Author's Notes: I think this is the end. If I happen to do any more short scenes, they'll likely be published as one-shots. I think I like this ending though.

Afterward

Draco and Severus stayed secluded for a time, not out of shock, really, but from a feeling of surprise and bafflement that came from having their life turned around. They both worked through their feelings silently, not feeling that it was something to be shared. Severus was angry, at first, that Harry would just leave, while Draco was guilty, and searched his soul for hours, wondering whether he had really wanted Harry gone.

Life without Harry was different than before in many ways. The most obvious changes included how there were less ornaments and pictures adorning the house, and the empty space in the bed when they slept. The less obvious changes included the silence in conversations when Draco and Severus waited for Harry's reply, and how the huge bed was cold with only two bodies to warm it. They had both attempted to reach Harry, and both of them kept their letters hidden from the other. But all the owls came back, never having found the recipient, and no one was willing to tell them where Harry was.

Through an un-discussed agreement, Severus and Draco did not lie in Harry's third of the bed. Draco did not officially move in with Severus for several months, though a few more of his things did find their way over to the house, whether by accident, necessity, or in an attempt to make Harry's absence less noticeable. But both of them realized something of Harry would always remain.

If not for a chance meeting in Diagon Alley one day, it is quite possible Severus and Draco would have thought Harry dead. Later, they would wonder whether Harry had been in the Alley that day on purpose, to adhere to the possibilities his letters had set out, but they never got the chance to ask him.

It wasn't a meeting of monument proportions; there were no flowers or declarations of undying love. Instead, Severus and Draco saw Harry beside Fortescue's Ice-cream, as though he had been waiting for something. He saw them walking, but did not say anything. As they got closer, Harry waved his hand once, in farewell, and, squinting against the sun that lit his face with an almost ethereal glow, smiled, if slightly sadly, and Disapparated.

Severus and Draco returned home that night, both silent and disinclined to talk, perhaps brooding just a little. But after that night, something changed between them. The relics of Harry's time with them became more like a shrine, and less like they were just waiting for him to return. Severus's anger faded, replaced by sadness, and Draco's guilt faded (though it never left completely) and they started to build a life together. Severus took up most of the cooking, and made sure Draco rested, just as Draco did for him. The occasional sightings of Harry in the Daily Prophet were bittersweet to see, and Severus and Draco always read them together. Later, Draco would unearth his collection of clippings from the paper, of Harry, of Severus, of their trials and joys, and hang them about his house. Eventually Harry did see their engagement in the Prophet, along with pictures of their bonding. He kept tabs on his loved ones, through-out their lives, and lived through them.

When the end came to their happiness, it came slowly and painfully. Severus, weakened by the years spent in servitude to a mad man, and already older than Draco and Harry, went first, on a cold April day when no sun shone and no wind blew.

His funeral was quiet, and only a small amount of people attended. Harry had debated not going, but had received a personal invitation from Draco that Harry could not refuse. It had read:

Dear Harry,

I know you've already received the funeral announcement, but I expected that you would dither about coming or not, and had to send this myself. You have to come, Harry. You are—were important to Severus. He loved you, you know. You deserve to be there, and it just feels right to include you.

Also, I can't do this on my own. I know it might be selfish, but I need someone else who is genuinely grieving to be there. Please, Harry.

Draco

Harry had gone, and Draco had sat him down beside himself, and they had been quiet during the blessing and rites. It wasn't as awkward as Harry had thought it would be.

In the years following Harry's death an un-authorized biography of his life was written. It was over sentimental and wrong on several accounts, but right on several more, including the first line of the part of the book concerning his personal life, which read "Harry Potter was a solitary man. Unique in the tradition of heroes marrying the most eligible person in the land, Potter lived most of his life in near-seclusion."

Harry never had another lover. He did not keep himself isolated on purpose, but subconsciously thought it was easier that way. He gardened, and dabbled in painting and writing, and wrote long letters to his friends. He subscribed to the Daily Prophet, and was a regular donor to the charity to pay for the children of low-income families to go to Hogwarts. He painted the rooms of his cottage several different bright, happy colors, and decorated with lots of picture frames.

And so it came to be that only Draco was left, of the original three. He retired late, and lived alone in the house Severus and Harry had once shared. He also kept a multitude of pictures, and the rare visitor might find him staring at them, lost in thought. He was an anonymous donor to the Harry Potter charity fund, which donated to orphanages in need, both magical and non-magical. He kept no pets, and only one servant, as he had come to like cooking for himself, it felt like there was a little bit of both his lovers around him when he did so. Draco spent many years lost in quiet contemplation, but managed to publish some of Harry's writings, and black-mailed the people who didn't want to publish a Death-Eater's writings, so Severus' works also became published. Draco had no talent for writing himself, but did turn to the drawing he had learnt from his mother at a young age, and soon there were nearly as many paintings as there were photographs.

When Draco died, no one remembered him for long. And when they did, it was to say "Remember that old block that lived in that house all by himself? Solitary man, him. Odd, you know."

But perhaps somewhere Draco and Severus have been reunited. Perhaps Harry has joined them once again, in a place where love is the most prevalent feeling. Or perhaps their three souls have been released into the world, to do as they wish, and maybe, just maybe, they have all found each other again.

Or perhaps they have never reunited, or Draco and Severus have, but found the years separating them from Harry impossible to overcome in pursuit of a relationship. Perhaps, in a different dimension, they exist only as characters on a page.

Or maybe, just maybe, their true story has yet to be told.

Merry Christmas! I think at some points I had hope of writing a happy Christmas story. ... Bit late now though.