At first, Draco didn't recognize who he was looking at. Grey eyes under a mop of unruly hair and glasses. He was older, maybe in his early twenties. And then it dawned on him. It seemed so obvious, now. Except that the man Draco was looking at was supposed to be dead. Very, very dead. Dead for a very long time, in fact.

"J-James Potter?" he asked in surprise. He had a hard time getting his mouth around the words. Draco had never thought in his life that he'd ever meet James Potter. Harry really did take after his father. He took a shaky breath. What would James Potter have to say about his son's death? This wasn't good at all. But it didn't make sense – what was James Potter doing there at all?

He was a ghost. That had to be it. Draco couldn't be seeing things because he'd never seen James Potter before in his life. But James seemed very solid and very real. He'd crashed through the bushes. Currently, he was picking at a leaf in his hair. Draco's face went ashen. This really couldn't be happening. It was beyond comprehending. It was beyond anything Draco had ever known. Draco knew scary and creepy. He was a Death Eater. But seeing the father of the Boy Who Lived?

"Well, I certainly don't have a scar on my head," James laughed, and it reminded Draco of Harry's laugh. He took another shaky breath and a step back. His heart was racing as though he'd run a mile. Moonlight filtered through the trees and Draco vaguely noted it was a full moon. Fantastic. Just his luck there'd be werewolves running about.

Werewolves and ghosts and cannibals and dead Harry's and Draco really wanted out of this place.

"The son of Lucius Malfoy," James said, putting his hands on his hips and stepped forward. "Never thought I'd see you. He was a Death Eater. I bet the apple didn't fall far from the tree, did it? You look just like him. Same blonde hair. Same eyes. I remember those eyes. They were there the night Voldemort killed me."

"I'm not him," Draco said shakily. "I'm not my father. I'm not anything like him."

"You're carrying a body," James pointed at the covered body of Harry in Draco's arms. Harry's hand had somehow made its way out of Draco's robes. "Next you're going to tell me that you didn't do it. Or maybe you were Imperius'd into doing it, right? Just like your old man. So who is it?"

"I'm didn't kill him, this stupid place did," Draco choked, his throat constricting. He was now having a very hard time breathing. This wasn't happening. James stepped forward and Draco stepped back, stumbling over a root. "And – and it's nobody. Just – just…"

"Let's see," James said and grabbed the robes and whipped them off as though he were unveiling a statue or a trophy. His eyes widened and his fists clenched. His face went white. "You killed my son."

"I did not!" Draco shouted. James reached out and took Harry from him in a swift movement. Draco reached towards him but James backed up, pulling out a wand. "First your lot kill me and my wife, and then my son? What did he ever do to you?" James snarled, the hand holding his wand shaking. "You Malfoy's are all the same. All a bunch of murderers."

"I haven't murdered anyone!" Draco pleaded, not afraid for his life but instead afraid of having Harry taken away from him. It was a strange feeling. A light shot from James' wand and hit Draco square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward into a tree. He hit his head and his vision unfocused for a moment and when he could see properly again, Harry was on the ground and James was only a few inches away from him.

"You'll never be better than Lucius. You'll never be anything. You'll always be a Malfoy, Draco," James said in a low, threatening voice. "You left Harry and he died because of you. You'll always be a murderer."

Draco sunk down against the tree, tears trickling down his face.

"You're right. Is that what you want to hear? I'm a Malfoy, I'm a Death Eater, and I'm a murderer. I killed Dumbledore and I killed Harry. It's my fault," he sobbed, hastily wiping his cheeks, smearing blood across them. "Is that what you want from me?" He shouted, and James reached out and grabbed Draco's neck.

"Malfoy?"

"You'll never amount to anything. Harry will never accept you. You're nothing to him."

"Draco!" this voice sounded familiar, but Draco was preoccupied. "Draco, it's just an illusion!"

Suddenly James disappeared and in his place stood Harry. Alive Harry. Bright green eyes and a worried expression on his face. Draco was visibly shaken. He was trembling from head to foot and he placed a hand against his neck. It had been so real. Everything had been so real. Harry had been dead and then his father was there and… Draco only realized now that he was clutching onto Harry's shirt and sobbing.

"Draco, it's okay. It wasn't real. None of it was real," Harry said and his voice was soothing. Draco felt numb. Harry pulled him into his arms and he was suddenly safe. He wasn't alone anymore. And most importantly: Harry wasn't dead.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. In the back of his mind he was admonishing himself for making such a fool out of himself. For crying in front of Harry, for believing that James was real. It was easy to believe that Harry really had been dead, but James coming back from the dead should have tipped him off. And yet, he could really think of none of this. His only coherent thought was that Harry was holding him and everything was all right.

"What are you sorry for?" Harry asked, and Draco pushed himself away from him gently, wiping at his eyes.

"I said I wished you were dead," Draco said quietly. "I really, really don't want you to die."

Harry smiled. "The feeling's mutual. Now, here, you're getting blood all over your face," he said, taking his sleeve and wiping Draco's eyes and cheeks. Wait. Blood? If it was all an illusion, how did he get blood on his hands? He looked down and realized that it was himself that was bleeding and his hand was sticky with his own blood. He must've stressed his hand, because the bandages were soaked with blood and it was dripping down his fingers.

"Come on," Harry said, helping him up. "I know of a place we can go."

"Wait," Draco said, breathing deeply. He may not have been a Gryffindor, but he had to have gained something out of this entire experience.

"What?" Harry turned around and looked at him, and Draco was struck by how genuinely curious Harry seemed.

"Just this," Draco said, and stepped forward, wrapping his hand around Harry's neck and kissing him with everything that he had left in him. Harry was obviously surprised since he stiffened, but quickly relaxed, wrapping his own arms around Draco. It was comfortable and sweet and passionate. It was everything Draco had never been before and it was amazing.

When he pulled away, Harry was grinning at him.

"You really don't hate me, then."

"Oh no," Draco said, out of breath. "I still really hate you."