A/N: Tadaa-the last chapter.
Well, I'm adding a bonus epilogue after this, but this is technically the end since the bonus chapter is pretty much just me having attachment issues with this story. Plus, the other chapter is also quite short (and finished, I just have to edit)
Anyway,

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS (please tell me what you thought of the end?)
Hope you enjoy!

-Lauralydney

It was dark.

Harry had barely glanced at it for more than the blink of an eye, but that was just it. It was longer than the blink of an eye and the mirror was still dark. He didn't stop to think, instead pulled harder at his foot.
He'd landed almost exactly where he aimed too—Draco was the push of a door away. Now if he could only get his foot out of the toilet and run to the other room everything would be okay.

Harry screamed loud and unintelligible word, yanking clumsily. Some of which he was sure were stop or don't kill him, or just plain screams, hoping the killers could hear him. Finally, he pulled loose and tumbled out of the mirror shop's bathroom.
Harry didn't stop to check the rest of his limbs. If his foot hadn't been attached to his body, he would've run out without it.

Which room was it? Harry couldn't hear any talking. Why was the mirror still black? Everything was moving slower. Like time was usually at the speed a plummeting acorn, but suddenly changed to the landing of a feather. He couldn't think straight, let alone remember which of the three doors lead to the execution room. Harry lunged for the closest just in time to see the sword come down on Draco.
Time didn't slow in that millisecond.
Time stopped.

The missing glass from the reptile cage, the shattered cup of wine, and the blowing up of Aunt Marge were nothing compared to the level of emotion that shot through Harry in that millisecond.

He hadn't finished shouting "no!" when the sword was thrown backwards and shattered like thin glass, Harry's hand still outstretched.

Thump

Thump

Thump

Nothing was happening. Sure, Draco wouldn't be able to feel it, but maybe he was already dead? Slowly, he began to sense the anxiety creep up then turn to panic when he was unable to physically react to anything.
Was it always going to be dark? He at least expected to feel something. Then again, considering how he lived his life, burning fire was probably more along the lines of what he expected. Maybe the dark nothingness was what he wanted to believe would be there forever.

Thump

Nope. Still alive.

Had all those thoughts really only taken a heartbeat?

Draco saw it. A bright light as the veil of his eyes was lifted, followed by an angel. She was beautiful, with long locks of honey brown hair that curled at the bottom, and lips in a constant pout that reminded Draco of a strawberry.

Feeling returned to his body and the first thing he felt as he stood shakily was the quick and painful burning on his cheek.

The angel had slapped him.

Then, she stared long and hard into his eyes before throwing herself at him, sobbing. Her body weighed heavier than ever before.

"Astoria?"

Draco sighed and hugged her tighter, but it didn't feel tight enough. His muscles felt like lead. He blinked, trying to clear away the blurriness of the room. Hermione stood about a meter in front of them beside V who looked on the verge of a heart attack.

"Oh thank God," Hermione said, leaning back against the wall.

Draco tried to hold Astoria tighter again, ignoring the growing pain in his arm. They stayed like that for a full minute, the room completely silent.
A small crackle like the embers of a fire place echoed in the room before being replaced by a thunder-like sound. Draco broke apart from Astoria and the boards of the ceiling behind them snapped.

"Stop!" two voices shouted as they stood up from the debris.

Draco and Astoria swung around, facing a dust covered and possibly injured Neville and Ron.

"Stop," Neville said again.

"We've stopped," Jon assured them, finally snapping out of shock. Draco followed a close second, but the room still looked blurry and…dark?

"I'm not dead?"

"You're not dead," Jon assured him, corners of his lips turning up slightly. The young man still looked a bit shaken, his smile a mixture of relief with a ton of confusion.

He moved forward to help Ron and Neville check for injuries. "Any more guests coming?" he asked looking at the hole in the ceiling.
Ron and Neville were panting and shaking dust of their robes in the corner, mumbling things like thank Merlin, and bloody hell.

"That's about it," Hermione told them. "Sorry for startling you, V. Didn't mean to apparate right in front of you."

Neither V nor Annette understood most of what was being said, so Hermione turned and spoke to Jon instead, telling them about how the school had melted and using the mirror to find this place. Jon translated, stopping several times to ask numerous questions, most pertaining to the mirror.

Hermione hesitated when naming the ingredients.

Draco, unable to take most of it in, looked at Harry who hadn't said a word for the last five minutes.

He was staring at the shattered remains of some sort of metal on the floor.

The sword.

Hermione stopped talking and Jon told her about how Harry broke the sword.

"Kid just walks in," Jon explains excitedly. "Sword flies out of V's hand and shatters like glass. I've never seen anything like it. I mean, I've heard of wand less magic that powerful before, but to break a sword? Never—okay, maybe I've heard of a similar case, but that was centuries ago with Queen Elsa—"

"I don't have to die?" Draco asked.

Everyone turned to look at him, even Harry.

"No," Astoria said, gripping his hand. "You don't, idiot."

Draco tried to grip tighter but couldn't. "Luna?"

"She's fine," Harry said and stepped closer inside the room and walked straight towards Draco. It hit him for the first time that Harry must've heard everything he told Jon. Draco felt shame, even in his physically pained state. He looked so weak, so pathetic. Vulnerable.
Maybe it's not too late to take it all back. It's not impossible for him to believe I lied about it—that I felt no hurt, only anger. I don't need his pity—

Harry hugged him—awkwardly.

"I do forgive you. Please forgive me too," Harry said before pulling away. "Maybe we are or aren't right now, but we can be friends. I want to be."

"That goes for me too," Hermione said.

"What she said," Ron mumbled.

Draco felt it, the same thudding sensation at his chest from when he dropped his guard to kneel beside Luna's body. Most of the frozen heart had melted then, but staring at the concerned faces of his friends took away the last thin peel that had kept him from fully ending the curse.

Fully ending the curse?

"You said Hogwarts had melted? Luna is fine?" Draco asked no one in particular.

"Yes," Hermione answered, smiling. "You broke the curse long ago."

"But it's only melted now," Draco said, placing a hand on his chest to signify the heart. "The only other way was…"

Draco stopped. The room was getting dark.

The weakness that had begun to grow long ago hit him full force. His skin felt cool and clammy as the room became darker, almost black. He wanted to yell, to tell them what was happening, but the panic of realization stopped squeezed his lungs shut. Draco felt so sleepy.

"Sword sacrifice," was all he managed to croak, feeling the blood drip from the open wound.

They stared at him for a second that lasted a decayed, eyes beginning to widen. Draco's body fell forward and he was engulfed by darkness.

Harry had never been in a muggle hospital, and frankly never wanted to be in one again. He didn't trust medicine without magic, but it was the closest thing they had.
The muggles were nice, but Harry hated them at the moment.

It wasn't until Draco's body fell to the ground that Harry understood his last conscious words: sword sacrifice. He'd seen all the blood in the bathroom when Draco had tried to heal the wound, but Harry thought he'd succeeded. Why had he looked away? The bloody idiot simply wrapped the rest up in toilet paper, as they came to notice after ripping his shirt open when they saw blood blossoming on the sleeve.
He'd lost and had been losing too much blood.

Draco hadn't broken the curse; Blaise had. His insignificant stab had been slowly killing Draco.

Why couldn't they see him?

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Astoria listened as Jon translated what the doctors were saying about blood transfusion, but this information was nothing new to Hermione.
Jon had already apparated to Draco's room a couple times and did what he could to heal him faster, but he was no healer.

Draco Malfoy, pure-blood-sort-of-ex-muggle-hater, was in the hands of the muggles now. Harry played with the buttons on his shirt, waiting. Hoping.

Maybe it was the mutual fear and exhaustion, but for some reason he had been the only one to figure it out. Hermione was the first to ask, and Harry was quick to answer. "The snow melted because he was already dying from blood loss, however gradually." He looked at Astoria. "What if it was a prediction of this stupid prophecy? Maybe it's already too late."

That was the only grim comment they could make. The world felt to ironic for any seriousness in this situation after visitors and patients started giving them funny looks. They stared down at their tarnished dress robes and ball gowns. Astoria and Hermione had ripped the heels off their shoes long ago.
They were so scared it was funny. Draco was had quite possibly been killed by a pinprick of a sword.

Ron and Harry were the first to laugh at their outfits. Soon, everyone joined in.

"They probably think we're drug addicts."

"Or washed up actors."

Hermione and Astoria's mascara and hair made their once beautiful combo look like something from a possessed dolls horror movie.

"I apparated into a toilet," Harry said.

They laughed louder, receiving more looks.

"I broke their shit ceiling, and probably nearly broke Draco's neck."

"So this is the third time he's almost died today?" Astoria asked.

"No, it's the third time he's almost died in the last hour," Neville answered.

After a few minutes, the laughing died down and exhaustion hit full force. None slept. Instead, they talked quietly and waited. Hermione let Astoria rest her head on her shoulder.

"He'll be okay," she reassured her. And, in a last attempt at lightening the mood. "But I still say you dump the snow princess."

Astoria answered her seriously, "I can see why he has the powers. I don't think the curse picks a family member at random."

"Explain?"

She held out her hand, imagining something in it. "If you hold snow long enough it can make your hands numb. It burns and it sucks. Being near it without a certain number of layers is more than unpleasant. But it was once water—life giving and unpredictable, unlike the snow it is now. The world made it cold."
She squeezed her fists closed. "But if you hit it at just the right temperature, it becomes water again, much like Draco."

Hours passed and Jon hadn't returned.

Harry and the rest fell asleep, and he nearly hit Jon in the face from when he woke them up, still thinking he was getting Blaise back for stabbing Draco.

Finally, the words they'd all been waiting to hear.

"He's alive—and awake. You may see him now."

When Draco opened his eyes after the second time of thinking he would die today, he wanted to shut them again. What was that smell? It burning and chemical. Somehow he knew he was in a muggle hospital. Maybe he heard someone mention it and it stuck during his drugged state.

Jon looked at him from the chair when he groaned.

"Let's stop dying today, Draco."

Please.

"The others are outside. If you want, I can tell them to come in now."

Draco was too out of it. Outside? Who would be outside a muggle hospital waiting for him? He didn't want to see his friends; they'd probably just jot down mental gossip notes. "I don't want to see Crabbe and Goyle," he said groggily. He tried to lift his arm to rub his eye, but something pulled it back down. "Pansy. Blaise."

"Who?" Jon asked. Then, he mouthed the next sentence slowly. "Harry, your girlfriend, and the others are outside—some asleep, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind being woken to the good news. Your heart stopped once, but they used these weird machine things to give you a sort of jolt. Better not mention the heart thing to any of them though. They're worried enough as it is."

Today's events flooded back to him, and Draco's eyes shot open all the way.

"But first I have something to show you."

"Can't move."

"You won't have to get up. They did a blood transfusion—I was the donor, so I guess we're blood brothers now in more than one sense. Also, muggles have some terrifying medical instruments. The stuck a needle in my arm."

Draco didn't know what a blood transfusion was, but it didn't sound good.

He looked down at his arm, which was connected to a long red tube. Please don't be a needle. He felt like passing out again.

"You're a descendant of Ingrid's bloodline, which kind of explains the hair. Though, your face resembles Elsa more."

"What?"

Jon scooted his chair next to Draco's bed. "Okay, I guess I should explain from the beginning."

"What?" Draco said again. He wanted to see Astoria and the others.

"Arendelle—the wizarding side of it anyway—is a small community. There are few people of royal descent in the area. My job, along with V and Annette's', is to help people of royal descent born with the powers. Though, most of the bloodline has died out, so now we only train those cursed first hand with uncontrollable powers—not all of them snow or even related to Elsa. Annette does the finding, I do the training, and V the killing when things go wrong."

"Where are you going with this?"

"Aren't you going to ask how I train them?"

"Fine," Draco tried to snap, but his throat was too dry to sound threatening. "How do you train them?"

Jon stuck out his hand and swirled his fingers around, playing with dancing snowflakes. "By showing them everything I know."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You—you're…"

"It's been forever since I've had the chance to train someone, and I've never helped anyone with my type of powers before. I know my grandfather has, but we thought that was the last of them."

Something clicked in Draco's brain, and he understood Jon's smile. "So we're like…related?"

Jon smiled wider. "I believe so. I really didn't want to have to kill my uncle, nephew, brother or whatever you are."

What the hell. Draco wasn't sure how to process this information. It wasn't terrible news—Draco felt…elated? Maybe it was the drugs still in his system.
He didn't know most of his family in person, and the only nice members he'd met were ones he'd talked to through portraits. Jon didn't look like a Malfoy except for the eyes. His face was round and he looked overly happy most of the time. Draco was willing to bet he'd be sorted into Hufflepuff.
But, he was strangely fond of him, something which rarely occurred with any person.

Jon left to get the others. Soon, Draco's room was filled with tired, but relieved friends. They stayed with him as Jon figured out a way to legally get him out without having to mysteriously apparate.

"What are you wearing?" was the first comment, courtesy of Ron.

Draco didn't know, but he suspected more than enough of his back side was exposed. Oh, Merlin, Astoria was in the room. He looked down and reached for the blanket with his free hand. They all laughed.

"It appears to be an incomplete robe," Neville said.

"Hospital gown," Hermione corrected, helping Draco with the blanket.

"I'm wearing a what?"

To his surprise, they all began to joke about the last few hours. It made Draco feel better somehow. Yet, he could tell none of it was truly funny. He would catch them giving him relieved side glances and smiles, even Ron.

Draco laughed, though it hurt. "You apparated into a toilet?"

Harry threatened to pull his sheets down again.

The best part was when Astoria's lips met his. Draco didn't know what was happening at first, but suddenly he forgot anyone was there or watching and the beeping machine started beeping faster. After the others were done laughing, Hermione told him it was a heart monitor.

She kissed him again, this time, less seriously. The beeping increased again. Astoria was laughing too now, delighted.

Ron grabbed Hermione's hand. "Finally, something to prove he has a heart."

"Too bad we can't plug you into one of these, Weasley."

None of it felt like pity, or like they were trying to make up for a wrong. It was genuine enough for Draco to say, "thank you."

"Thank you for not dying," Harry said.

In the end, Jon couldn't figure it out and they had to leave without permission. Harry partially wanted to see the looks on the muggle's faces when they all apparated away without a trace. The sudden movement didn't do Draco too good and Neville and Ron had to catch him.

"Please don't throw up, this outfits been through enough," Ron said jokingly.

Astoria wrapped the blanket she'd stolen from the bed around him. Draco's face burned. "You saw, didn't you?"

"We all did," Jon clarified. "I didn't know anything could be whiter than your face."

They planned to stay at Jon's overnight before traveling back tomorrow. Draco, however, would stay to complete his training while things at the ministry and at Hogwarts calmed down enough for him to return.

"I'll talk to McGonagall and the minister," Hermione said. "With help from Harry, of course. I'm not sure how long it'll be, so you might have to miss the rest of the school year."

"Pity," Draco said. "What about N.E.W.T.S.?"

"Should he really be thinking about this now?" Astoria interrupted.

Hermione ignored her. "I'm sure your father can scoop up a certified teacher. McGonagall will probably let you take the exam. At the end of the year if you're up for it."

They sat in small, but cozy kitchen drinking carrot juice and eating some weird combo called Lapskaus. Harry didn't like the taste but kept quite since Jon was thrilled that most seemed to like his cooking. Draco's eyes kept fluttering, but that didn't stop him from asking pending, yet unanswerable questions.
No, Harry didn't know what he would say to the minister, McGonagall, or even the boy's parents—they hated Harry's guts, why would they believe him? The only thing that was clear was that, at least for now, Draco couldn't go home, and frankly he didn't seem to want to.

"Don't you want to let them know you're okay at least?" Ron asked.

"Not today." He was words away from sleeping face first in his carrot juice.

Hermione shared a room with Annette while Jon and V gave them their rooms and slept on the couches. Mrs. Weasley would probably be furious with them sleeping away from home in another country without consulting her, but none worried about it until morning. Harry passed out before his head hit the pillow—or floor. He wasn't sure.

It took him a couple minutes to remember where he was in the morning. His dreams hadn't been pleasant. Everything was okay now, but it was too sudden for his mind to adjust to that truth. Though, the nightmare about Astoria's tear streaked face at Draco's funeral wasn't what woke him up.

Cold.

It was far too cold.

Harry was in a blanket burrito on the carpeted floor. His eyes shot open to find most of that carpet covered in either frost or snow. His breathing was hard and visible. With much effort, he undid the blankets and shakily stood up to find Draco messily sprawled on the bed, tossing and turning.

"Merlin," Harry groaned before throwing a pillow at the source, admittedly scared to get too close. "Draco!"

Draco hazily stood up, momentarily surprised to see Harry there, then, "Oh."

"Make it stop."

Draco blinked. "Are you joking or are you just that stupid? If I knew how to do that we wouldn't be here. Go get Jon if you're that cold."

Harry stepped out into the kitchen. It was still dark outside, but he could hear the birds beginning to chirp. Jon was up and about making breakfast while V's bear-like snores echoed in the living room.

"Draco froze your room," Harry all but whispered, supporting his weight on the wall. If he could feel his toes, he'd happily sleep there.

To his surprise, Jon laughed. "Amateur."

In no time and with the flick of a hand, Jon had the room back to average temperature, but neither Draco nor Harry went back to sleep after that. Harry took a long, steaming bath, attempting to return feeling to his body. It woke him up enough for him to realize he'd been a bit insensitive.

The kitchen looked clearer now that his sleepy blurriness had left. It was light out by the time he finished his bath, but the only ones awake were Jon and Draco.

"—start training after your friends leave if you'd like. But I would definitely try to contact your parents first."

"I'm a legal adult. I don't need their permission to be here or anything anymore."

"But what about vacations and trips? I don't plan to work you to death. I'm sure you'd want to see them at Christmas or Easter, or even just visit."

"That's a bit far away, isn't it? Also…I don't know if I want to see them then."

Jon was silent for a moment. "Draco, they love you. They're worried sick, I'm sure."

"You don't know that. I told you they tried to send me away—I'll send them a letter, no address."

Jon ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't want to be charged for kidnapping."

Harry finally stepped in all the way, "they are worried. They went looking for you everywhere a soon as you disappeared, just like at the battle."

He felt compelled to say it. While he didn't particularly like Draco's parents, he didn't want Draco pushing them away, unable to fully clear the looks of despair on their faces. Harry would give anything to have anyone worry about him like that.

Draco glared at Harry, then sighed. "Eavesdropping as usual. Fine. I'll put the address on the letter. Happy?"

"You can come spend Christmas with us if you really don't want to go back home," Harry said, mentally pushing away the image of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's disgusted faces. "They'd love to have you as long as you don't freeze the bedrooms."

"I'm sure they would," Draco said, trying not to sound startled that he'd offered. He took a thoughtful sip of his orange juice "I guess I can't be mad at them anymore. For one, it's too exhausting. I was a menace. I would've tried to send me away too," Draco's voice became a whisper "…and I do miss them."

A memory flashed in Harry's mind of the only other time Draco had mentioned his relationship with his parents to him.

They were in the Great Hall when Draco had offered the trio his candy basket.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I don't want it."

Draco had mentioned something about them 'finally getting their shit together enough to remember to send him something'.

Ron shrugged and started stuffing his face. Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to restart the conversation. Harry couldn't get Draco's comment out of his mind. It made his blood boil, just like when he watched Ron argue with his parents.

"They love you, you know," he snapped at Draco.

Draco was only startled by the sudden outburst for a moment before saying, "Tell me what's worse, Potter—since you're the expert on my parents now. Dead parents, or parents that don't actually want you?"

Harry didn't answer.

Draco seemed less hostile towards them now, which to Harry made no sense. The last memory he had of them was being caned by Lucius.

"Sorry about the room," Draco said louder.

"Does that happen a lot?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"At first. It's died down to only when I have nightmares and panic attacks." Draco flinched, realizing he'd said too much. Harry could tell Draco was about to take it back before Harry spoke.

"I've had those. Good thing I'm not cursed, then?"

"Good thing," Draco agreed.

The others came down for breakfast, and the rushing and joking continued. The topic of today was Draco's performance at the ball. Draco's mood and comebacks reached a higher hostility level than expected, and the talk of his singing was quickly dropped.

Draco let Jon talk all about the history of Arendelle before he showed him a few simple tricks with the leftover orange juice—he froze his cup, then unfroze it. When Draco tried it the cup shattered.

He was distracted throughout most of breakfast, Harry's words ringing in his head. Draco couldn't deny his parents had done many unforgivable deeds against society and against him. Maybe they didn't love him or treat him like a perfect parent ought to, but as much as he wanted to take the easy route and hate them, Draco couldn't.
It wouldn't feel right.

After having received mercy, the only moral response Draco could think to express his gratitude for it was to give it back: to his parents and whenever he could. He probably deserved it less than they, but here he was, laughing and talking with everyone he'd hurt.

When it was finally time to leave, Harry and Hermione had to yank Draco free of Astoria's grasp.

"We'll send you letters," Hermione said.

"And your clothes," Ron said.

"Luna will probably send letters too," Neville said.

Draco only nodded to all of these reassurances, never really having understood the feeling of saying bye to a friend. It actually hurt, physically.

"I'm guessing it'll be a while before you'll be back," Harry said. "But frankly, I think Blaise and Pansy aren't that great. I'd say you've been hanging out with the wrong sort of friends—" Harry stretched out his hand— "I can help you there."

The memory hit Ron before it did Draco, but Ron's laughter reminded him of who'd said those word.

Draco smirked. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

A/N: So I wasn't sure if I should put 'the end' here or in the epilogue...Ima go with epilogues since I'm not mentally ready to type those words.

Boom. That was it. That's the end of my weird-ass frozen/HP story. Your reviews have been amazing and definitely encouraged me to keep writing. Have an awesome week (or month, depending how long it takes me to edit)!

-Lauralydney