~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What have you done?!"

Draco turned his head to meet the Potions Professor's harsh stare once more, anger quickly overpowering his grief.

"What have I done? What have you done! What have any of you done! You were supposed to protect him, keep him safe! You promised him!"

Draco let another sob escape, burying his face in the ebony hair of the lifeless man cradled in his arms. Draco felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his former Headmaster looking down at him, consolation and grief shining brightly in Dumbledore's weary eyes.

"Come, Draco. There is nothing we can do."

~*~

Word of Harry Potter's disappearance had hit the news fast. He had scarcely been missing for two whole days before the announcement came over the Wireless Wizarding Network news broadcast.

Draco Malfoy had been sitting in his father's soft dragon-hide chair in the study, sipping his afternoon tea and watching his mother as she lounged on the couch opposite him embroidering the silk of her favourite robe. They had spent a lot of time in the study since Lucius' death; Draco supposed it made her feel closer to her husband since he had spent so much time in that particular room.

The volume on the WWN was kept low, the soothing sounds of a string quartet echoing around the circular room. Draco was just about to rest his overtired eyes when the music had stopped suddenly and the announcement rang through the airwaves.

Draco had felt a knot form in his stomach. He looked over to his mother, who returned his gaze with a surprised expression.

"Did I hear what I think I just heard?" Narcissa's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Harry. Disappeared. He's disappeared," Draco rose from his seat as an unsettling feeling washed over him. Narcissa watched her son's movements from across the room, and moved her legs off the couch, motioning for him to sit beside her.

"No, I...I'll be in my room. Excuse me, Mother."

Draco reached the doorway to his bedroom and paused before entering. The same words had been ringing in his ears over and over again, "Harry Potter...has disappeared." Draco rested his forehead against the cool cherry wood door and sighed. He can't be gone, he just can't be gone. He's run off somewhere... He'll come back. He'll come back and everything will be alright again.

Draco walked into his room and headed for the window. He could feel a tightening in his chest, like all the oxygen in the room was slowly being sucked away. He swept the curtains aside and flung open the window, leaning slightly out and taking in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. He could almost taste the decaying leaves on his tongue.

As Draco looked out amongst the expanse of the Manor, his thoughts turned to the last time he had seen Harry. It had been four and a half months since he had watched Harry walking the path to Hogsmeade with his friends Ron and Hermione. It was on the last day of their education at Hogwarts, and Draco had lingered as long as he could at the door of the carriage that his mother had sent for him, watching Harry's retreat.

Harry had seemed happy that day, all smiles and playful attitude. But then, why wouldn't he be? Voldemort was finally gone, and there had been surprisingly few casualties in his downfall. Harry had a full life ahead of him, probably full of green-eyed children and dogs and summer holidays in Spain.

Draco smiled wistfully at the memory of that last day of school, at the deep-seated ache he had felt while standing at the carriage door, knowing that he might never see Harry again. The ache was still there, still lingering even months later, though less prominent than before. Harry's regular appearances on the pages (and sometimes covers) of The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly had satiated Draco in small measures. He never could understand exactly why he felt constantly pulled in Harry's direction, but he was. He suspected it had something, or everything, to do with that first day on the train when they were still so young - the day Harry first rejected him. Even after the fighting and snide remarks had ceased after the Christmas holiday of their fifth year, Draco still felt compelled to always stay within Harry's line of sight.

Draco simply could not bear the thought of Harry forgetting about or ignoring him. Instead he had made his constant presence known in other ways. Light bumping of elbows in the hallways or unsolicited assistance with the occasional potion. He had even helped Harry with his Divination homework on two separate opportunities, Draco having seen the errors as he was lingering by Harry's table. Ron had thrown a veritable fit at the intrusion, of course, but Harry had promptly told the Weasel to shut his mouth and take whatever help they could get.

Draco had also taken to eavesdropping on Harry's conversations with his friends. He had soon found out several facts of Harry's life that he was sure Harry had no intention of anyone but Ron and Hermione ever knowing, especially not Draco. It hadn't taken him long to work out who Snuffles was, nor was he surprised to find out that Harry did, in fact, own an invisibility cloak. Draco had also discovered other, more intimate facts about his supposed nemesis. He found out that Harry heard his mother being murdered whenever a Dementor came near, and that Harry's hatred for Draco's father rivaled only Harry's hatred for Voldemort - that fact, however, didn't come as much of a surprise. Actually, Draco understood that quite clearly.

What had surprised Draco was what he learned about Harry's romantic inclinations. He had always assumed that The Boy Who Lived had a constant gaggle of giggling girls trying to whisper into his ear at all hours of the day. That was not necessarily true. While Harry did have a rather large pile of Valentine's come February 14^th, Draco had been a bit surprised to find that Harry never pursued any of them. Particularly Ginny Weasley. Draco had always assumed that he would marry the Weasley girl and it would be one big happy Weasley family.

Draco had once overheard Harry telling Hermione that he had no interest in the girl, and was finding the whole crush situation becoming a tad uncomfortable. Harry had asked Hermione to talk to Ginny about it, to try and make her understand that he saw her as a sister and would never see her as anything more. In fact, Harry didn't seem to have any interest in anyone at all, at least, none that Draco could suss out.

Draco had been nearly caught in his new habit of Harry-watching on numerous occasions. Harry would find him, around a corner or behind a bookcase, but would never say anything to him. He would just give Draco a terse grin and move on. Draco sometimes wondered if Harry had guessed or somehow discovered that Draco finally had the privilege of coming face to face with Voldemort that Christmas of their 5^th year. He wondered if Dumbledore had broken their confidence and had told Harry about Draco having come into his office two weeks after break, asking for protection. He wondered if Dumbledore had told Harry that Draco was not, in fact, going to follow in his father's footsteps.

Draco leaned out the window a bit farther, and braced his hand on the windowsill for balance. He stared off in the direction of the Malfoy family crypt, and seeing the imposing stone structure off in the distance brought to mind another bit of surprising information about the Gryffindor. Harry had never seen his parents' grave, or the home in which he spent the first year of his life. Draco had always had this image of Harry kneeling at their gravesite on some random summer night, mourning the parents he couldn't remember.

Draco found it ironic at best that he himself had been to Godric's Hollow while Harry had not. His father had taken him to the site when Draco was 8 years old in an attempt to show him the "beauty that can come from destruction". Draco found the place to be quite the opposite. There was no plant life whatsoever. Even after all the time that had passed since that night in 1981, the grass refused to grow. It was as if Death had taken up permanent residence and killed anything that dared to try and flourish in its presence. All that had remained was the stone fence that outlined the property. Draco could remember having pocketed a large piece of gravel that he found in the spot where the house once stood.

Six months earlier, Draco had heard Harry telling Ron that Dumbledore wouldn't let him go. Dumbledore thought that there were probably detection spells in place that would alert certain Death Eaters to Harry's presence at the site. It would have been an obvious place for an ambush, and so Dumbledore had forbidden him to go.

Draco leaned back inside, pulling the window shut. He walked over to his bedside table and opened the drawer. He rummaged around inside for a few moments before his hand finally laid claim on the small stone. He pulled the stone out and allowed his fingers to worry over its familiar surface.

Strange and unfamiliar warning bells went off in Draco's head, and he knew that he had to go there. Something was pulling him there, telling him to go. He stood still for a moment, letting his inner demons wage the battle of whether to go there himself, or alert the Ministry - or even Ron Weasley - to his suspicion. He shoved the stone in his trouser pocket, turning it round and round, an instinctual fire growing in his belly. Draco didn't know why he had such a strong feeling that Harry was there, but he did know that his own instincts were not to be trifled with.

He would go on his own. Draco had no interest in fielding Ron Weasley's questions as to how Draco would know Harry's whereabouts, nor did he want to be interrogated by the Ministry if his instincts were correct and they found Harry...hurt. Or worse. He would go alone, douse the fire that was slowly taking over his insides, and make sure Harry was alright.

Draco pulled out his cloak from the wardrobe, grabbed his broom from its stand, and walked from his bedroom and down the hallway into the study where his mother still lay on the couch.

"Mother, I'm leaving for a while. Don't wait up for me."

"Where are you going?" Narcissa didn't look up from her task.

"Not too far. I just have something I need to do."

"You'll be back by tomorrow evening, right? We still have our Hallow's Eve engagement with the Parkinson's to attend."

The fire in Draco's belly burned more fierce at the mention of the date. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the Potters' death, and Draco was more sure than ever that Harry would be there. Harry's whispered words rang in his head...You don't know what it's like, Ron. Your parent's are still alive. I need to go there.

"Yes, mother, I'll be back by then. I expect I'll be home by morning." Draco swung the cloak around his shoulders, fastening the bronze clasp.

"Take care, darling." Draco's mother lifted her head to give Draco a warm smile, and watched his determined retreat.

~*~

Draco pulled the cloak tighter around himself, feeling the air chill as the sun began to set. Not much farther now. Draco needed no map to reach his destination. He remembered it well, not only from his excursion as a boy, but also from having read the story on numerous occasions. His father's frequent rants about The Boy Who Lived had given Draco a strong interest in the story at a young age. Even before that first meeting at Madam Malkin's, Draco was sure that he probably knew more about Harry's family than even Harry did.

As Draco finally reached the outskirts of the small, nearly deserted town of Godric's Hollow, he thought back to the only time that Harry had talked to him like a friend. It was the day of the final Gryffindor versus Slytherin match of their seventh year, the last time he had ever flown side by side with Harry.

Draco had come upon Harry in the library, not at all coincidentally. It was one of the rare moments that Draco was able to catch Harry alone, and he had taken full advantage of it.

"Shouldn't you be getting in some last minute practice, Potter?"

"I could ask the same of you, Malfoy."

Draco sat down at the table across from Harry, who was copying passages from a massive tome, and waited a moment to gauge the boy's reaction before continuing. Harry seemed rather nonplussed.

"Yeah, I suppose so, what with the game in less than four hours. Not that it would matter."

"Meaning?" Harry put down his quill and closed his book, his brows furrowed slightly.

Draco's eyes were drawn to the title, Vivificus Donum, and made note to look up its meaning later.

Draco waved hid hand in nonchalance, "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, does it, Potter? It's our last game together."

"I'm not following you."

Draco rolled his eyes, "I mean catching the Snitch. It doesn't matter anymore. I only got into Quidditch in the first place to beat you. Well, that and an overbearing father who promised a Nimbus 2001."

Harry looked rather dumbstruck. "You mean to tell me that you've been playing a game for 6 years that you don't even like? Just out of spite?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it. I'm just not fanatical about it like some," Draco aimed the last word directly at Harry, "I just like being up in the air. The Snitch was more of a distraction than anything else. Maybe if I had actually caught it, the game would've been more than a means to an end."

"So...so you don't even care about winning?"

"I didn't say that, and even if I did I'd only deny it later," Draco smirked. "All I'm saying is that I quit trying to beat you a long time ago. I never catch the damned thing anyway." Draco took a moment to examine his nails, trying to keep hold of the nonchalant facade, even though he'd just confessed to Harry that he knew Harry was better than he was.

"Oh, you'll catch it. Just not today."

Draco looked up to find Harry grinning at him. A sincere grin, the same kind he gave to Ron and Seamus and all his other friends. Draco watched as Harry quickly packed up his things and rose from his seat. As Harry walked away, leaving Draco alone at the table, he stopped for a moment and turned around.

"Good luck today, Malfoy," Harry smirked, "I'll try and keep you up in the air as long as I can."

Draco had watched as Harry walked to the Library doors, turned the corner, and disappeared. He remembered that there had been a slight pang in his chest, and an odd feeling in his stomach that he had chalked up to pre-game jitters.

Draco finally came upon the small, nearly deserted town of Godric's Hollow. He lowered his altitude and followed the line of trees that edged a small forest just along the small river that outlined the town. He had heard while eavesdropping on one of his father's conversations with Macnair that Godric's Hollow had been all but abandoned by it's inhabitants shortly after the Potter's deaths, apparently due to fear and panic from the mysterious cloaked figures that made regular visits looking for their master. Draco coasted until he came to the small hill where two broken down cottages stood, the large empty gap between them having been the location of the Potter's home.

As Draco followed the incline of the hill, his eyes were drawn to something small and black lying in the dead grass below. A subtle breeze blew by, and the blackness moved to reveal familiar blue trainers at the end of a denim-clad leg. Draco felt his veins freeze over, his blood like ice.

Draco made the steep decline to land, nearly falling face first into the ground in panic. Draco broke into a run, and collapsed to his knees as he reached Harry's body. Draco took in the figure before him - Harry's back was to him, and his knees were up against his chest as if Harry had been trying to curl into a protective ball to shield himself. Harry's face was buried in his hands, and Draco could see no movement from the broken and beaten man who still looked so much like a boy. Draco shut his eyes; a deep-seated fear started to creep along his spine at the thought that Harry might be dead. That he was too late.

He reached out a trembling hand to Harry's shoulder and turned Harry to face him, Harry's back pressed against Draco's knees. Draco let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as he looked at the oh so familiar face. It was dirty from where Harry's face had been lying against the ground, and there was blood at Harry's temple. One of the lenses in his glasses had been smashed literally into the flesh. Rivulets of blood were coagulating on Harry's cheek.

"Harry?" Draco whispered.

"Harry, please," he whispered again.

Draco raised his hand to pull the glasses from Harry's face and set them down on the decaying ground. He reached for Harry's shoulders, and pulled his upper body into his arms, cradling him gingerly. Draco could feel bones that shouldn't move shifting underneath his fingertips. He touched his hand to Harry's face, and slowly pulled out a large shard of lens that had embedded itself just below Harry's right eye. Draco watched the blood flow freely and disappear into the dark hair.

"Harry, Harry please wake up," Draco's voice was pleading. Draco felt the body in his arms twitch. He took the sleeve of his cloak and wiped at the blood as it slowly made a trail down Harry's cheek.

Draco's eyes were drawn to the exposed collarbone and could see the edge of what appeared to be a scorch mark. He unclasped Harry's cloak, then opened the top of Harry's shirt beneath. Oh God. Draco had seen this type of burn before. The Death Eater who had attacked Harry (for it had to be a Death Eater to know this type of dark magic) had cast the Bloodletting spell. When left unchecked, the spell causes its victims veins to slowly collapse, one by one, restricting blood flow to the body's vital organs.

Draco took his hand, fingertips wet with Harry's blood, and placed his palm over Harry's heart. He could feel a faint pulse. Draco's eyes travelled back up to Harry's face.

Harry's eyes were looking back at him.

"Harry...Harry, are...are you...what happened?"

Harry grinned weakly, tried to take a deep breath, then began to cough. A small trickle of blood oozed from the corner of Harry's mouth, and Draco wiped it away. Draco's eyes began to burn as the realization struck him that it was too late. There was nothing he could do for Harry. Nothing he could do but stay here, holding him. He reached up to smooth the hair from Harry's forehead, knowing it was a futile gesture to try and comfort him.

Harry's hand reached up and grabbed weakly at the edge of Draco's cloak. Draco heard Harry mutter something under his breath.

"What? What is it Harry?" Draco's voice was tainted with desperation.

Harry continued to mumble, and Draco listened as intently as he could to try and understand.

"Harry, I can't...I can't understand you."

Harry tightened his grip on Draco's cloak and pulled him closer to his face. He took in a small gasp of air.

"For you, Draco. Live for me." More blood trickled from Harry's mouth as he spoke.

"No, no, don't say that, Harry. Please don't go. You can't...you can't leave." You can't leave me. Draco pulled Harry tighter against his body, gently rocking Harry as Harry's breath became more and more shallow.

Draco laid his palm upon Harry's chest again and could feel the heartbeat begin to stutter and fade. Draco shut his eyes tightly, trying to block the unshed tears from escaping. He felt Harry's fingers on his chin, pulling Draco's face back down to look at him, and Draco opened his eyes once more. Draco stilled as several tears made their way down his face and travelled the length of Harry's fingers. He locked his gaze with Harry's.

And then Draco heard it. A sound he'd heard more times than most people. Harry took in a raspy breath that was abruptly cut off, and Draco felt a shudder run through Harry's broken body. They called it the death rattle. Draco called it the worst sound on earth. Draco let out a strangled cry as he watched the light begin to fade from the emerald eyes, saw the pupils begin to dilate and then fix. Harry's eyes then began to change from their brilliant green to a pale, icy blue, and his hand fell limply from Draco's chin down to the ground. Draco stared in shock, mouth slightly agape, at the vacant stare from the blue eyes.

He was gone. Harry was gone.

A sob finally escaped as Draco took his hand from the now still heart to wrap his arm around Harry, bringing him up against his own in a tight hold. Draco buried his face in Harry's hair, rocking back and forth, and wept.

After what felt like days to Draco, he heard the ground rustle behind him as someone approached. He lifted his head and looked behind him to see Severus Snape rushing towards them. Draco thought he should have been relieved, but all he could feel was a strangling and black misery eating away at his insides. Nothing mattered. He turned back to look at Harry, cradling him protectively, and ran his hand down Harry's face, his fingertips ghosting across the surface of Harry's eyelids to close them.

Draco saw the shadow of his former potion's master gliding closer towards them, and finally shadowing them, blocking out what little light was left from the sun at the horizon. Draco looked up at Severus and saw him looking down at Harry, his brows furrowed in confusion. Severus then turned his eyes to Draco, and Draco watched his eyes grow wide, confusion being replaced with shock and...horror. Severus paled, and looked over his shoulder to the other figure Draco never heard approach. Dumbledore.

Draco followed Severus' gaze to see the Headmaster approaching, red and gold plumage from the phoenix fanning out behind him. Dumbledore came to stand at Draco's side, staring down at them both and looking older and more weary than Draco had ever seen him before.

"What have you done?!" Severus' voice was quiet with rage.

Draco turned his head to meet the Potions Professor's harsh stare once more, anger quickly overpowering his grief.

"What have I done? What have you done! What have any of you done!" Draco looked over to Dumbledore, "You were supposed to protect him, keep him safe! You promised him!"

Draco let another sob escape, turning his eyes back to the lifeless man cradled in his arms. Draco felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his former Headmaster looking down at him, consolation and grief shining brightly in Dumbledore's weary eyes.

"Come, Draco. There is nothing we can do."

~*~

Draco sat in the uncomfortable chair across from Dumbledore's desk, Severus' hand resting on the back as he stood behind Draco. He thought he'd never be in this place again. The last time he had set foot in Dumbledore's office was when he had asked Dumbledore for protection from Voldemort and his own father.

Arms lying limply at his sides, Draco could still feel the weight of Harry pressed into them. He let his mind travel to the hospital ward across the school where Harry's body was now lying. Draco felt Dumbledore's stare upon him, but refused to meet it. So tired.

"Draco," Dumbledore's voice was solemn.

"Yes."

"Do you know what happened at Godric's Hollow today?"

"No," Draco shifted in the chair, still avoiding the Headmaster's eyes. Too blue...blue like Harry's. I don't ever want to see blue again.

"Did Harry say anything to you? Anything at all?"

Draco was silent. He felt fiercely protective of the final moments he had with Harry. He didn't want to share them with anyone. He wanted to keep that moment to himself. It was his...his and Harry's. But he knew it could never be kept secret. Dumbledore would have to know.

"Did you hear the spell?"

Draco's head jerked up at this. "Spell? What spell?"

Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him, looking down over the top of his half-moon glasses, and asked again, "Did Harry say anything?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore waited for Draco to continue, and Draco heard Severus shift behind him, then felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I got there a few moments before...before he died. I couldn't help him. I...I knew what had been done to him. I've seen it before." Draco's breath hitched in his lungs. He undid the top button on his shirt, trying to ease the constriction in his throat.

"He was mumbling. I couldn't understand him." A soft but bitter laugh escaped, and his voice quieted, "We never did understand each other."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, "What did you hear?"

"'For you, Draco. Live for me.' That's what he said, all I could understand. And then..."

"Yes?"

Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to tell them what he had seen in Harry's eyes. The image kept replaying itself in his mind...green to blue, over and over again, the light fading as Harry's life slipped away. But why?

"Ask me, Draco."

Draco was taken slightly aback. He idly thought that the rumours that Dumbledore could read minds might have something to them after all.

"I...I don't..."

"You saw something happen, didn't you," Dumbledore's words were more a statement than a question.

"Yes. His eyes. They...changed." Draco looked back to the floor, wishing once again that he could keep that moment to himself, the memory being the last thing he could ever hold onto that was theirs.

"Tell me, Draco, do you know the story of Lily Potter?

"Of course. Everyone does."

"Then allow me to embellish. There is one detail of her life, and of her death, that even Voldemort did not know."

Draco sat back as Dumbledore began to piece together the story of how Harry got his brilliant green eyes.

"It's ancient magic; a spell which dictates that upon the caster's death, the life force still within their body is given to the chosen recipient. When Voldemort cast the killing curse on Harry, Harry had two lives inside him. His own, and his mother's. She didn't give her life for him, Draco, she gave it to him."

Draco listened as Dumbledore told him about how Harry had gotten his mother's green eyes the moment of her death, a sign of her life force existing within him, giving him an extra chance at life. He told Draco that was the most precious gift she could have given her son, and that Harry did well to never forget that gift. Dumbledore told him about the day during their fifth year that he finally told Harry this story, and how Harry finally discovered why he had survived and became The Boy Who Lived. And now Draco had been given that same gift.

Draco felt a shiver run up the length of his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck tickle against his shirt collar.

"What does this have to do with me?"

Dumbledore looked at Draco intently for a moment, then reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, circular item. He rose from his seat and walked around the desk to stand in front of Draco. Draco stood, and turned to look at Severus who was walking around to stand at Draco's side.

Dumbledore outstretched his hand, offering the item to Draco. He looked at Dumbledore questioningly, and took hold of the proffered item. A mirror? Draco angled the mirror that rest in his palm to see his own reflection.

Same hair, same pale skin, same sharp and angular features. And brilliant green eyes.

Draco felt his heart skip a beat and the air around him thicken until he could barely breathe. He let the mirror slip from his hand to the floor below, shattering at his feet.

Draco began to sit back down, feeling his knees start to give out. Why? Why, Harry? He felt Dumbledore's hand on his elbow, steadying him as he sat. Dumbledore began to talk, but Draco wasn't listening. Placating murmurs about being grateful for what Harry had given him, and about never forgetting. As if I ever could...

Draco looked up at Dumbledore, staring into those blue eyes and not hearing a word that was being spoken to him, the final moments of Harry's life still playing on a loop in his mind. An encompassing anger washed over Draco as he thought about Harry having left him here, alone, after tossing yet another burden upon Draco's shoulders. They'll never forgive me. They'll never forgive me for being the one to find him. They being everyone who's ever loved Harry in the one way that Draco never knew how.

Draco put his hand in his pocket, grasping the stone he had nearly forgotten he'd placed within, and squeezed hard. He wanted to break it; to make it crumble until it was just so much dust, and scatter it in the winds. He wanted to forget about Godric's Hollow, about this day, about those eyes.

"Don't be angry with him, Draco," Dumbledore's words finally broke through, "He chose you. He didn't have to do it, but he did. Don't let it be in vain."

Draco stood once more, shaking Dumbledore's hand off his arm. He was going home, away from Dumbledore's blue eyes, and away from the body lying in an empty room on the other side of the school.

Draco looked down at his feet, down at the reflective shards still scattered on the floor, and stared at his broken image...the green eyes of Harry Potter staring back up at him.

*~*

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