Warning: The following epilogue contains mild Harry/Draco slash, even though it was completely unintentional. So, if this offends you in any way, don't read.
Three years later . . .
"Look at me, Harry Potter." Lord Voldemort's voice, cold and filled with contempt, floated on the hot summer wind to his ears. "Look at me before you die."
Harry struggled not to obey the command, staring firmly at the dewy grass underneath him. Softly, a small voice in the back of his mind repeated, "This is it. This is how you're going to die." He had no wand, no conceivable way to escape, and only one thing to do. Harry looked up.
But instead of seeing the Dark Lord before him, someone completely unexpected stood there, black robes billowing in the breeze.
He didn't know if it was possible, but he was fairly certain he hated this person more than anyone else - including Voldemort - in the world.
"Malfoy," he spat.
Malfoy had not aged a day in those three years, yet he did not appear physically young. The vampire blood in his veins had worked its magic on him well, maturing him despite his age. And, adding to Harry's hatred, Draco's face was pumping with vitality.
Catching the thought easily from Harry's mind, Malfoy laughed, a sharp, silver laugh that seemed to suit his newfound immortality, "Yes, Potter. I've just fed."
And of all the things Harry could have said or asked in that moment, only one question came to his lips. "What happened to Melissa?"
"I killed her," he answered simply.
Rage was burning fiercely inside Harry and he had to ball his hands into fists to keep it from exploding. Malfoy watched this without a trace of emotion as silence settled around them.
Breaking it, Harry asked, "How did I get here?"
Draco shrugged, "It doesn't matter. I wanted you to come and so you have."
He ignored this last statement. "Where's Voldemort?"
"Dead, as are all his followers, my father included. Melissa's powers, now contained within me, are completely unfathomable. The prophecy does not apply to one with such strength." Malfoy slowly moved towards Harry and stopped directly in front of him.
Though Harry was physically three years older than Draco, he was just barely the taller one. He willed himself to back away, but found he could not. The ice blue eyes, locked onto his own, were intoxicating, hypnotising.
Quite suddenly, Malfoy's hands, as cold and hard as stone, were grasping his arms, pulling him closer. Harry's eyes widened with horror as his lips met the other's and he struggled to flee from his captor as they were pushed open.
Liquid fire poured into his mouth and he unwillingly closed his eyes to savour the feeling. His knees gave out but he did not fall. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended.
Malfoy stepped back as Harry slid to the ground, clutching his head, though whatever it was pulsed through his entire body. Groggily, he whispered, "What did you do?"
Harry looked up, sending his mind reeling, when no reply came. Slowly, carefully, he asked again, "Draco, what did you do?"
Draco Malfoy knelt down at Harry's side, gently took him in his arms, and pressed his lips against the boy's ear. "The world is at our feet and we have an eternity to explore the darkness you feel covering your heart. You'll live forever. Just say the word."