Make this Moment a Crime

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and/or any other characters used in this fic. They are all propoerty of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: I've had an irrepressible urge to write angst lately.


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"Harry?"

There was no response. Draco pushed open the door to Harry's flat and crept quietly inside. It seemed eerily quite as he walked through the foyer and into the living room.

"Harry?" he called again, becoming unnerved by the silence.

He walked over to the coffee table and saw a sheet of parchment lying on top of it. He looked around but didn't see Hedwig anywhere. He wondered momentarily if he should really be reading something of Harry's. Then again, he was his boyfriend.

He carefully unfolded the parchment and shook it out. A long, curly script covered half the page.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Due to your involvement with Mr. Malfoy, we are forced to request your presence at a Ministry Hearing in the upcoming month. We have heard rumors of his involvement with the Death Eaters and can no longer ignore the consequences this might have on the Ministry's image.

If you are willing to relinquish your "relationship" with said Death Eater, we may be able to grant you clemency. Keep this in mind. We await your owl.

-Percy Ignatius Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister

Draco stared at the letter for a moment, too shocked to do anything. Finally, he scoffed and threw it down on the table. It wasn't until then that he noticed a second letter under the first.

He frowned and picked it up, not even bothering this time to consider if Harry would mind his reading them. He shook it open quickly and read its contents.

Dear Mr. Potter,

In response to your last letter, I'm afraid we at the Ministry cannot ignore the presence of a known Death Eater in your home. There was no need to be so hostile. We are, after all, on the same side.

We must ask you to attend the hearing once more. You have refused but that will not stop the Ministry. Do not underestimate the might of the Ministry in these times, Mr. Potter.

If you continue to rebuff our attempts to bring you to justice, more drastic measures will be taken. We are not afraid to use force. Remember who you are dealing with, Mr. Potter. The Ministry has the power to turn people against others.

-Percy Ignatius Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister

Draco frowned as he finished the letter. He had always known the older Weasel had been a bastard, but this took the cake. He couldn't believe the Ministry had been threatening Harry. And why hadn't Harry told him? He would have been sure to make a trip to the Ministry to sort out those idiots.

He wondered exactly how long Harry had been hiding this from him. He had known that Harry had been acting oddly lately, but he hadn't thought it anything serious. He was always tense because of the war, but Draco thought nothing too horrible had been wrong. Perhaps he had been mistaken...

Draco set down the letter only to catch sight of a third that had been sitting under the previous two.

He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he even wanted to know what was in it. He glanced around the apartment, still noticing that it was unusually quiet. He didn't like it.

He opened the letter, though; too curious not to.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have tried being polite, but you insist on using a hostile manner. We can no longer tolerate this kind of behavior, despite your status in the public eye. You are hereby summoned to a hearing on the 3rd of December.

You are to come alone and surrender your wand on entrance to the Ministry. We will have Aurors guarding you. They will come to your residence to escort you to the hearing.

I am sorry it had to come to this. If you had simply renounced your allegiance to Mr. Malfoy, it would not be necessary. However, you have elected to remain loyal to the alleged-Death Eater and, therefore, can no longer be a participant in the Ministry's efforts against the war.

-Percy Ignatius Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister

Draco's mouth dropped open. When had Harry ever been a part of the "Ministry's efforts against the war"?! Draco had never known Harry to support the Ministry's way of dealing with things. If anything, he hated the Ministry and did everything in his power to avoid helping them.

Draco was shocked that he seemed to be the cause of all these letters. He wasn't a Death Eater and Harry knew it. Why would the Ministry think that Harry would trust him otherwise?

Draco sighed and threw down the letter, thankful not to find a fourth waiting on the coffee table. He remembered the date on the letter and glanced up at the calendar. It was December 2nd. That meant the hearing was tomorrow!

Draco looked around him, as if expecting Harry to appear out of a wall. When he didn't, Draco stopped, thinking. It wasn't like Harry to be gone and not leave a note as to where he had gone.

He moved slowly toward the kitchen, thinking maybe Harry was in there. He reached the gleaming kitchen and peered inside. There was no one there. He frowned, growing concerned.

"Harry!" he called for the third time since his arrival. "Where is he?"

He turned from the kitchen and went down the hall to the guest bathroom. He didn't know why, but he thought maybe Harry might be taking a bath in there for something. He knocked but received no answer.

Slowly, he pushed open the door, expecting to see Harry but finding nothing. He sighed and shut the door, turning to the door diagonal from it. It was Harry's bedroom.

He had a bad feeling as he turned the handle slowly. As he opened the door, his eyes met pitch darkness.

All the lights were off in the room and the curtains drawn. Draco moved slowly into the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He groped for his wand and, with it, lit a small table lamp that stood on the bedside table.

He let out a gasp and his wand fell to the floor with a clatter.

"No," he whispered as he stared at the bed.

On the large bed lay Harry. He was on his back and his head rested on the pillow, fallen to the side. Gripped loosely in his left hand was a silver dagger. It fell limply onto the scarlet covers of Harry's bed.

Draco moved swiftly to Harry's side, staring at him. He could feel an invisible hand squeezing his chest as he looked down at his boyfriend. By the flickering lamplight, Draco could see the stain of blood on the dagger, dripping slowly onto the sheets and staining them.

"Oh no," he whispered, feeling the tears welling up behind his eyes. "No, Harry, what did you do?"

He reached down for the dagger and pulled it out of Harry's slack grip. He set it on the table and passed his hand back over Harry's arm. On Harry's right arm he could see the marks of several knife gashes. They were deep and the blood had run steadily from them already.

He reached for the cut wrist and, his hand shaking, pressed his thumb to the pulsing point, praying for something he knew would not be there.

He swallowed hard and pulled his hand away, unable to touch the man he had loved for so long. He knelt down by the bed, still staring at Harry's now marked corpse.

"Harry," he whispered, wishing that he could hear him, "why did you leave me? Harry, are you there? I love you. I need you. What are you doing?"

There was no response, as Draco had known there would be. His whole body began to shake as uncontrollably sobs began to rack his body. He reached out once more, taking Harry's cold hand in his, feeling the dried blood slipping off and into his hand.

"Harry, why?" He took a shaky breath as he tried to reign in his emotions. It was no use, though, and he felt the hot tears rolling down his cheeks, unchecked. "Why, Harry, why?!"

He buried his face in the covers of the bed, still gripping tightly to Harry's hand. He didn't want to let go. If he did, it was like he was letting go forever, and he just couldn't do that.

Harry had been his savior. He had taken him away from the Dark Arts and shown him a better way. Even though the Ministry thought he was a Death Eater, Draco had actually been helping Harry and the Order for a long time.

Draco cried for a long while as he knelt by the bed. The flickering light from the candle washed over Harry's body, highlighting his tall body. His head was tilted to the side and his hair fell down in front of his face. Draco thought he looked beautiful.

Finally, Draco knew he couldn't stay there forever. He placed a hand on the bedside table to push himself up, but it landed on a piece of parchment he hadn't noticed before.

He took it down and looked at it. Wiping away a few tears and sniffing, he slid it open. His heart jumped when he saw his name addressed.

Draco,

If you're reading this then I am gone. I want you to know that it was not your fault. I love you and would never do anything to hurt you. This is for your benefit. Tomorrow, the Ministry is coming to take me away. It was unlikely I would have come back.

I want you to leave. Run away, Draco. They're going to come after you too. Go to Hermione and Ron. They can help you. They will. And if they don't, I will come back as a ghost and haunt them.

Draco tried to laugh at Harry's attempt at humor but found that his throat was stuck closed. His breathing was shallow as he read on.

You have to be safe. The Ministry thinks you're a Death Eater and won't stop until they find you. I wasn't going to let them get you through me. I couldn't live with the guilt.

Draco, this is the last thing I ever wanted for us. You were the first person to ever see me as me. I never knew what it was like to be free until we got together. I love that you brought out more things in me than you will ever know.

I want you to know that I love and I'll never be gone from you. Even in death, I will find a way to win this war. Draco, you need to leave. Please.

I love you,

~Harry

Draco slid down to the floor, his emotions overcoming him once more. He clutched the letter in his fist as the hot tears rolled down his cheeks and fell to the floor, disappearing into the dark carpet.

He didn't know what to do. The Ministry was coming for him. Harry wanted him to leave. Harry was dead.

This last thought sent him into a spiral of emotions. He pulled his knees to himself and placed his face down, trying to control the wracking sobs. He sat there, shoulders shaking, for some time. He knew it was useless, but he felt completely helpless without Harry.

At length, he looked up. From his position on the floor, he could barely see Harry's motionless body reflected in the lamp light. He knew Harry was right. He couldn't stay. But he couldn't leave Harry either.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, gazing down through watery eyes at his boyfriend of three years. He leaned over Harry, brushing the hair out of his face.

He stopped and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He opened them, swallowing thickly and holding back more tears that threatened to fall. His fingers traced the lightening bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

He leaned in as a tear fell, rolling down his cheek and landing on Harry's nose. Draco sniffed and wiped away the tear, leaned forward, and pressed a single kiss to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"I love you," he whispered, rearranging Harry's hair lovingly.

He stepped back, biting his lip to stop from crying again. His lower lip trembled as he gazed at the body lying on the deep red sheets, stained even darker by the blood that had blossomed from Harry's wrist.

Draco shook his head, backing out of the room and shutting the door quietly. He stopped, his hand pressed to the door. Closing his eyes, he prayed for strength. He knew he needed it.

Finally, with one last glance at the closed door, Draco turned away, walking slowly to the front door, stopping only to pick up the photograph of him and Harry that had been taken two years ago on their one-year anniversary.

They were laughing and smiling, running around in the snow, throwing snowballs at each other. Draco thought it was the happiest he had ever seen Harry. He didn't want to forget that.

He placed the photograph in his pocket and moved slowly towards the door, unwilling to leave. He paused just before leaving and turned to the empty room.

His eyes lingered over the house that had once been a place of comfort. Now he knew he would not find comfort anywhere.

Wiping away a tear that wanted desperately to fall, Draco turned to the door, opening it and disappearing into the hall; leaving for Hermione's house to fulfill Harry's last wish.


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A/N: Sequel is doubtful. Review?