Everything after the first scene happened in the PAST. (Anyone who has read this before, I have swapped around the last two scenes in this chapter to make it chronological, to make it easier to follow).

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Chapter 2

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Harry walked sadly towards the glittering object, his heavy head throbbing with the reverberations of the argument that had just taken place. This precious token of his devotion now lay, abandoned, amongst the wreckage of their relationship. He fingered the metal tenderly. It was still warm from his husband's recent touch. A low moan escaped his lips as he cradled it against his cheek.

"Draco…what's happened to us?"

The bitter exchange at the beginning of their fight re-entered his mind….

Harry was desperate. He grabbed the Slytherin's arms and tried to calm the furious wizard, but it was no use….

Draco suddenly stopped moving. He slowly turned to face his husband. His unwavering stare bore into the resilient man standing before him and dissolved all the reasoning and all the carefully constructed sentences that Harry had earlier prepared when the Gryffindor had realised that this confrontation was imminent.

Harry was now just clutching at straws. "I - I don't know how to help you…."

"Oh that would be right, wouldn't it? Ever the Gryffindor…."

"You couldn't fix me…."

Harry shook his head and tried desperately to replace the awful images with thoughts of he and Draco in happier times. He forced his mind to wander back to the cool mid-winter morning when he had pledged this ring, and with it the rest of his life, to the Slytherin all that time ago. In seven long years, he could not recall ever having once seen it separated from Draco's finger. He had thought that he never would…. It broke Harry to see it discarded so unceremoniously.

He swallowed bitterly. If he was honest, he had probably known even then, on that overcast January morning, that this day would arrive. In spite of that, however, he realised one thing. There wasn't anyone else with whom he would have rather spent all the years in between.

Still clutching the one thing that proved that their marriage had even been real, he sank desolately to the hard wooden floor and curled into a ball.

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Lucius Malfoy had sensed that someone had entered the room.

To observe Draco's father was to observe a man on the very brink of death itself. His withered frame bore only the slightest of resemblances to his former self. The wizard's once domineering form lay in the ornately carved four-poster bed, surrounded by the vast emptiness of the giant room - much as his life had been shrouded in emptiness since the day his son had severed all contact with him.

Only Lucius alone had known the pain that had caused.

Scarcely raising his head from the pillow, and barely opening his eyes, the former Death-Eater licked his dry lips. His voice was hoarse from disuse but still it carried hope.

"Draco - I knew you'd come - "

The young man before him didn't speak. In his search for words he found only a lump in his throat. It frightened him to see the frailty of the form before him. He had heard that the master of the household had been confined to his bed, but this….

With great effort, and with tears welling in his half-closed eyes, Lucius moistened his lips again. "I - " He managed the monosyllable before his voice broke.

The frightened young wizard inched closer but couldn't find any words. Instead he raised a hand and brushed a few golden strands away from those pale cheeks.

It was clear to him that Lucius could only barely register the form standing by the bedside, so in a voice that didn't resemble his own, the young wizard spoke.

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It was only a few words, but Lucius had smiled and in the knowledge that he had resolved the feud with his only child, died peacefully.

The young man rested his palm on the pale forehead of the deceased wizard before him and muttered a few words. Then he left the room.

He had barely crossed the threshold before his quickening stride faltered. He wiped a shaky hand across his brow and rubbed his eyes. He took a few moments to calm himself and stared at the ground, his chest still rising and falling heavily, wondering if this had really happened.

His gaze shifted to the opposite wall of the deserted corridor, and rested for a moment on the sleeping portrait of Narcissa Malfoy. He jolted a little as he registered the youthful countenance of the deceased witch. He felt a hot tear trace its way down his cheek, but refused to let himself feel any guilt for what he had just done. Instead, he wrenched his gaze away, briefly catching a glint of the reflection of his own piercing green eyes in the gilded mirror that claimed a place just beside the portrait.

As Harry turned on his heel, in the direction of the exit to the Manor, he fumbled in his trouser pocket. His fingers brushed against the forgotten folded piece of paper that still remained there. He hadn't needed the note after all.

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The next morning, Draco cursed in annoyance. He quickly slipped the belt through the waist of his slacks and briefly glanced downwards to fasten the buckle. He snorted in frustration. In his haste to get dressed, he had slipped on Harry's trousers instead of his own. The Slytherin, always very particular about his attire, immediately discarded the garment and rifled through the wardrobe for his own similar black pair. Minutes later, after a hurried glance in the mirror and a quick slick back of his hair, Draco made to leave their bedroom. He reflexively reached into his right hand pocket for his wallet and snorted for the second time. Damn it. He'd left it in Harry's trouser pocket. He glanced at his watch to see how he was faring for time, and cursed under his breath as he saw the minute hand creeping towards twelve. Draco hated being late.

He hurriedly returned to the discarded black pair, that, now he thought about it, he vaguely remembered having seen his husband wearing the previous evening when Harry had disappeared for a few hours. He felt in the right hip pocket. Empty. He exhaled in frustration and felt in the left. His long fingers grasped his wallet and pulled it out hastily, dropping the trousers in the same movement. As he did so a folded piece of paper was wrenched along with it.

Draco bent down to retrieve it and absently unfurled the note.

His eyes widened.

Fingers trembling, he read the words again.

After re-reading the message for a third time, he punched his fist so hard into the wall that his knuckles bled.

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