AN: This is a slash fic - as in the romantic focus is on two male characters. If this isn't your cup of tea please don't bother reviewing. On the other hand, if you do enjoy the story I'd really appreciate a review. Even a couple of words could make my day - after all, reviews are the only payment fanfiction author's recieve from their work.

Thanks for the interest, and I hope you enjoy it!

Hundreds of people were gathered around a great, vast lake, yet not a single sound could be heard. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed behind them in the growing darkness, and was as quiet and still as the crowd. The undisturbed silence was respectful. No one dared to break it. More than fifty candles floated on the lakes surface, and in each was engraved a name, deep into the white wax. At first glance would give the impression of ordinary candles, but after closer examination one would realize that that they were not. With nothing to hold them up in the water, they bobbed weightlessly… illuminating the lake with their fiery glow. And from the flickering flames the heads of the deceased could be seen, their smiling faces and sightless eyes oblivious to the mourners on the bank.

Harry Potter watched the scene with mixed feelings. So mixed, in fact, that they were now indistinguishable. The reflections of the candlelight and the setting sun gave the impression that the lake was glowing, and Harry couldn't help but note the beauty of it. Suddenly, he caught sight of Lupin's eyes staring back at him from their fiery depths, and he turned away in time to watch as Professor McGonagall placed the last candle on the water.

The silence broke – not immediately, but gradually. Several people sniffed, a couple burst out in violent sobbing. Voices whispered and people began to shuffle about. Eventually it all picked up, and students began to point out faces that they recognized to their friends and family. Anecdotes were shared. Tears were shed.

To Harry's left, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger stood hand in hand.

"It's terrible," Hermione whispered, burying her face in Ron's chest. Her voice was shaky, but the tears had begun to dry on her face. Ron stroked her hair absently, and catching Harry's eye, gave him a watery smile, which Harry returned only reluctantly.

"Harry?" Ginny appeared between them. Her expression was sad, but her eyes remained dry. "I thought it was you. It's hard to tell though... everyone's a silhouette against the lake." Harry gave a slight nod.

"You know, they even lit candles for the Death Eaters," she said, pointing at an unnamed candle. "But unfortunately, there were a lot of bodies that couldn't be identified."

"Yeah," Harry said softly, not knowing exactly what to say. He and Ginny hadn't talked much in the past two days since Voldemort's attack. Harry had thought it was best to give the Weasley's a bit of space while they mourned for their son.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Ginny said quietly. "Back to the burrow. Mum says you're welcome to come."

"I don't want to intrude..." Harry replied honestly, thinking of Fred. The family would want time to their selves, to organize the funeral.

"Don't be silly. You're pretty much part of the family," said Ginny. "Besides, you have nowhere else to go."

Harry knew she was right, and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, thanks Ginny."

Ginny wondered back towards her parents, and Harry felt a pang of jealousy as he watched them together, but he was not unused to it. Wanting some time alone, he walked away from the masses of people, skirting the lake and losing himself in thought.

Voldemort's gone, he told himself. But he no longer felt the ecstatic feeling of triumph. Instead, he felt... empty. What was going to happen now? The only goal he had had in mind for his future had been to become an Auror. Could he even do that without full qualifications? But more importantly, where was he going to live? He couldn't just move in to Weasley's. Stay a few nights, perhaps, but he'd have to find somewhere else eventually. He had even considered returning to Grimmauld Place, but had decided against it. He was probably still a target for Death Eaters wanting to avenge their dead lord, and even if they couldn't get in, the place was still home to too many bad memories.

Harry's mind wandered further in the troubles that had been circulating recently in mind. What was going to happen to Hogwarts? The last two days everyone had been involved in the clean up. Some parts of the castle had been completely torn apart from the battle, but shop owners and villagers from Hogsmeade had come up to help. The castle had nearly returned to its previous condition. The bodies that had all been laid in the Great Hall had been taken home. Some still lay unclaimed in the chamber.

Further still, Harry's mind wandered. Would Ginny be returning to Hogwarts next year? Would they still be able to see each other? Maybe, when he got a new place of his own, she'd come and live with him... but, he knew that this was wishful thinking. There was near to no doubt that she would be returning to school next year. And even if she didn't, he had no idea how she felt about him at this point. It had been months since they broke up. In that time she could have found someone else.

Lost in his thoughts and imaginative scenarios about his future life, he didn't notice that he was half way around the lake, nor that he was approaching a figure seated on the bank, until he stood just a few meters away. The figure was hidden by the shadow of a tree, and all Harry could make out were the whites of his eyes as they turned away from the candles and rested on Harry. Instinctively, Harry reached for his wand, but seconds later the figure looked away, obviously uninterested.

Harry turned to leave, when the figure spoke.

"Don't... don't go..." Harry recognized the voice immediately, but the shy uncertainness didn't match up with the face he had in mind at all.

Harry stopped. "Er... Malfoy?"

He took a few steps closer until he could see the figure clearly. Malfoy sat hunched under the tree, hugging his legs to his chest. Naturally suspicious, Harry stopped a few feet short, and examined him. His white-blond hair hung messily in his eyes; it obviously hadn't been cut in a while. His school robes lay abandoned at the base of the beach tree, and he wore tidy muggle clothes. He hadn't removed his tie. Harry couldn't help but deplore how much weight he had lost. His bones jutted out, and his skin was whiter than ever. He looked terrible.

"Malfoy?" Harry repeated. He gripped his wand tightly. He was curious, yes, but not to the point of stupidity.

Malfoy was obviously struggling with his words. He opened and closed his mouth several times, and fumbled with his own wand in his fingers. He didn't look at Harry, but continued to watch the lake.

"I... I wanted to say... er," said Malfoy. "Thank you." He spat the last two words out quickly and loudly, before pausing. When Harry didn't say anything, he continued. "For saving me the other day."

"No problem," said Harry, taken aback.

"If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead. And I'm fairly sure it was you the second time, with the Death Eater, too?" asked Malfoy, looking up at Harry.
Harry nodded slightly. Malfoy did not look away, and instead regarded him with obvious interest. Harry couldn't identify the emotion in the blond boys eyes, but it was unsettling. Harry shifted under his gaze, until eventually Malfoy looked away.

A moment passed, and Malfoy made no move to say anything else, but as Harry turned to go, he started to speak again.

"Look. There's Crabbe." His voice had changed; it was quieter and shook slightly as he pointed at the nearest floating candle. A round, bulky face looked back of them from the flame, its mouth slightly ajar, its blinking eyes unaware of them. It was unmistakably Crabbe's candle.

Suddenly, and catching Harry by surprise, Malfoy was crying. His shoulders shook and he buried his face in his knees. Unsure of what to do, Harry watched in silence. This was the second time he had seen Malfoy crying, Harry recalled. The former time, because he was being blackmailed by Voldemort. And now… what was it? With Voldemort gone, why was Malfoy so unhappy? Harry failed to believe that it was because his old master was dead; even the Malfoys had been thrilled by Voldemort's downfall. And Crabbe had proved to Draco how little he had valued their friendship just before his death, so surely Malfoy wasn't crying over him?

Harry debated over whether to leave or not. What had Malfoy done to deserve his pity? But he couldn't. He didn't understand why, but he couldn't just walk away from him while he was in such a state.

So instead, and far against his better judgment, Harry approached Malfoy and (for the first time voluntarily in his life) sat down next to him. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, or didn't seem to care. After a moment or two, Harry raised his hand, as though about to touch Malfoys shoulder, but thought better of it. Sighing, he took up the same position as Malfoy and looked out at the candles in the water.

Something in Harry's chest tightened as he saw the unforgettable face of Fred Weasley, just a few meters from where they sat. The carved name in the candle had been gone over with red wax, courtesy of Ginny, so that it would stand out better. The face grinned at him from its abnormally large flame.

Guilt racked through Harry's body painfully, but not for the first time, and he tried to push it away. He'd spent the last two days feeling overwhelmingly guilty for every death that had occurred during the battle against the Death Eaters. There was no way that deaths could have been prevented, he had told himself, uncertainly.

Malfoy had begun to quiet down, and was now hiccuping softly, his head still buried in his arms. Harry had no idea why he had remained with Malfoy during this sudden outburst of emotion. He turned to look at him. Malfoys blond hair was splayed out over his shoulders, catching the last few rays of the setting sun. He was shivering slightly, and Harry wasn't surprised. The warmth of the day was leaving with the sun as it began to fade behind the Forbidden Forest.

"Malfoy," said Harry, quietly, uncertainly. "Why don't you put your robes back on? It's getting cold."

Malfoy sniffed and raised his head. "Why do you care, Potter? What have I ever done for you?" he said sulkily.

"Absolutely nothing," said Harry under his breath, but out loud he said, "you're obviously upset." Quickly realizing that he had stupidly stated the obvious, he added, "I thought there might be something I could do to help..."

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Malfoy snapped back, "I don't need your pity, Potter."

There was a beat of silence.

"Sorry," said Malfoy.

"What?" said Harry, stunned.

"I'm sorry. For everything. Everything I've said and done over the last few years." His pale cheeks colored slightly, and he avoided Harry's gaze, obviously embarrassed.

Harry gaped at him. He had expected this just as much as he had expected Voldemort to 'come quietly'.

He almost laughed, but instead he said, "Er...thanks. I'm sorry too." Though he wasn't sure if he meant it or not.

There was another long pause where neither of them spoke, Malfoy had taken to lake gazing again.

"So many people died," Malfoy whispered. "So many people that I knew." The skin around his knuckles went, if possible, whiter as he clenched his fist tight around his wand. "I never expected anything like this to happen." Angry tears welled up in his eyes again, and he looked away. "But you have no idea what it's like, working for him. You have no idea what it's like to have him threaten the lives of your family… to use that against you."

Harry was tempted to point out that of course he hadn't, because Voldemort had taken care of his family long before Harry was old enough to consciously take a stand against Voldemort, but refrained himself.

"He used to torture me, when he thought my father needed persuading… and he would torture my mother when I was the one that needed persuasion. It was horrible. He was horrible." His body shook along with his voice. "My father was always terrified that he'd come back. He taught us dark arts and the ways of the Death Eaters, for our own protection. So that we could survive if he did come back. But he was sometimes cruel." He shuddered. "You have no idea what it's like to have to live to expectations of a father like that. No idea at all." A tear rolled down his ivory skin. Harry watched it until it came to rest of Malfoy's pale pink lip.

"I didn't know," said Harry quietly.

"I'm glad it's over."

"Me too," said Harry, and Malfoy smiled.

Harry relaxed a bit. He had never really thought past the Malfoy with the sneering looks and rude come backs. In fact, He had never once taken a minute to consider what Malfoy's life had been like. Of course, that was still no excuse, Harry reminded himself, but for the first time in his life Harry pitied Malfoy. And not only that, Harry realized with dawning comprehension, but a kind of compassion. Malfoy had never looked so small and helpless. So incredibly overcome by sadness. Harry had to suppress a sudden urge to wrap his arms around him and comfort him as though he were a child.

He was as shocked at this thought as he imagined Malfoy would have been if he had actually done it, and the shock must have showed, because Malfoy gave him a questioning look.

"Ah, nothing," said Harry, an embarrassed blush creeping up on his cheeks.

Malfoy nodded, but continued to watch Harry, as though fascinated by him. His eyes scanned Harry's face slowly, before locking onto Harry's own eyes again.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" said Harry, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable under Malfoy's gaze, for the second time that evening, with a motion towards the candles on the lake.

"Yeah, it is," breathed Malfoy, following Harry's gaze. He relaxed the tension in his muscles, and sighed, drying his eyes.

The two boys, one Slytherin and one Gryfindor, sat side by side that night until the very last candle had melted down, and the moon was all that was reflected in the Hogwarts lake.