Chapter One: Entwined Destinies

His heart was ticking away the seconds that remained to him. He had never been so aware of the beating of his heart until now. The strength of its beating would surely shatter his ribs. He scarcely drew breath. He felt as though the grounds were holding their breath, too. There was a deathly stillness that seemed to envelop the castle. He couldn't hear a thing as he made his way resolutely through the shattered castle that, even now, was still very much his home. The silence was absolute. He couldn't even hear the pounding of his heart in his ears- he could only feel it. He knew it had to be this way. It was the only way. He had to protect the castle and all those who were in it.

As Harry walked on he soon came across Neville who was bent over a body, taking care of it in this brief reprieve Voldemort had given them. Looking upon Neville now, taking in his battered state, he felt Neville had never looked more beautiful. He was strong, so noble and true. The strength of his confidence and faith shone through him, and that faint but resilient light reached Harry, penetrated him. His heart beat now with love, recalling to him the memory of their first embrace—their first kiss—standing before the mirror in the Room of Requirement during Umbridge's reign of terror. The memory was immediately followed by another- the first and last sunrise they shared together the day they left Hogwarts last year. He remembered how his heart had beat- so full of love, warmth, and wonder, bringing light to such dark times.

He wondered if Neville knew just how joined they were- how their destinies had been entwined since birth. Surely he's realized that it could have easily been him, that Neville could have been the Boy Who Lived- the one who has to end it all now. Could he know that he had come so close to wearing the lightning scar himself? Though he wondered all this and more, he knew that this was not the time to ask. There would never be a time to ask.

"Neville."

"Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!"

Harry pulled off the Cloak, meeting those blue eyes—the blue eyes which had comforted him many a time—drawing him into their kind and caring depths.

"Where are you going, alone?" Neville asked. There was a note of suspicion in his voice.

"It's all part of the plan," said Harry. "There's something I've got to do. Listen—Neville-"

"Harry!" Neville looked suddenly scared, his devoted blue eyes searching Harry's strangely calm green eyes. "Harry, you're not thinking of handing yourself over?"

"No," Harry lied easily. "'Course not… this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort's snake, Neville? He's got a huge snake… Calls it Nagini…"

Neville's eyes flickered between worry and confused curiosity. "I've heard, yeah… What about it?"

"It's got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they-"

Harry nearly faltered for a moment, but then he thought of Dumbledore- calm, secretive, mysterious Dumbledore. He needed to be cool like Dumbledore. He had to be certain that there were people to carry on. Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville- brave, loyal, wonderful Neville would take Harry's place. There would still be three in the secret.

"Just in case they're—busy—and you get the chance-"

"Kill the snake?"

"Kill the snake," Harry repeated. Neville would do it. He would be the one. He knew that now. Knew it as surely as he felt his heart still beating.

"All right, Harry. You're okay, are you?"

Those eyes were searching his again. He could hear the heartfelt concern in Neville's voice. He knew he had to leave before the eyes he loved most would discover his secret.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Neville."

Neville caught his wrist as made to leave.

"We're all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?"

The quiet passion in Neville's voice cut into him. Pride blossomed inside him, alongside the cutting pain that made breathing difficult. Neville had to live. The better part of him had to survive- and Neville truly was the better part and certainly the better man. Harry had seen it in him where no one else had. He'd helped to draw it out throughout the D.A. training. He'd seen Neville come into his own down in the depths of the Department of Mysteries. Now he was here- he was the man he had been destined to become. It was so beautiful and bittersweet it left him breathless.

"Yeah, I-"

His heart was breaking, and Neville knew it. Neville felt it. He drew Harry to him. Silence fell once again. Neville's lips were on his, and Harry's lips parted- welcoming Neville's lips and tongue. There was the taste of something salty and metallic upon those lips- tears of love and the blood of courage. He took Neville's hand, sliding it underneath his clothes to rest warmly over his heart. He needed Neville to know that the last beat of his heart was for him. All the beats before it were for all those in the castle and all those who'd fallen, sacrificing themselves for him. But that last beat was for Neville. Always save the best for last…

Sound returned to him. It was time for him to go. Harry forced himself to draw back. Time was no longer standing still. It was moving around them, and his heart resumed beating out the last seconds that remained.

"Always, always," Harry murmured against Neville's lips, drawing their hands out from under his clothes.

"Always, always," returned Neville, voice thick with the emotion he held back. He squeezed Harry's hand, slowly releasing it.

As they gazed at one another, for what Harry knew to be the last time, he felt something had changed. He was still grieving the loss of his life and all its possibilities, and though he still felt afraid of what was coming, he now felt a quiet stillness. He was ready to leave and do what needed to be done. He had said goodbye. Harry reached up to gently caress Neville's cheek one last time, savoring the feel of his scarred and singed skin.

He held onto that sensation as he drew his hand back and threw on the cloak. He held the memory of that kiss—of their goodbye—as he made his way to his death.