Note: One of my friends beta'd this fic for me (I know, a bit late p ) But, suggested that I get rid of the song because it broke the fic up too much. So, here's the songless version. ALSO, I was considering an alternate ending… what do you think?

The sky swirled an angry, twisted grey, mingling with streaks of green and black. He lay on his back, looking up. The clouds were holding back their furious storm, however, and not one drop of water touched down.

He could feel the temperature drop, could feel the air change. Somewhere, far into the distance, he saw the forked lightning, pushing to be close to the ground. A slight rumble reached his ears, and he looked straight up again, green eyes unblinking as the clouds swirled faster.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he turned his head, sitting up quickly. The first raindrop had fallen on his forehead, tracing a lightning shaped scar as it dripped down his face. Rubbing his face, he looked up once again at the sky. There was no longer any white or blue left in the sky, only a dark yet beautiful mix of grey and black speckled with green.

A bolt of lightning reached once again for the earth, followed quickly by a much louder and resonating boom. The sudden closeness of the storm startled him, and he stood up swiftly.

Another boy stood on the field, beckoning to the first, who looked past him and closed his eyes.

This boy had pale blonde hair and grey eyes; much like the storm clouds above, his eyes too were flecked with green. He beckoned again to the first boy. Words escaped his mouth, perhaps 'come here!', but remained unheard in the sudden howl of the wind.

Brown hair whipping around, his green eyes set, the first boy looked finally at the blonde. He said something – it too was lost in the wind – and, once more, gazed up. Without a sound, he vanished. Grey-green eyes narrowed, the second boy vanished as well.

Colbalt and azure danced with white high up about his head. Harry Potter looked around, but as far as the eye could see was perfectly flat land, fairer then the finest emerald.

He flung himself upon the ground only just fast enough. A white hot light had suddenly cut through the air, right where he had been standing. Without taking too much time to reflect on how close that was, he rolled to his left, and half a second later, there was a foot deep hole where had had been lying.

Harry stood up abruptly, pulling out his wand in one fluid motion, and, thinking the spell but not saying the words out loud, disarmed Draco Malfoy.

"The hell are you playing at, Potter?" Draco yelled, summoning his wand back.

There was no time to consider options, only time to do. Harry dodged and rolled out of the way, bouncing back up onto his feet; Draco's hex had came close enough to singe his sleeve this time.

Harry glared up at the sky. Where had his perfect storm gone off to now? He felt so tired, so discouraged as the sun shined brightly down on him, seemingly mocking his distress. I'm bright, you're dead, it seemed to say. The gentle breeze held more terrors than any howling wind could.

Pausing in his thoughts to fling himself to the ground, Harry wanted nothing more then to give up. Why this? Why him? He desperately wished for the howling winds and crashing thunder; at least that would match his mood.

"What are you running from Harry?" taunted Draco, moving his wand in a huge swooping motion; almost instantly, a light red slash cut through the air. All Harry could do was throw himself on the ground once again. "That was close, Harry, very close," he said cheerfully.

Harry didn't know what to do. It seemed to him that his life had been one big blur for the past year. Running, hiding. Sometimes he wished he could be swallowed up by the earth, but somehow he knew there was a reason he was still here.

"Bah, this isn't any fun," Draco muttered, "If you're not fighting back. It's rather like beating up a little kid."

He smirked.

"Harry," Draco drawled, "Come on. Make this interesting."

Harry cursed himself inwardly, as he stood up and started walking towards Draco. He closed his eyes for one moment, pictured clearly in his head what he was doing, and thought the spell without speaking out loud – crucio!

His eyes wide in shock, Harry knew Draco hadn't expected that one. In less then a second, Draco was on the ground, twitching and screaming in a high, terrified wail. Harry's arm shook with anger as he struggled to keep the curse going. It wasn't as hard as it used to be – before, he simply couldn't get enough anger to make it hurt as much as Voldemort could. Because of that, any death eater he tried the spell on simply laughed and threw it off.

But now..

All he had to do was picture Hermione and Ron.

Suddenly the screams stopped. Draco didn't even get to his feet, but harshly cast a powerful hex – Harry was almost Stunned, but forced every bit of his body to break free.

"Didn't expect that one, I admit, Potter," Draco laughed – a harsh, cold sound. It was hard to believe the tall, lean teenaged boy had once been a small schoolboy who had to employ huge friends to get anyone to fear him. "We all know that you struggle with that one… no matter how hard you try…"

Harry cursed himself again.

"But it's ok," Draco said, "You'll be with your horrible little friends soon enough. I've had enough fun chasing you – quite nice of my Lord, wasn't it? Letting me have you like a little pet once he knew you weren't a threat…"

"I'm not your pet," Harry replied coldly, though a tinge of fear began to etch into his mind.

"Without your friends, you are a helpless prat. There is no one but yourself to rely on now," Draco shot back, "And that's why you're dead."

This time, however, Harry was completely ready. "Protega!" he said clearly, putting on a shield charm.

"Useless," Draco crowed, his eyes widening with laughter. "That will never stop-"

Harry managed a smile and a wink as he vanished.

There was no sky over his head anymore; Harry Potter had apparated into a small, worn-down house. The deep wood ceiling was sagging, cracked let in a few drops of water; it was storming outside, and the thin walls did little to stop the wind.

He didn't feel the cold though, it was such a little discomfort compared to everything else that had ever happened to him. Always, unbidden, he would remember.

How had he managed himself anyway? Voldemort had been after him for two whole years and then – nothing. He was reduced to running away from a particularly obsessed Death Eater – Draco Malfoy. Draco was right, too; once his friends had been killed, Voldemort had no longer felt him a threat.

He pulled a small book out of a tiny, rotten chest in the corner of the pitiful excuse for a house, and sat on the ragged blanket that served as a bed. For the moment, he was safe; Draco had yet to find his hiding spot, which changed every other night.

Closing his eyes, Harry opened to the first page, and opened them again. A black and white picture stared up at him. Sirius Black was written underneath it. Harry forced back a tear. Sirius Black had been the first to go.

The second page something small taped on it; on closer inspection, one could see that it was a card. A tiny picture and the words 'Albus Dumbledore' were readable, though the rest was blurred. On the paper, there was a date. Dumbledore smiled and waved, and Harry had to turn the page.

The next page was hard for Harry to look at. The picture taped to it held a huge man, one who looked too big for the frame. But he stepped back, and waved up at Harry, and Harry sighed. Ruebus Hagrid, and a date adorned this page. Hagrid's death had been completely unexpected – one day his hut had been at Hogwarts and the next… the dark mark hovering over the empty spot had said it all. Not one hair was left behind.

But it got worse. The next page had a rather large photo folded up; the staff at Hogwarts. Harry hadn't been around for his last year; rather, he, Hermione and Ron had been training and helping with the Order of the Phoenix, but he had heard about it almost instantly. Twenty death eaters had stormed Hogwarts; ignoring every student – except to stun those who tried to do anything – they had systematically killed every teacher – including Severus Snape.

Harry tried to remember why he looked at these pictures every day.

His answer came when he looked at the next picture. He remembered it from many years ago – it seemed like centuries. He remembered how happy Ron had been, how excited. 'We won the daily prophet draw! 1000 galleons!' The photograph was the Weasley family standing in front of the pyramids and waving frantically. Granted, it was terribly old now, but it was Harry's favorite. He had never seen them so happy as then.

Bowing his head, he forced himself to once again relive the day. He had gone to visit Mrs. Weasley and her family – Ron and Hermione had stayed back; they had an important mission that day. But when he got there, the Dark Mark waited ominously and he had remembered Mr. Weasleys words from the Quidditch World Cup – "Every's worst fear… their very worst.."

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Weasley family – minus Percy, who was killed previously in a ministry raid and Ron, out on his mission – 'sitting' at the dining room table. Everyone was dead. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were slumped, heads down. Bill and Fluer, home for a family dinner, were arranged as though holding hands and sharing a happy thought. Charlie, sitting across from Fred and George had his hands propped up as though he was telling an exciting story.

Ginny… sitting alone and by herself, watching the rest of the family, a soup cup of blood in front of her.

It was too much for Harry, and he wept silently, like he did every night.

The next page held no pictures, just an article. The headline screamed – "Minister of Magic Dead – Chaos and Panic. Hundreds Dead." Harry passed over it, shaking his head, turning to the next page.

Lupin and Tonks were grinning at each other. Lupin looked a little embarrassed, and Tonks, with her brilliant pink hair, extremely satisfied. They had been killed in a dangerous attempt to take out several Death Eaters. Not in vain; they had taken several down, but at the cost of their own lives… Harry sighed and turned to the next page.

Ron, dressed in a messy suit, and Hermione, in a white gown, looked up at him. Between Ron's family dying and all their friends being destroyed Ron and Hermione had managed to continue on the longest, even having a small wedding two weeks before Harry's 19th birthday.

They were killed that very night, killed by Draco Malfoy, who had tortured them to death while they had tried to have one night together. Harry felt sick remembering it – why hadn't he been there to guard them for one night? Why had he been off on some stupid attempt to get a horcrux? Why? He continued weeping.

Hermione and Ron smiled up at him, and spoke soundless words of encouragement.

He trembled, and closed the book, each image still haunting his mind.

"And what have I done?" he asked himself sadly. "Why can't I be with them? Who is there to live for now?"

Honestly, Harry had a hard time imagining what was worth it. Voldemort had killed so many people, so many friends of his, that he knew no one in the whole world. Even his aunt and uncle had been killed during a Giant raid of Britain.

"I just want to be with my family," he whispered, lying down on the dirt colored blanket, and looking up. A drop of water hit his face, reminding him of his duel with Malfoy.

In truth, he knew that he was having the most trouble with finding a reason to kill him; killing Draco only meant having to face off against another powerful wizard. Killing Draco meant having the Dark Lord realize Harry Potter might still be a threat. It meant having all off the death eaters after him again.

He tried to rest his eyes for a moment, but couldn't. Finally he got up again, and pulled out a bit of bread from the tiny chest. Harry broke off a bit, and ate it, trying his hardest to simply blank out all his thoughts.

Why bother? Who will care? You are still the boy who lives, but even if Voldemort is gone, who is there for you? No one.

Shaking his head savagely, Harry walked outside, looking at the rising moon. It was a full moon. Surely somewhere, more innocent children were being bitten by a group of savage werewolves led by Fenrir. The thought made him sick to his stomach, and he almost puked up the bit of food he had eaten.

"If you can just save one more person's future, it's worth it," he muttered to himself, not fully believing it. "If I can just set things right, then I can die and be with everyone I love."

But he knew he didn't have the strength. Clouds floated lazily across of the sky, sending the moonlight down in little pools. Harry turned around and went to go back into the house.

"Not so fast," a voice whispered in his ear.

"Draco," Harry had to use every ounce of self control not to sound surprised, not to hex himself for being so careless.

"Yes, Harry, I found you." Draco laughed sadistically, knowing that Harry was completely off guard.

"Why don't you just kill me?" Harry managed an almost conversational tone, and was quite surprised at how defiant he sounded at the same time. "Many great wizards have been brought down by trying to savor the moment. I believe Voldemort was one of those."

Draco smirked. "What, expect me to kill you and put you out of your misery? I think not."

Harry had to stop for a moment then. Never had he considered that Draco was toying with him because he knew how much it hurt him to live. He had thought simply that Draco enjoyed a chase, a bit of back and forth action.

"What, you think I don't know where you are every night?" Draco said, stepping into the moonlight. A horrible yellow glow surrounded his pale, beautiful features. "You think I don't watch as you cry over your pathetic fallen friends?"

A shudder ran down Harry's spine. "For.. for how long?" he managed to get out.

The clouds floated by, casting Draco back into shadows. "Long enough."

He couldn't move, surely this had to be a bluff. But no, Draco began ticking off on his hands the last five places Harry had stayed.

"I watched you, I always know where you are… how do you think I find you when you disaparate in the middle of our scuffles?" Draco smirked again. "You should know by now that my Lord has given me the most advanced spells and tricks."

Harry looked up at the sky. The rain clouds had completely left, leaving the moon shining brightly. Had he been here with Ron and Hermione, he could have appreciated how beautiful everything looked illuminated by moon light, but now, he felt only the deepest sorrow.

This was it. Even the last bit of his life he thought he had had been taken away from him. There was nothing left to live for; not even himself.

The spell wasn't spoken, but Harry still knew it was coming, and sidestepped it. Draco smirked. "Good to see you're not completely struck dumb. If your mudblood friend had been around to take care of your security, perhaps I would have needed more time, but it is true… you are worthless without help-"

Harry cut him off, pulling out his wand and screaming, "CRUCIO!" as loud as he could. This time, he did it properly. He could see Malfoy twitching, screaming, gasping for breath. Never in his life had he felt more hopeless, but in turn, never in his life had he been so angry. If he was going to die, someone was going with him.

For the next ten minutes straight, the air was filled with horrible screams, and then, maniacal laughter.

Harry watched, shocked, as Draco slowly got up, laughing hysterically. Had he gone mad? What happened? Harry knew that his anger had run out to finish Draco off, but this was good too… but something wasn't right..

"Oh Harry, you want to play," Draco said wildly, looking directly at Harry. "You want to play with someone who is so above you, I am the universe, you are a pathetic piece of dust."

Harry tensed, ready to throw aside whatever Draco threw at him.

"Do you really need to know now? Have I not made it clear? You can never match the Dark Lord when it comes to giving pain!" Draco screamed frantically, "CRUCIO!"

At the same time, Harry ducked and cast the most powerful shielding spell he could. The spell cracked through it, but where it hit Harry only left a bruise.

"We are equals, though you may disagree," Harry managed to say. But inside, once again, he was frightened. He knew there was nothing he could do – or was there?

Draco mouthed words frantically, swishing his wand about so fast it was blurred. Harry felt the very air thicken with the amount of hexes coming towards him. Suddenly, the memory of the first time he had dueled Malfoy 'properly', at Lockheart's dueling club, came back to him. As kids – 'you're still just kids' a voice whispered sadly to him in his mind – they hadn't been able to do anything complicated. Just minor spells, jinxes. Jelly legs. Tickling spells.

"We've come a long way," Draco agreed, seemingly realizing what Harry was thinking. "Oh, don't tell me I can't read your mind," he added, "I've had tons of practice.. my aunt Bellatrix.."

Harry could say nothing; in the precious second that memory had flooded back in, he had been hit by a binding curse; any struggling he did would tighten the spell, until he choked to death. Remaining perfectly still, Harry thought hard, until he thought of a counterspell. Trying to not even blink, he recited in his head, until he felt his bindings loosen.

Could Draco tell his spell was over? Harry couldn't tell, because Draco was continuing on, "But it wasn't that long, Potter, before we were much more advanced, was it?" He smirked yet again, "But yes, yes… I talk too much."

The moon shone strangely bright, and Harry looked up for one moment. Mars was unusually bright tonight, he thought sadly. He could hear Firenze telling him all about divination during the classes they had, he remembered Firenze carrying him to safety from Voldemort – only barely alive then.

Hagrid bringing them into the forest for their detention – oh, how scared Draco had gotten! When did they change so much?

"Potter," Draco said plainly, "I don't care much for these pathetic memories."

Harry shrugged, and said, as nonchalantly as possible, "Which is why they're mind and I'd thank you to stop caring what I think, as I stopped caring what you think ages ago."

Draco growled angrily. "What're you playing at, Potter?" He glared.

The memories continued to flash in front of him, and Harry realized that he was coming to the end of his reminiscing.

Who is there to live for?

The thought started to echo loudly, accompanied by flashes of every single person he knew and loved – all dead.

He looked at Draco, right in the eye. Without a thought, without a care – if it worked or not, he said simply, "Avada Kedavara," and pointed his wand point blank at Draco's head.

What is there to live for?

Isn't it time I can be happy?

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. But he couldn't, he wouldn't! Not by the piece of dirt in front of him! He heard the imminent rushing sound; the noise he himself had created as he killed Ron and Hermione, and one thought rushed to his head.

"You're dead."

Draco crumpled to the ground, giving no further explanation.

None was needed, however, as the world gave an almighty lurch, and the pavement rushed up to meet Harry's head.

And somewhere, faraway, Voldemort smiled sadistically at the irony of it all. The one curse that Harry Potter had survived was the only his body could not handle to perform.

Voldemort's grin became even broader, the slit-like pupils dancing closed in complete rapture. Sure, he had lost one of his finest servants – but with such reward!

And somewhere else, even farther, Harry Potter was finally able to hug his parents one more.