Chapter Text
Death breathed down their necks. Tongues of flame rose, licking at the broom's twigs, transforming into wild beasts that roared and lunged at Harry as he flew. Malfoy held onto him so tightly it hurt.
Ron, Hermione, and Goyle disappeared from view. A few seconds later, Harry also saw a streak of light on the wall and aimed the broom straight at it. A moment later, his lungs filled with clean air, and he and Malfoy crashed into the corridor wall.
Malfoy tumbled off the broom and lay face down, choking and coughing until he retched. Harry rolled onto his back and sat up. His ribs ached. The door to the Room of Requirement had vanished. On the floor sat Ron and Hermione, breathing heavily, and beside them lay Goyle – still unconscious.
"Cr-Crabbe," Malfoy choked out, when he could finally speak. "Cr-Crabbe…"
"He's gone," Ron said harshly. Silence fell, broken only by heavy breathing and coughing.
Then the castle shook with a terrible crash, and a long cavalcade of transparent horsemen galloped past, their heads tucked under their arms letting out bloodthirsty cries. Harry jumped to his feet, watching the Headless Hunt pass, and looked around. The battle was still raging. There were shouts – and not just the battle cries of retreating ghosts. Fear flooded Harry like an icy wave.
Harry turned when Malfoy was seized by another coughing fit. He looked absolutely dreadful: his always immaculate hair was dishevelled, burns reddening on his face and hands. He was bent over and swaying, one hand pressed to his stomach, the other holding onto the wall.
He could have burned, flashed through Harry's mind. Malfoy, stupid Malfoy, who had always taunted him. Malfoy, whose sneer was so infuriating! Malfoy, who hadn't betrayed them at the Manor. He could have died.
Thinking like that was stupid, irrational – there he was, dirty, wounded, trembling. Alive. Harry swallowed. He stepped forward.
Malfoy flew at him like a snowstorm, and Harry fell onto the stone floor, hitting his head hard. The battered diadem slipped from his wrist. Malfoy collapsed on top of him, gripping his robes tightly. He looked into Harry's green eyes for a moment, then leaned forward. Harry didn't even understand what was happening.
The kiss was short, prickly, and angry. Teeth clashed, the wound on Harry's lip throbbed again. Malfoy pulled back immediately, leaving behind a taste of vomit and blood. He looked at Harry with a hunted but determined expression.
The shouts and noise suddenly faded, leaving only a piercing grey gaze. Harry looked back at Malfoy, frowning. Something suddenly became clear: the taunts, the sneers, the looks-looks-looks.
Malfoy looked at him almost desperately. Harry touched his cheek and ran his thumb over the unburned skin – barely, gently, almost tenderly. Then he pulled him close and kissed him.
"What are they thinking about," Ron's voice drawled somewhere in the background. "There's a war going on…"
Malfoy pulled back. He was breathing heavily, angry tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Stupid Potter," he hissed.
He rose from his knees and offered Harry his hand, wincing when Harry's fingers touched the burn on his palm.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled in embarrassment as he stood.
"You can apologise when you've won this war," Malfoy said through gritted teeth. He brushed soot from his jacket and shuffled over to Goyle.
Anxious, Ron and Hermione ran to Harry, flanking him. They watched Malfoy shake Goyle, a mixture of disbelief and pity on their faces.
"The diadem, Harry," Hermione broke the silence, and his friends turned to look at the Horcrux lying at their feet. Something like black blood was seeping from it. "So that just leaves the snake…"
But she was cut off by the sounds of struggle, screams, and groans filling the corridor. Harry raised his wand and looked at Malfoy. He gave a short nod.
"Don't die."