A/N: Warning this is a SLASH fic that contains character death. Pairing: Draco x Harry. What is the price we pay for something we've always wished for? Harry wishes that he doesn't know...As usual, the lovely characters of Harry Potter do not belong to me but to their esteemed creator JK Rowling. ENJOY!

Eternal Damnation

Though it was night, the sky an obsidian blanket over the world, the soft glow of victory and triumph illuminated the earth. The sweet melody of freedom rang as clear as a bell on the breeze, prompting even the stars to dance to its joyful tune. Night was nothing because dawn was sure to break. For the wizarding community, their longest darkest night had ended and dawn was inevitable, a new future dawning in the radiant glorious colours of liberation. Voldemort, the Dark Lord whose hold on them had been all encompassing, had been defeated and with his fall came the rise of a new age. The age of despair had ended. The age of hope had just begun.

Yet, in the very centre of it all, the Saviour of the Wizarding World could not revel in the glory that all his peers did. Where everyone was rejoicing that they had survived the worst storm and lived to see tomorrow, where he should have been rejoicing that he himself had lived to face a life free of obligations, Harry Potter could only curse himself for once again being the Boy-Who-Lived, once again being the survivor at the expense of those he loved. Where tears of joy brimmed everyone's eyes, only hot tears of despair and mourning caressed his pale bruised cheeks, rolling down unceasingly, never halting until the well within him had been drained dry. In the midst of his emotional turmoil as he weakly tried to shake off the icy grasp that threatened to seize his heart, only one word escaped Harry in a barely audible whisper.

'Why?'

The question he had been asking all his life. And now, even at the end of his long and arduous road, it had not been answered. But, even as Harry persisted in asking, he knew that the answer would never come and more importantly, never come from the lips he longed to hear it from. After all, even the ever knowledgeable know-it-all male counterpart of Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy could not escape the suffocating hold of death. Yet, that was all Harry wanted to hope for, cradling the broken body of his lover in his trembling arms. Blond hair, once so pure, glimmering even in the dimmest light, had now lost its sheen, tainted with the crimson streaks, bold red strokes that painted the portrait of death. Harry's fingers danced nimbly, tangling themselves in the once golden threads before lightly caressing pale aristocratic features, ghostly as the marble statues that were scattered in the compounds of the Malfoy Manor. He leaned in, his breath brushing over still features, frozen in an eternal painting, so close that he could glimpse the dark shadows that lingered under thin eyelids, the same clear and vivid silver orbs that would glint in anger, light up in hilarity and drown Harry in molten mercury of passion. Now, they were dulled, filmed over and murky, speaking of an empty body, a shell that once held the soul that had claimed Harry's own.

It had been complete acceptance on Harry's part when the downfall of Voldemort required a precious sacrifice of his own. After all, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the one fated to fight the Dark Lord. He had lived on borrowed time, on the sacrifice of his mother's life in her love for him. And, he had been prepared to sacrifice something equally valuable, equally important – his own life. His entire existence had been moulded around his eventual destiny. Just as his mother had sacrificed her life in her love for him, an incident that began a vicious cycle of hatred, power and revenge, he would sacrifice his life in his love for his friends to end that bitter cycle. What he had never expected was to lose something more, so much more. When Draco stepped in front of him, taking the full brunt of the Avada Kedavra, using his body as a shield, Harry's world had stop spinning. When Draco kissed him, a gentle whispery caressed, Harry's heart had stop beating. When those eyes that showered him in love so unconditional, so encompassing, so true that it took Harry's breath away had closed, Harry's life had ended. In that final second, that brief moment, Harry had lost much more than his life, he had lost Draco. He had ended a vicious cycle only to be thrown into another battle for supremacy over death, despair and the icy bonds that threatened to pull him into his own living hell. He had rebuilt the world at the cost of his entire world. The deal was fulfilled, the bargain met. A life had been traded for a life.

But, it was not Harry's life. Brushing his chapped lips over his lover's wintry ones, the final wave came crashing down on him, rough tides pulling him in all directions, a whirlpool that tore Harry from within. Iciness pierced his heart even as the heat of desolation burned his soul. Anguish like a web bound him, crushing him, his soul aching with emptiness even as hatred and loathing filled him, overflowing in a never ending fountain of tears and blood. Draco Malfoy was dead.

He screamed.

In a new beginning, came his final end. In triumph came his ultimate sacrifice. In hope came his deepest despair. In light came is coldest darkness. In fulfillment came emptiness, a longing that would never be satisfied, a desire that would never be sated. In life came a death that would never be forgotten.

Draco Malfoy, Head Boy of Hogwarts, leader of the student rebellion, was dead. Draco Malfoy, trusted comrade, loyal friend, devoted lover was dead. Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter's whole world, to whom he had pledged his life, was dead.

And, only he was left.

For Harry, victory was eternal damnation.