Harry fell quiet as he picked out another section of hair, seeming to weigh Draco’s words as he braided another link of the plaid. These weren’t exactly coherent statements, finding that particular discomfort hard to articulate, finding value in the challenge.<br/>“I have since,” he mused. With age, and as the stakes became lower, Harry had certainly felt afraid of dying when faced with his own mortality. He had experienced that on the job - the superficial carelessness of living beyond everybody’s expectancy, and the eternally surprising panic at the prospect of death.<br/>That hadn’t been the case in his teens.<br/>Harry tipped his head to rest his cheek on the pillow. His body felt heavy, Draco’s weight merging with his own.<br/>“Dumbledore had already told me that’s what I was supposed to do,” he reflected softly. He braided another link, thumb trailing Draco’s hairline as it dipped behind his ear. “Dying here wouldn’t have made a difference.”