This is a very dark one-shot I wrote. I did it late at night after a crap-ass week to let out my anxiety. Sorry it sucks, no flames please. I wrote it more to please myself than anyone else.
Rated M for brief, mild language, self-harm, suicide.
The Dark Lord pointed his wand straight at Harry as he stood atop a mound of rubble. His snake eyes narrowed as he uttered the killing curse to finally rid himself of his arch nemesis. There was no Lily to protect him this time and he was wide open. Harry glared at his rival and pointed his own wand, muttering his own 'signature' disarming spell.
The two spells collided mid-air in a wonderful show of colorful fireworks. Voldemort's wand flew out of his grasp, landing feet away from him. A short-lived look of triumph crossed his face. His face contracted a bit, as if in pain, as he spoke the final curse. The green burst of light flew towards Voldemort, striking him full-on. He fell backwards, his body withering away into ash. He was finally vanquished. Harry had done it.
A shriek suddenly filled the silence where the cheers of triumph should have echoed. A remaining Death Eater had lingered behind and, with a magically guided throw, managed to land a final blow. A dagger was protruding from Harry's upper back. Multiple wizards turned to the offender to kill him, but he vanished in a plume of smoke. Urgent shouts ricocheted off the walls as everyone starting panicking about what to do. McGonagall stepped up, standing on another mound of rubble. She used the Sonorus charm to amplify her voice. "Everyone, please. Head into the Great Hall or the main atrium of the castle." By everyone, of course, she meant everyone except those dear to Harry.
Hermione and Ron hurried forth from the crowd towards Harry's body. Luna and Neville, along with a few others, remained outside, but gave the respectful distance. The other Weasleys would have stayed, but Molly dragged them inside to be a family. Fred had been killed in the battle.
When the other two members of the golden trio stepped forward, they saw an odd and slightly disturbing sight. Draco was kneeling on the ground beside Harry, crying. He had pulled the dagger out and threw it to the side and his bloodstained hands now rested on Harry's bloodstained chest. It had almost ceased to move. Draco had leaned over to rest his forehead on it. Unheard by the others in the courtyard, he inaudibly whispered 4 words.
Ron and Hermione walked forward. Ron narrowed his eyes and looked down in disgust. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing Draco? You have no right to mourn him, you bastard. You worked against us all this time and probably helped with the whole battle! Now you decide to become a good guy? I won't have it!" Hermione placed a hand on his arm as a few tears began to fall.
Draco stood and stared at Ron with tear-stained eyes. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you. You think you know everything about me. Don't even try to understand me!" He walked quickly away, headed into the grounds, away from the others. Ron and Hermione now knelt beside their friend, freely letting the tears come. Hermione buried her face in Ron's chest and sobbed uncontrollably. McGonagall stood behind them, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to flow.
Draco kept walking until he reached the lake. The boathouses were empty except for Snape's dead body, but he stayed away from that. Finding an empty corner, he fell into it and buried his face in his knees, sobbing openly. No one understood him. He didn't even understand himself. Somewhere along the line, perhaps after the first time he laid eyes on Harry, Draco felt something for him. It started as just a strong draw towards him, and slowly developed over the years. He loved Harry, loved him in every way possible. Yes, there was that hatred there, but it was superficial. He couldn't outright love him, so he chose to hate the distance. It came off as hating him, but it was just the opposite.
Draco remained in the boathouse alone all day until the sun started setting. The whole school had come together and made a type of funeral for all the losses that happened in the battle. Many friends and family members lay among the dead, affecting every soul within the castle.
Once everyone had left the outdoors for the night, Draco headed back towards the castle. He trudged across the courtyard, eyes trained on the ground where Harry had previously lain. His foot sent something skittering across the brick: the dagger. Draco slowly picked it up. It was still stained with blood, but so were his hands. The blade was long and sharp and beautifully made. Collapsing to his knees, Draco rolled up his sleeves and stared blindly at the blade.
He knew this day would come if the battle arrived. Now he knew what he had to do. He dragged the tip of the blade over his arms, tracing lines of blood deep into his flesh. The crimson fluid flowed over his arms, dripping over the pavement beneath him. His eyes slowly looked up at the castle. No lights shone anywhere except the Great Hall, where Harry's body lay. He knew he would never see light again.
With one last deep breath of the crisp night air, Draco took the dagger and drove it deep into his own chest, mirroring the injury that had struck down Harry hours previous. The breath was taken from him instantly and he fell to the side, using the last of his energy to pull the blade from his breast. His eyes slowly fell shut as he breathed the same four words he had uttered earlier- "I love you, Harry."