And in this dark, empty corridor, where he stood balanced between two worlds - here between the past and the unknown future - he could pretend that this kiss was the only thing that mattered. Here, he allowed himself to imagine he was no longer Draco Malfoy, with every bit of history that name dragged with it, but just a lonely soldier headed off to war. And here, he could almost believe that Potter was different, too.

They both pulled away as reality slowly reasserted itself. His heart pounding, his breath unsteady, he reluctantly dropped his hands and took a single step back. He'd acted with recklessness, with no reason he could name, and his head was whirling. He certainly hadn't expected to relish or to take pleasure in their kiss quite like that - but he had.

"What - what was that for?" Potter managed to stammer.

He smiled without any effort. "For trying. And maybe for luck."