A/N: In Draco's letter, the parts which are all weird like "tha-ther-this" means that Draco scribbled out the previous words and filled in with the last one.

PS: For those of you confused by Hermione's "noxious gas spell thingie," I have revised Chapter 10 and hopefully it is now more understanding. –Kicks my crappy talent at subtle symbolism- D:

PS: The song is by Placebo, called "Song to Say Goodbye".

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Boo hoo hoo D:

The Prophecy: Dark encounters light, either canceling existence or blending into dusk; destroying prophecies or completing fate.

Pairings: Harry/Draco (weee!) Don't like it? Well bugger off :(

Summary: Both Harry and Draco dwell behind masks to hide their true emotions and...physical changes. There is a prophecy where light meets dark. Harry is part of the prophecy, but he suspects Draco as his other half! However, Draco wants nothing to do with Harry...why? Harry/Draco

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Masquerade – The Final Battle

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You are one of God's mistakes,
You crying, tragic waste of skin,
I'm well aware of how it aches,
And you still won't let me in.
Now I'm breaking down your door,
To try and save your swollen face,
Though I don't like you anymore,
You lying, trying waste of space.

--------------------------------------------------------------

I hate you.

I hate you so much I cannot possibly describe it in words. I hate the massive pain that burns my every being whenever I think of the times we've had together. Before everything happened, before I had the Dark Mark branded into my arm—before I met you, I was happily living my life without doubt.

Look what you made me into.

Are you happy now? Your gaze plasters itself upon me whenever I see you in the halls, whenever I meet you in class. What should I think? For some time I believed that I had understood you; that I had come to lo-lik—that I knew you.

But now I hate you.

I have fallen into a terrible error, and only now am I able to atone for my sins. Perhaps by following the path destined to me I can make up for at least a minute part of my callous trials. Whenever I think of that whor-Hermi-Mudbloo-Granger's trick of coveting you from me, I wonder if I had ever truly had you at all.

What happened to me?

I was the cowardly Deatheater's son, willing to bow down and lick the disgusting shoes of Vo-my Lord. Then you came along, drowning me with your Darkness and surrounding me with your Light. I spend my nights in cruel oblivion, your presence forever staining my deepest sleep.

The girl had come to you when I was gone, enticing you with her femininity. Why had you not raised a finger in objection, if you were so truly devoted to me? Where had the Harry Potter I once knew gone? My Harry was dark; a man who had faced too many obstacles, stripped of his childhood and forced into a destiny he did not want. My Harry was evil, yet he retained his presence as a pillar of support.

Where is my Harry?

You, Potter, are a fledgling who has lost his mother, forever floundering foolishly between water and land, unable to decide for yourself. You had obviously doubted your fraudulent love for me, an eager part of you wanting to feel the embrace of a woman. Your muddled mind quickly disregarded your—what was it you called?—your lover for a momentary experience.

How can you have the heart to stand by and see it done? Give me a reason, Potter.

I hate you.

Were this sent to Luc-my Father, he would immediately take the life of his own flesh and blood. That is, if he could. Nay, he'd present my traitorous soul to the Dar-to my Lord, asking him to torture me by ripping off my limbs one by one, severing the head and leaving it still with life, pierced upon the spike of rebellion.

Are you ready for battle?

The day is quickly approaching, and Voldemort has expressed his wishes to train me well. I will not die a fool, Potter; I will die knowing I had followed my fate to the very last second, putting my all into destroying you. I admit, you had me fooled with your petty words, your seductive glances, and your indulgent lies.

Back then I think I might have lov-lik—I might have felt something for you.

You had me wrapped in the heavy cloak of deception, believing that you could protect me from the fate I had been forced into. I believed that I could return the favor, blocking the hateful lies and fake admiration your peers had directed towards you. If I knew you enjoyed those fraudulent comforts, if I knew you so easily doubted yourself, I would have let go.

But I had not known.

There are so many "If"s and "Why"s, but all that remains is the truth. I will find you, Potter, and I will fight you. I will inflict as much pain as I can before relinquishing my soul for the greater good. You are my goal; the ending I strive to attain. I will do anything to achieve this and I have already done so, preparing my mental health and strengthening myself physically (as you have seen through my own eyes). All I have left is to extend my magic to its greatest limits—No, I have one more demand:

I hate you.

Which is why I want you to train. Yes, train well, Potter, and become strong. Force yourself to the limits, spend nights staying awake memorizing spells for battle. I will not be an easy kill, nor do I want an easy victim. I want a true fight with a sincere opponent; someone worthy of taking my finalt breath. This is my last wish, Potter.

Grant me this one favor, if you had ever experienced an inkling of the happiness I had once felt with you.

Grant me this one hope, this one last hope.

Draco Malfoy.

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Before our innocence was lost,
You were always one of those,
Blessed with lucky sevens,
And the voice that made me cry.
My, oh my.

-------------------------------------------------------------

I stand ready in the front line of Hogwarts as the first wave of Deatheaters come rushing at us, a mere group of courageous students and professors. The Dark army outnumbers us by almost thrice the amount, and the thought of winning the battle was a miracle within the minds of the many that stand around me. Most of the younger years and unwilling students had already been sent home, leaving only a few behind when the floo network was abruptly blocked from the rest of the world.

The brave soldiers, my peers and instructors, race towards the storm wielding weapons of destruction upon their fierce lips and determined fingers. I watch the first Deatheater fall, and the first student—a brave Ravenclaw—become obliterated by the first hex. I close my eyes and take off my spectacles, heaving a sigh and releasing my illusion; my powers increase and a few gasps were emitted by those that were near me.

I flicker gold-green eyes toward the nearest enemy, my serious glowing orbs forcing him to flinch as I whisper the incantation to him, putting him out of his misery. Beside me stands Ron, his calm, stoic persona in battle a vast contrast from the hotheaded boy of past. His hex flings the mask off a Deatheater, revealing Theodore Nott, a boy he used to converse with before Easter vacation.

Without pause, Ron finishes the Slytherin, closing his eyes for the briefest second in apologetic regret, and I am reminded of the many sacrifices we are forced to make. Losing Draco and my life seems infuriatingly small compared to the world, and I force my way through the Darkness with renewed vigor. I will die knowing that I had taken down Voldemort's greatest weapon, and I will pass the "hero torch" to everyone fighting for the Light.

Work together to defeat the demon; you do not need a mere boy. I am but a joke.

The number of students willing to fight astounded me. For example, Hermione had avoided me since my abrupt temper tantrum and I had not expected her to fight for my sake, but here she was, ferociously struggling somewhere amongst the gore and the bloodshed. I turn towards my next enemy, the burn in my eyes seeming as strong as the 'Incendio!' I just cast.

Today was the day.

As in my vision, Draco will come, killing many of his schoolmates on his journey to the appointed destination—to me. He had disappeared a week ago and rumors of his crossing to the Dark side are now obvious facts. I fling myself across the crimson earth, pushing a Hufflepuff away from an Unforgivable. Tears streak her cheeks as she raises haunted eyes towards mine. I growl, whipping around and blasting her attacker before shielding myself from another.

In preparation for this battle, Snape had taught me well. He was the one who trained me for nights without end and pushed me past my limits, pushed until I lay unconscious on the floor. Today, the greasy Professor looks grim and tired, his composed figure tainted by subtle shivering as he joins me in battle, exposing his true loyalties.

"Why are you training the future murderer of your godson?" I asked him one day, peering past the thick book of spells. The Potions Professor sighed, staring into my own eyes with unwavering calmness.

"And why are you, Mr. Potter, training to destroy the one you love?"


I looked down, unable to keep my gaze. "Because that was what he wanted," I whispered." He wants to end his life meaningfully with a sincere rival."

Severus nodded, placing a pale hand on my tense shoulders in a rare act of support. "And who am I to deny him of his last demand?"

My head instinctively swivels north, dodging a Deatheater's curse with practiced ease. A magic similar to my own, both in power and sense, slowly wafts closer to my eager nose.

He is coming.

I run towards the second wave of destruction, snarling and leaping with inhuman ferocity. Burying my clawed hand inside an enemy's body, I violently pull out his bleeding heart and quickly hex the other to my right. I had never liked killing; in fact, the sight of blood used to traumatize me along with the feelings of guilt which would plague me for weeks...but I had changed.

Just like he has.

It was almost ironic, the way the sunny skies shined with lazy, pure clouds above the dark, bloody scene that one calls a battlefield. The rays sparkle blindingly against the blood smeared across dirt and flesh, mocking our painful existence. I kneel down, pausing to close the glazed eyes of Anthony Goldstein.

Yet another sacrifice.

The numbers were piling and the Deatheaters continue to descend wave upon wave, crashing violently against the shaky cliff that our mere bodies formed in defense. A shout fills my ear and I turn around, ducking to avoid a wild curse. Justin Finch-Fletchley stares with horrified eyes at the unmasked Deatheater, Marietta Edgecombe.

"No," he whispers, wand-arm dangling limply at his side. "Why?"

The female Deatheater looks equally distraught, head shaking subtly as she slowly raises her wand. "I'm sorry," she cries miserably. "Diffindo!"

I scream a warning, raising a "Protego!" towards the shocked boy. The spell rebounds, flinging itself back into the stunned face of caster. Justin wails as the Ravenclaw's body tears itself in half and I run over to the fallen boy. He clutches at her lifeless hand, refusing to let go as I coax him to run back to shelter. After some precious time, the boy finally agrees, tearfully looking back at his fallen schoolmate one last time before stumbling towards the hulking castle known as Hogwarts.

How long must this go on?

The death count grows higher, our side losing due to the sheer mass of the enemy. A third and fourth wave had passed, and it was in the midst of dueling the fifth that He came. The magic was strong, rolling off the two figures in an endless tsunami as they walked grimly, smoothly, and ever so surrealistic across the barren ash. They were two phantasmagoric shadows, approaching the center of the battlefield without moment's hesitation.

Corpses lie littered around the hollow ground, splayed frighteningly similar to scattered leaves on a musky autumn evening. The world around me is in chaos, as are the people raging against each other in the whirling background. I duck absently as a curse flies my way, rolling around and hexing back blindly in return. Voldemort resides in the middle of the fray, cackling with his disgustingly sharp teeth and beady eyes as he destroys my allies with ferocious curses, leaving them bloody and mutilated beyond recognition.

Behind him, my heart clenches as I notice the slender, cloaked figure he is protectively defending. However, the figure obviously needed no protection; he had a shield of solid ice permanently present to block all charms and physical weapons around him. In addition, those who attempted to get near would immediately perish, screaming in a voice more horrid than all the others on the battleground combined.

Watching the figure makes my blood boil in static anticipation, and I feel my own spherical shield of solid wind howling its presence into my ear. Deatheaters and curses alike ricochet off my defense, the few brittle leaves that lie within the shell slicing the more offensive opponents to pieces. I near Voldemort and he pauses, sensing my presence. The air freezes around me, dropping into arctic degrees as my wild breeze spreads the contagious ice into the atmosphere. Everything goes silent save my own anxious breathing and Voldemort's smug hiss.

The bloody bastard raises his wand, whispering an obviously futile charm my way. Taking his bait, I respond with a curse, the deadly spell flying quickly towards its target. The cowardly menace laughs and apparates, leaving the residual charm still floating towards the remaining cloaked figure. My breath hitches and the spell misses by a hair.

It's him.

Knowing that I currently sport a wondrous and apprehensive look on my bewildered face, the figure continues to say nothing, stepping forward to greet me instead. Robes ghost gracefully over the battlefield, slithering over the rotten corpses as if there were nothing there. A gleaming hand bearing a familiar crested ring—no, this ring was free of illusion charms—reaches from within the folds of fabric, stretching towards me as if in a silent plea. I stare dumbly as the hand drops and retracts into its pockets, serenely lifting a slender wand.

A musical voice began to whisper a hypnotic incantation and to my utmost horror, a single lock of platinum blonde hair drifts softly into the dusty light-

He is here.

"Draco!" I gasp weakly as he magically waves the hood from his gaunt face. The week had done no good to him, filling him with power but depleting him of necessary nutrients.

Another hex reflects from his ice blue defense, and his swirling gold-grey eyes stare into mine.

"Haven't I told you never to say my name, Potter?"

"Dra-Malfoy, I-I missed you," I pathetically stutter, all traces of my initial cool slaughtered by the foreboding presence. The Slytherin sneers, losing his own dispassionate exterior for a moment's time.

"You've read my letter, have you not?"

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You were mother nature's son,
Someone to whom I could relate,
Your needle and your damage done,
Remains a sorted twist of fate.
Now I'm trying to wake you up,
To pull you from the liquid sky,
Coz if I don't we'll both end up,
With just your song to say goodbye.
My, oh my.

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Yet another sleepless night; another dreadful breath.

I, Harry Potter, supposed sodding savior of the entire blooming world, leaned back into the prison one calls a bed. I clutched a rumpled letter in my trembling hand as I shook within the confines of the harsh blankets. I had received the parchment soon after Draco Malfoy was reported missing.

I knew he had gone to Voldemort.

Everyone had looked upon the morbid paper with curiosity, expecting their morose, sodding hero to tell them what it was about. I glared at them, stuffing the letter into my robes and stalking away as they blinked in surprise.

I said nothing that day, ignoring the student's persistent questions and "Are you all right?"s. It was just like Draco to make a dramatic exit; the letter was far too stiff and yellowed, covered in a collage of pinks and reds and purples and browns and blacks. Everyone and their Uncle Bob could see there was something bloody wrong about the envelope, but I'd sooner face Tom Riddle in nothing but Ginny's knickers rather than tell them about it.

Soon enough, the day had passed, and I had still not yet opened the mysterious parchment. I could not bear the thought of what it contained. Just the thought of pulling at the folds of the paper tortured my mind; it filled my overburdened imagination with horrific thoughts of what a Malfoy would write into the letter. A heartfelt apology? Likely not. A romantic love letter? Absolutely sickening. Whatever else, I had felt much too intimidated to open the bloody letter.

Until now.

With the curtains spelled shut and the 'Lumos' glowing unwaveringly on my wand, I slowly uncovered the parchment and smoothed out the infinite wrinkles. To my surprise, the stiffness of the paper came from the remains of tears, and the curious copper red stains seemed to be blood.

I read the letter thrice, stopping only when my own flurry of salty liquids blurred the words into hailing grey snowballs amidst the blank canvas. I did not know what to make of Draco's words; I did not know whether to feel shocked, scandalized, proud, or depressed.

However, I knew one thing. I would take Draco's offer and grant him his request. I too did not want to end my bloody life without achieving the maximum limits. I wanted to die strong, knowing that I had tried my best. It would be the highest honor for a fraud like me to die as a true warrior in battle, gasping my last breath when I could no longer lift a finger to fight.

I knew that Draco wanted this too.

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A song to say goodbye,
A song to say goodbye,
A song to say...

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I smile calmly at my previous lover—if he could be called that. "I've grown stronger for you," I tell him, and he rewards me with a gratuitous smirk.

"Malfoy?" an incredulous cry comes from my right, and both Halves turn to face the source of sound. Ronald Weasley gapes at the both of us, dead Deatheater lying forgotten in his hand. Others around him also stop, giving us the same stare as frantic whispers quickly spread across the battleground.

"Did they always look like that?"

"Is that really Malfoy?"

"What potion did they take?"

"What are they?"

Malfoy soaks up the spectator's attentions, sneering into each of their curious eyes. He smirks woefully into Ron's face as the redhead, with tears in his clear, blue eyes, raises a wand into the face of the blonde Slytherin.

"As much as I fancy death by you, my dear friend," the Deatheater responds to the trembling redhead. "I already have an appointment with Harry Potter."

The curse flies mercilessly through the air just as Malfoy strides closer to me, his shield colliding forcefully with my own. The two forces intermingle, fusing into a giant sphere around the both of us. Weasley's spell bounces off the transparent ice bubble and the green wind blowing angrily around the arctic shield whips the hex back into the field, taking down a random enemy.

A Deatheater charges into our enlarged shield, swearing as he watches his hand fly off his arm. Another enemy manages to block the wind, punching the indestructible ice with her arm. She screams, pushing herself back as the cold burns through her, and her ashes blow desperately into the skies, mixing with the rotten fumes of war.

Draco stares at me, his head tilted to one side as he contemplates his decision. "We can either make this quick and kill each other, or we can take the long route," he muses with nonchalant amusement.

"The long route," I immediately tell him," I'm curious as to how strong you've grown."

"Much stronger than you," he smirks back. "Anger and revenge are brutal slave drivers. Impedimenta!"

"Diffindo!"

"Potter, you really are set on my death," Malfoy acknowledges, easily dodging my spell. I growl smugly, leaping onto him and tackling him to the cracked ground.

"I'm only doing what you told me to do," I whisper to the fallen Slytherin. He grunts, hexing me away from his body.

"Using brute force, how plebeian. Incendio!"

"Getting serious now, Malfoy? Petrificus totalus!"

He jumps forward, slipping in close and gashing my face with his delicate, sharpened nails. A stinging sensation burns like wildfire across my cheek and specks of red drop onto my shoulder.

"First blood," the Slytherin proudly declares, raising a challenging brow at me. "You're not the only one who plays dirty."

I laugh harshly, turning from a well-placed hex and casting another in return. We continue our intense dance in peace, forgetting of the chaos and pain outside our physical barricade. Like a representation of our everyday fraudulent shells, the swirling shield of blue and green bars anyone from looking in, save a few sparks and flashes of curses and spells. We had willingly locked ourselves in a masquerade, the ball ending only when we choose to.

It was our Masquerade.

"Crucio!"

The spell whistles past my ear, splashing onto the frozen inner shell. I stare back at the Malfoy with wide eyes. "You really meant that!"

"Of course, Potter," Draco drawls. "A Malfoy never does anything half-arsed." I marvel at his blank, yet regal face during battle, his stoic eyes flickering in a sudden show of amusement and excitement as I cast yet another curse towards him.

We clash together, breaking apart again. I can see Draco assessing my health from a distance. His eyes travel down my worn body, taking in the gashed face, bleeding lip, and the way I moved as if I had several ribs broken.

At least four, no doubt.

I scrutinize him in turn, taking in his broken left arm, his pronounced limp as he cringes and holds his aching stomach.

The punch to his gut was quite satisfactory.

I suddenly pounce him before he can move, our bodies rolling around the ground as our wands scuttle haphazardly across the dirt. Resisting the urge to purr, I lean against the familiar body, clawed fingers trailing across his smooth cheek. Running my bruised hand up through his ruffled long hair and contentedly feeling his ragged breath across my dry, bloody lips, I smile, dragging a final nail along his porcelain face. A jagged cut of crimson forms on his side, a scarlet stream flowing in small rivulets down his neck.

A deep emotion of complete satisfaction and warmth swells in my belly, and a whimper from the Slytherin tells me that he feels the same. "It is time, my love," I whisper closely to his ear, wincing painfully as he savagely bites my vulnerable neck. I pull away, willing myself to remember everything about the pale boy beneath me.

I will always remember his thin, soft lips, the way his blonde hair fans the blood-drenched ground, the way the gold of his eyes melt into mine. I will never forget how his body molds perfectly to my own, the warmth emanating into my very bones. I dive in for a deep kiss, the taste of his blood mixing sweetly with mine. Draco pushes against me, claiming top for a second as our tears mingle and trail down both our cheeks. I shove my way back to the top, desperately clutching at the blonde's robes and relishing the way his tongue moves in my mouth, the way his slender fingers run frantically through my tousled hair.

I reluctantly part from the Deatheater, grinning slowly as he violently propels me away. He has an annoyed look on his pointed features, eyebrows furrowed to cover his apparent comfort with our shared kiss. Almost on instinct, we stand at the same time, facing each other determinately.

Hands mechanically rise, wavering at each other free of wands. Gold-grey swirls into gold-green, and green-gold twinkles merrily at grey-gold. Are you ready? Says the first. Only if you are. The second replies. Lips move coordinately, words and tones matching and both tongues swirling the exact same pronunciations.

"Avada Kedavra."

The familiar green lights burst forth from our hands, racing towards the other in a speeding frenzy. They collide head on, exploding into a sudden surge of blinding white and forming a growing sphere of brilliant light. The brightness washes over me and I smile widely into the gaping cavern of imminent death.

It was unbearably bright, like looking into the sun on a clear summer day, yet it was strangely peaceful. The magic coaxes me forward and I stumble willingly in the ordered direction, stopping only when I bump into another body.

Mine.

I fall, collapsing with the other presence as we both drown blissfully into the never ending abyss of snowy white. Like exploding fireworks of blank color, like twinkling stars and the bright, bright moon, it swims around us, suffocating us with its very essence.

It was a glorious day to die.

There was brightness and light wherever I looked even though I had my eyes closed. I could ramble about the illumination for hours on end and...

Darkness.

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Before our innocence was lost,
You were always one of those,
Blessed with lucky sevens,
And the voice that made me cry.

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Several screams were issued from various people on the battleground as identical green lights burst inside the globe.

"It's Avada Kedavra!" a girl shrieks.

Who will be the victor?

The lights suddenly merge, turning into a bright, expanding bubble of white. The frosty ice suddenly sparkles brilliantly, glowing like an excited Lumos! on a dark winter night. The magic forces the shields to expand and suddenly, the infinite beauty was not so harmless anymore.

The shield crashes into various beings on the field, each individual shrieking in pain before burning into ashes upon contact.

"Run while you can!" the Deatheaters scream, turning tail and fleeing from the deadly bubble. Students and teachers alike run as well, pumping their battle-trained legs furiously from the advancing gleaming ball.

The shield expands faster and larger, consuming the entire area in mere minutes. Moments later, it abruptly collapses on itself, shrinking back and leaving nothing in its wake. The field was empty of both corpses and live bodies, save for wispy ashes fluttering in the dusty wind.

It was a sandstorm which swept morosely across the deadened desert, empty of all inhabitants except for two immobile figures. They were entwined together, legs over legs and arms around each other's cold bodies. Small, identical smiles grace both their faces and the shield around them pulses madly, swirling in its frenzied craze.

Harry Potter slowly opens his eyes, staring into the face of his battle partner. Draco Malfoy also awakens, calmly gazing back with his dispassionate, cold orbs. The brunette gently brushes the blood off the Deatheater's face, and the pale one slowly uses all of his strength to nuzzle the hand of his beloved. Never taking their eyes off the other, they continue gazing at their Half even as their golden orbs begin to dim and their vision begins to fade.

Only do their eyes close when they share their last breath, exhaling each other's scent and falling blissfully into the sweet, black oblivion.

"Well fought, Potter, well fought."

"I'll see you on the other side, Draco. Think we'll be happy then?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

A chuckle. "We have eternity for that, my love."

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It's a song to say goodbye.

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AN: Shocked? Don't worry, this isn't the end! Should I repeat that? This is not the ending! There. Hmm, and no, it's not almost the ending either. I've got a long way to go, and I would get a lot of flames if I just leave the story like this! –cringes at the thought- No fears, I've got a detailed outline of the next chapter and it won't be a short, dinky chapter like this one!

Next Chapter: What is there in the next chapter? After all, Harry and Draco are dead! Well, why don't you just wait and see what happens? Also, find out what happens to Ron and Hermione after the war...did they even survive? Did Voldemort really end up ruling the world? Too many questions, argh!

Shoutouts:

OtShades: -Pats QtShades on the back- It'll get better, I promise! Maybe...-glances around with shifty eyes- Rawr, next chapter you'll see what I mean ;D

Ater Phasma: Eep! –Hospitalized after so much bapping- I sort of fixed it! The only problem is that they're dead! XD; –glances up fearfully- Rawr, but after all this angsting, it'll get lots better...HPDM-wise anyway ;D

Pink-xXx-Kiss: Yea, my original intention was to make Hermione a super nice-supportive chara, but I guess I read one too many of those fics and decided Ron needed some spotlight XD; I rather like your theory on Hermione, I'll see what I can do ;D

Crystal Malfoy: Haha, yea, both Harry and Draco are stupid little twats at the moment, but then again, people in love do many stupid things...(I know I did!) After I finished writing the last chapter, I was tempted to give the two a good knocking with the Hammer of Common Sense myself!

Mirokuluver's Friend: Hahahaha, "politely" demanding...XD; You are such an awesome reviewer : ) I have to agree though, Harry's becoming a little too soft D: And Draco's too whiny x.O; The next chapters after this are going to be character-strengthening ones though, so don't worry :) Everything after the Ultimate Battle will be better, Harry/Draco-wise anyway ;D

MelissaSue: I could just imagine Draco wearing a little crown, ordering Harry to chop Hermione's head off XD Man, if I was writing a humor fic, I would pounce on your idea and use it right off the bat!

Sweetlildevil512: I'm not thinking of letting it end so easily yet, so have no fear :) Harry and Draco will live happily ever after in a little house surrounded by a white picket fence...or not -sweatdrops- BUT it won't be so bad, trust me ;D

Crystal Malfoy: I shall update soon! (Is this considered soon? O.o) I hope this chapter lifted your spirits...somewhat (at the end, anyway x.x)

IIshadowmakerII: Updated! –Hustles and bustles- :D

Ambroisine: Nuu! –grabs hold of Ambroisine- you're one of my most beloved reviewers, don't ditch me! –puppy eyes- After all this, the chapters won't be as angsty, really. It'll be more...frustrating, as are most "coming out" novels o.o; Also, have you read Dear Feelings (also known as Doki Doki), perchance? It's sorta like the prologue of Tactics and Love Song—I just finished it and it's like...-falls over with the happy artwork-

Mou: Rawr, I see the last chapter was a bit confusing for ya x.x; I must admit I was a bit worried about it as well. Okay so first, Draco blames Harry because Harry was being stupid and not immediately rejecting 'Mione's advances (Hermione would have smooched him if no one interfered), not to mention Draco put his complete faith in Harry, only to see Harry unable to defend himself (making him unreliable and weak...which results in destroying Draco's trust) Honestly, who wants a lover who can't even reject the advances of others? (I'd want them to yell at the spiteful vixen, or at least support me as I yell at them!) Secondly, Harry couldn't do anything during Easter Break. Draco isn't showing him the acts on purpose; Harry just sees them by accident. Harry can't call the Aurors because he is completely immersed in the vision, making him unable to move...not to mention the visions are going on at the exact same moment Harry is seeing them. Lastly, the Professors know nothing of Harry's problem (all he told was his dream to Dumbledore). McGonagall found out the last of Harry's vision and by then it was too late. Third, as bad as Hermione is, she's still his friend. Harry was putting up with her, hoping that she would stop hitting on him (Ha, fat chance.) Of course, Harry finally got the point and snarled at her near the end. :o Fourth, the gas was just bad symbolism on my part, I suppose. It symbolizes Harry becoming manipulated by Hermione's words. I mean, think about it, a boy who's never been in a relationship suddenly thinks he is in love. That can be easily doubted with mere words, which Hermione was relying upon. People are easily swayed, especially when they have no experience. However, I rather think that confuses people...so I'll most likely revise that part and make it more...evident o.o; Lastly, I made all the characters as human as possible (rather than clear and concise personalities). Humans make mistakes through irrational thoughts all the time, and though confusing, that's what happens in relationships, don't they? Or at least mine did...after all, that sort of argument happened over a year ago in my life, and to be honest...it still hurts. A lot. I hope that cleared some things up for you? If not, please, ask again and I'll try to clarify more x.x; I tried not to type too much asI feel like I'm writing an essay response! XD;

DMswissmissHG: Haha, ooooh okay, so I can tear Hermione apart with no regrets ; ) And I suppose you are right, there are so many H/D stories out there you really can't escape some things x.x; I must say though, I'm so glad you've turned to the HPDM side—you're a wonderful reviewer who lifts my spirits and makes me want to write XD I'm also glad that you're okie dokies with the whole non-cliche Hermione, it makes me happy! –huggles- You're the best:D

Miss brownie: YAY! I'm glad you like the angsty-ness, since many people tend to disagree and shy away from it : ( Personally, I'm a sucker for dark and angsty things XD My stories feel empty without it :o Also, I'm glad you caught my efforts at the detailing :D A few stories ago, reviewers used to complain about my lack of description o.o; Makes me happy to know I'm improving ;D And Omgosh! The heat wave is crazy! The power went out like a bajillion times in my area...right when I was revising my chapter! (And I edited so much too!) It made me so mad D! Although currently I have a fan blowing at full power at my back, so it's pretty nice :3

BabyKeepItSurreal: Haha, yea, Harry is somewhat the victim, the poor, bumbling fool –pwaps Harry- the reason he became the problem, however, was because he didn't do anything...like push Hermione away! –Pwaps Harry some more- Though I agree with you, Ron is being rather self-centered (I suppose he's always been like that, with the jealousy and whatnot) and Draco really does need to stop being stupid and get with Harry D: And on the side note, as strange as this may sound, I'm glad you felt frustrated XD; It was a point I was trying to make during the chapter...about how stupid everyone was being—and how stupid things can lead to even greater mistakes. Wee, I feel accomplished, somewhat o.o

SpeechlessQuestion: "Ominouser"...Haha, I find that word cute for some reason. When I first saw it, I thought "mouse...mousy!" o.O; I'm such a weirdo sometimes -.-; Rawr, I haven't had breakfast in a long time...I keep waking up too late XD; Poopies, now you made me want breakfast foods :O! Oh, and I recommend reading that book if you like tragedies, it's even more frustrating and depressing than my story o.o The quote I love from that book is "Speak to me, do not play the tyrant". I just find it so...bittersweet –sighs-

iNsAnE nO bAkA: Gargle lump? That sounds really cute! XD; Erm, and yea, not much H/Dness...more like "I hate you" H/Dness o.o; I'm glad you approve of the whole Ron thing though, since many reviewers don't seem to like his change (I suppose the whole cliche Ron-is-the-villain thing is more accepting). Anyway, this chapter had some H/Dness! I think...:D?

Dragenphly: -Nods in agreement with Dragenphly- Yup, Draco's being stupid, but being bred as a tool all his life makes him a bit fragile to these things I guess...but still, Draco's being stupid :p Hahaha, when you called him an emo kid, I thought of Draco with bangs over his eyes and dyed black hair sitting in a corner XD! He is being a whiny, little prat though, and I admit I was influenced by Lightning on the Wave's story...where Draco is very whiny x.x; And yea, Harry's being stupid too. But that's the whole goodness of angst! BWAHAHAHA—yar, I love angst ;-;0 –hides in a corner and picks at the wall- Ha, Ron's character was made to be like "wtf?" since...honestly, no one lets Ron side with Draco, or be friends with Slytherins, or just let his human side out. It makes me so like "RAWR!" when I see for the nth time Ron acting in a stupid temper tantrum way or being a villain and whatnot. Why not spice things up? ;D Also, Draco already...keeled people o.o; -points at Harry's visions- Eeep! Hope I didn't confuse the chapter too much! –Cowers in fear-

NATWEST: Aw, I'm glad you like the length : ) I've heard some people say they were too long, really o.o; And I'm also glad you like my idea on the mask :) this review makes me want to start writing the next chapter immediately! XD

Luminara Windu: Aww –hands Luminara some tissues- Haha, I like your incredible animosity towards Hermione though ;D

Chocola Emo Shizzle: -puts on shades and acts cool with Chocola- XD Wee, thanks for liking my last chapter! A whole bunch of people seemed to dislike it ;-; Though it'll probably be even worse with this chapter o.o; -puts on army defense gear- Eeps! As for Harry's fog thing...it was supposed to be stupid symbolism, but it seems to be confusing people so I'll probably edit it a bit...Narf, I'm still torn between keeling Hermione though, lol. There's so many things I could do with her alive, yet so satisfactory to chop off her head...XD

Devinnetjuh: Yarr, I heart Placebo. ;D The lyrics are brilliant too. Any other Place songs ya like?

Orlandoroxmysox: Haha, a movie, that'd be sweet if we had a HPDM movie o.o; I love ficcies where Draco and Harry write letters to each other. : ) –Feeds Orlandoroxmysox more chapters-

Kuraiyoshi: Hahaha, at first, I wasn't going to kill them, but death scenes are beautiful. XD; Bad reasoning, I know -.-; BUT no worries, there's more, and they aren't completely dead...;D Bahaha, don't worry about having a compie as your companion, I know exactly how you feel –computernerd- T-T; Ah, the sad life of one with...no life o.O; And you didn't write a worthless review! It was absolutely intriguing:3 I heart long reviews XD

Haunted Emerald Depths: This chapter didn't turn out as dark as I wanted it to, unless you count the death of HPDM being dark o.o; I do agree with your torture of Hermione though, that really does sound like a wonderful idea...Hmm...-lightbulb goes off in head- Nyohoho!

Silver Angel 7: Lmao...Draco seeing a shrink XD I'd actually love to write a ficcie with that—it'd be hilarious! Bwah, my writing skills aren't anything to be jealous of...I'm still in my "experimenting" stage x.x; Anyhoo, I agree with your Hermione comment...all I have to do is figure out a satisfactory reason for her to live XD

Joeyluver-dragonofra: Haha, a soap opera...I s'pose you're right XD Hope you enjoyed this chapter :3