Harry woke standing. The glare hurt his eyes. He stood in a field of darkly luminous flowers. Nightshade, hugely petaled, that spread to the horizon. A breeze stirred the flowers. Then, perfectly in time, the petals broke their stays and fell down gently. They came to rest on, and to reveal, the thousands of dead warriors underneath.
He lifted a mailed hand to his lips and carefully touched. They felt bruised. Two iron fingers came away tipped with red. He stared numbly at his hand and felt his head spin. He slowly lowered his eyes and saw who he stood above.
Hands dropped to his side. Knees gave out and he sank to the ground.
Feathered black wings fluttered.
Silver hair caught in the moon's glow. Darkness folded over the stars and moon, and silver turned to grey and a gasp caught in his throat. He dragged the fallen man into his arms, metal rasping over metal. Harry began to shake. His arms shuddered almost uncontrollably and he tried to hold on. Tears streamed unheeded from his dark eyes.
Hours passed.
Passed fast, then slow.
The clouds finally released their hold on the uncaring stars. Their light glanced off the silver daggar at Draco's side. His fingers inched towards its shine. Draco still did not move.
He removed it.
Placed it in his own scabbard.
Draco didn't need it anymore
***