Chapter Fifteen: Battling Alone

Three days later...

In a dark, dank dungeon deep beneath Hogwarts castle a raven-haired boy swayed unsteadily, soaked in his own blood, bright green eyes unfocused and glazed with shock, glasses long since shattered.

The words "he's gone" echoed through his head, but his fatigued brain couldn't make sense of them. It didn't know who was gone. It didn't care. All the boy knew was that it was pitch black and he was all alone, so very alone.

His legs finally gave out, and the boy's body plunged uncaring to the floor. As he fell, his numb brain thought it heard someone running across the dungeon, but automatically dismissed it as impossible. He was alone. He was always alone.

The boy's head was a mere few inches from the unforgiving flagstones when strong arms seized him and halted his descent. The boy's weight overbalanced the person to whom the arms belonged, and they both crashed to the floor, the boy cushioned by someone else's body.

The mysterious arms tightened spasmodically around the boy's body and a hoarse, shaky voice whispered "Oh, god. Oh, Harry, love. Oh, god, I'm so sorry." in his ear. Something warm and wet was falling in small droplets onto the boy's face.

Draco, something inside him whispered, and all of a sudden Harry's mind snapped back. "Draco!" he said, this time out loud. He tilted his head and looked up into the silvery eyes that were spilling a cascade of tears down both boys' cheeks. If Harry had ever doubted even for a moment that Draco loved him, he would never doubt again. Not when he looked at Harry that way.

Draco hugged Harry to him fiercely, almost violently, and started sobbing in earnest into the taller boy's shoulder. Shocked, Harry wrapped his arms awkwardly around his trembling lover, who was still lying beneath him, and rubbed any bare skin he could find, both of them longing for skin contact of any kind.

"Shh," he murmured into the blond boy's ear. "It's all right, Draco. I'm all right. He's gone; he's really, truly gone, and his most loyal Death Eaters are already in Azkaban. We're safe now. We can live together, just like we always dreamed of, remember? And we don't have to worry about either of us dying so much anymore."

Draco sniffed loudly, not caring for the first time in his life that his hair was a complete wreck from running all through the castle trying to find Harry, and his clothes were dirty from sitting on the floor, and he had snot and tears running down his face. "I was supposed to be here with you, at your side," he said in a voice choked with tears. "I promised you that you wouldn't be alone for this battle. I promised that you would never be alone again, and I failed. I failed. I got here too late. I'm so very sorry, Harry."

"Oh, Draco," Harry whispered. "You got here just in time to save my brains from being splattered all over this moldy floor. You got here just in time to save my sanity from going completely out the window. You got here just when I needed you. Besides," he added, "I don't remember you making any such promise to me."

"I did," Draco affirmed, blushing slightly, "but you were asleep."

Harry felt a smile curving across his bloodstained lips. "That is unbelievably sweet, Draco. What other promises have you made me while I was asleep?"

Draco blushed deeper, but was saved from answering by a shout of alarm from the dungeon door.

"Merlin, Harry, look at you!" Fawkes exclaimed as he and Dumbledore rushed over. "What the hell happened?"

"What do you think happened!" Draco snapped, still upset. He turned blazing silver eyes upon his headmaster. "Aren't you supposed to know every damn thing that happens in this school? Where were you when Harry was in danger?" he demanded. Dumbledore remained silent and Draco could almost swear that he was... blushing? It was then that he noticed the states of disarray of both of the older men were in and he groaned. "Never mind."

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked incredibly guilty as he knelt down next to the two boys. "I am so very sorry, Harry."

Harry gave him a weary smile. That sounded familiar. "It's all right, really. I'm fine." The corner of his mouth quirked up a little more into a grin. "Besides, I know how it is."

Dumbledore smiled back a little and raised his wand. "Mr. Malfoy, would you mind releasing Harry so we can get him to the infirmary?"

Reluctantly, Draco loosened his grip. Dumbledore raised his wand, then stopped when Harry clambered painfully to his feet.

"I can walk," he said firmly, reaching out a grime-smudged hand to help his boyfriend stand. Draco gave him a look—Harry was hiding it well, but Draco could tell, as only a lover could, that his voice was tight with pain. Catching Draco's look, Harry shook his head slightly. This was a victory he wanted to walk from on his own two feet, regardless of the pain. Respecting his boyfriend's wishes, Draco slipped his hand into Harry's, though he made sure to lift himself off the floor, and the little group began to ascend the stairs.

Halfway up the stairs to the Great Hall, Draco could tell Harry was having trouble. His breathing was more labored and with each step he took he leaned a little bit more on Draco. Knowing it was important to Harry, Draco tried his best to support him without looking like he was supporting him.

When they reached the even floor of the Entrance Hall, it got a little easier. It was getting late so they didn't run into anyone on the first floor. It wasn't yet past curfew, though, so Draco knew that they would meet up with other students eventually.

They reached the next flight of stairs and Draco swallowed a sigh. His arm wrapped tightly around Harry's waist, Draco helped his lover climb step after step. His eyes accidentally met Dumbledore's and he knew the headmaster knew. Of course. Dumbledore simply gave him a solemn nod and walked close behind Harry, probably hoping to catch him if he slipped.

On the second floor, Draco heard a thud and turned to see a third year gaping at them, dropped book bag at his feet. When, after a moment, the boy grabbed his bag and ran off, Draco knew they were going to have company soon. He wanted to get Harry to the infirmary before a crowd gathered. He knew that if Harry wasn't able to make it on his own it would be harder for him with a large audience to witness what he felt was weakness.

When they got to the stairs that led to the third floor, Draco wasn't sure if he was going to make it. Harry was now leaning almost all of his weight on his smaller boyfriend and Draco's muscles were beginning to spasm. He was afraid that if this went on much longer he would drop Harry, and he would never be able to live with himself if Harry survived the final battle only to have Draco kill him by dropping him down a flight of stairs. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for one more staircase when an angel in the form of Hermione Granger appeared around the corner.

"Oh my god. Harry," she whispered. She joined the two boys and wrapped her arm around Harry's back as well, supporting him just beneath Draco's arm, and Harry shifted some of his weight to her as well. She started asking him questions about You-Know-Who to distract him from the fact that she was helping him. Draco shot Hermione a look of intense gratitude behind Harry's back and they both managed to get the Boy Who Lived Once Again to the infirmary on his feet. Draco nearly wept with relief as they lowered him onto an empty bed. Madam Pomfrey poked her head out of her office door and did not look at all surprised to see them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, it's good to see you again," she said calmly as she came to Harry's bedside. "It has been almost exactly a week since any of you have ended up in my infirmary—surely that's a record." She inspected Harry for a moment. "My goodness, you have so much filth on you it is hard to tell what is grime and what is blood or a hex mark. That is most unsanitary. Scourgify." Harry was immediately cleaned of the dirt and the muck, though most of his wounds began bleeding again immediately. Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied, however. "Now we're getting somewhere," she told him cheerfully. She disappeared for a few moments, then came back with an armload of bottles. She set them all on Harry's bedside table, grabbed a clean goblet, chose a stout green bottle, and filled the glass full. To Draco's surprise, she handed it to him, not Harry.

"What is it?"

"Rejuvenation Potion, you look as though you need it," she said, already preparing another potion. This one she handed to Harry, who drank it and made a disgusted face. "Dreamless Sleep potion," she told him, right before his eyelids fluttered shut and he sagged back against the pillow. "There, that should fix most of the damage. The poor boy was exhausted. Now, would anyone mind explaining to me what is going on?" she asked as she began working on the seemingly never-ending task of fixing up the Boy Who Lived. Again.

"I'm not sure, I didn't get there until the battle was over," Draco told her, feeling much better thanks to her vile-tasting potion.

"I see. So, am I to take it You-Know-Who has finally been defeated?"

"That's what he said, anyway," Draco answered.

"Thank heavens. Maybe now you all can stay healthy, for once. If I charged you for every time I healed you since you arrived at this school, I would be a very wealthy woman. There," she said as she finished up, leaning back to survey her raven-haired charge. "Now all we can do is wait and let him rest. He should be as good as new in a few days. Luckily for him, he has always recuperated fairly quickly."

"So, now what?" Hermione asked quietly from beside Draco. No one had to ask what she was talking about.

"Now perhaps we finally have a chance at living out the remainder of our lives in peace," Dumbledore said solemnly, his long fingers threaded through Fawkes'.

Hermione reached over and gently touched Harry's face. "I feel as though nearly my entire time here, after I became close to Harry anyway, I only planned as far as the battle with You-Know—Voldemort. Even when Professor McGonagall asked us to think about our profession preferences I didn't take it very seriously because I honestly didn't think I'd make it that far. All my studying, my practicing, my learning has gone towards helping Harry win this battle, and now its over. Voldemort's gone and I never even took part. I know it sounds selfish, but I feel a little—lost—now."

Dumbledore rested his free hand on Hermione's shoulder. "That is perfectly normal. It will be hard for all of us to come to terms with the fact that he is finally dead. As twisted as it may seem, the wizarding population has gotten used to the shadow of Voldemort hanging over them. It is not easy for one to change their way of thinking after so many years."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "I grew up with He-Who-Must-Not--" he stopped, looked at his sleeping boyfriend, swallowed hard, and started over again. "I grew up with... V-voldemort..." the others smiled, knowing Harry would be proud of this: Draco's first step into the new Voldemort-free world, "as an integral part of my life. He was ever-present from the time of my birth to now, and now I have to actually believe that the man that seemed like some sort of evil, vengeful god has actually been killed, and by my boyfriend to boot." He shook his head. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"It will take some time," Fawkes agreed, "but after we've adjusted, just think how wonderful the world will be—especially for you and Harry. You can live without fear, without doubt, without looking behind your shoulder ever two seconds. You can be happy."

"Yes," Draco said softly, running his fingers down the soft skin of Harry's face, across the rough stubble of a day without shaving, and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the scar-shaped mark on his lover's forehead. "We can all be happy."