A/N: Ok, I think this is going to be the last chapter but one. I would love to get some more response to this story, seeing as I've spent quite a lot of time and effort on it.

*****

WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART

Chapter 4

PART ONE

It was Thursday. Dumbledore, in his newfound state of worried activity, had managed to pack all the students off home – or at least to Diagon Alley – within a day and a half, and now everyone still at the school was left to prepare for Voldemort's attack. Aurors arrived from around the country, although the Ministry was careful to make sure other wizarding administrative centres were left defended.

Harry and Draco had spent the night together for what they agreed would be the last time until after the attack, and woke up to find the silence of Hogwarts frighteningly oppressive. The walls seemed to loom over their heads; the paintings were remaining tactfully quiet, not wishing to disturb the workers. Not that any of the wizards would have noticed. They were all hurrying about with heads bent and brows furrowed, trying desperately to push down their rising panic enough to complete their tasks.

It's the waiting that kills you.

Harry was beginning to understand why Lucius had told them the date of the attack. Without any specific information, Hogwarts could remain pleasantly ignorant of the impending danger, less defended but at better peace of mind. With a fixed appointment to risk his life, though, every professional wizard in the country had gone into overdrive. They weren't eating. They weren't sleeping. The worry and fear was quite simply driving them crazy.

It's the waiting that kills you.

'At least we'll be able to spend more time alone,' Draco had commented wryly to Harry when they noticed the empty state of the castle. Harry had raised an eyebrow at this. Bullshit, Draco. You're bullshitting. Don't you understand what's going to happen? Tomorrow, you're going to find out whether you live or die. Whether I live or die. Whether your father lives or dies. And things will never be the same again.

Snape was drawing scores of insults from the Ministry wizards simply because he did not seem to be doing very much. Of course, no one could explain to them what was wrong with him; Dumbledore explained his inactivity by claiming that he was ill, and after that people left him alone.

Along with the Headmaster, Harry and Draco were the only people not fooled.

Every day, every hour, he grows closer and closer to the possibility that he's going to have to murder the man he loves. He doesn't know what Lucius is thinking. He doesn't know which vein runs stronger in him: the passion to destroy the Light side, or the love for Snape. He knows that Lucius is probably deliberating on it right now, deciding what he's going to be true to. What happens if Lucius wants to kill him? Will he be able to bring himself to fight back? Is he going to surrender like he's done before? You think losing Draco in the fighting would be hard, Harry. You think that you would feel so guilty because you hadn't been able to save him. Can you imagine how that guilt would have multiplied if you had been the one who dispatched him? To kill Draco … to stab yourself in the eye.

Unfortunately for Harry and Draco, there did not seem to be anything that they could do to help the wizarding war effort. The Aurors, and the various other wizards and witches in the castle, were insisting that Harry Potter get his rest, that the Great Harry Potter must be strong and fresh for the stressful day that awaited him. And perhaps his … accomplice (goodness gracious, is that a Malfoy? Well, I suppose, if you say he's trustworthy … dear me, a Malfoy, on our side? And I never thought I'd see the day …)

So the half-men were condemned to spend a whole day without diversion or deviation to take them away from the bare, raw fact that this was the last time they might be able to spend together. Sex did not seem appropriate. If the general had gotten laid on his battlefield …

Eventually Draco suggested the possibility of going to see Snape, to try to comfort him. Harry agreed, and the two of them went slowly down to the dungeons, past the dozens of wizard workers … and into an empty laboratory.

Snape was quite clearly not there. The Hissing Potion was inactive, the one he always kept hot now when he was alone, to comfort him. The dungeon was dark, and there was a foul smell in the heavy air that Harry immediately identified as 'the essence of darkness.'

'How,' asked Draco, 'did you know that? That's exactly what I was thinking … darkness.'

'I think,' Harry said gravely, 'that we're about to find out.'

It did not take them long to trace the smell to Snape's office, where they found the floor covered in fragments of glass, and a silvery, seeping sort of liquid …

'Unicorn blood.' They said it together, instinctively seeking out each other's hands for comfort.

'Draco …' Harry's unspoken plea of many weeks slipped onto his lips now, begging Draco to hold him, not to kiss him or touch him in any romantically intimate way, but simply to be there, to allow him to feel safe.

Draco reached up and rested his hand on the back of Harry's neck, drawing him closer. 'Shhh, Harry …' Then the arms were there, strong, tight, never letting go, never relenting or weakening.

'Thank you,' Harry sighed.

'Harry, Harry, Harry …' Draco's voice was growing softer, but Harry could both hear and feel the sob that was beginning in that mantra. 'How is this to end?'

'I don't know, my love. I'm afraid I haven't a clue.'

Then they stood together as the essence of darkness watched them, calculated and took mercy, decided not to claim the souls of these people as it had claimed the soul of Severus Snape.

*****

PART TWO

Neither of them knew how long they remained in each other's arms. But it was Harry who finally drew back and bit his lip. 'Well, do we still want to find Snape?'

'Yes. He needs people now. People who will love him without the darkness.' Draco was worried that his words might be a response to the forbidden tug between his legs that he had felt earlier in the week for Snape, but luckily his voice learned from his sub consciousness and made the words honest, respectful, earnest.

'Then I suggest we go … Draco, I don't think we've had Snape completely right. I think we've underestimated him.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well … after Snape told me about his schooldays, I thought of him as a sort of weak, clinging person who had suffered a huge amount of pain and couldn't quite bring himself to forget about it. To forget his feelings that he thought might be true. Like if we broke up, I might think I was over it, and everyone would tell me that I was over it, but I would never be over you, Draco. I would always hold on … even if you died tomorrow, and … oh, Gods … and I knew you were dead, I'd still hold on to the feelings I have for you. And they would stay with me forever.

'I'd always assumed that Snape was the same. That he just couldn't do it, when he knew Lucius was still there, and there was still a possibility that he would come back. But I think … there's more to it.' He slid his hand into Draco's again, and held it tight. 'Snape lives in a different world to us. I think the unicorn blood took something from him, the ability to feel any sort of pleasure – physical or emotional. I think he can only feel the dark emotions – you know, fear, hatred, pain, anger … Perhaps he only feels pleasure as a suspension of pain.'

Draco regarded him, his face impressed at Harry's long speech. 'No pleasure … only pain. Luithior, y'thraquii.'

'What?'

A smile appeared on Draco's face, but it did not reach his eyes. He gave a bitter laugh, and Harry's heart leapt in horror. 'My father taught that to me as a motto. He said he lived his life by it. I never understood what it meant. Oh, my God … Snape's living in hell.' He thought for a few seconds, his face intent, and then turned and pulled Harry from the dungeon, pulled him all the way to the forgotten part of the third floor.

Harry gasped when he saw the door. He had almost forgotten about this place. Last year, when Draco had played the Game … a memory flicked up into his mind …

He stood outside, his heart racing, wanting so much to possess the courage everyone wished him to possess, wanting to be able to push open the door and beat Draco, to kill him for hurting Hermione the way he had … and yet, how could he hurt Draco, after the months he had spent desiring him? He loved Draco … and yet he hated him. He could hear Draco kissing someone – he suspected it was Blaise Zabini – and he could hear the other boy's gasps of delight and pleasure … What a Game to be playing at such an age.

He froze. 'Draco, why have you brought me here?'

'This is where the Malfoys and Snapes have always operated from,' Draco replied carefully.

He knows I'm sensitive to it … to any mention of his former barbarity, his former … half-soul.

'Where my father and Snape worked; where I worked.' Stealthily, with the Malfoy felinity, he depressed the handle on the door, then opened it and peered in.

Harry pushed in next to Draco and stared into the darkness until the light filtered in from behind them.

Snape sat on a wooden table with a fraying cushion in his arms. The torchlight from the corridor reflected the tears on his cheeks, and he was rocking slowly back and forth.

Draco seemed content to watch Snape forever, to bask in his anguish, but to Harry the sight was unbearable, and he slipped past Draco and went to sit with Snape. The man jumped when he heard the noise, but when he saw Harry he quietened and sighed. 'Do you need me?'

'No, no,' Harry assured him. 'We just – well, we were worried …'

'We?' Snape turned, and saw Draco at the door. His voice took on a bitter tone. 'Of course – savouring the last moments before war, together. Quite understandable.'

Out of pure instinct, Harry put an arm around Snape's shoulders. 'You don't feel happiness, do you? You can't.'

Snape looked at him shrewdly. 'You know, then.'

'We worked it out,' Harry replied.

'Luithior, y'thraquii.'

'Luithior, y'thraquii,' Draco repeated.

No pleasure, only pain.

'Do you know,' Snape said a little contritely, but the heaviness still in his voice, 'I feel sorry for unicorns. They live on that blood.'

Harry smiled sadly, astonished that Snape could still think of anything but his own misery. Although it's not irrelevant to his misery, I suppose.

'It will be all right, you know,' Harry told him quietly. 'Whatever happens, it'll be for the best.'

'I can't decide, Harry. I can't decide what I'm going to do. I want to fight with him, alongside him – I can't imagine trying to counter his moves – but I can't betray this place. I can't kill him, and I don't want anyone else to, either. But – I'm not happy with him alive. He brings out all the emotions I could possibly feel, all at the same time. I can't deal with that, not in one man. I do love him. Hell, I'd probably sleep with him, if he asked me. But I can't be happy with him … and I think he knows it. That's why he's turned on me. Because I turned on him. When I fell in love.'

The Boy Who Lived considered. He knew that as a patriot, and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he should tell Snape to ignore his feelings and to fight against Lucius, whatever the cost. He also knew that Snape would definitely be better off without Lucius. But somehow, every emotion he had as a lover, everything he felt for Draco stopped him saying it.

'Professor …'

'Oh, call me Severus, Harry. After all, term's ended … you're free. You'll never study at Hogwarts again. I'm not your teacher any more.'

Harry stared at him. With all the worrying about the final battle, the brazen truth of this had neglected to stare him in the face … until now. Suddenly huge, unbearably strong sobs rose up in his throat, and he buried his face in Snape's shoulder. 'Not – Hogwarts,' he cried. 'Don't take it away … it's gone, it's all gone, I'll never be able to stay here again … why did it have to end like this? Why does Voldemort ruin everything?'

Quite unexpectedly he felt Draco's lips touch his neck from behind him, and he threw himself on his lover, kissed his mouth, tried desperately to let himself die, there and then, to be rid of it all.

'Harry, Draco!' Snape's voice sounded cold and stern, the blessed tone of Potions lessons, and Harry and Draco looked at him, yearned for the old ways. 'Stop that. We need to pull ourselves together and start preparing ourselves. I …' he faltered, 'I may not be the best judge, but I think we should do something. Do you know how to perform Avada Kedavra?'

The two boys shook their heads. Draco looked suddenly scared. This is what he wants to do, Harry thought. He wants to be rid of his father … but he can't bear to defy Severus and me. Perform the curse, indeed – he makes it sound like a play.

'Then come with me, and I'll show you.'

*****

The rest of that day passed surprisingly quickly, and by the end of it Harry and Draco both felt much better. They were ready for battle. They knew Avada Kedavra; they were well versed in lesser curses and how to block them. They knew what to do if surrounded. They had been informed about the ringleaders of the Death Eaters, which of them were the most powerful, which of them would probably be an easy target. All they needed now was a decent night's sleep.

It was perhaps just as well that Snape forced the two to spend the night apart – Draco was to sleep in the same room as him, and Harry was to stay in his dormitory, with his godfather. Neither passed an easy night.

*****

At six o'clock, they were both woken and taken to the Great Hall, where the Aurors were in the middle of a briefing. Harry was told to 'use his connection with Voldemort to his advantage, if he could,' and Draco was told 'not to get too close to his father, in case he tried to make him turn.' Harry was assigned to the second floor, Draco to the third, and they were taken to their posts by Cornelius Fudge, who ruffled their hair jovially and tried to pretend over his white face and shaking voice that they were completely safe.

At eleven forty-five, just as Harry was beginning to think he had been mistaken, they came.

*****

PART THREE

Harry was not involved in much of the battle; he merely received short reports from Dumbledore every ten minutes that they were steadily gaining the advantage. He did not mention Draco, and Harry did not ask. He did not want to be told.

The Death Eaters' war plan seemed to be to use a 'buddy system,' and so they went about in twos and threes, one by one running into an Auror or one of the teachers, and falling. Voldemort had apparently made no appearance yet; even while they fought, the Light wizards were holding their breath.

The first time Harry used the killing curse was on McNair, who managed to storm past his hiding place with Avery without even seeing him. Before either Death Eater had time to cry out, they were both dead.

Severus had warned Draco and Harry that there could be some strange side effects from using Avada Kedavra, but as long as their hearts and minds remained strong, they should be fine. Harry wondered if the violent shaking he was experiencing was one of these 'side effects.' But his thoughts were busy with Draco, memories of kisses long past, memories of declarations of love, perfect embraces …

Without warning, the blackness came. It was as if a blind had suddenly been closed in Harry's mind; he sank to the ground as oblivion enveloped him. He was vaguely aware of feet running past him, and a lingeringly familiar laugh, but could not process the thoughts enough to find what they meant. Side effects, his inner consciousness snorted, and then faded. After trying to shake his head, and finding that he was no longer in control of his body, Harry realised that all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. Then that too faded, and he was alone.

Huge shapes were looming in the darkness, but the world of nothing he was in was simply an absence of light. These figures were dark, pure dark, and pure evil, and every one of them was pointing long, utterly black fingers at him. Murderer, they whispered, and Harry cowered in his spirit.

Perhaps I should let myself die … how could I have taken those lives? They didn't deserve this, Voldemort forced them … yes, I should sacrifice myself too … Let me die, let me –

And then Severus was grasping his shirt, was pulling him up and slapping his face and dragging him until Harry found the will to put his feet on the floor and run with him. 'Quick!' Snape hissed. 'The third floor – the room­, Lucius is there, and Draco.'

'Draco's alive?' Harry exclaimed, and ran with Severus, throwing blasts of energy behind him to speed him on his way to the terrible room where so much pain had been dealt, but where his lover now fought.

Harry and Severus burst into the room to find Lucius just inside the doorway, turned away from them. He was watching Draco, across the room. Both Malfoys looked unreservedly terrified.

'Severus,' Lucius greeted coldly, his face shifting. 'I was wondering when you'd show up to rescue my son. And Harry, too … good afternoon.'

'Rescue?' Harry retorted in answer. 'You couldn't kill Draco if you tried. You're a coward.' He looked at Severus in apology, hoping that he would not be offended at this insult to his former lover.

Lucius glared at him, and then raised his wand, levelling it straight at Draco. The boy's face grew pale, and he started to tremble. For almost a minute Lucius kept his wand their, but his face grew increasingly troubled, and eventually he lowered it, letting his arm drop to his side.

Harry started across the room to Draco, but froze when his lover leapt forward, drawing his wand and pointing it directly between his father's eyes. 'I hate you,' he whispered, with fire in his eyes. Then he looked at Snape, the regret only just visible over the surface of the fury. 'Sorry. This has to be done.'

Harry also glanced at Severus. The man's face was strangely calm and unemotional as he looked slowly between father and son. He's accepted it, Harry thought. He knows Lucius has to die.

'Avada Kedav -'

'Stop.' The voice rang out clear and powerful, an angel.

Harry's head snapped to Severus, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Severus' wand was aimed directly at Harry.

'You take my lover,' Severus said, as quiet as death, 'and I shall take yours.' An intensely strong purpose was in the restraint of his body, and Harry's eyes travelled back to Draco, who was staring open-mouthed at his former teacher.

'Snape?' he whispered in disbelief. Then, 'Harry?'

'Do it, Draco,' Harry ordered. 'Kill him. Don't worry about me. Kill him.'

Draco did not move.

'DO IT!'

Draco shook his head determinedly, and lowered his wand. Snape's wand stayed where it was.

He'll kill me if Draco doesn't let Lucius go … do I mean as much to Draco as that?

Then there was a loud crash, and the four of them started. None of them said a word as they all looked to the rubble in the doorway, where stood Sirius, Remus, Fudge and Dumbledore. The Headmaster's eyes raked over the room, taking in the situation. Then he announced: 'Voldemort is dead. I suggest you give yourself up, Lucius.'

Lucius' eyes widened, and he nodded pathetically, dropping his wand on the floor. Sirius and Remus strode to him and grabbed his arms, tying them to their wrists, and then began to drag him across the room. Lucius walked with them easily, but cast a glance back at Severus. For Harry, the glance told him everything, and there was an unspoken plea … Severus, don't leave me, come with me … Severus' face also betrayed his longing to follow Lucius … he threw his wand down, and suddenly Harry knew what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and Moony and Padfoot stopped, turned so they and Lucius could see.

'Severus Snape,' Harry addressed the man, 'you are under arrest for treason to the world of wizardry, and for acting as an accomplice to Lucius Malfoy. You're both in this together, and you're going together.'

Severus' face was unreadable, and he went straight to Lucius, where Remus and Sirius tied the two men's wrists together. As they walked out of Hogwarts, Harry saw Lucius glance at Severus with gratitude and love beyond the sky, saw the two men's hands lock together. He grasped Draco's hand serenely. Winter eyes, winter heart … bullshit.

FIN

*****

A/N: Um … reviews? Please?

(Oh, and ignore the REALLY obvious quote, Catherine will know where it's from, I suspect.)

Thanks to the random anonymous person (people?) who did review this story, it was much appreciated. Goodbye!