Breakfast would be over in half an hour, and Draco wanted to get something down his throat before he had to mark papers. He walked quickly, the thoughts about the battle still swirling in his mind. Sometimes he wondered about putting them in a Pensieve, so that he could see what the scene actually looked like. But then, he wasn't ultimately sure he really wanted to know.

"Hi, Hermione," he said, sitting next to her at the teachers table. Most of the teachers were gone, including the headmaster, and the students were clearing out.

"Morning, Draco," she said, buttering a piece of toast. "Harry's over there, you know. Did you get my memo about Teresa Mollins?"

"Yeah, pity about her broken leg. I know where he's sitting," Draco said, reaching for a roll. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Fire," she said.

"You know at the battle, when Harry picked me up and took me to the tent? You were there, right?"

She nodded. "I suppose you want to know what happened, but are too embarrassed to ask Harry?" Hermione suggested wisely.

"Not exactly," Draco refuted. "It's just…well, close to that, but not exactly."

"He stopped when you said that, you know," Hermione said, sipping her tea.

"What?" Draco asked, completely bewildered.

"When you said, 'I love you', he stopped running," Hermione repeated. "He stopped running, put you on the ground, and used The Vial on you."

"You mean, the phoenix tears?" Draco asked, dry-mouthed.

"He thought you died," Hermione reasoned.

"So did I," Draco said ironically. "I still can't believe…I really wonder why…"

"That, you'll have to ask him," Hermione said, pointing her fork at Harry. "I mean, he loves you now, but I'm not sure why…at any rate. Any other questions?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Yes. Are you still going to marry the Weasel?" Draco asked jokingly. She smiled and got up from her seat. "Yes, my dear ferret, I am. Sorry, but I have to go. First years first thing…I can stand them any other time…"

"See you later, Hermione." Draco's hands trembled. Harry had used the phoenix tears on him? He glanced down the table at the man eating his breakfast.

Harry looked at him, and their eyes met. Draco smiled, picking up his plate to sit next to him.

BPBPBP

"I think I'm going to call you HIM," Draco said idly.

"Why?" Harry queried, flicking through a book.

"Hero-in-the-making," Draco replied matter-of-factly.

Harry laughed. "No, I'm not."

"Yes you are," Draco cut him off, and restrained himself from kissing Harry's temple or something equally ridiculous. He loved Harry. But he also respected him, and if Harry didn't want him in his life in that way, then…he supposed he was content.

All Draco had to do was die in the final battle and he would be all right. No more angsty love, no more pain from the shadows, no more Ginny.

God, he hated that bitch, and he didn't know why.