Harry had lied. Harry had spun a happy little fairytale for them of a future he had no intention of seeing and didn’t respect Draco enough to clue him in to the fact. It reminded him of a game he and Astoria had played when they felt particularly melancholy. It was a game of pretend, where they would lie together and tell one another stories of the amazing things they were destined to do. But Draco hadn’t known that he was playing that game again - with Harry, he’d thought it had been real, and he was crushed to find it was all a fantasy.