Draco was hitting an all time low, and although his back bone was a very supportive boyfriend and a green-clad house, he couldn't make it another day. His simple yet sophisticated way of bringing in hundreds of Death Eaters to Hogwarts brought atremendous amount of violence. And the headmaster was dead, which meant Draco had blood on his hands. The blood of his former professor may be theoretical, but now his own literal blood covered his hands, and his own tears covered his face. Draco knew there was another face pressed to his, more hands trying to stop his blood from flowing, a voice asking why he did it, but Draco was shell shocked. He actually just slit his wrists, actually just succumbed to the pain and fucking just actually tried to leave his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was perfect and loving and handsome and deserved someone better than the fucked bloke who lay on the grimey bathroom floor of their recked school and sobbed in his own blood. Draco really shouldnt be complaining- the pain was self-induced and glorious, and he was gone, and Harry was gone, and the last thing he remembered was a pair of cold and chewed on lips whispering to him to please stay.

Harry had finally thought he won. Thought that since the war was over, he would be able to unite his family, friends, lover. Harry had won everything within the first few traumatic weeks after the war. But then the ground was pulled from under his feet, and it seemed that the world was sucked into a vacuum cleaner and the remnants were Draco's even paler body and a pool of blood.

A few people who didn't even know Draco had cleaned up the mess, people Draco wouldn't even let touch his body. Now they mopped up his blood, and Harry used his sleeve to wipe up his tears. He went to the room that he found so many years ago, the room where everything really seemed to start for him. The Mirror was still there.

First he saw himself. Covered in blood, a synical smirk on his face. Because old Harry would like to be covered in ounces of Draco's blood, because he used to hate. The smirk turned into one of ironic realization; this was the second time he was covered in Malfoy blood.

The shape shifted as the new Harry's thoughts came through. An impeccable, breath taking Draco stood next to him, and they were both clean of the vile red fluid. Draco smiled and wrapped his arms around Harry from behind. Draco undressed him, although Harry knew nothing was changing, because he felt the clammy, bloody clothes still hanging on his body. The Boy Who Lived For Sorrow turned around, and of course there was no one there.

When he turned back around, Draco was standing in The Mirror naked next to an equally naked Harry. Draco turned his forearms up, and blood spread up and over his body, until he was submerged and completely left Harry. The Harry in The Mirror repeated the action of Draco, and now Mirror-Harry stood, covered in blood from his chest, down.

The Mirror of Erised had showed him what he really wanted. He wanted to be as gone as Draco, since Harry was nothing without his other.

If the people that found a dead and naked Harry the next morning in front of the Mirror knew all this, he would have left the world explained. But Harry left how Draco and he had started; unexplained.

Draco and Harry had a friendship that had really bloomed out of nowhere. One day, Harry appeared at Malfoy Manor and asked to speak to the youngest, and Draco had slowly come into the sitting room. Harry looked gorgeous; his eyes weren't hiding a dark past, and an easy smile sat disgruntling on his face the whole time. Later that night, after a riveting conversation and a friendly game of chess, after Harry had gone home, Draco sat giggling into a pillow in elation. Each day of the week was identical to the first, and the week surely turned into a month.

Somewhere along the way, Harry had come to him with an even grander smile than usual and giggled himself about some Muggle girl that had asked him to coffee. That night, after another round of chess, after Harry had gone home, Draco let hot tears pour down his face and let a head ache of frustration develop. Because earlier, Draco prodded their friendship and called the Green Eyed Wonder by his first named, only to be brushed off as 'Malfoy'.

Within the next 3 months, Harry had brought countless stories to Draco about how wonderful this Muggle was, how pretty she was, how well they went together. And eventually, and Draco saw it coming, the feminine named of the Muggle girl turned into the masculine named of a half-blood male. This gave Draco the smallest spark of hope, until Harry didn't come at all two weeks later. Actually, he didn't come into the Manor for five days straight.

The Saturday that he finally arrived, their was a cut on his cheek and bruises peeking out from under his sleeves. Draco frowned and matched eyes with Harry. Harry quickly looked down, as if ashamed that he had made eye contact. The last remaining Potter gave a haphazard explanation, something along the lines of 'he doesn't want me to see you', and then he left before Draco could knock sense into him.

Eventually the pattern was returned to normal, Harry coming everyday with a gorgeous smile and no bruises on him. And eventually, of course, Harry started dated a pureblood girl this time, and after a week of dating Harry was gushing over how perfect they were. Draco wanted to shot himself in the throat, that pain could've been more withstandable. And three weeks later, Harry came in with the smallest of frowns, a band on his left ring finger, and a story of how she became pregnant and they ran off to marry quickly.

Draco fumed. How could any self respecting pureblood do that? Generally, the child was supposed to at least get an approval of their desired spouse. But for this girl to be pregnant and married off within a weekend? Draco wanted to slap her.

But later that night, Draco wanted to slap himself. Much worse than slap, actually. Harry's life was perfect, and he was not a part of it. He must have just been a side amusement game all this time for Harry not to notice the looks of longing sent his way. And if he did know, then Harry was a masochistic bastard. Draco should hate him, want to rid him of his life, but all the Malfoy heir felt were glorious feelings toward Harry. Glorious.

The way Draco was found the next morning was not glorious at all though. Laying in a pool of his own blood. Cuts on the inside of his forearms, one arm spelling 'Harry', the other with lightning bolts chiseled in. Chiseled because Draco was white as marble, as though all the blood in his body was pooled around him.

Glorious was also not a word to describe the relationship of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Hate, mutual, unrequited, jealousy, blood, and epiphany were a few adjectives.

Harry had the epiphany was he sobbed over a lifeless body.