Drarry Oneshots 2

Fire and Ice

The world doesn't end in fire or ice.

The world ends in streaks of green light down in the streets, in the screams of orphaned children and the emptiness in Harry's broken hands.

The city of London isn't on fire, it isn't covered in ice, but he can see from his vantage point atop to roof, he can see the black-clad monsters swinging wands, green light firing in every direction.

"This is the end, isn't it?" he asks. He knows who is behind him.

"Yeah."

"You're here to take me to him."

"I am."

Harry turns to see ice-white hair, cold grey eyes.

"Why you?"

Draco gives him a sad smile, the only genuine one Harry's ever seen on his normally stone-cold face. 

"Who else could it be?"

Harry nods, feeling his face warm. It's the first time he's truly felt anything in days. 

"Kill me."

Draco's head snaps up, storm-grey eyes flashing with surprise. "Pardon?"

"Kill me. I'd rather die at your hands than his. There is honor in dying to someone who you have known for so long. I've defeated you time and time again, Draco. It's your turn. You've won."

Draco laughs, a cold and bitter sound. "Nobody wins now. Don't you see? I wanted you to win. You're the only constant in my hellscape of a life. I wanted you to win, Harry."

"I lost. And I'm sorry that I lost, but I did."

Draco nods solemnly, and he holds out his hand. Harry takes it, feeling cool skin against his own overheated hand.

Draco shakes his hand.

"It's been a good fight, Potter."

Harry nods, and closes his eyes.

Draco had been right. Hermione is dead, Ron had fled with his family, his parents are dead and everyone he has ever known has run or died. But Draco, Draco is here with him, instead of out with them.

He only wishes it hadn't taken the end to realize how much Draco means to him.