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Description
Title: Hey There Draco Chapter 23
Chapter: Hey There Draco, Again
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Content, Violence
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am owned by no one.
Author's Notes: Almost done! Only the Epilogue Thanks to everyone who reads my stories! Thanks to M!

Warning: This is a Harry/Draco fanfiction. Meaning boy/boy. If you don't like, don't read. That is all.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the voices around him, and he was far too out of it to place the voices with their owners. The only thing he was absolutely conscious of was the beating of Draco’s heart, which beat in his ears, echoing his own. He was also certain of Draco being farther away from him than he would have liked. That perhaps more than anything was what forced Harry’s eyes open.

Harry was no longer by the cliff, nor was he at Hogwarts. No, he was in the drawing room back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry sat up slowly, wincing as he did so. His chest and nearly all of his stomach was bandaged up with a thick white binding. The tightness was causing it to be difficult for him to breathe sitting up, and he flopped back down with resignation. The drawing room had been transformed into a makeshift hospital and Harry had to wonder why they weren’t at the actual hospital, St. Mungo’s. Or at least in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Why had they come all the way back to Grimmauld Place? Why did they have to be in Sirius’ home? Harry’s heart clenched at the thought of Sirius. In the end, Harry just hadn’t been able to get enough information on Necromancy. If he’d had but a little more time, then maybe he could have brought Sirius back . . . but it was all for naught. Lupin had been right. Nothing good came out of trying to get Sirius back. And in the end he was left broken and disappointed. At least he still had Draco.

Harry turned his head to look around the room. The furniture in the drawing room had been pushed aside and portable cots had been set up. On his left was a seemingly lifeless Fred, but obviously not dead, yet, as he was bandaged and quite carefully propped up on several pillows so that he could breathe easier. On his right was Draco. He had a peaceful expression on his face, as if he had just discovered the truth behind all of life’s little secrets.

Harry forced his way out of bed and stumbled over to Draco. He swayed in front of Draco’s bed.

“Draco?” Harry called softly. Draco didn’t stir at all. Harry placed his hand on Draco’s chest. There was no doubt. Harry could feel Draco’s heart beating faintly under his hand. So why wasn’t he awake? “You’re just very tired, aren’t you?” Harry said. He smoothed Draco’s flaxen locks out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. “You just sleep as long as you’d like.”

Harry figured as long as Draco was out cold, he might as well use the bathroom and wash his face. He didn’t particularly feel grimy as whoever had bandaged him had obviously taken the time to clean him up, but washing his face hopefully would wake him up. He felt like he was still dreaming.

Harry found his way to the hall bathroom and splashed his face several times with cold water. When he looked up from the sink into the mirror he had to do a double take. It was gone. His scar was gone. He was stupefied. All he could do for what seemed like hours was stare. Harry lifted a shaking hand to his forehead. His finger traced where his scar had been. Harry suddenly felt his identity being swept away. Who was he without his scar? Who was Harry Potter without his scar? That scar had identified him. Defined him. Was him. Without his scar he was . . . well, he wasn’t. Harry tore his eyes away from his image in the mirror.

The life of his scar had ended with Voldemort’s life. In a way his life as the Chosen One had ended, too. He was no longer Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. That chapter in his life was over now. At least it hadn’t been the last. He had really resigned himself to the thought that he and Draco were going to die. Harry thought about Voldemort’s last moments. As much as he despised him, he could not demonize him. Harry was certain that Voldemort, no, Tom Riddle had not lived a very happy life. Harry had been the one to end that life. Harry had killed. Was he now a murderer? Harry shook his head to clear himself of these unhappy thoughts. He was still alive and had all of his friends beside him. And Draco, he had Draco.

Harry took one last look at himself in the mirror. It was strange how quickly he could get used to not having the scar. In a way it was sort of relieving, like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Harry wandered back out into the hallway. The house was entirely quiet. What time was it? Harry supposed that everyone was sleeping. They had all been through a lot, after all. He decided the best thing for him to do was go back to bed as well. His head felt like it was about to explode. Harry entered back into the drawing room. Fred groaned a little but didn’t wake. Draco remained still. Harry shut the door quietly behind him. He had a brief moment where he considered just going to his own cot, but then he decided that sleeping with Draco was a much more amiable idea. Harry gently slipped into the bed next to Draco, resting his head on Draco’s chest. He listened to the sound of Draco’s heart beating. It was so soothing. He was asleep within minutes.

                                                             ~~~

Harry next awoke to someone shaking him lightly on the shoulder. Harry opened his eyes and the room came slowly into focus. It was Mrs. Weasley. She looked relieved, though her mouth was a thin line.

“Harry, dear, you really ought to be sleeping in your own bed.”

Harry sat up. “I want to be with Draco,” he said stubbornly. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

Mrs. Weasley looked a little surprised. “You mean he hasn’t woken up, yet?”

Harry shook his head. Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Fred groaning. She went over to him, placing her hand on his forehead.

“Is he all right?” Harry asked. “What happened to him?”

Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked very pale. “He was hit with a Severing Charm,” she said in a whisper. “The Death Eater had been aiming at George when Fred pushed him out of the way.”

Harry shuddered at the unpleasant image of Fred being sliced to bits. He hadn’t even been aware that the Severing Charm could be used on flesh. The idea was completely gruesome. Poor George. Harry knew that he had to be beside himself with guilt and worry. Harry wondered why he wasn’t there with Fred. Most likely because Mrs. Weasley was keeping him out.

Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Weasley asked sharply. “Get back in bed this instant!”

“I need to speak to a few people,” Harry said. He was out the door before she could object, again.

One of the people he wanted to talk to happened to be walking along the hallway just as Harry left the drawing room.

“Professor Snape,” Harry said.

Snape stopped walking. “Potter,” he acknowledged in a monotone.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists. He still disliked the man. Swallowing his pride, Harry bowed his head a little. “Thank you very much for what you did the other day,” he said. “I might not have been able to save Draco. And not just this time. I know you’ve been looking after Draco for some time now. Thank you.”

Snape considered him for a moment before walking right past him. Harry straightened up.

“I grow weary of saving you, Potter,” Snape said over his shoulder. “Now that the Dark Lord is dead I hope that will be the last time. Though knowing you I doubt it. You are the most foolish boy I have ever met, after all.” For a moment Harry could have sworn he saw a smile on Sanpe’s face. But Snape was down the hallway before Harry could confirm this.

Harry smiled. “Thank you.”

Harry was glad that was over. Though he knew the next person he wanted to talk to would be even more difficult. Before Harry could even prepare himself, he was in front of Professor Lupin’s room. Harry took a deep breath, both to calm his nerves and his body. Climbing up the stairs had taken a lot out of his still healing body.

“Professor Lupin?” Harry called, knocking on the door.

“Come in, Harry,” Lupin’s voice called back. “The door is open.”

Harry pushed the door open and lingered in the doorway. Lupin was seated in an armchair by a fireplace that wasn’t lit, a book propped in his lap and a cup of tea sitting on the nearby table.

Harry fidgeted nervously, pulling at his sleeves. “Do you have a second?” Harry asked.

“For you, Harry,” Lupin said, closing his book and setting it on the table, “I have the world.”

Harry took a few steps into the room, pausing again.

“I think I’m ready to talk to you about Sirius,” Harry said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Lupin nodded and motioned for Harry to take a seat in the chair facing his. Harry closed the door behind him and went to sit in the chair. Without even asking, Lupin poured a cup of tea and forced it into Harry’s hands. Harry was happy to have something to hold onto.

And so Harry talked. He talked about the first time he met Sirius and the confusion he’d felt about whether Sirius was bad or not. He talked about how happy he’d been when Sirius had offered him a home and how he’d thought that Sirius could be his family. He had wanted Sirius to save him. Save him from the Dursleys, save him from his destiny, and save him from being a hero. He’d wanted Sirius to live so badly that it caused his judgment to be clouded and he couldn't see through Voldemort’s trap. And that his decision had cost Sirius his life. He told Lupin about seeing Sirius for the last time in the clearing. And the words Sirius had said to him. And finally, Harry talked about how he had said good bye to Sirius. And how much he still wanted Sirius back in spite of all that had happened.

Harry fell silent as the tears he had not been able to cry for months rolled quietly down his cheeks. Lupin didn’t say anything for a moment either, and he merely handed Harry a tissue. Harry took it gratefully and dabbed his eyes.

“I agree with everything that Sirius said to you,” Lupin finally said. Harry looked up and saw that Lupin’s eyes were shining. “He was a good man and was one of my best friends. I am certain his soul has found your parents by now.” Lupin paused for a moment. “Do not despair anymore, Harry. Sirius wanted you to be happy. In truth that’s all he ever wished for.”

Harry wiped his eyes one last time and nodded. To be happy. To stay alive. He would do it for Sirius and for all of his friends, for Draco and for himself.

Harry decided that he had bothered Lupin enough for that day and being with Draco and waiting for him to wake up was all he wanted to do. He said his thanks to Lupin and headed for the drawing room. As he approached, he heard someone singing. It was coming from the drawing room.

Harry poked his head into the drawing room and saw that it was Narcissa Malfoy. She was sitting next to Draco’s bed with her hands clasped with Draco’s. Draco’s eyes were still closed and he didn’t appear that he was going to wake anytime soon. She was singing through her tears.

You're here, suddenly beside me.
Your smile, it looks just the same.
Your heart, I can hear it beating,
Don't let it stop, don't let it stop, oh no.

*Take my hand and come away with me,
You know that you're longing to be free,
Somehow I can feel you always knew,
Everything I do, I do for you.

I'm here, now that you have found me,
I won't try to run away.
The stars, shining here above us,
Burst into light, don't let them fade away.

*Take my hand and come away with me,
You know that you're longing to be free,
Somehow I can feel you always knew,
Everything I do, I do for you...

...For you
...For you
...For you.

Narcissa stopped singing. Harry decided to enter the room completely. He hesitated as he walked toward her.

“Mrs. Malfoy?”

She turned around. “Oh, Harry Potter,” she said.

“What was that song you were just singing?” Harry asked.

“Draco’s lullaby,” said Narcissa. “It’s something that I used to sing to him when he was a child. This song always made him smile when he was sad. I was only hoping that he would wake up if I sang it to him.” She turned her big eyes brimming with tears to Harry. “Why has he not woken yet?”

“I don’t know,” Harry told her honestly. “I think we just have to be patient.”

Narcissa nodded and stood up. “Please continue looking after him. I would stay, myself, but Serverus is going to take me to my husband.”

“Of course,” Harry said.

She took one last look at her son and left the room. Harry took her chair by Draco’s bed, placing his hands on Draco’s stomach. The light from outside shone dully through the blue curtains which fluttered carelessly in the wind. Harry was prepared to stay like that all day when Mrs. Weasley entered.

“Hello Harry, dear,” she said. Harry could tell that she was still peeved at how he had bounced out of the room earlier. “Ron and Hermione are awake. I’ve made lunch for everyone in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I would like to see Ron and Hermione.”

Just like Mrs. Weasley said, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Ron’s leg was bandaged up and Hermione had a band aid on her cheek. Ron had his eyes closed and was resting his head on Hermione’s shoulder. Ginny was at the table as well. She had her head buried in her folded arms in the table and appeared to be asleep.

Hermione looked up and saw Harry. “Harry!” she cried. She was about to get up but Harry waved her down. Both Ron and Hermione looked exhausted.

Ron opened his eyes. “Hey Harry,” Ron said smiling.

“Hey you guys,” Harry said. He sat down across from them.

Harry was very happy to see his friends. He had been worried about them.

“Where’s Draco?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked down. “He hasn’t woken up, yet.” Harry suddenly noticed that George was not at the table, either. “Where’s George?”

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances before Ron answered. “He’s really worried about Fred. He won’t talk to anyone.”

“No one has been able to reach him,” Hermione added.

Ginny sat up; her eyes were puffy and red. It seemed that George was not the only one who was worried about Fred. Harry stood up. Suddenly he didn’t feel like eating anymore. He just wanted to be with Draco. None of the other occupants of the room said anything as Harry wandered out of the kitchen. They understood.

The door to the drawing room was closed and locked. Harry discovered this after he’d tried in vain to force it open with both hands. Harry cursed himself for forgetting his wand next to his cot. Though, he hardly thought that it would have made a difference. When Mrs. Weasley didn’t want any kids in the room, there would be no kids in the room. It was only when Harry went to sit against the wall that he noticed that George was already there. Harry didn’t say anything as he sat down next to him. George had his knees in his arms. His eyes were open but they were vacant and lost. He didn’t acknowledge Harry in any way and Harry was even beginning to doubt whether or not George knew he was there when he spoke.

“We’ve never been apart for more than a day,” George said. There was no life in his voice. Harry had never seen either of the twins behave this way. Even last year, when their father’s life had been at risk neither of them had looked as depressed as George did right then. He buried his head in his knees. “If Fred dies I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“He won’t die,” Harry said firmly.

George then gave him a look that seemed to sum up all of his feelings. It was both a look of hope and despair. His eyes pleaded with Harry to make what he said true. However, just beyond that expression lingered a single question. A question that was on both of their minds, that neither dared to say, what if . . . ?

The door opened and Mrs. Weasley stepped through, closing the door behind her. She look extremely tired and worn out.

“Muuum!” George whined, jumping up. “Please let me in. I want to see him.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what will go on,” Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing her son, suspiciously. “You and Fred are always roughhousing. He needs his rest.”

“I’ll stay quiet, I swear!” George pleaded.  “Please just let me be with him.”

“All right!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, exasperated. “But only because that was the most I’ve heard either of you say ‘please’ in the last year.”

George didn’t give Mrs. Weasley time to reconsider and was through the door before Harry could blink.

Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley. “Errr…?” he began.

“Yes, you may see Draco,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly.

Harry flashed her a grateful smile and walked into the dimly lit room. There were now only two beds which were on either side of the room. George was already sitting in the chair beside Fred’s bed. Both of his hands rested on top of Fred’s and his forehead was pressed into the mattress.

Harry approached Draco’s bed with caution. Why was he, Harry, awake when Draco was not? They were connected, after all. Harry ran his fingers through the hair on Draco’s forehead. He then climbed right into the bed with him, wrapping himself carefully around Draco’s unconscious form.

“Please wake up,” Harry whispered. “I love you.”

Draco didn’t stir, so Harry continued talking. “It was you. That night I thought I heard someone singing. It was you. You were singing to me.” Harry rested his head against Draco’s chest. He listened to Draco’s steady heartbeat. “Thank you,” Harry whispered.

Harry fell silent as he had nothing more to say. On the other side of the room, George was talking to Fred in a low voice. Harry couldn’t catch a word of what he was saying, but it seemed that Fred was responding to whatever it was. His eyes were open and he had his head turned toward his brother.

Harry focused his attention back on Draco. Harry didn’t know what else he could do so he started humming Draco’s lullaby. He couldn’t remember exactly how the melody went but he continued to hum nonetheless. Harry couldn’t see how Draco could just leave him on his own. The thought of Draco never waking up again caused a lump to rise in his throat. Never seeing Draco’s smile, never hearing Draco’s voice was not something Harry could handle. Tears he couldn’t control began rolling down his face. Harry sat up, his tears now splashing Draco’s face.

Harry bent over and pressed his lips gently against Draco’s. His lips felt soft and cool and lay utterly motionless against Harry’s mouth… then Draco’s lips were moving, attaching themselves desperately to Harry. Harry could scarcely believe it as he drew away from Draco.

Draco groaned and his eyes fluttered slowly open. “Harry?” he said. He lifted his hands to Harry’s face. “Harry, is that really you?”

“Hey there, Draco,” Harry said through his tears. He leaned into Draco’s touch. “Hey there.”

Description
Title: Hey There Draco Chapter 23
Chapter: Hey There Draco, Again
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Content, Violence
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am owned by no one.
Author's Notes: Almost done! Only the Epilogue Thanks to everyone who reads my stories! Thanks to M!

Warning: This is a Harry/Draco fanfiction. Meaning boy/boy. If you don't like, don't read. That is all.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the voices around him, and he was far too out of it to place the voices with their owners. The only thing he was absolutely conscious of was the beating of Draco’s heart, which beat in his ears, echoing his own. He was also certain of Draco being farther away from him than he would have liked. That perhaps more than anything was what forced Harry’s eyes open.

Harry was no longer by the cliff, nor was he at Hogwarts. No, he was in the drawing room back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry sat up slowly, wincing as he did so. His chest and nearly all of his stomach was bandaged up with a thick white binding. The tightness was causing it to be difficult for him to breathe sitting up, and he flopped back down with resignation. The drawing room had been transformed into a makeshift hospital and Harry had to wonder why they weren’t at the actual hospital, St. Mungo’s. Or at least in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Why had they come all the way back to Grimmauld Place? Why did they have to be in Sirius’ home? Harry’s heart clenched at the thought of Sirius. In the end, Harry just hadn’t been able to get enough information on Necromancy. If he’d had but a little more time, then maybe he could have brought Sirius back . . . but it was all for naught. Lupin had been right. Nothing good came out of trying to get Sirius back. And in the end he was left broken and disappointed. At least he still had Draco.

Harry turned his head to look around the room. The furniture in the drawing room had been pushed aside and portable cots had been set up. On his left was a seemingly lifeless Fred, but obviously not dead, yet, as he was bandaged and quite carefully propped up on several pillows so that he could breathe easier. On his right was Draco. He had a peaceful expression on his face, as if he had just discovered the truth behind all of life’s little secrets.

Harry forced his way out of bed and stumbled over to Draco. He swayed in front of Draco’s bed.

“Draco?” Harry called softly. Draco didn’t stir at all. Harry placed his hand on Draco’s chest. There was no doubt. Harry could feel Draco’s heart beating faintly under his hand. So why wasn’t he awake? “You’re just very tired, aren’t you?” Harry said. He smoothed Draco’s flaxen locks out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. “You just sleep as long as you’d like.”

Harry figured as long as Draco was out cold, he might as well use the bathroom and wash his face. He didn’t particularly feel grimy as whoever had bandaged him had obviously taken the time to clean him up, but washing his face hopefully would wake him up. He felt like he was still dreaming.

Harry found his way to the hall bathroom and splashed his face several times with cold water. When he looked up from the sink into the mirror he had to do a double take. It was gone. His scar was gone. He was stupefied. All he could do for what seemed like hours was stare. Harry lifted a shaking hand to his forehead. His finger traced where his scar had been. Harry suddenly felt his identity being swept away. Who was he without his scar? Who was Harry Potter without his scar? That scar had identified him. Defined him. Was him. Without his scar he was . . . well, he wasn’t. Harry tore his eyes away from his image in the mirror.

The life of his scar had ended with Voldemort’s life. In a way his life as the Chosen One had ended, too. He was no longer Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. That chapter in his life was over now. At least it hadn’t been the last. He had really resigned himself to the thought that he and Draco were going to die. Harry thought about Voldemort’s last moments. As much as he despised him, he could not demonize him. Harry was certain that Voldemort, no, Tom Riddle had not lived a very happy life. Harry had been the one to end that life. Harry had killed. Was he now a murderer? Harry shook his head to clear himself of these unhappy thoughts. He was still alive and had all of his friends beside him. And Draco, he had Draco.

Harry took one last look at himself in the mirror. It was strange how quickly he could get used to not having the scar. In a way it was sort of relieving, like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Harry wandered back out into the hallway. The house was entirely quiet. What time was it? Harry supposed that everyone was sleeping. They had all been through a lot, after all. He decided the best thing for him to do was go back to bed as well. His head felt like it was about to explode. Harry entered back into the drawing room. Fred groaned a little but didn’t wake. Draco remained still. Harry shut the door quietly behind him. He had a brief moment where he considered just going to his own cot, but then he decided that sleeping with Draco was a much more amiable idea. Harry gently slipped into the bed next to Draco, resting his head on Draco’s chest. He listened to the sound of Draco’s heart beating. It was so soothing. He was asleep within minutes.

                                                             ~~~

Harry next awoke to someone shaking him lightly on the shoulder. Harry opened his eyes and the room came slowly into focus. It was Mrs. Weasley. She looked relieved, though her mouth was a thin line.

“Harry, dear, you really ought to be sleeping in your own bed.”

Harry sat up. “I want to be with Draco,” he said stubbornly. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

Mrs. Weasley looked a little surprised. “You mean he hasn’t woken up, yet?”

Harry shook his head. Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Fred groaning. She went over to him, placing her hand on his forehead.

“Is he all right?” Harry asked. “What happened to him?”

Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked very pale. “He was hit with a Severing Charm,” she said in a whisper. “The Death Eater had been aiming at George when Fred pushed him out of the way.”

Harry shuddered at the unpleasant image of Fred being sliced to bits. He hadn’t even been aware that the Severing Charm could be used on flesh. The idea was completely gruesome. Poor George. Harry knew that he had to be beside himself with guilt and worry. Harry wondered why he wasn’t there with Fred. Most likely because Mrs. Weasley was keeping him out.

Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Weasley asked sharply. “Get back in bed this instant!”

“I need to speak to a few people,” Harry said. He was out the door before she could object, again.

One of the people he wanted to talk to happened to be walking along the hallway just as Harry left the drawing room.

“Professor Snape,” Harry said.

Snape stopped walking. “Potter,” he acknowledged in a monotone.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists. He still disliked the man. Swallowing his pride, Harry bowed his head a little. “Thank you very much for what you did the other day,” he said. “I might not have been able to save Draco. And not just this time. I know you’ve been looking after Draco for some time now. Thank you.”

Snape considered him for a moment before walking right past him. Harry straightened up.

“I grow weary of saving you, Potter,” Snape said over his shoulder. “Now that the Dark Lord is dead I hope that will be the last time. Though knowing you I doubt it. You are the most foolish boy I have ever met, after all.” For a moment Harry could have sworn he saw a smile on Sanpe’s face. But Snape was down the hallway before Harry could confirm this.

Harry smiled. “Thank you.”

Harry was glad that was over. Though he knew the next person he wanted to talk to would be even more difficult. Before Harry could even prepare himself, he was in front of Professor Lupin’s room. Harry took a deep breath, both to calm his nerves and his body. Climbing up the stairs had taken a lot out of his still healing body.

“Professor Lupin?” Harry called, knocking on the door.

“Come in, Harry,” Lupin’s voice called back. “The door is open.”

Harry pushed the door open and lingered in the doorway. Lupin was seated in an armchair by a fireplace that wasn’t lit, a book propped in his lap and a cup of tea sitting on the nearby table.

Harry fidgeted nervously, pulling at his sleeves. “Do you have a second?” Harry asked.

“For you, Harry,” Lupin said, closing his book and setting it on the table, “I have the world.”

Harry took a few steps into the room, pausing again.

“I think I’m ready to talk to you about Sirius,” Harry said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Lupin nodded and motioned for Harry to take a seat in the chair facing his. Harry closed the door behind him and went to sit in the chair. Without even asking, Lupin poured a cup of tea and forced it into Harry’s hands. Harry was happy to have something to hold onto.

And so Harry talked. He talked about the first time he met Sirius and the confusion he’d felt about whether Sirius was bad or not. He talked about how happy he’d been when Sirius had offered him a home and how he’d thought that Sirius could be his family. He had wanted Sirius to save him. Save him from the Dursleys, save him from his destiny, and save him from being a hero. He’d wanted Sirius to live so badly that it caused his judgment to be clouded and he couldn't see through Voldemort’s trap. And that his decision had cost Sirius his life. He told Lupin about seeing Sirius for the last time in the clearing. And the words Sirius had said to him. And finally, Harry talked about how he had said good bye to Sirius. And how much he still wanted Sirius back in spite of all that had happened.

Harry fell silent as the tears he had not been able to cry for months rolled quietly down his cheeks. Lupin didn’t say anything for a moment either, and he merely handed Harry a tissue. Harry took it gratefully and dabbed his eyes.

“I agree with everything that Sirius said to you,” Lupin finally said. Harry looked up and saw that Lupin’s eyes were shining. “He was a good man and was one of my best friends. I am certain his soul has found your parents by now.” Lupin paused for a moment. “Do not despair anymore, Harry. Sirius wanted you to be happy. In truth that’s all he ever wished for.”

Harry wiped his eyes one last time and nodded. To be happy. To stay alive. He would do it for Sirius and for all of his friends, for Draco and for himself.

Harry decided that he had bothered Lupin enough for that day and being with Draco and waiting for him to wake up was all he wanted to do. He said his thanks to Lupin and headed for the drawing room. As he approached, he heard someone singing. It was coming from the drawing room.

Harry poked his head into the drawing room and saw that it was Narcissa Malfoy. She was sitting next to Draco’s bed with her hands clasped with Draco’s. Draco’s eyes were still closed and he didn’t appear that he was going to wake anytime soon. She was singing through her tears.

You're here, suddenly beside me.
Your smile, it looks just the same.
Your heart, I can hear it beating,
Don't let it stop, don't let it stop, oh no.

*Take my hand and come away with me,
You know that you're longing to be free,
Somehow I can feel you always knew,
Everything I do, I do for you.

I'm here, now that you have found me,
I won't try to run away.
The stars, shining here above us,
Burst into light, don't let them fade away.

*Take my hand and come away with me,
You know that you're longing to be free,
Somehow I can feel you always knew,
Everything I do, I do for you...

...For you
...For you
...For you.

Narcissa stopped singing. Harry decided to enter the room completely. He hesitated as he walked toward her.

“Mrs. Malfoy?”

She turned around. “Oh, Harry Potter,” she said.

“What was that song you were just singing?” Harry asked.

“Draco’s lullaby,” said Narcissa. “It’s something that I used to sing to him when he was a child. This song always made him smile when he was sad. I was only hoping that he would wake up if I sang it to him.” She turned her big eyes brimming with tears to Harry. “Why has he not woken yet?”

“I don’t know,” Harry told her honestly. “I think we just have to be patient.”

Narcissa nodded and stood up. “Please continue looking after him. I would stay, myself, but Serverus is going to take me to my husband.”

“Of course,” Harry said.

She took one last look at her son and left the room. Harry took her chair by Draco’s bed, placing his hands on Draco’s stomach. The light from outside shone dully through the blue curtains which fluttered carelessly in the wind. Harry was prepared to stay like that all day when Mrs. Weasley entered.

“Hello Harry, dear,” she said. Harry could tell that she was still peeved at how he had bounced out of the room earlier. “Ron and Hermione are awake. I’ve made lunch for everyone in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I would like to see Ron and Hermione.”

Just like Mrs. Weasley said, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Ron’s leg was bandaged up and Hermione had a band aid on her cheek. Ron had his eyes closed and was resting his head on Hermione’s shoulder. Ginny was at the table as well. She had her head buried in her folded arms in the table and appeared to be asleep.

Hermione looked up and saw Harry. “Harry!” she cried. She was about to get up but Harry waved her down. Both Ron and Hermione looked exhausted.

Ron opened his eyes. “Hey Harry,” Ron said smiling.

“Hey you guys,” Harry said. He sat down across from them.

Harry was very happy to see his friends. He had been worried about them.

“Where’s Draco?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked down. “He hasn’t woken up, yet.” Harry suddenly noticed that George was not at the table, either. “Where’s George?”

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances before Ron answered. “He’s really worried about Fred. He won’t talk to anyone.”

“No one has been able to reach him,” Hermione added.

Ginny sat up; her eyes were puffy and red. It seemed that George was not the only one who was worried about Fred. Harry stood up. Suddenly he didn’t feel like eating anymore. He just wanted to be with Draco. None of the other occupants of the room said anything as Harry wandered out of the kitchen. They understood.

The door to the drawing room was closed and locked. Harry discovered this after he’d tried in vain to force it open with both hands. Harry cursed himself for forgetting his wand next to his cot. Though, he hardly thought that it would have made a difference. When Mrs. Weasley didn’t want any kids in the room, there would be no kids in the room. It was only when Harry went to sit against the wall that he noticed that George was already there. Harry didn’t say anything as he sat down next to him. George had his knees in his arms. His eyes were open but they were vacant and lost. He didn’t acknowledge Harry in any way and Harry was even beginning to doubt whether or not George knew he was there when he spoke.

“We’ve never been apart for more than a day,” George said. There was no life in his voice. Harry had never seen either of the twins behave this way. Even last year, when their father’s life had been at risk neither of them had looked as depressed as George did right then. He buried his head in his knees. “If Fred dies I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“He won’t die,” Harry said firmly.

George then gave him a look that seemed to sum up all of his feelings. It was both a look of hope and despair. His eyes pleaded with Harry to make what he said true. However, just beyond that expression lingered a single question. A question that was on both of their minds, that neither dared to say, what if . . . ?

The door opened and Mrs. Weasley stepped through, closing the door behind her. She look extremely tired and worn out.

“Muuum!” George whined, jumping up. “Please let me in. I want to see him.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what will go on,” Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing her son, suspiciously. “You and Fred are always roughhousing. He needs his rest.”

“I’ll stay quiet, I swear!” George pleaded.  “Please just let me be with him.”

“All right!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, exasperated. “But only because that was the most I’ve heard either of you say ‘please’ in the last year.”

George didn’t give Mrs. Weasley time to reconsider and was through the door before Harry could blink.

Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley. “Errr…?” he began.

“Yes, you may see Draco,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly.

Harry flashed her a grateful smile and walked into the dimly lit room. There were now only two beds which were on either side of the room. George was already sitting in the chair beside Fred’s bed. Both of his hands rested on top of Fred’s and his forehead was pressed into the mattress.

Harry approached Draco’s bed with caution. Why was he, Harry, awake when Draco was not? They were connected, after all. Harry ran his fingers through the hair on Draco’s forehead. He then climbed right into the bed with him, wrapping himself carefully around Draco’s unconscious form.

“Please wake up,” Harry whispered. “I love you.”

Draco didn’t stir, so Harry continued talking. “It was you. That night I thought I heard someone singing. It was you. You were singing to me.” Harry rested his head against Draco’s chest. He listened to Draco’s steady heartbeat. “Thank you,” Harry whispered.

Harry fell silent as he had nothing more to say. On the other side of the room, George was talking to Fred in a low voice. Harry couldn’t catch a word of what he was saying, but it seemed that Fred was responding to whatever it was. His eyes were open and he had his head turned toward his brother.

Harry focused his attention back on Draco. Harry didn’t know what else he could do so he started humming Draco’s lullaby. He couldn’t remember exactly how the melody went but he continued to hum nonetheless. Harry couldn’t see how Draco could just leave him on his own. The thought of Draco never waking up again caused a lump to rise in his throat. Never seeing Draco’s smile, never hearing Draco’s voice was not something Harry could handle. Tears he couldn’t control began rolling down his face. Harry sat up, his tears now splashing Draco’s face.

Harry bent over and pressed his lips gently against Draco’s. His lips felt soft and cool and lay utterly motionless against Harry’s mouth… then Draco’s lips were moving, attaching themselves desperately to Harry. Harry could scarcely believe it as he drew away from Draco.

Draco groaned and his eyes fluttered slowly open. “Harry?” he said. He lifted his hands to Harry’s face. “Harry, is that really you?”

“Hey there, Draco,” Harry said through his tears. He leaned into Draco’s touch. “Hey there.”