Lucius' wand exploded violently, shards of it burying themselves into their master's hand. It's once magical core turned to ash—leaving nothing but splintered wood and smoke. Harry stared at the pile of smoldering magic in awe. He'd never seen anything like the softly shimmering ash that once was unicorn hair.
With a roar of rage Lucius dove for the discarded sword of Gryffindor. Harry had dropped the heavy blade earlier in their battle due to its weight. Lucius' magic had been too strong then and Harry needed all of his energy to block and dodge the rapid curses. Now Harry regretted the decision. He struggled to Accio the sword to him but Lucius already has a firm grip on the hilt and was swinging it awkwardly. It was obvious that in his dislike of all things Muggle he'd never learned to sword fight properly.
The man before Harry was not the cool dignified Lucius Malfoy everyone knew and pretended to adore. He was a mad man—with his disheveled hair specked with blood and his teeth bared. His eyes weren't cold grey but an electric storm of hatred and fury. He was neither graceful nor poised but hell-bent on killing Harry. He swung the sword through the air madly, but never quite close enough to the rapidly retreating teenager. Lucius stumbled forward as Harry moved back—only to find himself against a wall.
Suddenly the sword bit into his skin, tearing a gash from on jutting hipbone to the other. Harry watched blood soak through his robes while Lucius shouted in triumph. Harry gritted his teeth and raised his wand. The killing curse rolled off his tongue like liquid. Waves of green magic crashed over the man freezing his look of pure happiness. He died looking as if he'd won.
"Well Potter, we knew it'd come to this."
Harry's head snapped up at the familiar voice. He immediately regretted this when the world swam in front of him. He was losing blood fast, and as much as he'd enjoy two Draco's it was slightly disturbing.
The blonde was lounging against the door frame; legs and arms crossed with a smirk playing on it his lips. He seemed completely unfazed by his fathers corpse laid directly in front of him.
"Draco…"
Draco shook his head sadly at the bleeding boy.
"No Harry, we knew when we started fucking that we'd still have to do this. I had to become a Death Eater and you have to save the world. You've killed Voldemort, killed my father… now you have to kill me. You promised that you'd still be able to do it." Draco withdrew his wand from inside his robes and aimed it at the shaking form on the floor.
"Draw, Potter."
Harry tried to raise his wand but the dizziness made it very difficult for his to focus. Only one thought penetrated the thick fog in his brain.
"I can't… I can't kill you…" Harry tried to explain it to him. He tried to tell him that he loved him and that he couldn't kill him.
"Harry you have to throw the curse." He stepped closer until he was only a breath away.
Harry leaning towards him, brushing their lips together. Draco pulled back instantly, a short humorless laugh bursting from his throat.
"Cast it"
The Boy-Who-Lived stuttered out an Avada Kedavra and once again green magic flowed from him. He waited for a similar cloud of death to attack him but none came. Over the ringing in his ears he heard a broken 'I love you' and felt Draco fall against him.
Harry fell with his lover then gathered him into his arms. His blood stained Draco's pale skin and colored his hair. When Harry finally fainted he was so wrapped in the other boy that he believed they could never be parted.
"Potter?"
Harry's eyes blinked open for the first time in weeks. Directly in front of him was a set of coal black eyes rimmed by sallow skin. Harry struggled to sit up but was held back by a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Lay still Potter. The wound on your stomach could not be healed magically and could be ripped back open."
Harry didn't listen. He struggled harder, tears streaking down his cheeks. Snape held him in place and waited. He contemplated scolding the boy, but knew it would be fruitless.
Suddenly Harry went still. His eyes blanked and all fight left him.
"I killed Draco." He rasped.
"Yes you did." Snape replied mildly.
"He told me to… He said he'd throw the curse back! Why didn't he kill me? Why didn't you let me die? I should have died with Draco! I've killed Voldemort, I've killed Lucius! I've rounded up most of the remaining Death Eaters! Can't I have peace now, can't I die now?" Harry's voice started out at a shout but by the end of his tirade it was barely a whisper.
Snape pressed the boy back in the bed and tried to ignore the sting of the words. Harry was trembling violently now and Snape thought about finding him a sedative.
"Professor…" Harry trailed brokenly. He looked up at his teacher, his emerald eyes filled with longing.
Snape understood his need. He remembered what it had been like as a child to cry and never be held-- to be shunned and scorned. With much effort he pushed aside his distaste and embraced the boy.
Harry melted into his touch, returning it with equal fervor. He cried for Draco, for his parents—everyone he saw die. He cried for his own murder, his loss of innocence but most of all he cried for joy. He had brought peace to the wizarding world. He'd saved Draco from the horrors of Azkaban.
"You may have peace, Potter."
Harry nuzzled deeper into his professors robes and thought that maybe he could.