He stood stoic and emotionless as the man-who-killed-Voldermort sobbed at his feet. A year ago this might have made him laugh but no it only served to make him feel awkward. Draco just wanted to go back home and crawl into bed. Now he was stuck in a small alley way in Diagon Alley with a blubbering mess of a man.
"Go home, Potter. I'll pack up your things in the morning and bring them over tomorrow when everything is put together. I trust that you'll do the same?" Draco clasped his cloak around his shoulder's, trying to indicate that he was ready to leave. Harry turned his tear streaked face up at him which only broke Draco's heart further. He managed to hold on to his fringed emotions, but he could start to feel himself crack under the mask he dutifully created.
"You lied to me all of these months. Now you expect me to pick up the pieces and go on my merry way? No, Draco, I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on in that pretty little head of yours." Harry got some of his fight and muster back to stand up and face his now ex-boyfriend.
"You were shag, a bed mate at night, and that was all it ever could or would be. You and I would never have worked out as anything else, even if we tried, Potter," Draco spat. "You were the one who got attached and my hands are clean in this mess. Good-bye Harry."
"All you were was just another picture to burn. I hope you rot in hell for this, Malfoy." And with that said, Harry apperated away leaving Draco to digest the worst moment of his life.
