I have no words right now. My first story, precious child, is finished. Done. Gone. And now I just want to cry, whether it be of happiness, or sadness.

So thank you. All of you, who stuck by my side through the entire, year long process. Through my long updates, and horrible mistakes, and enormous plot holes that I cringe to even think about.

This last bit is for my two Beta readers who helped me on this journey, Roheryn's Knight and Katrina Marie Pace, both who have been my grounder. Also, for my very good friend, Leanne, who was the one who inspired me to begin creative writing.

And thus, I give this to you. Enjoy!


The night was darkening and stars glimmered heavily in the sky. Below the ominous skies was a thick mast of trees, forging dark shadows that ran wildly over the grassy hills. A large house stood amongst the forest, emanating the sense of belonging.

The house was newly painted white. The scent of paint was faint around the wooden walls, but only added to the sense of a home. Navy blue framed the doors and windows, adding a nice contrast to the creamy white. There was a porch, clattered with building materials but sturdy. It ran along the top floor, almost blending in with the peaked roof that stood hundreds of feet above the ground. A modest chimney peaked out of the back, smoke drifting lazily out of its depths.

Around the perimeter of the house was a grand garden of every flower and plant imaginable, magical and nonmagical alike. Colors that could not be found on the pallet of even the best of artists bloomed out of the rich, damp soil, smiled up to the sky. In the back ran a large field of fertile dirt, bushes of leafy plants and trees of fruit decorating its ground. Rabbits and deer stood hungrily by the fresh vegetables and fruits, but remained clear of a set of thick, intricate blue wards that thrummed and sang of life.

Through the front door was immediately a set of stairs that ran upwards. The walls were a mint green and framed large, glass windows that boasted the beautiful view outside. One door, made of hard steel, stood out amongst the normal wooden doors, the words dueling inscribed in pretty silver. Three other doors were lined up around—two softly colored bedrooms and one bathroom.

Upstairs was simple. A small kitchen ran directly next to the line of two other bedrooms identical to the ones below and a grand bathroom complimentary with a two-headed shower and a large bath.

But the most stunning aspect was the living room.

In front, was a massive window that stretched across three walls. The glass was freshly polished and shined brilliantly in the sunlight, reflecting the rays onto the porch right outside. Blue curtains framed the sides and top of the window and hung lightly just above the ground.

There was a piano to the back corner, as well as a carved coffee table with a single lily placed in a deep green vase. A deep blue carpet lay underneath, complimenting the cream colored carpet. To the far side, a small dining table and two chairs sat facing each other. Two white china plates were placed across from each other, with cutlery and napkins.

And finally, was a bright red loveseat just behind the coffee table. The red shined incredibly brashly and obnoxiously, though it held a certain charm. Two pillows of the same color leaned against the low armrests, and a soft gray blanket draped over the back. It looked both out of place and exactly where it should be at the same time.

The carpet dipped gently as naked feet moved across the ground. Draco Malfoy walked, a cup of hot tea steaming in his right hand. He maneuvered himself toward the couch and sat down, looking up at the ceiling. With a wave of a pale hand, the roof shifted and a small, square window appeared, showing the glowing stars that pulsated in the night.

The moon shone brightly, leaving a gleam of pale light streaming through the opening. It shone directly onto the couch, illuminating a spotlight on Draco.

He looked different. Tired. Unconscious of the world around him. His cheeks were pale and gaunt, the color of ancient parchment, yellowed and wrinkled. Silver eyes were dulled to a muddy gray, lacking its usual spark of life. Hair, once blonde and pristine lay limp against the head.

Like the couch, he looked out of place from the new, perfect house. Lines were drawn harshly under his eyes as they tilted up to stare into the skies.

A line of brightly lit stars outlined a faint image of a dragon. Fifteen stood out, creating a curving line that ended with a small circle, a head on a body.

It was the constellation of Draco. The dragon and the origin of Draco's own name. He was a dragon, fierce and strong. But no more.

Draco was defeated. And he stared up, like he always did during the night.

It was minutes before a new day arose, and more importantly, the second anniversary of the fall of Lord Merdeneth. Draco still remembered what he had been told.

Two years from now.

He still wondered every minute of the day what exactly it meant. But he couldn't muster enough confidence to go out and seek help. He felt as if the message was meant solely for him, and for him only.

"What are you trying to tell me?" he whispered up into the sky, hoping the gods would answer his plea.

The last two years had been in sickening peace and harmony. The werewolves and vampires had made their peace together, and the Wizarding world, with its own inner conflicts. Stories and legends had been made of the famed Boy-Who-Lived, destroyer of the two greatest Dark Lords that had ever existed. His face had never faded, and probably never would, but his name had, forever lost in the winds.

Draco had tried fruitlessly to remind Harry's best friends of who the hero was, but it was useless. To them, he seemed like a hallucinating cracked fraud that went around spouting nonsense.

It was stupid, and he soon gave up, isolating himself in the house of Harry's dreams.

But he knew that Harry wasn't truly dead. A small, black Horntail had suddenly begun making appearances around Britain, settling the truces among creatures and humankind. It had bright green eyes that were so familiar that Draco was pretty much sure his bonded had returned. But it wasn't. The eyes were more dulled, and after the blonde had approached the fire-breathing lizard, it had flown away, not recognizing the vampire.

Still, he didn't lose hope. He didn't believe in coincidences, and the dragon had appeared a day after the war had ended, right when Harry was taken away by a phantom of a dragon.

So he returned to the forest, remembering the words Harry had whispered to him one night, and built the house of his mate's dreams. He refused to let magic or the touch of any other human defile the last memory of Harry, so he constructed it himself. By hand.

While it did take an entire year to build, paint, plant, and furnish, Draco couldn't have been happier with the ending result. It was perfect to every word Harry had said and Draco wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Except to present it as a gift to his long, lost mate.

He sighed. Though it was two years since, he could still smell traces of Harry beside him. Hallucination or not, Draco appreciated it.

And because it was two years since, Draco decided that it was, perhaps, time to let go and finish his mourning. Harry wouldn't have wanted him like this.

From his robe pocket, Draco drew out an elegant steel dagger and held it gently in his palm. The metal had dulled over time and rusted a bit on the edges, but to Draco, it was all the same. Unscrewing the hilt of the sword, Draco opened the hidden compartment and peered inside.

Black ashes rested peacefully at the very bottom. The flakes had wrinkled slightly on the edges, but remained intact, a living memory and Draco's last tie to his mate.

With a deep breath, he tilted the sword downwards so that the ashes fluttered into his hand. He clenched them into his fist, and with a deep breath, flung them out through the opening through the roof, adding a great gust of air behind to let the ashes blend away with the wind.

Draco reached up to touch his eyes and sighed. They were dry, as always. He expected tears from the moment Harry had fallen. Big, fat tears that would roll down endlessly, spilling out into the ground as he shook in heavy sobs, grieving his loss. And yet, they never came, and Draco felt the sea of guilt rise amongst the shores of his mind.

The ticking of his clock brought Draco back into his senses. He glanced briefly at the large, antique clock that had been passed down from generation to generation in the Malfoy family. The second hand moved sluggishly toward its destination—one twitch, two, three, four… five…

The hand struck midnight, and the bell inside rang out loudly.


Draco returned his gaze back outside into the night.


He moved his hand up toward the sky, and gasped lightly in surprise.


His skin was glowing white, like it had two years ago when it protected him from Harry's spell.


Shifting, he stood on the red loveseat and reached out, both arms outstretched in front of him, as if trying to grasp the stars.


The worn, leather notebook on the table ruffled in the air, and a page fell open. It was a picture of a dragon, and the roman number two scratched across its surface.


Draco began to feel tears streaming from his eyes, the first time since Harry had sacrificed his life. He felt them burning down his cheeks, dripping onto the red cushions that absorbed the salty water greedily.


A large shape suddenly blocked the flow of moonlight through the roof, and a deafening roar echoed around the forest.


Now, he was laughing hysterically, tears flowing freely from his eyes as his head tipped back to shriek back at the winged beast, screaming out years of raw, bottled emotions.


The dragon's roar ended in a mournful howl, and the beast looked down, and sharp, green eyes glinted down, recognition in the slitted pupils. Draco pulled his lips back and gave an answering snarl in return, teeth bared in a sharp smile.


The stars in the constellation began to glow brighter, almost rivaling that of the moon, where a dark, crimson red began bleeding from its sides.


Wings opened wide, and the dragon shot up into the sky, up, and up, and up. Draco released his own wings and followed, his body illuminated in white, and the dragon, in black.


They flew together, as one, and twirled and twirled together. With one final scream of triumph, a blinding flash of light spread across the sky, leaving the entire world in one second of pure white, leaving only a crimson circle that bubbled and hissed, as if alive.

When the light cleared, the moon returned back to its original color, losing the dark red, and the constellation of Draco gleamed high in the sky, brighter than ever. However, in one coil of its body was a new star, born only moments ago. Four of them, shining with life, formed a lightning bolt.

And the world gasped as one, and fell to their knees, hands gripping their heads. Memories raced, flying and soaring with moments of sadness, happiness, anger, joy, jealousy, awe—and then the shield cracked, dissolving under the onslaught of emotions.

It was then, in one unanimous moment of silence, that the world remembered Harry Potter as himself and all that he had done. They looked up into the sky, at the dragon and the hero, and wept.

Not of mourning, but of happiness, that the two, Yin and Yang, were reunited, and to be together for an eternity.

And balance, would once again reign.

The End

A/N: And now. I let the pages rest. It was a hard, but great process. I learned so much from writing this, and while I know it is a bit rough on the edges, I promise that the next few projects will be better and better.

I will be removing my second story, Till Love Do Us Part, from the archive until I can get around to reconstructing the piece, perhaps in a oneshot.

There's nothing much to say, except thank you, thank you, thank you. To all the reviewers, and those who favorited and followed, those who simply took the time to read it, and particularly to the few who stuck by my side since day one. 125 reviews? I never would have even imagined that possible.

So thank you from the bottom of my heart. Really. I hope you will keep your eyes peeled for my next few stories, that I promise will be amazing! Nanowrimo's coming out, so I'll get plenty done to start posting.

I'd love to hear your final thoughts. Maybe some input on what I should improve, or what you liked about this story, or anything at all.

Best wishes, and until next time,