Disclaimer: I own nothing, J.K owns everything. They just like to come and play in my garden of delights. Special thanks to Me_ladie for the beta work.
Warning: This is slash. Be warned.

******

He stood at the window, his hollow cheekbones shadowed against the night sky, concave and void of flesh. His thin hands crushed around the single lily that he held close to his chest. The war had been over now for two years, and the flower was the only thing he had left. Harry had served his time, had fought through the sticky cloy of mud and the stinging heat of the battlefield. In return he was given the gift of nightmares, forced to watch his friends drop to their knees, one by one by one. They fell like flies, twisted glassy eyes wide with shock and accusation. They all whispered the same thing: 'Why didn't you save me Harry? Why?'

Harry watched as the moon slipped away and was replaced by the numbing nebula of the sun. Its gaze lingered on his lips, idly warming the transparent parchment of his skin. He continued to watch as clouds gave way to tears of rain, pummelling the barren landscape of the frostbitten land. The lily in his hand began to wilt, its waxy curls tinged with brown. "Everything I touch turns to dust," he thought to himself, a bony finger reaching out to caress the inner folds of the flower, searching for the Braille answers on smooth petals.

The door finally opened and a figure stepped inside, eyes trained on Harry in the window, his silhouette rimmed with the blood of the sunset. Harry did not turn around. He had no reason to pull his eyes away from the memories that cavorted through his brain, turning cartwheels in the lost heat of magical energy and death grips. There was nobody left to remember, and nobody left to care.

The figure carefully approached, his eyes flickering over the shadow of a boy who was once the hope of the entire world, now left to rot in a hidden cottage in the woods. He had played his role, and had vanquished the Dark Lord in a searing heat blaze of green mist and curses, the crisp flesh of his enemy slip sliding from crumbling bones. He had fulfilled his destiny, finally, and now there was nothing left to do but wait until death reached out its stick fingers and claimed him for his own. A hero fallen in battle would be honoured with glory and the last tinged remains of hope, but a hero who had struggled to the end, who had reached out and met his destiny on steady feet, he was the hero who was forgotten. Anger dripped from twisted faces, painted into pained expressions and accusatory glances. Heros should not live when everyone else had died.

The figure was made of snow and of light, a celestial apparition sent back from a history that had yet to know bloodshed. He reached out and touched Harry's shoulder, letting his warmth spread through his fingertips, warming him as he had always been able to do. So many nights he had spent in Harry's arms, in Harry's bed, absorbing the light and heat that had always radiated from his core. The light had been extinguished but there was still warmth to be found, and he basked in that sun, his eyes closed, allowing the tang of his scent to caress his nostrils as it once had.

Harry turned around and looked up into eyes of crystal blue, the grey fog lifted to reveal a spring sky. He searched for answers across that pale flawless face, a familiar anchor in a sea that had bitten and turned cold. The figure nodded and opened his arms. Harry stepped into the invitation and pressed his cheek against the warmth of his chest, closing his eyes as he listened to the familiar tattoo of his heart.

Draco reached up and stroked the inky mess of Harry's hair, his fingers smoothing down his neck and lingering at the top of his spine. He held on as the tears wracked the fragile body of a long-forgotten hero, and he pressed Harry to him through the long shadows of the new day, as the light changed back into black and shrouded the world with the familiar turbulent nightmares. Time and sand sifted through his hands as he caressed Harry's hair, and finally he felt his breathing grow steady. Harry drew away and looked back up into those eyes; jade caressing the stormy seas.

Draco leant down and kissed Harry's forehead, mouthing the words against his thirsty skin: 'Just Harry,' he breathed, and Harry understood and fell in love with him all over again.