Draco couldn't move. All he could do is stare into those now dim, green eyes. He looked peaceful, just lying there, sprawled in much the same way he slept. Draco couldn't count the number of time he had seen Harry in this position. It always managed to strike his as awkward and uncomfortable, but Harry said otherwise. How Draco wished Harry was just sleeping. He imagined Harry yawning and giving him a contented smirk. But he didn't move and Draco knew he wouldn't wake up.

Draco stumbled forward and fell to his knees. His body wasn't working right; refusing to move quickly enough. Legs that had lost feeling were desperately trying to get him to his unmoving lover. He scrambled across others, bodies he no longer cared about. Who were they, compared to his Harry?

He had promised not to come. He had given his solemn word that he would stay at Hogwarts and out of harms way. It had taken all of Draco's pleading and begging to get that vow. But Draco knew that a solemn vow meant nothing when they talked of Voldemort. After the deaths of so many, he knew Harry was incapable of letting an opportunity pass. Harry couldn't let the Dark Lord live any longer.

In what seemed like an eternity, Draco managed to reach the unmoving Potter. His knees gave way a second time, but this time Draco made no effort to get up again. He stayed where he was, kneeing next to Harry Potter's head. Reaching out, he tenderly smoothed the boy's unruly hair away from the green, staring eyes. Eyes that would never glow with love or turn to ice in hate again. Never again green eyes. Those eyes that would never look back at Draco again.

He remembered when he had truly seen them for the first time.

Draco had been pinned to the wall when it happened. Down in the dungeons, close to the Slytherin dormitory. Earlier that day Draco had called Harry's dad a prostitute and his mum a worthless mudblood whore. Not a very good idea, thinking back. Harry had been acting different recently and, it seems, Draco was the only who hadn't noticed. The Boy Who Lived had gotten tired of being bullied and bossed around. Draco was one of the first to learn that lesson. The hard way.

Now, Harry was making him pay for the petty insult.

Draco's head cracked against the wall again. Harry sneered at Draco and kneed him in the stomach, "Don't ever say anything about my parents again!"

With his head ringing and stomach ready to heave up its contents, Draco was sure something had changed in the other boy. It wasn't abnormal for Harry to try and beat Draco up, he normally didn't succeed though. This time was different. Harry taken the offensive and attacked Draco upon sight, leaving Draco no time to get his own punches in.

Draco looked up to see eyes cold as ice staring back at him, "Like you could stop me, everyone knows the boy who lived has crap-ass parents."

Harry moved to punch Draco in the face but decided against it. Thinking for a moment, his face cold but somewhat curious, "You know, Draco, it's almost like you want me to beat the crap out of you."

Draco made no reply because Harry had gotten a little too close to the truth. It wasn't long after he arrived at Howarts when he realized that tormenting harry was an excellent excuse for being around the famous boy. Of course, he never imagined that he'd be tormented as well. Ah the best laid plans of mice and men.

"You have beautiful eyes." Draco saw Harry's eyes widen in surprise and was vaguely aware of having said it aloud. Damn, he really needed to have someone check his head. Though the ringing he could see Harry's mouth, opening and closing.

But Harry wasn't stunned for long and Draco received a kick in the stomach and a muttered curse in his direction for his impromptu complement. Harry spat on him before stalking off towards the great hall.

Draco fell back to sit leaning against the wall. Why did he have to say that? His stomach was going to hurt for days. A lover's mark from my one true love, Draco thought grimly.

He sat there, for the longest time just thinking. Within hours the whole castle will think he's gay. It wouldn't be an interesting topic among the Slytherins, as they had known he was bi for some time. But the rest of the school would be in an uproar. Draco smirked as he thought of all the girls crying over their great loss. Every girl in school seemed to think they could turn him into a good boy. It always brightened his day to turn down at least three love confessions.

But what to do with Harry and his green eyes? The golden boy had never officially dated someone so maybe Draco had a chance. He secretly smiled to himself; perhaps Harry would like a little wooing. After all, no one was quite sure what Harry's sexual preference was. Though there were a lot of rumors about the golden trio being more than 'friends', but Draco wasn't concerned with this blowing up in his face. He did, in fact, love the challenge of the whole idea.

The smile flitting around his mouth disappeared when he remembered he'd have to get up sometime, and it wouldn't feel good. In fact Draco was pretty sure it would feel like hell. Maybe when he got back to the dorms he should document his injuries, just in case he wanted to pursue legal justice? No, it wouldn't do to pursue Harry romantically and legally.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching then pushed out with his legs, sliding himself up the wall. He just stood there for a moment and let the wave of dizziness wash over him. Then, leaning on the wall most of the time, he stumbled back to the Slytherin common room.

He couldn't justifiably say if was an easy trip, but it wasn't as hard as he expected. Entering the common room he was greeted by a nearly hysterical Pansy. Somehow he managed to calm her enough to spread a balm on his injuries and help him into bed.

The next morning entering the great hall for breakfast, Draco felt Harry's gaze on him. Last night he had come up with a plan: a crazy, insane, probably-won't-work, plan. But it was all he could come up with while half asleep and nauseous. The plan deepened mostly on the source of the gaze, and a little luck. Who didn't need a little luck when asking out one of the most famous people on the planet?

Draco took a deep breath and went to sit across from Harry. Harry stared at him, mouth agape. He definitely didn't look happy and Draco crossed his fingers. Under the table of course. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times before he could ask Draco what the hell he thought he was doing. Harry's numerous friends weren't there to nod in agreement, much to Draco's relief.

"Well" –Draco replied-"I've never heard of a rule restricting were you can eat breakfast, so I'm eating it with you." He thought he sounded quite sensible, and he didn't stutter or blush at all.

Draco could feel the entire Gryffindor table glaring at him. He sneered back at them, hiding his wince of pain: His stomach had brushed the table. Draco had no idea how he would manage to eat for the next couple days. He vaguely thought of the legal case again.

"But why are you sitting with me?" Harry's voice, though low, wasn't a conspirator's whisper, which disappointed Draco a bit.

Draco shrugged, playing at being casual, "I wanted to ask you a question." Harry's eyebrow rose and he gave Draco a pointed look, "And…?"

"Will you go to the ball with me tonight?" The area surrounding Harry and Draco suddenly got quiet. Harry glanced around pointedly before answering with a smirk of his own.

"Yes, Draco I will." The quiet disappeared. The whole Gryffindor table erupted into frenzy, people left to tell those who weren't there and everyone else started discussing love potions and other naughty things.

Draco learned, later that day, that Harry had been intending on asking him out. Strangely enough he was going to do it before Draco insulted his parents again. Many of Draco's friends-for he did have some-thought it was another way the Golden Boy was being rebellious, and therefore no real indication of his true feelings.

Draco smiled and got up to go to his first class of the day, effectively hiding his now nervous state.

The day pasted in a blur, or rather, Draco was too nervous to go to any of his classes. He therefore had all day to get ready and felt slightly less nervous when the time of the ball arrived. Though those nerves came right back whenever he recalled that Harry might not even like him. A very depressing thought for Draco.

His dress robes were black with a green vest and silver accents. Though he had never really liked the colour green, he did love silver and always made sure to wear as much of it as he could. His hair was down and black eyeliner complemented his own eyes. Pansy was almost drooling over him, which of course was not new.

He waited outside the great hall for Harry to arrive.

When he did, Draco had to wonder if it was the same Harry he had seen that morning. His dress robes were a light blue, with gold and silver detail. He had contacts in and his hair was messed up in a sexy sort of way. When Harry reached the entrance to the great hall Draco bowed elegantly and kissed his hand.

Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable and tried to tug his hand back, but Draco tucked it in the crook of his arm. With Harry unable to escape he led the brunette into the dance floor for the first dance. It was a little confusing at first, who would lead and who would fallow. Soon however, Draco naturally seemed to take the lead and Harry let him.

The music was slow and swirling. It wrapped around them, flowing and moving their bodies. Both seemed unaware of the effect the atmosphere was having on them. The music seemed to gently guide them in the dance, encouraging their bodies and minds to move as one. The world dropped away as Harry and Draco whirled around the great hall, staring into each others eyes, one set green and the other bluish-grey.

A tear fell on Harry's white face. Startled Draco reached up and found his face wet with them. He had not felt his body producing them, nor had he felt them slide down his face. His face was too cold to feel anything. His numb fingers gently wiped the offending liquid off Harry's face. Draco almost smiled as the dirt was wiped off as well. There was his harry, underneath all that dirt.

"Y-you killed him!" Draco slowly tore his gaze from Harry to look at his father. His father was shaking with rage, thinking Draco had killed his precious dark lord. He was covered in dirt too. Draco wondered if he was similarly disguised, covered in the dirt that seemed to cling to his Harry.

"You killed Voldemort!"

Draco felt himself smile and nod, though in fact it had been Harry. But when one wanted to die opportunities seemed to present themselves and Draco wasn't squeamish about taking them.

When he saw his father lift his wand and utter the killing curse he closed his eyes.

I'm coming Harry.