Chapter Twenty-Five
Saved

Chaos.

The screams were deafening, the battle cries and curses flew faster than anything Harry had ever witnessed. This was truly war. This was the end of it all. Every player left was doing their part. Everybody was scrambling for their last minute preparations. Harry had lost almost all thought and was reduced to just doing what he knew needed to be done. Consequences weren't of significance. Not here, not now, not on this battlefield where too many were laid to rest already before the night had even ended.

Minutes seemed like hours. With the assistance of every loyal friend at Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione and Draco, they had completed their task. Voldemort was enraged. Harry had gone to him. Alone. His thought and pulse raced a mile a minute but nothing swayed him. It needed to be done.

Draco was at a loss, to be so far from Harry in such a mess of destruction and confusion. His worry was thickening by the moment it was almost all consuming. They were in the courtyard, where most others had conjoined. A curse came flying at him, Hermione quickly through up a shield. Draco snapped out of it and thanked her in one look as the he looked for the source of it. Blaise's blank face stared at him. Draco saw the fear in his eyes. The worry. Draco's wand lowered ever so slightly, freeing Blaise to go elsewhere, to pursue somebody else. He knew he had no choice in this fight but there wasn't anything that could force Draco to duel him as they were meant to.

He fought. They fought together. Ron, Hermione and Draco, their backs to one another and never faltering to protect each other from a wayward curse. But neither three could restrain their thoughts from returning to their friend, everybody's saviour.

Then the news came. The call. The end of the battle drums. The curses stopped. The wands lowered. "No," Draco found himself saying aloud. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. He looked down at his wrist, the initials HJP still burned into him as if he had taken the Oath yesterday. Surely it would have faded if the other party was deceased? It must. Right?

But then he came, in the arms of the giant, and Draco's heart dropped. He couldn't breathe. He clutched at his chest as a desperate anger boiled within him. "No!" He screamed louder. "HARRY!" Draco started off at a run towards him but was caught in the arms of an unsuspecting friend.

Ron pulled Draco to him using all his strength, he held him, wrapped him into his own grief. Hermione was there, at Ron's shoulder, trembling. Draco didn't even realize he had begun to cry but his face and shirt were already stained. Ron's heart beat against his ear, he could feel the tremble of the redheads breathing, he heard the distant sobs and the voices but he truly couldn't listen.

He would never hear him call his name again. Or chastise his attitude. His fingers would never run across his face or squeeze his own. Those dry lips would never grace his, he could never hold him at night. He would never get the chance to tell him how much he had grown to love him. Draco was spiralling.

Then there was an uproar. Movement. Shouts. Cheers.

Draco slowly brought his wet face upwards, the sight before him was a miracle. "Harry," he breathed. He wanted to run towards him, embrace him, smother him and tell him how every fibre in his being loves him. Draco separated himself from Ron's steady arms. The redhead was beaming.

There were words again. So much was happening. Everybody but Voldemort and Harry were still, watching with intent and awe. But Draco still couldn't hear and all he could think was 'My Harry.'

Harry dropped his wand. The connected duel angled off as Voldemort looked at the boy with surprise. "I have something for you Tom!" Harry called, his voice was breathy and rang through-out the silent courtyard. Voldemort's very fine lips twitched into a sneer. "Or should I say Michael?" The Dark Lord's eyes went wide. There was some gasping from both sides, whispers erupting the silence around the two of them. Draco held his breath. This was it. Harry was going to do it and he was going to do it now. "That is your real name, isn't it? Michael Mauvais?"

Disbelieving voices screamed and shouted now. Harry ignored them and concentrated on Voldemort's sudden fury. "Who told you that, boy?! If you know my true name you know how difficult it is-"

"It was difficult, I assure you, but what you forget is that you are hurting people I love and care about and nothing is too difficult to do when I need to put an end to that!" Harry shouted. He reached into his robes, he pulled out the lengthy Erumpent horn and lifted the Disillusionment Charm he had on it. It was bathed in the ingredients, Draco had done the ritual himself to perfection. It had to work and this was their only chance. If it failed, if Harry failed in its delivery or Draco in its preparation, Harry would have no other chance.

Voldemort was stammering, screaming nonsensically with rage. He hurried towards Harry, he disarmed him but Harry didn't seem to care. Unforgivables flew at him with such sped but he blocked each one almost subconsciously. He was within reaching range now, driven by his hatred. Harry was swift. He didn't waste any time on pleasantries. At the same time his hand thrust the Erumpent horn forward, another Gryffindor swung a long, heavy sword downward.

Harry felt it. He felt the life leave him, as if a part of himself was dying. He slipped from consciousness in a flurried shout as he crumbled. There was deafening silence before the cheering began but all Draco could think was 'My Harry.' Arms ran out to hold him, surround him, but Harry merely ducked through the crowd making his way to the three people who meant the most to him.

And there he was. Draco. He looked worn but beautiful, standing with either Gryffindor's on his side. His face was red from tears and Harry wanted to kiss the lasting remnants of them away. Harry was smiling softly, stiff. It was done. It was over. Not only was Voldemort dead but they both lived.

Harry smashed into Draco. He buried his head in the nape of his neck and only when he looked up to see a wet shirt did he realize he too was crying. Draco beamed down at him. "Draco," Harry whispered, "I love you."

Draco's heart skipped a beat as he leaned down, capturing Harry's lips in his own and kissing him hard enough to bruise. "My Harry," he breathed once they parted.

At the battle of Hogwarts there were many lives that were lost. But, Harry could never be more grateful for Draco and he would never know how many more would have been lost without him. For now, they grieved the dead and rejoiced in one another.

XXXX

Two Years Later.

"I hate weddings."

"How do you know, you've never even been to one," Hermione chided Harry as she tied his tie for him.

Harry stuck out his tongue at her. "Why does it have to be so formal?"

"Because they're Pureblood Slytherin's, everything they do has to be formal," Ron grumbled from his side of the room. He turned around, revealing his dress robes. They were much better than his last, now that he could afford the fitted robes, but he still felt like a fool in them. "I look bloody aweful."

Hermione giggled. "No you don't, darling, you look perfect."

"I'm not wearing this rubbish on our wedding day," Ron muttered.

The newly engaged Hermione glanced lovingly at her ring before glaring up at her betrothed, "We will see about that, Ronald Weasley."

"She already sounds so much like your Mother," Harry teased.

Ron groaned, "Don't remind me, mate. I can just imagine what Malfoy is going to make you wear on your wedding day."

Harry scoffed, "What wedding day?"

"You two aren't getting married?" Hermione was the one who asked, a little taken aback.

Harry looked himself over in the mirror again, trying to flatten his constantly unruly hair and get used to the look of himself with contacts. "Blokes don't normally get married, do they?"

"I don't think that excuse is going to get you out of it. You know Malfoy is going to want one. A huge one. The biggest most lustrous wedding in history. I can see it now. Don't make me your bloody best man, alright, mate?"

Harry laughed, "Alright. If it ever comes to it, 'Mione can step in."

There was a soft knock at the door and without an invitation Draco stepped in. He looked exhausted but at the same time gorgeous. His hair was longer now, pulled back into a neat ponytail, he had filled out and was less slender but still seemed to be growing taller every year. Harry smiled nervously at him, he had never looked so formal before. "You look fantastic, Draco."

Draco smirked, pecking Harry on the lips, "I can't say the same for the groom. Blaise can hardly walk straight. That's why I came here, actually. I was wondering if I could borrow one of the groomsmen to come and use his wonderful calming charm on him before I murder him."

"Now, we couldn't have that," Ron drawled, Hermione hit him softly in the arm.

Harry grinned at his best friend and followed Draco out into the corridor of the Zabini Manor, where the wedding was being held. "How is Pansy doin-" Harry's words were cut off as Draco threw him up against the wall, kissing him. His hands groped up the side of his hips to his shoulders and back down again. After a moment of heated kissing, Draco broke away smirking devilishly as his eyes trailed down to Harry's budding excitement. "What was that for?"

"You look so fucking hot right now, Potter. I don't think I'll be able to make it through the whole ceremony," Draco hissed. Harry shuddered beneath his words before pushing him away, distancing themselves.

"You have to, you're the best man. Now c'mon, get me to the distressed groom."

"I hope you're more fun on our wedding day, Harry," Draco pouted as they started off towards Blaise's room.

Harry went still for a moment before Draco continued dragging him along. "Our wedding day? You want to get married?"

"Harry, after all these years did you ever think for one moment that I wouldn't?"

Harry chuckled as they continued on their way to rescue the distraught Blaise.

Once the ceremony was over and the reception had begun, Harry found himself with one too many of Odgen's Best Whiskey alongside Ron at the head table. Most of the guests were dancing around the floor, drinking merrily, laughing and taking their turns to congratulate the newlyweds. "Pansy Zabini, s'odd name," Ron said.

"Mhm. I wonder if Draco is going to be Draco Potter or is he going to force me to be Harry Malfoy? Merlin Ron, I'm screwed," Harry dropped his head onto the table, spilling some of his drink on the way down.

Ron chuckled and slapped his friend on the back, "You and me both, mate, you and me both. You still have some time to leave the bugger and make it look unrelated," he suggested.

"You could too, you know," Harry mumbled.

"I would never!" Ron looked momentarily appalled before taking another large gulp of his drink.

"I guess we're both screwed then, mate."

"Screwed? What about?" Draco asked as he slid back into his seat beside Harry. Hermione was suddenly looming over the table as well but before Ron. Draco's arm wrapped about Harry's shoulders, pulling him close. "You know, it does not actually matter. Granger here was telling me she didn't like the arrangement Pans picked out for the bridesmaids. I think they are nearly perfect. I mean, for our wedding, I would pick something similar but a lot less gold and a little more purple."

"I just don't like lilies. Roses. Yes, I would like roses but yellow ones, not red. Could we do that, Ron?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Ron and Harry exchanged mirrored horrified looks. "Yup, we're screwed," Ron conceded.

But even as Harry was stuck listening to arguments regarding floral arrangements, dress robes, colours, place settings and much more of the same thing he didn't quite understand, he couldn't help but feel happy. He was surrounded by his friends. And when Draco turned to him and gave him those private smiles reserved just for him, he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man alive. Looking back on the day Draco had come to him asking for sanctuary, Harry was certain that they had come to save each other.

Fin.