, Harry growled low in his throat. It didn't matter that Malfoy, upon return to school this year had been surprisingly withdrawn and even civil on occasion. The git was still trespassing on the only place Harry considered to be sacred and safe. It was a place where he could be alone and be himself for a couple of hours during these highly strenuous times. Stalking angrily towards the silent blond, he snarled, "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco, startled by the sudden appearance of an enraged Potter, sneered and replied, "Merlin! Potter, I didn't know you were that daft! I am sitting at the moment. That is what most normal people do when they are trying to enjoy a lovely day outside. Now, in a few minutes I am going to stand. Shall I demonstrate what that is for your Gryffindor addled brains as well?"

"You are such a little shit, Malfoy! You know that isn't what I meant! Why are you here in my garden? Have you been following me? Want to get me all alone and make me pay for landing your father's sorry arse in jail?" Harry spat as he purposely invaded the Slytherin's personal space.

Taking a step back, Draco smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "First off, St. Potty, I didn't know you bought Hogwarts from the governors. That must be quite a load of money you inherited from your godfather, if that's the case. Secondly, aren't we the paranoid self-important one?"

Incensed at mention of Sirius from the nephew of his killer, Harry gripped his wand and held it up to the boy's pale throat. "Don't you dare talk about him!" he bit out.

Staring warily down the end of Harry's wand, Draco took a step closer to the snarling boy, forcing him to back up lest he pierce the Slytherin's esophagus. "And what if I do, Potter? Would Dumbledore's Golden Boy make me sorry? Would you hex an unarmed opponent?" At the sight of the loosening of Harry's grip on his wand, Draco smiled triumphantly. "I thought so. Of course with your pathetic Gryffindor ethics, how could you? It figures that-OMPH!" Draco's haughty tirade was cut off by Harry's fist driving into his gut.

With a smirk of his own, Harry rubbed his sore hand. "For someone who's supposed to be so sharp, you're pretty forgetful. Maybe you should borrow Neville's Remembrall. Don't you remember Hermione's little gift for you our third year? Or even last year's beating at the Quidditch Pitch? I might not hex your bollocks off but I still won't let you talk rubbish about something you know nothing about!"

Straightening as quickly as he could so that Potter wouldn't know how much that blow hurt, Draco managed to set his face into a sly grin. "I should have known you would settle for the barbaric use of your fists." Seeing Potter's body tense once again, Draco's finely attuned survival instincts kicked in and told him it was time to withdraw. "I see that dealing with you would only reduce me to a savage fight of boxing instead of a proper wizard's duel, so I think I will be off now. I don't have time for your drama, Potter." He glared at the furious Gryffindor and walked slowly away from him to a bench on the other side of the garden.

Stunned that Malfoy wasn't even going to retaliate, but was actually walking away from a fight, Harry was thrown off kilter. In addition to that, it was he who started the fight and the Slytherin had only retaliated with his usual smarminess. What was going on? But even though the git had walked away, he was still in his garden. "Oy! Malfoy! Why don't you find your own place of solitude? Can't you see I don't want you here?"

Reaching the end of his already thin patience, Draco growled out, "We have already established that despite your illusions of grandeur, you do not own Hogwarts, so you have absolutely no claim to this garden! Second of all, I was here first, you fucking twit! So if there's anybody that's supposed to shove off, it's you! Now, kindly piss off and leave, or shut your mouth and stay. It doesn't matter to me. Just leave me the hell alone!" With a final pointed look, Draco turned away from the Gryffindor and began to completely ignore him.

Surprised for a second time that Malfoy had once again turned down the opportunity for this to erupt into a duel and was now in fact ignoring him, Harry sat slowly on the bench Malfoy had vacated. Maybe I should just ignore the git, Harry thought to himself. But apparently this was easier said than done because once he resolved not to notice the Slytherin, his mind seemed to take it upon itself to wander back towards the pale boy even more. He's such an annoying bastard. Why can't he just bugger off? It's a shame that someone who resembles an angel so much should have such a black heart, he thought as he glanced over to where the Slytherin was sitting, the sun's warm rays bouncing of his brilliant blond hair and setting his body with an almost ethereal glow. He had long found the Malfoy heir attractive. Ironically enough, it was actually his awareness of the boy's pale beauty that led him to question his sexual orientation, but the git's personality was always enough to put Harry off any thoughts or fantasies about him.

Feeling Potter's eyes on him for the millionth time, Draco gritted his teeth in irritation. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his thoughts, but Potter's gaze still weighed heavily at the back of his mind like a steady buzzing that wouldn't go away and it was distracting him. "Quit that confounded staring, you knob!" He bit out, not even turning to acknowledge the Boy Wonder.

Incensed at the harsh order and not at all because he was jumping at a chance to get into a confrontation again with the Slytherin, Harry leapt and stalked towards Malfoy. "I wouldn't have to look at such an eyesore if you just left!"

Draco, with his back still to the approaching Gryffindor, snorted. "Me? An eyesore? Says the bloke who was dressed by the obviously blind and deranged? I mean really, Potter, purple? Are you trying to go for the Muggle chic Lockhart look now?"

Flushing pink with embarrassment as he looked down Dudley's oversized lavender shirt, Harry managed to retort, "Figures that you would notice! Being such a fan of the actual Lockhart look yourself with your poncy shirts and flowing robes. You're such a tosser!"

Whirling around at the direct insult to his fashion sense, Draco snapped, "I am nothing of the sort! I am not the one who wears shirts the color of eggplants! And is that the best you could do? I've heard better insults from nine year old girls!"

Harry ran his hands through his unruly locks in frustration, suddenly very tired of this inane pissing contest. Honestly! Hadn't they both grown up? There was a bloody war out there and here they were busy sniping at each other's bloody outfits! Even to his own ears, it sounded both gay and pathetic. And so for once, he clamped down on his temper that had been, to be honest, let loose far too often in the past few weeks anyway. Instead, he adopted Malfoy's earlier stance and crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing, hoping in this way there might be something more than insults and harsh words between them.

"What? The great Harry Potter has run out of words to say? Well that's a first, being the glory hound hero that you are!" Draco goaded harshly, unsettled by the unreadable expression on the Gryffindor's usually expressive face.

Grimacing, Harry slumped down beside Malfoy on the bench, causing the boy to scoot back in alarm. "Merlin, Malfoy! Why can't you just keep your mouth shut? Why do you feel the need to always insult people? Can't we for once just have a quiet afternoon without it resulting in duels and fist fights?" Seeing the blond's face twist into a sneer, looking like he was about to deliver a scathing reply, Harry held up his hand and cut him off. "Don't you get tired of all that hate?"

Draco scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I don't hate you. Hate implies that you have an importance in my life, which you don't. Hatred requires the bearer to feel an obsessive passion for the hated, which consumes them and makes them notice every single thing about them. It binds them to think of the hated every free moment that they have and their happiness and sorrow is intimately attached to the other. So no, I don't hate you. I merely find you unforgivably annoying."

Raising an eyebrow at the Slytherin's analogy, Harry said wryly, "You make hatred sound like love."

A flash of something flitted in those cold gray eyes, but before Harry could discern the emotion, it was gone. Draco smirked and said, "Who said there was any difference?"

Harry snorted. "Well, that's a really negative view of love."

Wrinkling his nose, Draco replied. "Negative? It's merely realistic, Potter. After all, the people you love are the ones who hurt you the most. Hatred is much too intimate an emotion to have for a stranger. It's not a stranger's betrayal or slight that hurts the most, because true hatred is reserved for old friends, family members, and former lovers. It's certainly a feeling that is better left alone."

Mulling over what Malfoy said, Harry found to his surprise that the Slytherin actually did have a point, especially since he was still hurting badly after loosing Sirius, and for a few rare moments they occupied the same space in thoughtful silence. "So if you don't hate me and I don't hate you, what does that make us? I always thought we'd be bitter rivals to the end. Does this mean we can actually be friends?" Harry asked curiously, liking this softened version of the always aloof boy.

Regarding him with cool a cool gaze, Draco answered him slowly, "Friends like each other, Potter, which is something I will never feel towards you. Non-threatening acquaintances would be a closer description."

"Why?" Harry asked plaintively, and there was no rancor or acid in his tone. He just honestly wanted to know. "Why can't we be friends? Are we really so different?"

Draco released a sharp bark of laughter. "Yes! In case this lapse in hostility has somehow deluded you, let me remind you of who we both are. I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius, Slytherin Seeker and Pureblood aristocrat. You are Harry Potter, son of the Wizarding World, Gryffindor Seeker and Half-blood Activist. There is no room in this world for a friendship between the two of us."

"Why not?" Harry persisted, "Why can't we be more than just the roles designated for us?"

Chuckling at the brunette's naiveté, Draco studied the Gryffindor and answered. "Sometimes you don't get a choice, Potter. Actually, most of the time you don't. Besides, it was your choice to make us enemies in the first place."

Indignant at this accusation, Harry replied, "That's not true, Malfoy, and you know it! You had as much a hand in it as I did! Whoever told you to act like a git to endear yourself to other people should be beaten."

Rolling his eyes, Draco said, "Whatever. It's irrelevant and you're boring me." He made to stand and walk away from this strange conversation when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Seriously, would it be so bad?" Harry whispered softly, his green eyes were open and honest, and Draco who hadn't seen that look directed towards him before, was momentarily disarmed.

"Perhaps not." Draco admitted slowly, and something in his chest tightened when he saw the rise of fragile hope in Potter's eyes, and he knew right then and there that he had to walk away before he said or did anything foolish. "But I'd rather not find out."

Frustrated beyond belief, Harry gripped Malfoy's shoulder tighter and all but snarled, "Why the hell not? I once recall you being very eager to try a hand at friendship. Why not now?"

Draco snorted. He hated being reminded of that rejection. "Because I choose not to. You were going on about choices and now you're mad because I made the one you didn't like? Besides, the people around you have a tendency to die. I'd rather not risk it," he said dismissively. He made to stand once again, but a shove backwards kept him from doing so.

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Harry spat.

"Really? Out here? Right on this bench? How crass," Draco rejoined with a smirked.

Rolling his eyes as he resolutely ignored the violent blush staining his cheeks and the subsequent vision that remark managed to create, Harry shot back, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy. All I want is a civil afternoon or two. Not too hard. It's certainly not a marriage proposal. Unless of course you're scared? Are you afraid of spending time with the Big Bad Potter who is itching to be the next Dark Lord like the Prophet says?"

Draco laughed hysterically at the absurd notion. "Merlin Potter! There are so many things that are wrong in that statement I can't even begin to tell you. First off, way to go for taunting me with something I told you in Second year. I always knew you idolized me, Potter, but I didn't think it was this bad. Second of all, you a Dark Wizard? That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You're the nauseating poster child for kittens and rainbows! You practically ooze with sickening righteousness and suffocating morality! Anybody with half a brain could figure out that the Daily Prophet's just spouting hogwash. Besides what self respecting Dark wizard would call himself Lord Harry or Lord Potter?"

Chuckling at the incredulous look on the Slytherin's face and his surprising defense of his moral fiber, no matter how sharply delivered, Harry visibly relaxed as he found himself buoyed by the odd sense of comfort that came with the knowledge that at least one person didn't think he was crazy and going dark. It was a strange thing to be comforted by your enemy. "Okay! Okay! I get the point. I'm not cut out for Dark wizardry but you don't have to make me sound like such a nancy, Malfoy! I can be real mean sometimes! Gryffindor lion remember? King of the jungle? Hear me roar?" He teased the boy and his smile widened further at the look of confusion on the usually inexpressive Slytherin's face.

Draco scoffed, bewildered that Potter wasn't angered by his taunts and seemed to be, for all intents and purposes, actually teasing him. "King of the jungle? Roaring Lion? Please! A mangy house cat is all you are, Potter." He was once again stunned by Potter's resulting laughter.

"You know you're not so bad when you're not being an insufferable git, Malfoy." Harry smiled as he playfully shouldered the boy.

Perplexed more than ever and rubbing his shoulder, Draco raised an eyebrow at the Gryffindor's curious behavior. "Yeah well-um-don't get used to it," he finished lamely and with one last bewildered look at Potter, he began to walk away. He didn't know that if he had turned back, he would have seen Harry Potter smiling cheerfully for the first time that school year.

They both came back the next day to that garden. Neither knew why, but they kept coming back until the days blended and became weeks and eventually months. For a while, they kept mostly to themselves, too wary of this newfound companionship to put any strain on it or test it and find it lacking. Until one day, the stalemate broke and one of them began to talk. They can't remember who now because it seemed completely irrelevant at the time, but once they began to talk, they found it hard stop. They talked about the war, their families, their houses, the school, girls, boys, everything and anything under the sun. And slowly, very slowly, Potter changed to Harry and Malfoy became Draco.

End of Seventh Year. June 1997. Afternoon before the Leave-taking Feast.

"Quit looking at me like that, Harry." Draco said tiredly, not even turning to acknowledge the boy, who was looking at him imploringly.

"Looking at you like what, Draco? Like I'm devastated that when we leave school tomorrow, the next time I see you, it might be on the opposite end of a battlefield? Like my heart is breaking at the thought that in the next few hours you might be branded as a Death Eater? Like that, Draco?" Harry asked.

"Yes! Bloody hell! What do you want from me? You knew before we started all this who I was and what I believed in! Nothing has changed! I still believe that mudbloods are diluting our magic and blatantly obliterating our traditions! Doesn't mean I want to slaughter them, but yes, I do believe that there should be some procedures in place! No matter what friendship or whatever the hell this is that I feel for you, I cannot ignore my familial duty." Draco explained.

Harry snorted. "Duty? You're going to hang your future on what you see as your duty? Let me tell you something about duty, Draco. It is the cloak that evil uses to pass itself off as something decent in polite society. It's what abusive fathers use as an excuse for beating their sons to discipline them. It's what a megalomaniac uses to justify the slaughter of his own race. Mark my words, there will come a time in the future that you will be judged for what you've done in life, be it by some higher power, the Wizengamot or your own conscience, and you will find that doing it for duty doesn't justify anything." Harry said gently.

Shaking his head, Draco muttered, "You don't understand and I doubt you ever will."

"I'm trying, Draco!" Harry exploded in frustration. "I'm trying to understand how you can throw your life away for something you truly don't feel that strongly about! I know you better than you think. You can't even muster enough hate to properly warrant Muggle genocide. Please just don't go to him," Harry pleaded, no longer caring if he had to beg to make Draco stay.

"I should have known you'd try this! How many times do I have to tell you, Potter!" Draco sneered, and Harry visibly flinched at the resurgence of his surname. "I don't need you to save me!" Draco snarled and then deliberately began to walk away from Harry.

He gritted his teeth as he left, determined to walk away from this bizarre relationship he had with the Boy Wonder. He should have never started to spend time with the boy in the first place. He shoved his cold hands into his pockets, stoutly steeling himself for turning his back on the first real connection he made his entire life. He was so sure that there was nothing the Hero of the Wizarding World could say to make him stay until he heard words that were filled with so much need that his feet stopped obeying his brain.

"But what if I told you, it's me that needs saving?"

Late December 1998, Beginning of the Second War.

"Aren't you even going to talk to me?" a voice behind him implored softly.

Scrubbing away the tears from his eyes angrily, Harry managed to choke out, "Not if the only thing you have to say to me is good bye."

Sighing, Draco sat down next to his boyfriend and put a gentle hand on his back. "You know why I have to do this."

"The fact that I know the reasoning behind it doesn't mean I can accept it or that it's even justified!" Harry exploded as he jerked away from his boyfriend. "They want you to go back there and fucking take over for Snape! Do you know what they did to him? They tortured him within an inch of life, Draco, and then they strung him up outside the gates! Not only was I the one who had to lead them to where the body was but I actually fucking saw what happened!"

"I know all that, okay? I am neither daft nor blind! I know the risks and I'll still take them if it means giving you the extra advantage in this war. I'm doing this for you, Harry! For us!" Draco beseeched his enraged lover.

Harry snorted. "Don't you dare tell me you're doing this for me! I need you here, Draco! Not out there with them, alone and in danger! You don't even believe in our side! In fact you can't stand anyone here except me! Since when do you fight for something you don't even believe in? When did you start to fight for the people you hate?" Harry snarled, frustrated and scared at the thought of loosing Draco to this horrid, cold war like he had so many countless others, that he lashed out the only way he knew how.

Draco flinched as if slapped and stared for a minute into furious emerald eyes. Then he turned and walked out of the room, but before he crossed the doorway, he answered, "Apparently since I fell in love with Harry Potter."

The next day

Harry awakened with a pounding headache and a ringing in his ears. Ending the spell on his alarm clock, he sat up groggily and began to stretch. He looked over the watch to check the time to see if he had time to take a shower before he went on with his affairs when he noticed the date and the time. Shit! He cursed loudly. Draco's leaving today! I haven't even said good bye properly I was being such an arse! He thought in horror as he ran pell mell towards Dumbledore's office where he knew the blond would be leaving from. Scaring countless portraits and spitting out the password to the grumbling Gargoyle, he took the spiraling staircase two steps at a time and burst into the office, "Wait! Draco! Don't go yet! I-" Harry stopped abruptly as he was met with an empty office save for the headmaster.

"I'm afraid, Harry, that he has already left." Dumbledore said sadly and Harry had to bite his tongue lest his angry retort of "No shit, Sherlock!" make it past his lips. Not trusting himself to resist a repeat of last year's spring cleaning of this office, Harry pelted out of the room as fast he ran into it.

Numbness was welling up inside his chest and making it difficult for him to breathe. He's gone! I didn't even get to say goodbye or say anything remotely encouraging or positive! What if this is the last time I ever see him? What if he doesn't come back? These jarring thoughts whirled like a maelstrom in his mind and so he fled. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, even as tears blinded his vision and he plowed into other people. He didn't stop, not until he reached their place. Seeing the alcove ahead, his chest loosened a bit as he all but threw himself onto the bench. Once there, he curled into a ball and cried, cursing Draco for leaving him behind and hating Voldemort for making it necessary for Draco to do so. He felt so helpless and empty inside. Worry and self loathing filled him. It was the worst feeling in the world and he knew now with absolute clarity that it was possible to take away a man's heart without killing him.

Late October 1999. Middle of the Second War. First Battle of Hogwarts.

That moment would be forever crystallized in Harry's mind. The air hung heavy with magical residue around the area. The acrid smell of death and pain dissipating from tortured flesh choked him with its stench. Harry's hands trembled and his heart beat loudly in his ears, but not loud enough to drown out the sounds of bodies dropping to the ground. And there at the center of it all was Lucius Malfoy, laughing with unrestrained glee. Apparently Azkaban did not agree with the Pureblood aristocrat and it had left him well and thoroughly unhinged. Insanity danced in his eyes as he sent curse after curse to various civilians that were close by.

Gripping his wand tighter and strengthening his resolve, Harry stepped out of the alcove that he was hiding behind, the very same one where he had found Draco all those months ago. Ignoring the fact that Voldemort's minions weren't just pillaging Hogwarts but were now also destroying their garden, Harry ran forth in a rage, a slashing curse falling from his lips and hitting the first Death Eater to cross his path. Another one easily took his place and they began dueling. Lucius soon spotted him and began to yell orders to his followers, urging them to take him out.

"Kill him, damn you!" Lucius growled from where he was still battling Remus Lupin, and two more Death Eaters joined the fight to take down the Boy Who Lived. With his emotions running high, Harry was making short work of them and was only distracted when he saw in the corner of his eye, Remus falling head first onto the blood-soaked ground. "No!" He screamed in horror, frozen in terror at the thought of loosing the kindly professor and the last link to his parents and Sirius. So distraught was he that he didn't notice the killing curse that was sailing towards him until it was too late and he was almost enveloped by green light and all he could do was stare blankly at it. Then suddenly, a shadow fell over him and sheltered him from the ominous jade light and as his eyes adjusted to the abrupt dimming of the area around him, he was treated to a more horrific sight. Draco Malfoy was grasping him by the shoulders, and shielding him from the curse. The emerald haze of the killing curse hit his back and erupted into a million sparks of green, shrouding the blonde's locks with a jade halo, making him look like an embodiment of a Slytherin angel. Harry's tear-filled eyes locked onto cool gray eyes one last time and his ears heard his name falling from soft smiling lips. And then Draco was gone. His body fell over Harry's and pinned him to the ground. Sobbing brokenly, Harry tried shaking the Slytherin's shoulders and begging him to open those beautiful eyes. But there was no response. Draco Malfoy was dead.

It wasn't until later, much later, when the Death Eaters were driven back by the arrival of the Aurors and the mobilization of Dumbledore's army, that Harry was able to let go of Draco's body. He had wept and cursed for hours until there was nothing left. It was then, when he was able to finally force his head up from the comfort of Draco's chest, that he was met with dull azure eyes. Snarling in fury, Harry wanted to growl at this man, to rip him into pieces with his words in a way Draco would have done if he was still there. Heart racing, face twisting in bitter rage, he almost let the accusation tumble from his lips but was stopped by the look of sorrow and self loathing that was already in those old blue eyes. Feeling the fight drain out of him, Harry slumped against Draco once more as he realized that he didn't need to punish the man with cutting words. He knew all too well the trappings of guilt and nothing he could say to the wizard can make him feel any worse. "Please leave." Harry said brokenly.

Albus nodded as his heart sank even further. He knew nothing he could say or do would ever make anything right between them again. Harry would blame him for putting Draco in danger and he had known this was a risk he had to take when he recruited Draco as a spy. It was ironic really that no matter how ready he thought he was for the blow, it still hurt more than he could bear. Searching his bloodstained robes, he finally drew a small piece of parchment form his pocket. "He said that if anything where to happen to him, I should give you this," Albus whispered gently as he proffered the letter to the fallen man.

With shaking hands, Harry gingerly took the paper from the outstretched hand and opened it with great trepidation and incredulity. He should have known that Draco would have the foresight to plan accordingly even in the event of his death, no matter how morbid it would seem. He was so intent on the letter that he didn't notice when Dumbledore limped away.

Harry,

A Malfoy always makes his own destiny. My life has always been mine and my choices are my own. Never forget that amidst your tears. I have done what I set out to do. I told you I would be on the winning side of this war, didn't I? Now I am, even if I don't get to see how it ends. I know we will not lose because Malfoys don't lose. Neither do Potters, if you're wondering.

As I said, my life is my own and I make of it as I wish. But my death, Harry, my death is yours. I have known this ever since we started our relationship in sixth year, that I would rather die with you, because of you, for you, than in a cold bed sixty years from now alone and unloved. I offer it to you in the hope that with it you will do something extraordinary instead of just wallowing in guilt and pity as you are wont to do. I offer it to you so it may give you the extra push, the added drive, and the additional impetus to ultimately end this war. My death and my memory are yours. Sully it with guilt or glorify it with triumph. This I leave in your capable hands.

Now I will ask for one more thing because, who are you really to deny a dead man's wish? So I am going to fulfill the role of selfish Slytherin once more to ask you to live, Harry. You've forgotten once before and I don't wish for that to happen again. I can't have you go back to just existing and merely letting the world pass you by. So live for me. I know you feel that you are too weighed down by the ghosts of the past, which I have no doubt added myself to, so until you can do it for yourself, do it for me. Finish this war. After that learn to relinquish control and responsibility every once in awhile. Fall in love. Get married and procreate like the Weasleys or adopt with your chosen life partner. Make your life your own.

Don't let yourself mourn me for too long. You have your whole life ahead of you and it does not honor my memory if you waste it. You might be asking yourself, in that scandalized manner of yours which has you scrunching up your face in disbelief, how I could ask you to think about loving another when my body isn't even cold. The truth of the matter is, I've already had that one big love of my life but you, well, you have yet to experience yours. It happened too fast for you, Harry, with the war looming ever so close and the fear and sense of doom bearing down on you, and you clung to anything you could find in the darkness, even if it was me who you found. You fell too fast and too hard to have done it properly, when I—well as embarrassing as it is to admit, I have loved you for years. And so it is with a certainty, that both fills my heart and breaks it, that I know you will fall in love with yours at some point, and I encourage you to go after it. Merlin knows, my life wouldn't be the same if I hadn't fallen so inconveniently, ridiculously in love with you.

Go now, without remorse or guilt, wrapped in the knowledge that your love saved me first and I am just returning the favor.

Don't forget.

Live for me.

Yours,

Draco L. Malfoy

Clutching the treasured letter to his chest, Harry stood up. He was determined to follow through with Draco's wishes, to honor his memory by finishing this war once and for all, to experience new things, to truly live even if it had to be in this harsh cruel world, and to properly fall in love over and over again…with Draco. For the git was right in all things but the last. Draco was the love of his life and he was sure that even if he lived a thousand years there would be no other that he would love as much as he did the Slytherin. Because from the moment he laid eyes on the blond he had been captivated. He could probably even call it love at first sight, even if he was too ignorant to see it then, because all it took was one glance and he had never been able to look away.

December 31, 1999. New Year's Eve. End of the Second War.

When the war finally came to its messy anticlimactic end after Harry drove Godric Gryffindor's sword into Voldemort's chest, he was proclaimed a hero once more and his name was again splashed all over the papers as the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Chosen One or the Gryffindor Heir. When he awoke from his injuries and he heard this, he quickly sent one note, just one, to the masses that he had saved once again, to tell them to do away with the other monikers and just call him by the original one they used all those years ago when all of this first started.

And so after many fruitless hours of journalists owling their questions about this bizarre request, they finally gave up trying to figure out the reason why. Harry Potter had just saved them, after all, who were they to deny any of his requests? And so after a few more hours of hurried reprinting and distribution, Harry Potter was heralded once again as the "Boy Who Lived" and he no longer felt the irritation he used to feel for it.

Because every time anyone called him by that name, he would silently add to himself with a small smile, "For Draco."

Finite.

AN: Like it? Hate it? Comments are appreciated and coveted like gold!