Prologue

Harry signed some as he stretched. His old bones creaked, making a snapping sound. He grunted at that; it was pleasurably painful. It was a unique feeling that he didn't mind.

"Hey, Potter...Long time no see..."

The dark-haired wizard looked over his shoulder, humming some with a smile. Sitting behind him, in a wheelchair, was an old enemy. Draco Malfoy. The man was at least in his two hundreds, his already pale hair a beautiful, striking white. Wrinkles were around his face, showing his age and life.

Harry grinned, slowly turning himself to the disabled man.

"Malfoy". A fondness was in the equally old man. The boy-who-lived was now in his two hundreds as well, holding himself up on a beautiful, decorated cane. "What are you doing here? Thought you'd be in bed." His tone was just plain amusement as he hobbled over to the blond.

Draco laughed, shakily reaching his hands up in a silent desire to be hugged. He was still too prideful to voice his wants. The standing man happily accepted the request. Used to the other's mannerisms and pride.

"Like I would have my last day in that old thing." He grinned to the other, closing his eyes. His smile slowly fell as he entered a harsh coughing fit.

Harry gently patted his old enemy's back, humming softly. Draco soon was able to cough up the blood and calm down. He groaned a little, a pained look on his face.

The old wizard sighed lowly, swishing his hand to levitate the other old wizard onto the cotton couch. Draco shifted the best he could before relaxing. He looked up to his old enemy, giving a sad-looking smile. His light grey eyes were darkened with sorrow.

"I really wish...We could've been friends, early on..." His voice softened a little, his eyes drifting off to the side.

The dark-haired wizard nodded, slowly sitting on the couch, near the pale-haired wizard's stomach. Gently, he placed a hand on their stomach, rubbing it in a soothing manner. Suddenly, there was a creaking noise.

They both looked over to see their little great-great-grandchildren peering in at them. It was their pair of twins. The Malfoy twins clung to the Potter twins, each little child watching the grandfathers with careful eyes.

Draco gave them a small smile, a tear slipping down his worn face. Despite that he wasn't facing the other, Harry gently wiped the tear away. He then turned back to his old enemy, a hand cupping his cheek.

"Hey... It's alright... It's alright..." He whispered soothingly as the four children hurried in. The creaking door closed with a soft thud.

"Papa?" A white-haired girl whispered, gently latching onto the elder Malfoy's arm.

"Abuelo, i-is Papa..." An auburn-haired boy whimpered some, his beautiful green eyes shimmering with tears.

Harry gave them a sad smile, lightly patting each of their heads.

"Papa will be alright... He just needs some rest..." He murmured, a sadness in his eyes. How had time passed for the two of them by?

Suddenly, the bigger Malfoy twin jolted forward. A thought had come to their head.

"Abuelo! Abuelo! Kiss Papa! Kiss 'im!" They cried, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

The two grandfathers gave their great-great-grandchildren a confused look as the four of them repeated the same words over and over.

"It'll heal Papa! L-Like in the books!" The other Potter twin explained in a hurried tone.

The two elderly wizards sighed some as they watched the hopeful looks in their great-great-gradnchildern's eyes. The two looked at each other, sighing lowly.

Harry looked down at the dying Malfoy, and Draco looked up at the broken Potter. How many years had it been since the two -since the world- learned of the old coot's lies? Lies that ruined any chance for them?

Slowly, the dark-haired man leaned down and solemnly pressed his lips against the other's. Their lips were chapped, cracking in some areas, but the main thing he noticed was the coldness they possessed. Despite that coldness, those lips moved against his in a dance that only they could play, that only they could hear. A dance that matched them.

Harry felt tears drip down his wrinkled face as he cupped Draco's. He could feel the Blond's life drain away, and a pain erupted inside of his chest at the feeling. Almost two hundred years old...A long life to live, and it was only halfway through that life did anyone learned the truth. When their wives had fallen and when the bastard who had taken everything from them was gone. A legacy that was now tainted and stained with blood and insanity. A stain that had hurt many good people. Lost people.

The elder Potter slowly pulled away from the kiss, taking with him the last bit of warmth from the sleeping Malfoy. The children were there, looking between the two with worry and eagerness. They had little knowledge of magic and even less of what death was.

Holding back more tears, he gave the four of them soft smiles.

"Why... Why don't you four go get your parents? Tell them... Draco is finally at rest..." His voice cracked a little, but the four didn't notice, rushing away to do as they were told. The door creaked open before giving that same quiet thump closed.

The old man, now alone, cried. He pressed his head into the other's chest, crying soft, innocent tears. He wept for the death of an old friend, of a life he never had, of things he wished he could've had, and of knowledge that was stolen from him. He wept for it all, but there was no anger in his old bones. No malice, hatred, not even disappointment. He was too old and too close to death to care about such detailing's of a stone past.

Lifting his head, he gently stroked the pale Brit's face. Even old, wrinkled, and dead, Draco was still the most beautifully handsome man Harry ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Leaning up, he pressed one more kiss on his lips before pulling away and sitting properly as he heard the rush of footsteps on the groaning stairs.

"I'll... See you soon, Malfoy..." He murmured, shakily grasping the other's hand. And like that, a warm, familiar feeling of darkness wrapped around Harry Potter, the Hollow that welcomed Death like an old friend.

~1,114

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