A/N: This is the result of a day of rest due to those fucking orthodontic procedures, and really it turned out so different than how I originally imagined. I was listening to my Underworld: Evolution soundtrack and after listening to The Undertaker a few dozen times I decided that I simply had to make a tragic oneshot out of it. So it didn't turn out how I thought it would, I still like it. Hope you do too!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

The lyrics (in bold and italics) are taken from the song The Undertaker (the Reinholder Mix on the Underworld: Evolution soundtrack) by Puscifer

Warnings: character death, language, light light light violence, angst, tragedy, slashy greatness

Mendacity: deliberate untruthfulness, a lie or falsehood

The story's told from Harry's POV

Mendacity

Thank you for making me
Feel like I am guilty
Making it easy to murder your sweet memory

I remember when it started. You came to me halfway through the summer after sixth year. You were bloody and broken; you looked so weak and I couldn't stop myself from letting you into my relatives' house. I cleaned you up and healed most of your wounds, watching your face for any signs of what was running through your mind at the time. But, your mask was on, of course, and I couldn't read any of your emotions.

You stayed with me at Privet Drive for the rest of the summer, opening up little by little with each passing day. It wasn't long until a hissed 'Ferret-face' changed to an amused 'git' and 'Malfoy' changed to 'Draco'. We spent all our time together; of course we were bound to get past the six-year rivalry and enter a world of civility and, dare I say it, friendship.

We returned to Hogwarts, amazed it was still open and that we were both attending, on good terms, which inevitably led to a huge spat with Ron about my camaraderie with you. I was ashamed and I let Ron's words get to me. We didn't talk for eleven days after that. That all changed one late night when I was wandering aimlessly through the corridors. I saw you staring out the window, this completely shattered and…vulnerable look on your face. I'd never seen you look quite as beautiful as you did in that moment in time.

I whispered your name, not noticing I did so until you turned sharply, mask sliding back in place, eyes piercing. When your gaze fell on me, you relaxed, if only minutely. I don't even remember what words were uttered, apologetic, soothing, caring, joking, all of those mixed in until all of sudden our lips were crushed together and it felt so right, so fucking right.

We were inseparable after that. You insisted on going public, claiming how you didn't give a fuck what people, more importantly your dad, thought. I agreed wholeheartedly, only realizing later how Ron would react. He didn't talk to me for weeks. You were there, every night, as silent tears slipped down my face at the loss of my best friend, my breath a little raspier than normal. But you were there every night, spooned behind me, kissing the nape of my neck occasionally, sliding your fingers through my hair, just holding me until I fell asleep. Despite everything, it was the happiest I'd ever felt. Needless to say I was very pleased when you continued to stay with me at night even after Ron had aplogized and accepted our relationship.

I didn't suspect a thing.

You were way out of line,
Went and turned it all around on me again
How can I not smell your lie
Through the smoke and arrogance.

We had been together for seven months, the end of the year approaching. I had to leave on a mission to find one of the remaining Horcruxes, I can't even remember which one, nor do I care. I only remember there being a raid by a bunch of Death Eaters at the location I was searching. I was ordered, by Remus, to go back to Hogwarts. When I returned, you were nowhere to be seen. I was frantic for minutes, though it felt like eternity after eternity, until you emerged from the bathroom in your dorm room, drying yourself off. You looked so completely innocent, wondering why I was back so soon and if something happened. I just held you to my chest, trying to push down the lump forming in my throat because you were with me and you were safe and oh god I'd never been so scared in my life.

It was the following two months that I began to cotton on.

But now I know
So you will not get away with it again
I'm distant in those hollow eyes
For I have reached my end. So...

After that night you seemed more withdrawn, your eyes dimming more and more every day. I didn't know what was wrong, and when I voiced my concern, you just kissed me and made me forget I'd even asked a question. You also started losing weight. I had no clue what was wrong but it was getting increasingly easier to hold you up as we fucked up against a wall, in a shower, what have you.

And if I didn't notice your weight loss, there was no way I could mistake that your skin was losing its ethereal glow. You skin just looked pale and pasty and like you were sick rather than the healthy white glow that your skin used to exude. Then, bags under your eyes started showing up. I definitely noticed that. Draco Malfoy, the vainest git I have ever met, with bags under his eyes. What was the world coming to?

And every time I asked what was wrong you'd either silence me with kisses or angry words, storming out before I could ask any more questions. It seemed like your life was crashing down and all I could do was watch it fall apart, not even knowing why the sudden turn for the worse was occurring.

And then I noticed a pattern. Every time you'd had a rough night, I'd had a rough night, too. At first I thought it was because I was keeping you up with my visions and nightmares and other Voldemort goodies, but no, that wasn't it. I started to realize that every time you had a particularly rough night or didn't even bother to meet up with me, it was a night of Death Eater activity. From that point on, the nervous bundle in my stomach concerning your health twisted painfully in suspicion of your alliances.

Thank you for making me
Feel like I am guilty
Making it easy to murder your sweet memory

The next few months were drastically worse. You snapped at me for no reason, your eyes dull and lifeless. We fought constantly, which was usual, except we hardly ever had mind-blowing make-up sex afterwards. You started pulling away, increasing the distance between us. I began seeing you less and less, and most of the times we met up ended in angry words and hurt feelings.

Then, as if nothing of the past several months happened, the old Draco was back. You were happy and healthy and caring and we only had fights so we could have said mind-blowing make-up sex, our words of anger holding no real sting. Merlin, I thought everything was better; everything was okay. I'm far too trusting.

Before I go tell me
Were you ever who you claimed yourself to be

I can't believe I didn't notice how much a façade our love was. You were just faking it; you were an actor. If I had the ability, I would've awarded you an Oscar on your outstanding performance in a lead role, not that you'd understand what I was doing handing you a little gold man. You'd probably think it was a new kink of mine.

How I didn't realize the complete bullshit you were feeding me over and over, I don't know, but you were able to lead me on for months and months. It was only when you slipped up I figured out things weren't anything close to what they seemed.

Either way I must say goodbye.
You're dead to me. So I...

We were lying in bed, my mind still fuzzy from waking up moments ago, you still sleeping soundly. Every other time we slept in the same bed you slept on the left side, laying on your stomach and curling your right arm around my waist. But, how I don't know, we ended up switching sides of the bed during the night. Your left arm was now flung over my chest and that's when I saw it.

I saw the one thing that I never expected and crushed me completely. The Dark Mark, black and angry-looking, was branded on your forearm. I almost vomited at the sight of it. I managed not to puke, settling for tumbling out of bed and rushing out of the room before I could see the look on your face as you woke up and your carefully created mask slipped on, making me believe you loved me. I didn't care I was in my boxers in the middle of the night wandering the halls; I only cared about the fact that you, everything I thought I knew about you, was a complete and total lie.

I thought of going to Remus (and quite possibly Snape) to tell them of where your loyalty truly lied, but I knew that I could never get the information out through my sobs. I chose to wait until the next day, when I had at least a little bit of reign over my emotions, to tell them. Apparently, that was never to happen, for the next day, at the crack of dawn, the final battle started.

The next time I saw you was on the battlefield.

Thank you for making me
Feel like I am guilty
Making it easy to murder your sweet memory

My eyes and heart grew cold at seeing you in those black robes, not that the black robes were ugly, mind you, they were quite sexy on you, but the fact that those were Death Eater robes was enough to make my head pound with anger and betrayal. I stealthily avoided you the whole time, knowing that if I got too close I'd either break down and cry, kill myself, or jump you and beg you to tell me you love me and mean it. I knew I wouldn't be able to kill you; I would never have been capable of killing the man I love, no matter how big the betrayal was.

I'm severing the heart line. I'm leaving your corpse behind
Not dead but soon to be, though.
I won't be the one who killed you
I'll just leave that up to you

God, I was still stunned at the fact that your alliances lay with Voldemort. Fights over the matter flashed through my mind, and I remembered how I said if you were ever to become a Death Eater, you'd end up dead, more than likely killed by one of your comrades than by one of your enemies.

I'd thought we'd gotten past it. Apparently not. I knew the moment I saw the hideous mark on your flesh, you'd be dead by the time the war was over. And I believed with all my heart that it'd be because of someone on your side, not mine.

I'm not gonna be there to remind you
I'm gonna be the one to say...
I told you so.

As it turned out, I was right. You were killed seven feet to my left, thirteen hours into battle, by Bellatrix Le-fucking-strange. I saw you fall as she hit you with the Cruciatus. I saw you writhing on the floor, trying to keep my focus and remember that I was in a duel with the creature I'd been picked to destroy since I was a baby. I couldn't get distracted by the shattering of my heart as I heard your desperate screams ring through the cold night air.

But then the fact that you had well and truly betrayed me came springing back to life, replacing my heartbreak with a sense of strange indifference at your torture and, yes, maybe a tiny bit of glee knowing you were going through such pain. I heard the curse being lifted right before I saw a green light in my peripheral, not needing to look to know the truth. You were dead. I took bitter satisfaction from this.

Severing the heart line. I'm leaving your corpse behind
Not dead but soon to be and
I'm gonna be the one to say…

I killed Voldemort a moment later, not even sparing a glance at you as I walked from the bloody scene surrounding me. It wasn't until the next day when I talked to Snape that I knew the truth. And, fuck, was it the most excruciatingly torturous truth I had ever experienced in my life. Snape told me the reality of the situation, his voice level, a feeble attempt at disguising his trauma and grief at the loss of his godson.

You were a spy.
You were a fucking spy.
And not for Voldemort, for me.
And I had no clue.
No fucking clue.
I managed to scream out, between my choking sobs, the question of why I didn't know, learning that this was yet another piece of information withheld to 'protect' me. I thought I figured it all out, only to be completely wrong, time and time again.

I can just imagine your voice whispering the truth in my ear, lips brushing my skin as you do so. Saying how you love me and are on my side of the war and you will always be with me no matter what. And as I relive the suspicion and betrayal and distrust, not believing your words, only to find out later that they're the truth, I can practically hear your voice saying to me,

I told you so.