A/N1: One minor obscenity in this chapter, which I only mention as its the first 'bad' one so far as I remember. Bear the circumstances in mind before complaining if you're that way inclined please. Also, one other reference which could be interpreted as sexual, although I don't

Minerva McGonagall dropped the latest issue of the Prophet on Severus' desk. He lifted it silently.

'Who took this?' he asked.

'Someone at Hogsmeade. There must have been a photographer.'

'I don't remember.'

'Neither do I, Severus. But then I remember very little after...'

'True.' He looked at the picture again. He and Minerva were magically bearing Albus' body towards the school. The cloak had been pulled over his face, but the succinct title 'DUMBLEDORE DEAD' put paid to any doubts. Just to further pull the heartstrings the author had made sure to pick the photograph with lots of crying children in the background. He could see Hermione Granger with her arms around a group of third years, trying to comfort them through her own tears. And of course, to add the scandal aspect, on the edge of the photo, beside the sidebar about 'spies' he could see Harry, helped by Ron, carrying a still unconscious Draco up to the castle. Harry's face was expressionless but the wizarding photo picked up the stream of silent tears moving down his face.

'Jackals,' Minerva hissed. 'Whose first reaction, in a time like this, is to take a photograph?'

Snape looked at the bottom of the article. 'Charles Falconer in a Prophet exclusive first-hand account.'

'How dare they?'

'It would have got out soon enough,' he answered emotionlessly.

'He died yesterday, Severus. And they're already asking who's going to be Headmaster next. Whether it's going to affect student intake? Whether it's going to encourage Voldemort?'

'Send them to me and I shall tell them you, yes and yes. Then they may stop speculating.'

'Severus...'

'I am sorry, Minerva, I simply lack the energy to be angered by this right now.'

'Of course. You've been exposed as a spy now, plus...'

He cut her off, 'This has nothing to do with trying to save my own skin. This is about...'

'I know.'

They stayed in silence for a few minutes. Then a face appeared in the fire. It was Madam Pomfrey. 'Draco Malfoy is waking up. You asked to be notified?'

'We'll be right there,' Snape promised.

Harry was keeping quiet vigil over Draco. None of the people bustling around dealing with the minor and not-so-minor injuries in the Hospital Wing dared to disturb him. Madam Pomfrey had waved her wand over Draco, assured Harry that he was about to wake up, and left to call Professor Snape.

Hermione and Ron had sat with him until he had ordered them away. Ron had at last agreed and dragged Hermione off with him, Harry hoped that alone they could chase those looks of quiet desperation from each others eyes. Ginny quietly informed him later, when she came to see Dean and the others still getting treatment, that the two were entwined together in the boys' dormitory, proving to each other that they were still alive.

Through the night various people had wandered in and out. Harry was unsure whether they had come to see Draco or comfort him. Many of them had nervously encouraged him to go and get some sleep. No one had pushed though, which was lucky, as he wasn't looking for a fight at the moment. It wasn't as if he would have slept anyway. Every time he closed his eyes he saw spell-flashes. The spell which had nearly killed Draco and that which...had killed Dumbledore had become twisted together in his mind. Dumbledore was dead and Draco looked as if he was and in his head all Harry could hear was screaming and Voldemort's laughter. He was just about aware enough to register that he was in shock, that this silence he was sitting in wasn't the right response. He should be crying, or yelling or throwing things. Or maybe screwing his boyfriend. But his boyfriend was practically in a coma, and even if he wasn't Harry wasn't allowed to kiss him, let alone anything else.

And Madam Pomfrey had sworn that he would wake up soon. And if Draco woke up, maybe, just maybe, Harry could break down. But he was still lying there like death.

Like death, but not quite. Harry saw a slight flickering behind Draco's eyelids. 'Draco?'

Madam Pomfrey hurried back into the room, pushing Harry out of the way to sit at Draco's side. 'Mr Malfoy? Can you hear me?'

Professors Snape and McGonagall hurried in. They crowded around Draco's bed and various other people joined them. Harry noticed nothing but the fact he could no longer see Draco. He tried to push through, but was held back.

Snape was standing at the foot of the bed, and it was him who Draco's bleary eyes focussed on when they finally opened. 'Draco? How do you feel?'

'Tired. Sore.'

'Do you remember what happened?'

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Snape saw the grey eyes widen with fear. 'Harry?'

Harry shoved past Madam Pomfrey who made a disapproving noise. 'Here.'

'You're okay?' Draco asked, still confused enough not to care how vulnerable he sounded.

'I'm fine,' Harry replied quickly. 'You got in the hex's way.'

'Did we lose many?'

Harry was silent. He sat on the edge of Draco's bed and collected his thoughts. 'Just one.'

Draco looked around the quiet room, and made the connection. 'Dumbledore.'

Harry nodded.

'Who's in charge?'

Someone in the background tutted but Harry knew Draco wasn't being callous. 'No one yet. It'll be sorted soon. There's a lot to organise. Everyone knows about you and Snape for one thing.'

Draco looked thoughtful. He pulled Harry towards him and reached inside the front of his boyfriend's robes. This time more than one person was in consternation, and again Harry knew exactly what Draco was doing. He reached behind his own head, and unclasped the chain hanging there. He slid his own DA galleon off, and attached the chain, with the remaining coin, around Draco's neck.

'No secrets anymore,' Draco said sadly.

'No more secrets,' Harry agreed, holding Draco's hand tightly as the exhausted boy drifted back to sleep.

Draco woke up to the sound of Harry punching a wall. 'Harry?'

'Did I wake you?'

'Do you want me to be polite and say no? Because otherwise I'm not sure why you would wonder at the sound of fist against brick waking me.'

'Sorry,' Harry muttered.

'Can't sleep?'

'I haven't slept since.'

'I had guessed,' Draco observed with a slight smile that felt like sacrilege.

'Why...'

'Why what?'

'Nothing.'

'What were you going to say?' Draco asked.

'Nothing with an answer.'

'Why did he die?' he tried.

'I know why he died. Because of me,' Harry answered matter-of-factly.

'Harry, that's not true.'

'Voldemort wants me dead.'

'I'm reasonably certain he wanted Dumbledore dead too.'

'He didn't attack the school in the first war. He's never attacked Dumbledore.'

'Maybe he decided this was finally the time. He's always been a threat.'

'Why doesn't anyone ever decide just to give me to him? What harm could it do?'

'You'd be dead!'

'Dumbledore's dead. You nearly died. Why do people think I'm worth dying for?'

Harry was crying now, and Draco was relieved. Tears were better than the previous cold questioning. He tried to pull himself up, and Harry came to his side. Draco met his eyes. 'Because they know you're the one that's going to save us all. People will do anything for you, Harry, have you not noticed that yet?'

'Even you?'

'Even me.'

'So do something for me. I can't do this again, Draco. I can't. Can't sit by another body. I can't try and explain to myself again why this happened. Can't have another person tell me it's not my fault.'

'What do you want me to do?' Draco asked quietly.

'Promise me that this is the last.'

'I can't…'

'Promise me!'

'No one can tell you that.'

'Then lie.'

Draco laid his head back against the pillow, and pushed Harry's head onto the bed. He kept a hand tangled in Harry's dark hair. Harry cushioned his head on his arms and let Draco's voice wash over him like a bedtime story. 'I promise you, Harry James Potter, that no one else you love will die. Voldemort will come here one last time, and you will kill him without anyone else being hurt. You'll become a famous Quidditch player and win the World Cup. Hermione and Ron will get married, have lots of kids and grow old together. Everyone you love will live happily ever after.'

'What about you?' Harry asked.

Draco's hand stilled on Harry's head. 'I don't know. Can't imagine the Ministry will let me keep the estate. And I'm probably not terribly employable right now.'

'You could come with me.'

'I wouldn't be a good house-husband, Harry.'

'See?'

'What?'

'We can't even lie ourselves a happy ending.'