Love For Blood

Epilogue

"Harry...it's about time we leave," Draco ran a hand along Harry's shoulder as Harry stood in front of the mirror in the boy's dormitory. The Gryffindors didn't put up much of a fight when Draco decided to sleep there, not when he was the only thing that seemed to hold Harry's fragile state together.

"I know," Harry sighed. It was the day of Dumbledore's funeral. Maybe, as selfish as it sounded, Harry was procrastinating leaving. Because going to the funeral means accepting it was all real. It means accepting that the Death Eaters had snuck into Hogwarts right underneath their noses, that Severus Snape of all people had rose his wand to Dumbledore and, without hesitation, struck him with the killing curse, and that Harry had sat there pathetically and uselessly as Dumbledore died and fell from the tower.

Yeah, some hero Harry was, huh? How was he a hero when over and over again he watches as those he loves and cares about die around him and he does nothing? He wasn't a hero. He was simply a pathetic coward who got lucky when it came to dodging death.

A kiss to his temple pulled him from his thoughts and only then did he notice he was crying.

"It's okay," Draco whispered against Harry's cheek and Harry couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips.

"It's not okay, it'll never be okay. It just keeps happening again and again. It's never going to end," Harry turned from his reflection and faced Draco, his watery eyes meeting the stormy grey ones that drew him in so easily.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Draco moved his hands up to Harry's cheeks, his thumbs quickly catching the tears and swiping them to the side. Harry began to vigorously shake his head.

"No, no, no-" Harry muttered and Draco placed a kiss on his forehead and bought him close to his chest.

"I know you don't believe me and I know there is nothing I can say to convince you, but this isn't your fault. You didn't kill Albus Dumbledore, you didn't kill Cedric Diggory, and you didn't kill Lily and James Potter. There was nothing you could do to save Dumbledore. His death isn't on your hands in any way," Draco whispered against Harry's hair.

Despite the choked sob that was released from his throat, Harry felt a weight lift from his shoulders at Draco's words. The words sunk in better when they came from the other boy.

Harry stayed in Draco's arms, being held as he cried. Draco's arms were his safe haven, protecting him from the harsh and cruel world.

After a while, Harry pulled away and wiped away any stray tears that remained.

"Thank you, Draco," Harry gave a small smile to the blond.

"You don't ever have to thank me for something so simple," Draco captured Harry's face in his hands and placed a kiss against his forehead.

After quickly straightening themselves, Harry and Draco both left for the Great Hall. They made it just in time to be instructed with the rest of the students by Professor McGonagall.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. If anyone noticed that Draco had slipped in with the Gryffindors, they didn't say anything. Harry casted a glance at Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie.