Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10058249.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger/Ron_Weasley, Remus_Lupin/
      Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Bellatrix_Black_Lestrange, Draco_Malfoy, Albus_Dumbledore, Fred_Weasley,
      George_Weasley, Ginny_Weasley, Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Luna
      Lovegood, Minerva_McGonagall, Molly_Weasley, Narcissa_Black_Malfoy,
      Neville_Longbottom, Pansy_Parkinson, Remus_Lupin, Ron_Weasley, Severus
      Snape, Arthur_Weasley, Blaise_Zabini
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Language, Slash_sex, Sexual_Content, Spoilers, Alternate
      Universe, Bonding, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Romance
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-01-01 Completed: 2008-02-29 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 12802
****** In Times of Sadness, Love Awakens ******
by Kastarra [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     The war is over, innocence and lives were lost. Will Harry and Draco
     be able to find peace and, perhaps, a perfect love?
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
***** Prologue *****
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being
made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Prologue
Finally, it’s over, thought Draco Malfoy. Voldemort was dead, as was Draco’s
father, Lucius. His mother, Narcissa, was still alive yet remained unable to
turn her gaze upon her only son, let alone speak to him. Draco knew it was time
to let go of the past and become his own person, not the mirror image of his
father that he had always aspired to be. The Malfoy name no longer held any
sort of appeal nor did it command the respect, or fear, it once had. In fact,
if Draco were completely honest with himself, and Merlin knows he was trying,
the Malfoy name meant nothing.
Draco grew up that night on the Astronomy Tower at the end of his sixth year at
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As he stood before Professor
Dumbledore, too terrified to carry out his mission, he spoke brave words yet he
remained unable to murder his Headmaster, despite the consequences he knew he
would suffer at the hands of Lord Voldemort if he failed. As he stood
stammering and attempting to raise the Malfoy flag of indifference and
arrogance, Draco had time to understand that he could no more kill Dumbledore
than he could anyone else. Not entirely surprising, Dumbledore had correctly
guessed that Draco was not a killer. And he wasn’t. At the same time, Draco
also realized he wasn’t his father’s son, nor did he wish to be any longer.
Yet, despite his epiphanies, Draco remained unable to prevent the murder of
Dumbledore, even it if wasn’t by his own hand.
Years of hard conditioning by his parents to despise and revile anyone not of
pureblood began to crumble in the moments just before his only true mentor and
friend spoke the killing curse, ending Dumbledore’s life. He had been stunned
as he watched Severus Snape do what Draco had been ordered to do. He could not
move, nor breathe, it seemed, as he watched the Headmaster of Hogwarts fall
from the tower. He remained frozen until he felt Snape grab him and rush him
from the castle. As he and Snape made their escape, Draco came back to himself
enough to understand two things; that Dumbledore was gone and it was his fault
and that Harry Potter would come after them. And Harry did. As Draco stood
watching the chaos that surrounded him, he saw his mentor face down Harry, saw
the two as they argued and dueled. Time seemed to stand still for Draco as he
thought about doing what he had longed to do for so long, even though he had
never truly realized it. He could have gone to Harry, stood by his side and,
for once, live his life as he wished, not as his father wanted him to. He could
have turned his back on the intolerance and arrogance that had defined every
part of his life up until that moment.
But he didn’t.
He had learned much in those moments, as violence and turmoil sparked around
him. Yet years of hatred and conditioning could not be completely undone. Nor
could cowardice.
And so Draco allowed himself to be Apparated away with Snape, hearing Snape’s
assurances that he would take him to safety. Just before they vanished, Draco
had time to hear the anguished screams of Harry Potter. It was those screams
that would haunt his dreams when sleep finally came, if it came at all.
Now it was the end of summer and nearing the beginning of his seventh year at
Hogwarts. Draco didn’t know what he was going back to, nor did he know where
his life would go after graduation. All he knew was that he was going back a
very different person.
With a sigh, Draco gathered his elegant, black cloak a little tighter around
his slight shoulders, picked up his trunk and nodded to the dark figure beside
him. He truly was frightened of the life that now lay ahead of him. At the same
time, underneath the sharp taste of fear, he felt, for the first time, at peace
with himself.
TBC
****NOTE: This is my first attempt at a story...please be kind! Thank you for
reading!****
***** Chapter 1 *****
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being
made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
                                   Chapter 1
Harry Potter awoke with a feeling of dread although he was unable to determine
the source of his unease. He struggled for a few moments, still not able to
believe that it was all over.
He understood, on some level at least, all that had happened in the last few
months. Understood that he had defeated Voldemort and that Snape was not a
murderer (a snarky git, maybe, but not a murderer) and that Dumbledore was
alive.
Yet, despite being seemingly unencumbered by the constant threat on his life
and the realization that his beloved headmaster was alive and well at Hogwarts,
Harry felt empty, numb.
Harry would very soon enter his seventh year at Hogwarts with his closest
friends by his side. He should feel genuinely happy and completely at peace but
there was an undercurrent of hopelessness. He understood that his feelings
stemmed partly from the fact that there were still Death Eaters out there who
wished him dead and that, even with the absence of their leader, their hatred
of The Boy Who Lived was so pure that they would never rest until they saw him
dead, preferably killed by their own hand. Small wonder he could not bring
himself to feel truly free.
After rousing himself, Harry pulled on a pair of worn jeans and burgundy jumper
and went down to join the Weasleys for breakfast.
Harry had been staying at the Burrow for the last few weeks, recovering from
the end of the war and awaiting the beginning of the last year at Hogwarts. He
had spent some weeks in St. Mungo’s before coming to the Burrow, skirting a
fine line between life and death.
Understanding his need for solitude, the Weasleys had left Harry in relative
peace. He had time to think about all that had happened. Had time to maybe feel
a bit of resentment towards Dumbledore for not telling Harry of his and Snape’s
plans, for not trusting him enough. Yet he also understood the necessity of
being kept innocent of their plans given his connection to Voldemort.
When Harry had first seen Dumbledore walking towards him, arising out of the
green cloud of smoke that surrounded the battlefield as Voldemort and a handful
of his Death Eaters lay dead, he had thought that perhaps he had followed
Dumbledore into death. But then, exhausted mentally and physically and feeling
as though he would faint, he nearly did so as Dumbledore approached him, very
much alive, eyes twinkling. Harry wasn’t sure if it was Dumbledore himself or
someone from the Order who had caught him. All he knew was that he went down,
allowing the darkness that had been pushing at his mind to finally claim him.
The days that followed the end of the war were pretty much a blur to Harry. Now
it was just a few days before the beginning of his seventh year and Harry had
yet to feel the immense joy he knew he should be feeling after defeating
Voldemort and having his mentor back, unharmed.
Pulling himself out of his reverie, Harry sat down at the Weasleys’ table in
time to have a plate full of food pushed in front of him by Mrs. Weasley. He
smiled his thanks as she returned it with a loving gaze. She had been extra
careful of Harry’s moods, giving him comfort when she felt he needed it but,
for the most part, just letting him know she was there for him. He appreciated
her more than he could say and tried to communicate this with his smiles. He
hoped he was successful.
Moments after listlessly picking up his fork to eat, his best mate, Ron,
clumped down the stairs and collapsed into the somewhat rickety chair beside
Harry.
“Hey, Harry, how’d ya sleep?” Ron mumbled.
Ron never had been a morning person, Harry thought with a wan smile.
“Okay, Ron. I expect we’ll be receiving our letters soon, yeah?” Harry
returned.
Ron, itching to help Harry out of the depression he had sunk into in, wanted to
take him to Diagon Alley, to shop for a new broom (for Harry not him, Ron
thought with a scowl). Harry dreaded the trip, knowing he would be thrust into
the spotlight even more so now that he truly had lived up to his title of
Savior of the Wizarding World. He had no desire to be stroked, stared at or on
the receiving end of endless thanks. He did what he was prophesied to do,
nothing more. He wished the peace that came with the aftermath of the war would
be enough for everyone but it wasn’t and he knew it.
Harry was saved from such thoughts with the arrival of Ginny to the breakfast
table. He was amazed that Ginny had been so intuitive to his feelings, his
thoughts. It was as though she realized before he did that their relationship,
such as it was, was over before it even began. And this time, it had nothing to
do with his desire to keep her out of harm’s way.
Ginny gave Harry a grin and sat opposite him at the worn table. Harry gave her
an answering smile back before his eyes flickered away.
As Ron, Harry and Ginny tucked into breakfast, they attempted to keep up a
stilted conversation, sticking to mundane topics such as what they would each
be taking the coming school year and the new StarStreak 1000 racing broom.
“Oy, I’m done with Divination but that goes without saying,” Ron mumbled around
a mouthful of food.
Harry nodded his agreement and the conversation moved on to Quidditch. All were
in agreement that Harry would likely remain Captain and Seeker for the
Gryffindor team while Ron remained Keeper. Ron’s performance had improved
somewhat and would probably improve more so if he could just stop worrying
about playing in front of an audience.
With breakfast finished, the three teenagers washed up. As they were about to
head up to their bedrooms, Hermione Granger arrived, carrying her ginger cat,
Crookshanks and a good deal of concern for Harry. She knew he hadn’t been his
usually happy, energetic self and was worried, hoping it was just the
experience of the war and its conclusion that was affecting Harry. She tried
her best, along with Ron, to draw Harry out. They succeeded a bit but the usual
enthusiasm and happiness that made Harry’s deep green eyes sparkle was still
missing.
The four friends trooped upstairs where Harry and Ron began playing a listless
game of wizard chess and Hermione grabbed a book to read. Ginny elected to
retreat to her own bedroom, understanding more than Harry realized. There were
attempts at conversation, however, there was more silence than not. It was
becoming rather uncomfortable and Ron was about to say something he would
probably regret when there was a knock at the door.
Mrs. Weasley entered the room, her features more careworn than usual. She had
her own sorrows to deal with but Bill was getting better and it was hopeful
that he would not have to suffer the same fate as Remus Lupin. His scars were
another matter but he was coping well, especially with the help and love of
Fleur. Pushing aside sad thoughts, Mrs. Weasley announced it was time to gather
together for the trip to Diagon Alley as their letters had just arrived by owl.
As Ginny was not yet 17 and therefore not able to Apparate, travel by Floo
powder was their only choice.
**************************************************************************
Having made it safely if a little dusty to Diagon Alley, Mrs. Weasley set off
for Madam Malkin’s for a new set of robes, first making arrangements to meet up
with Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.
Hermione had, of course, figured it out that Harry and Ginny were not resuming
their relationship and so, on the pretense of giving the two a chance to speak
alone and away from the Burrow, grabbed Ron by the arm and said, “Ron, I need
your help picking out a new spellbook at Flourish and Blotts.”
Although not always quick to grasp things left unsaid, Ron realized Hermione’s
intention and allowed himself to be pulled along with a yell over his shoulder,
“See you later, Harry, Ginny.”
Harry, realizing at once what Hermione was up to, gave a heavy sigh, turned to
Ginny and said, “Ginny, we do have to talk but I think you know that.” Ginny
smiled a sad smile and said, “Yes, Harry, I do. Let’s go to the Leaky Cauldron
where we can sit.”
As they entered the Leaky Cauldron, they drew the usual stares. Harry walked
rather quickly to the back of the room and sat, not wanting to deal with
anything other than what lay immediately before him. He had no idea what he was
going to say to Ginny. His mouth dry and at a complete loss for words, Harry
looked up at Ginny and found her looking at him with both sadness and
resignation in her eyes.
Ginny certainly had grown more beautiful, her red hair deepening to a rich
sheen yet her beauty had no effect on Harry.
Ginny took a sip of her Butterbeer and began. “Harry…I, well, I can’t begin to
tell you that I know how you’re feeling. But I do know that all that has
happened has taken something from you, has left you like this, like you don’t
even want to live. I don’t know how to help you or how to take away those
feelings,” Ginny said.
Harry looked down at his long-fingered hands for a few minutes, gathering
together his meager thoughts. He looked back up at Ginny and said, “Ginny, I’m
sorry. It does feel like I have nothing left anymore, like nothing matters. I
know I should be happy, know I should be able to move on. But, there is
something that is holding me back. Something that is making me feel more empty
than I’ve ever felt, even while living with the Dursleys. I don’t know what’s
wrong with me.”
The two remained silent for a moment, each feeling the uncertainty and pain of
the other.
Ginny, seeing that Harry was on the verge of tears, took both of Harry’s hands
gently in her own and spoke quietly.
“Harry, you’ve been through so much, lost so many who were close to you. Now,
after seven years of fear, anger and uncertainty, it’s all over. No wonder you
feel confused, lost. For seven years you were the Boy Who Lived. Now you’re the
Savior and have to live your own life. You’ve had the last seven years planned
out for you, lived as Dumbledore and the rest of the Order said you should. Now
you have to make your own decisions, live your own life. Is it really much of a
surprise that you don’t know how?”
Harry looked at Ginny, eyes wide with shock, listening to the utter wisdom in
her soft voice. He hadn’t thought about it himself but her words rang true.
Hearing from Ginny that what he was feeling was normal and didn’t mean he was,
well, going insane, Harry began to feel a bit better. Such good feelings,
however, were immediately crushed as he realized that he had no way of telling
Ginny that he couldn’t resume dating her, that things had changed, his feelings
had changed. She was in front of him, offering him absolute comfort and
understanding, how could he hurt her?
So, he just gave her the best smile he could manage and said softly, “Thank
you, Ginny. You can’t know how much that helps me.”
Ginny nodded and took a breath. What she said next not only shocked Harry but
also removed the burden of telling her his feelings from his own shoulders.
“Harry. I know that we put what we had on hold after, well, what happened last
year at Hogwarts. I thought about it constantly at the end of term, after you
left to destroy the Horcruxes and then, well, after you won. I thought about
you, about us…about what would happen once you came back.”
Ginny hesitated, searching Harry’s green eyes before continuing.
“Harry, even when we were, you know, together, it didn’t feel like we were,
er...together.” Ginny sighed in frustration, not knowing how to tell Harry what
she was really feeling, what she really thought.
“I guess I knew, even before you left to hunt for the Horcruxes that we
wouldn’t be getting back together. And you’ve changed, Harry,”
Harry nodded dumbly, at a loss for words.
“Harry,” Ginny began again. “I never felt you, in here.” Ginny released Harry’s
hands to place hers over her heart.
“No! That isn’t what I mean!” Ginny hastily replied to Harry’s widened eyes.
“I mean, well, what I mean is that I know we both care for each other, both
love each other but it’s as, I guess as family. We don’t belong together as
anything else. It just doesn’t…doesn’t feel right, like maybe there’s only the
love of siblings?”
Tears began to form in Ginny’s eyes and she had to take a moment to calm
herself.
Even though he knew he could do no more, Harry placed his strong hands over
hers, returning the gentle comfort Ginny had only moments ago offered to him.
Gaining some control over herself, Ginny looked into Harry’s eyes, seeking
acquiescence, reassurance.
“Ginny, I’ll always love you but you’re, I… you’re right, I can’t love you as
anything more than a sister. I just, I can’t…” Harry trailed off. His next
words came as a whisper but Ginny heard him and understood.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hurt you any more than I have.”
Holding back his own tears, tears that threatened to overwhelm and fighting a
strong desire to flee, Harry could do nothing more than drop his head in shame.
When Harry could look up, Ginny saw unshed tears brightening his green eyes for
the first time in months.
The only thought that Harry could hold on to was, because of him, someone else
was in pain.
“Ginny, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Hurting you is the last thing I
want to do”
As she pulled her hands gently from Harry’s grasp, Ginny told him what she had
really come here to say. The words were bittersweet and though she knew they
would offer little comfort to someone so intimately acquainted with pain, she
also felt strongly that they would give Harry some small sense of release.
“This isn’t easy to say, Harry and I, I just hope you’ll understand. I’ve,”
Ginny bit her lip and then plunged on. “Neville has, I mean I’ve sort of been
seeing Neville.”
Harry blinked. He blinked again. He wasn’t immediately sure what he felt or
what he should be feeling. Then he felt relief in a rush and, on the heels of
this, shame.
Harry finally found his voice. “Oh…so, you’re with Neville? Um, how long?”
Ginny took a few seconds to respond, looking into Harry’s eyes. Perhaps what
she saw there helped her to continue, helped her to understand that she had
made the right decision.
“Well, it’s just been us owling each other, sharing a lot of feelings and we’ve
sort of seen each other here and there, I mean after you killed, um, after the
war ended but it’s just been a few weeks. But, well, you know we’ve, er, always
been close.”
Ginny’s pale, slender hands, which had been resting on the scarred tabletop
trembled slightly. Again covering them with his own, Harry tried to communicate
reassurance.
Using soft words and gentle nudges with his hands, Harry said, “Ginny, I am
happy for you. I know that Neville is so very lucky. Don’t let worry over me
stop you from being happy with him.”
Perhaps feeling just a bit rejected, Ginny’s eyes hardened and she bit out,
“Yes, well, thank you for your…your well wishes, Harry.”
Rushing to further reassure her, maybe not entirely truthfully but with good
intentions all the same, Harry said, “Ginny, um, it does hurt to know you are
happy with Neville and it may be a little bit before I can see you with him
without feeling a little jealous but I do want you to be happy and I know you
will be with him. He has a good heart and can give you what I can’t.”
As an afterthought, Harry added, “But just don’t go snogging around me for
awhile yet.”
Ginny’s expression softened as she smiled at Harry. She didn’t laugh but a
smile was good enough for now.
“Thank you Harry.”
Understanding that their conversation was at an end and that to prolong it
would only cause unease, Ginny announced that it was time to find her mother,
Hermione and Ron.
**************************************************************************
As usual, the twins’ shop was a hive of activity and packed with witches and
wizards of all ages, clamoring for extendable ears, skiving snackboxes and
pygmy puffs. Harry and Ginny shifted through the crowd, looking for Ron and
Hermione. Finally spotting bright red hair towering over most of the crowd,
they began to make their way over to Ron.
“Oy! Harry, how’ve you been?” Harry heard behind him.
He turned to beam at Fred and say, “Right enough, Fred. I reckon you and George
are just a bit busy...”
Fred was joined by George and both said in unison, “Always.” Fred continued
with, “Well, Savior, the wizarding world has cause to celebrate and is in dire
need of what only we can provide.”
With a snicker, Harry could not help but agree, dismissing the Savior comment.
A throng of customers surrounded the twins, capturing their attention. The
twins gave a wave in Harry’s direction and started away saying, “Don’t go
anywhere Harry, we want a word or three.” Harry nodded and made his way once
more towards Ron who, Harry was amused to see, was rifling through a box of
love potions.
Some short time later, Fred and George made their way back to Harry. “Harry,
let’s go in the back,” Fred began and George finished with, “We need to talk.”
The three of them found a spot near a stack of boxes that looked as though it
was on the verge of toppling. Fred and George flicked a hasty glance at each
other and Fred began.
“Harry, you know you’ve been part of the Weasley family for years now.”
Not giving Harry a chance to reply, George picked up where Fred left off and
said, “Well, we’re not sure if Ron said anything to you about Ginny or not but,
well, we think you should know that she wasn’t…” George trailed off. “Harry,
Ginny’s sort of been seeing Neville. She cares about you, mate, but she’s, um,
she didn’t really think you were ever serious about her.”
Harry looked at the twins with a slight frown and thought, leave it to them to
not pull punches.
“Uh, I don’t think – I mean, I know a lot’s happened and I know what I told her
before I left to search for the Horcruxes but, I just don’t think it was meant,
no.”
Harry saw the glance the twins exchanged and hurried to further explain, “I
mean, I care about Ginny, a lot, but I think it’s more of a brother-sister
thing. You know? And besides, we’ve already talked and I know about Neville.”
Again, the twins glanced at each other before Fred spoke, “Yeah, well, we all
knew that. At the end, I mean before you left, Ginny told us that your heart
wasn’t in it. I mean, we knew you cared about her, didn’t want her to get hurt
but she says that’s not all that was behind your decision to call off your,
well, your relationship?”
As Fred took a breath, George continued, “Yeah, mate, Ginny could tell that you
weren’t really going to work – she said, uh, she said that she couldn’t feel
you. She thought that maybe it was forced, you know, you didn’t want to hurt
her so you felt like you had to maybe…I don’t know.”
Harry, not sure how to reply, opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Okay,
you know I love her, you know I care about her but, no, it’s not there. I’m
sorry.” Harry had bowed his head as he finished and tentatively looked up at
the twins, his eyes shadowed and watchful.
Fred placed a knowing hand on Harry’s shoulder and said softly, “We know, mate.
We want you to be happy as much as we want Ginny to be happy. No worries. She’s
been getting closer to Neville and they’ve, you know, like I said, been seeing
each other.”
Harry, despite himself, felt just a flutter of resentment. He wanted Ginny to
be happy and knew he couldn’t make her happy. He felt resentful that, even
after ridding the wizarding world of Voldemort, he couldn’t make someone he so
cared for, happy. Or maybe it was because he desperately wanted to love and be
loved himself that he resented what he figured was blooming between Ginny and
Neville.
He took a moment to feel a bit of guilt, knowing he was loved, very much so, by
the Weasleys, by Lupin and Hermione. But still, he had learned some things
about himself as he lay in St. Mungo’s after killing Voldemort, just hanging on
to life himself. He knew, instinctively, that such discoveries had to be kept
quiet, deep inside himself.
Harry, caught the perplexed glance between twins and looked up at them with
what he hoped was a sincere smile and said simply, “I just want her to be
happy.”
Still sharing a worried smile, the twins pulled Harry out of the back room with
then and entered the crowded shop.
**************************************************************************
With a stifled cough and an attempt to wave the dust out of his eyes, Harry
arrived back at the Burrow and out of the fireplace. He had taken a few steps
towards the kitchen, hearing the others arrive behind him, when he looked up to
see two people standing in the kitchen, near the front door, two people Harry
had hoped never to see again.
***** Chapter 2 *****
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being
made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A heartfelt thank you to my Beta, Connon Landon for much patience and support!
Chapter 2
Harry took a few more steps toward them and stopped. He felt rather than heard
Ron approach him to stand at his side along with Hermione and Ginny, a few
steps behind.
Despite all that he had learned about Snape, despite all that had happened,
Harry just could not quell the surge of anger he felt at seeing the black-
haired wizard. After talking with Dumbledore, he realized just how much Snape
had sacrificed and risked, and how much Snape had loved Harry’s mother, Lily.
Yet he also knew the sheer hell Snape had made of his life since they first
locked gazes during Harry’s first year at Hogwart’s.
Doing his very best to force down his anger, Harry turned his green gaze upon
the second figure. Draco Malfoy. Again, Harry felt nothing but anger and
loathing as he looked at the blonde. There were no excuses for his attempt to
murder Dumbledore. In Harry’s mind, Dumbledore was a fool for forgiving and
helping Malfoy. Nothing Dumbledore told him that Malfoy had changed would ever
sway Harry into believing Malfoy was anything but an evil bastard, not to
mention cowardly.
Harry firmly believed that cowardice was the driving force behind Draco’s
defection to the side of Light, not because he was truly changed or remorseful
for trying to kill Dumbledore or for all of those years he terrorized Harry and
his friends. No, Harry believed Malfoy was only trying to save his own skin.
Unable to force down his hatred of Malfoy, Harry bit out, “Why’s he here?”
Snape, not quite suppressing a sneer, turned to Mr. Weasley. “Arthur?”
Mr. Weasley gave Snape a nod and strode over to where Harry was still glaring
in Malfoy’s direction.
“Harry, erm, we need to talk. There have been a few developments and we need to
discuss a few things that will be happening in the days before you go back to
Hogwarts.”
Harry didn’t like the sound of this and instinctively knew anything Mr. Weasley
had to tell him would do nothing to calm his unease. On the contrary, he was
sure it would only fuel his already simmering temper.
Mrs. Weasley had remained silent, as had Ron, Hermione and Ginny, watching
Harry as he stood before Snape and Malfoy. Now, she cleared her throat and, in
tones warning against an argument, suggested Ron, Hermione and Ginny take their
newly purchased supplies upstairs. She then turned an uncertain smile upon
Snape and Malfoy and invited them to the kitchen table for tea.
Mr. Weasley took Harry’s elbow firmly and guided him outside as soon as Snape
and Malfoy had moved into the kitchen proper, followed by Mrs. Weasley.
Once outside, Harry rounded on Mr. Weasley, eyes shinning dangerously. He
carefully avoided an antagonistic tone yet his words were still said with
unmistakable strength.
“Mr. Weasley, why are they here?”
Arthur took a breath before answering Harry. He realized he would have to
choose his words carefully.
“Harry, you already know what Severus did, you know what he was and how much he
helped us. You know he lost so much, risked his life. He is not what you’ve
always thought him to be. You can’t still hate him, can you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Harry fairly yelled in frustration.
“Snape has never shown me anything but deepest loathing and disgust. Just
because of who my father was, he hated me. I know what he did, I know what he
lost and I know he was an important part of our success against Voldemort. I
can respect him and maybe I don’t hate him anymore but still…” Harry trailed
off in a mutter, somewhat surprised.
He had never realized that he respected Snape. Once said, he knew it was true.
He did respect the man. He wasn’t so sure he could truly ever like him,
however.
Just a bit shaken, Harry asked Mr. Weasley what he had meant by changes.
Dreading the coming conversation, Arthur began as calmly and rationally as he
could.
“Well, we’re going to have another guest the last few days until the start of
the new term.”
He just knew it was Malfoy. Wonderful.
“Yes, Harry, Draco Malfoy will be staying with us. I’m sorry. I know how you
feel but he has nowhere else to go. Severus cannot remain in the safe house,
not anymore. I can’t tell you everything but I can tell you that Draco must
stay here, where it’s safe. And, well, Severus has to…to do a few things for
Dumbledore.”
Arthur knew it was a weak statement, knew Harry would never settle for such
vagueness and he was right.
Harry, unable to stop himself, exploded with, “Why can’t Dumbledore just tell
me what’s going on for once? Why can’t you?”
Arthur turned sad eyes on Harry, knowing he was right. He had defeated
Voldemort, for Merlin’s sake. He deserved some trust.
“I know, Harry, and I agree. Nothing should be hidden from you any longer. You
already know that Bellatrix Lestrange survived the war. And you must realize
that that means she will want retribution for her master’s defeat.”
Allowing a moment or two for Harry to digest what he had just said, Arthur
continued.
“She wants Draco, Harry. She feels Draco betrayed his father, betrayed
Voldemort and besmirched the Malfoy name. She knows where Snape and Draco have
been hiding and she isn’t alone. She has other Death Eaters with her and
they’re not lying low, Harry. They will come after Draco and they’ll also come
after you.”
Harry couldn’t help wryness of his voice, couldn’t stop the slightly
condescending tone and later he would feel red-faced and guilty because the
Weasleys had always done so much for him. Mr. Weasley didn’t deserve his anger,
nor his frustration, yet he was powerless to stop himself.
“I’ve beaten Voldemort, saved the Wizarding world. I’m not really afraid of a
few stray Death Eaters, Mr. Weasley, and neither should anyone else. I doubt
they can do anything, anyway.”
“Harry, you know better than anyone that complacency is a dangerous thing. Just
because we’ve won doesn’t mean there aren’t still dangers out there.”
Arthur gave Harry a kind smile and a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. He knew
that none of this was easy for the boy, well young man now. He understood that
Harry’s life had been nothing but pain, turmoil and loss. It tore at his heart
to see the emptiness and hopelessness in Harry’s eyes and knew there was
nothing he could do to help him. Even now, after the death of Voldemort,
Harry’s newfound peace would be short-lived.
With a heavy sigh Arthur said, “We just have to, we can’t turn Draco away,
knowing he’s in danger, Harry. I know there has never been anything but mutual
hatred between the two of you and I know that Ron won’t be happy about the
arrangement, either; but there really is no other choice. He can’t go to
Hogwarts before the start of term. We have to replace and strengthen the wards
and won’t be able to guarantee Draco’s safety. Snape needs to stay with
Dumbledore and can’t hide Draco. At least here we’ll be able to watch over
Draco. We still have wards up, Harry, and there are still some remnants of your
blood protection. I’m sorry, Harry, but we have no other choice.”
Harry couldn’t hold on to his anger at Mr. Weasley, misplaced at it was. Like
every other time in his life, Harry accepted and began thinking of how he could
best cope. It’s what Harry was good at, accepting what life threw at him,
puzzling out how to best survive and protect those he loved. He would do it
again now.
With a scowl, Harry realized Ginny wasn’t quite right. It seemed his life was
still being decided for him.
Feeling more empty and despondent than ever, Harry dredged up a weak smile for
Mr. Weasley, who said he understood and that it was okay.
Watching the young man shuffle away, Arthur knew that things weren’t okay, but
there wasn’t much he could do about it.
************************************************************************
“Thank you, Molly, but I must be going. Albus is expecting me and I am sure he
will not want to keep the wards lowered any longer than necessary.”
Molly gave a curt nod in Snape’s direction and turned to watch Harry as he
approached the table.
“I trust you have what you need, Draco?”
Snape’s voice was respectful as always when he addressed the blonde.
“Yes, thanks. I’ll, well, I’ll see you at school?”
It was more of a question than a statement and Harry was startled to see
uncertainty and maybe a hint of fear instead of Malfoy’s usual sneering
arrogance.
Snape’s expression was carefully guarded, yet Harry could see the barest glint
of tenderness as he answered Malfoy.
“Yes, of course Draco. Be well.”
It seemed for a moment as though Snape wanted to hug Malfoy but thought better
of it and merely gave the blonde a nod and turned toward Mrs. Weasley.
“Molly, if you or Draco should need anything….”
Apparently Molly understood what was left unsaid as she reached a tentative
hand out for Snape to shake, nodded her head once and said softly, “Yes,
Severus.”
With a surprising and respectful nod to Harry, Snape turned on his heel and
strode towards the door with just a brief flutter of black robes.
Swallowing the explosion he so dearly wanted to give voice to, Harry asked Mrs.
Weasley if she needed anything. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to help her as
to not leave her alone with Malfoy. Gently chiding Harry, Mrs. Weasley assured
him that she had need of nothing and suggested that, perhaps, Ron was waiting
for him upstairs. Harry took the hint and with a last, hard glance at Malfoy
bounded up the stairs.
Swallowing her own feelings, Molly turned toward Malfoy with what she hoped was
at least a marginally sincere smile.
“Dear, are you hungry?”
Draco forced himself to look at Mrs. Weasley and mumbled, “No, not really. I
would like to go unpack, though.”
Relieved that she wouldn’t be forced to sit with the boy any longer than
necessary, Molly bade Malfoy to follow her up the stairs and to the twins’ old
bedroom. She realized it would be far from the comfort Malfoy was used to but
it couldn’t be helped.
Opening the door and ushering Malfoy inside, Molly left him to it with
assurances that she would be just downstairs should he need her.
Draco nodded curtly and managed a soft “Thank you,” in reply.
As he had brought with him only the very barest essentials, Draco had only a
trunk packed and reduced for easy carrying. He pulled out his wand, pointed it
at the trunk and muttered, “Engorio” and set about unpacking.
He pulled out tailored trousers, mostly black, and arranged them on the bottom
shelf of a very worn wardrobe. Next, he added his pressed school ties and
several cashmere and silk jumpers, mostly green or gray. For his day and dress
robes, he used the top of the wardrobe, arranging them on the hangers provided.
He hated this, hated feeling so alone and hopeless. He understood he would
never be the same sneering and arrogant little prat again.
Not that it mattered much, but still…
He also understood that what was important to him, though changed, remained a
mystery. He didn’t know where to go from here, had no clue which direction his
life would next take him.
Loneliness was something very familiar, as he had felt it for most of his life.
Oh, he had parents who gave him everything, yet had given him nothing. Sure, he
would get anything he asked for, whether it be the newest racing broom or
sweets.
For appearances, the Malfoys had always been a united, happy family, full of
respect and love for one another. In reality, Draco was only ever given
perfunctory hugs or pecks on the cheek, mostly when someone else was present to
witness them. He never felt that closeness to either of his parents, never felt
them. As much as he had always tried to pretend it wasn’t true, Draco knew he
was only ever an extension of his parents, especially his father, not someone
they cherished or truly loved.
He sat on one of the old and rickety beds, silently berating himself for the
thoughts running through his head and the subsequent tears that followed such
thoughts.
Malfoys do not cry.
Well, maybe that was another rule by which he no longer cared to live.
As much as he tried to fight it, the tears welling in his gray eyes began to
overflow. One by one, they fell as Draco allowed himself to feel his pain,
rather than bottle it up and swallow it down, replacing it with a cold heart
and mask of indifference…as he usually did.
As long shadows began stretching throughout the tiny room, Draco lay curled up
on his right side, seeing nothing yet feeling so much.
**************************************************************************
“So, mate, why d’ya think he’s here?” Ron asked for the third or fourth time.
“You know as much as I do, Ron. Your dad just said he had to stay here until
the start of term, that he wasn’t safe with Snape.”
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, who was just as puzzled.
“Well, we should maybe make him feel at home, don’t you think Ronald?” Hermione
said in a small voice. She knew her suggestion would be met with protests from
both boys and, as usual, she was right.
“What?!” Ron’s ears went a nice, deep shade of red as he looked at Hermione as
if she was insane. “I won’t go out of my way to do anything for that git.”
Harry couldn’t help himself and had to add, “Hermione, have you forgotten what
Malfoy’s done to you, to all of us, in the last six years? Have you forgotten
what he tried to do to Dumbledore?”
Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, “Well, you both know as well as I do that he
had to do what he did. Dumbledore knew what Malfoy was up to and he let him
play it out. Dumbledore didn’t believe Malfoy would kill him and he was right.
I mean, Dumbledore figured out that Malfoy didn’t have a choice, that it was
his family and himself or...you know. I just think that maybe Malfoy’s suffered
enough.”
If Harry wasn’t so angry, he would have found the incredulous look on Ron’s
face comical. As it was, he could only stare at Hermione.
“Hermione, he didn’t kill Dumbledore because he was scared or was trying to
save his own arse. You know that as well as we do.” He knew he sounded petulant
but he couldn’t help it. It infuriated him to know that Hermione, of all
people, was defending Malfoy.
“No, Harry. Remember Dumbledore told us that Voldemort - Oh stop, Ronald - that
Voldemort ordered Malfoy to kill Dumbledore, and that he threatened to kill
Malfoy’s family and Malfoy himself if he didn’t carry out his orders. And he
told us that Malfoy did everything he could, told the Order everything he knew
and a lot of what he said helped us. And remember, after we were captured and
taken to Malfoy Manor, Draco didn’t let on that he knew it was us; and you even
said yourself, Harry, that his grip on those three wands was extremely weak.”
Seeing the set looks on both Ron’s and Harry’s faces, Hermione knew it was a
waste of time even trying to help them see sense and, instead of trying to
argue more, she heaved a sigh and sought to distract them from their mutual
hatred of Malfoy.
“Look, why don’t we just set about sorting our school things and packing as
much as we can?”
Hermione gave both boys a pleading look.
She was trying to diffuse the fight, in her own way, and they understood that.
“Yeah, okay, I guess we can,” Ron said, just a bit sullenly.
The three friends had busied themselves in packing and, after that, Ron and
Harry in a game of exploding snap and Hermione, unsurprisingly, in a book.
A sharp rap sounded on the door followed by the appearance of Mrs. Weasley as
she stuck her head in to announce supper.
Remembering their guest and not at all looking forward to facing him across the
table, the three teenagers were slow to troop out the door and down the stairs.
Harry was a bit taken aback to see Malfoy already sitting at the table, eyes
down, face paler than usual.
Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat pointedly and gave the three friends a stern
glare, silently warning them against any antagonism.
Draco, for his part, didn’t dare look up from the worn tabletop. He hadn’t
wanted to come down to eat, having no appetite and no desire to face the golden
boy and his friends. He had felt the anger and hatred coming off Harry in waves
earlier. He didn’t have to look at Harry to know the cold fire he was sure was
igniting Harry’s emerald eyes. He wasn’t exactly afraid of Harry. No, that
wasn’t true. Draco was smart enough to understand that, although he was a
strong wizard, he was no match for Harry, magically or physically. He had
always been thin but was even more so now as a result of the last few months.
His normally pale skin was now nearly translucent. Draco knew whom the victor
would be should a physical confrontation arise between himself and Harry. It
was more that he was afraid of what Harry could do but, for some reason unknown
to himself, knew Harry wouldn’t do anything.
Beneath that fear was another type of fear, far more stronger. He didn’t
understand what it was but he knew it was there.
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down across from Malfoy, none of them wanting to
sit near him. Mrs. Weasley gave a loud sniff, letting the teenagers know she
wasn’t at all pleased about the seating arrangements.
“Mum, where’s Dad?” Ron asked.
“He had to go back to the Ministry, Ron but he’ll be back later.”
It wasn’t lost on Harry that Mrs. Weasley pointedly said nothing about where
Ginny was.
Mrs. Weasley slid four plates brimming with food in front of the teenagers,
while carrying her own to set down next to Draco.
She reached out a tentative hand to pat Draco’s right arm, asking, “Do you need
anything, Draco?”
Malfoy hid a sneer as he said, in a voice so quiet as to be a whisper, “No,
thank you.”
A quick glance between the three friends showed their mutual surprise that
Draco would actually utter something so polite to a Weasley. Despite his polite
tone, there was an undercurrent of distain in Draco’s refusal to look at Mrs.
Weasley.
There was stilted conversation at the table, mostly made by Mrs. Weasley as she
asked about school subjects, whether they all had everything they needed and
admonishes to do their best this last year of school.
Finally, the meal ended and it was Malfoy who hopped up first, hoping to escape
back to his small room. He hesitated for the barest of seconds, bringing his
eyes to Mrs. Weasley who understood and said simply, “Go on dear, you must be
tired.”
Malfoy needed no further encouragement and fled the kitchen as fast as
possible.
Once Mrs. Weasley judged Draco to be out of site, she turned a hard glare upon
the subdued teenagers before her.
“Well. Are you proud of yourselves?”
Exchanging puzzled glances, it was Ron who spoke first, “Mum, it’s Malfoy!”
“Ronald Weasley! Yes, it’s Malfoy” she fairly spat, “It’s also a 17-year-old
boy who has no family to speak of, who has nowhere to go but here and who is
frightened. The least you can do is put aside your differences and act civil to
him.”
Reasonably abashed, the trio exchanged glances and murmured, “Sorry.”
Softening her gaze, Mrs. Weasley said, “I know it’s hard for all of you but
please try to make things…if not pleasant, then at least easier. For everyone’s
sake.”
The three friends assured Mrs. Weasley they would do their best and, with their
offers of help to clean up the kitchen refused, Harry and Ron trooped back
upstairs and headed towards Ron’s room while Hermione went to the room she was
sharing with Ginny.
*************************************************************************
Draco again sat on the bed, head in his hands, heart beating wildly.
He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t face Harry or his friends. How do you go on
when your entire world is shattered, when everything you had ever lived for,
believed in and strove towards was ripped apart and thrown away? His resolve to
change wasn’t shaken, at least not that much, but that didn’t mean he knew what
to do now.
With a heavy sigh, Draco again curled on his right side and willed his heart to
slow and his mind to clear. When especially stressed, he would allow himself to
wander among his memories of the first time he met Harry Potter….
He had been 11 years old, full of the world and himself and positively
exploding with an anxious desire to start Wizarding school. He wanted to prove
himself, to show his father that he was everything his father desired him to
be. He wanted to be the best, to outshine everyone else, and nothing would stop
him. At the same time, he felt an eagerness to meet other Wizarding children.
Not that he had never met another wizard child – his parents made sure he knew
all of the “right” sort, the purebloods. He knew Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini,
Gregory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson…
Oh how he had shuddered when his father hinted that Pansy would make a good
wife; he was 11, for Merlin’s sake, 11! Besides that, Draco was fairly sure he
liked boys, not girls. He had had a short but startling experience with a
village boy not all that long before he turned 11. They had been talking and
laughing and, before Draco knew what was happening, the boy had craned his neck
and kissed Draco. Draco had been shocked and ran away, confused. He felt
something strange when the boy had kissed him, felt it in the pit of his belly
but he didn’t understand what that feeling was. All he knew was that it scared
him a little but it also made him feel good, feel like he wanted to maybe try
it again. It wouldn’t be until Pansy kissed him, not long after, that he
realized he didn’t like girl’s kisses. It was nothing compared to his first
kiss but maybe that was the reason. Deep down, he didn’t think so.
When he entered Madam Malkin’s to be fitted for his first school robes, Draco
felt like he was embarking on an exciting journey. Oh, he knew all about
Hogwarts, his father had made sure of that. But, still, he was leaving the
manor and the ever-oppressive presence of his parents. Underlying the careful
conditioning his parents unrelievedly foisted upon him, was a little boy who
thought that maybe he could be himself at school. He didn’t like having to play
pretend, to wear a mask of careful control, to never being allowed to show his
emotions, whether it be exuberance or fear. Yet he also knew that he had no
choice but to live a lie. Sadly, such lies became his truth as he grew until
sometimes he couldn’t separate his real self from that of his parent’s making.
His role at school was defined and ingrained but Draco still felt that he could
maybe find a friend with whom he could take off his mask and let go of his
control. It was something to hope for, anyway.
When a scrawny, ill-dressed little boy with a shock of unruly, black hair and
engaging green eyes entered Madam Malkin’s Draco was struck. He felt sure that
here, here was someone he could confide in, someone he could be friends with
and maybe let see his real self.
As he looked into those piercing eyes half-hidden beneath rounded glasses,
Draco was momentarily lost. He had no way to explain to himself or anyone else,
what he felt but he knew that he didn’t want the feeling to end.
At the same time, not understanding what he was feeling caused Draco’s
confidence to waver and the conditioning his parents had begun even as he was
learning to walk, took over.
Instead of something clever, out of his mouth spilled the words he had been
conditioned to speak. As he saw the friendliness in those green eyes dim and
die altogether, Draco felt his heart clutch. He knew he had lost something he
had never had but wanted so very badly.
When he later saw the boy with the startling green eyes on the Hogwarts train
and learned who he really was, he tried again. Forgoing all of his father’s
teachings, knowing that he should hate the boy before him, Draco instead
extended the hand of friendship only to have it coldly refused.
As Draco’s thoughts ran abreast of renewed pain, he tried to shut down
completely. He tried to go to that place in his mind where he felt nothing
thought nothing but sometimes he couldn’t make it there.
Tonight was one of those nights.
As the night deepened, Draco soon drifted off to sleep, fully clothed and sadly
empty.
**************************************************************************
Harry awoke feeling completely unrefreshed and strangely anxious. He remembered
suddenly the events of the day previous, scowling when he realized he would
soon have to face Malfoy again.
Throwing on his usual worn jeans and an equally worn green jumper, Harry
smashed his glasses on his nose, grimaced in pain, and waited for Ron to wake
up.
After several minutes, Harry stumbled over to shove at Ron’s leg, mumbling,
“Oy! Get up Ron” to which Ron answered with a loud snort but didn’t rouse
himself.
Sighing with much put-upon impatience, Harry shoved Ron’s leg a bit harder
until he heard a muffled, “Geroff, I’m up, mate, I’m up.”
Snickering faintly, Harry waited for Ron to dress and run a hand through his
bright red hair.
Both boys trooped down the stairs and entered the kitchen, not knowing what to
expect.
Malfoy had been virtually silent the night before at supper Harry thought. He
didn’t meet their eyes, didn’t sneer. It was like he was despondent or
something. With a start, Harry realized what he had just thought, how close to
his own situation Malfoy appeared to be. Not wanting to be anything like
Malfoy, Harry shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
“Morning, boys!” Mrs. Weasley said brightly and shot a pointed look in Ron and
Harry’s direction and nodding ever so slightly at the blonde boy seated at the
table.
Mumbling morning greetings, Ron and Harry took their seats opposite Malfoy with
a very quiet, very forced, “Hey, Malfoy.”
Malfoy started but didn’t look up as he murmured an equally quiet, “Morning.”
Breakfast progressed much as supper had the night before, with very little said
among those gathered around the breakfast table.
“Mum, where’re Ginny and Hermione?” Ron asked, just now noticing the absence of
the girls, to Harry’s amusement.
“Oh, they were up earlier,” Mrs. Weasley gave both boys the eye before
continuing. “They’re upstairs getting the rest of their things together before
you all leave for Hogwarts tomorrow.”
Mrs. Weasley turned to Malfoy with a cheerful, “Draco dear, do you need help
with getting your school things together?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
It was said so quietly and with such meekness that Harry goggled for a moment
at the blonde’s bent head. Exchanging a glance with Ron, Harry hurriedly
stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth, nearly choking.
“Alright, well if you need anything….” Mrs. Weasley let trail off as Malfoy
glanced quickly in her direction and nodded his head.
“I’ll go up now, if that’s okay?”
Again, Harry’s mouth dropped open at the polite tone.
Beaming a smile in Malfoy’s direction, Mrs. Weasley said, “Of course, dear, go
right on up.”
**************************************************************************
“What the bloody hell is up with Malfoy?” Ron fairly exploded.
Having no answer, Harry merely shrugged. He was thoughtful as he began
gathering his own school things, occasionally watching Ron with his. He really
had no idea what was up with Malfoy, only that he seemed to be completely
different, almost broken. It didn’t sit well with Harry, yet he was at a loss
as to explain why it upset him so much to see Malfoy so despondent. Shrugging,
Harry got his trunk packed as best he could and took an armful of dirty laundry
down to Mrs. Weasley.
Of course he would have to run into Malfoy on the way back up the stairs - that
was just how Harry’s life seemed to go.
They met halfway up, as Harry was on his way back to Ron’s room and Malfoy was
coming down. Malfoy looked up at Harry briefly and Harry was again shocked to
see a quiet anguish in the other boy’s eyes, darkening their usual light gray.
Pausing in midstep, Harry found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Malfoy’s.
He felt…something pull at him. There was something there, yet he could not
define what it was.
After just a moment, Malfoy dropped his eyes and continued on his way down the
stairs.
It took a second or two for Harry to recover himself enough to bound back up
the stairs, completely baffled.
Of course, thought Draco, I would have to run into him. Much as he tried to
fight it, he couldn’t stop the raw emotion that he was sure was shining through
his eyes as he locked gazes, for just a moment, with Harry. No, not Harry,
Potter.
Draco had originally gone downstairs with the intent of going outside but that
was soon quashed as Mrs. Weasley stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder
and saying, “Draco, we would rather you remained inside. I know there are wards
up but, well, we just don’t want to take any chances.”
The old Malfoy would have violently shaken off Mrs. Weasley’s hand and snapped
out an arrogant order to get out of his way. Now, all he could do was nod and
begin shuffling back upstairs, suddenly wanting the quiet of his room.
Closing the door, Draco again sought out the comfort of the worn bed. Curling
up in what was becoming his new favorite position, he allowed the emotions he
had been keeping tightly locked up to pour forth.
He couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t pretend that being alone didn’t terrify him,
hurt him. His mother’s refusal to even look at him tore at his heart. Yes, she
provided financial support but that was all. His betrayal had effectively
severed all ties, emotional ties, between mother and son. And that hurt. It cut
deeply to know that he was completely alone. Sure, he had Snape but he wasn’t
exactly a wealth of emotions either. He realized Snape had no choice, had to
damp down all emotion and sustain iron control, much like Draco, but Snape had
been doing it for so long that he knew no other way to live.
Snape would do everything to protect Draco, of that there was not doubt. Yet
Draco needed someone to turn to, someone who could understand his pain. That he
wanted that person to be Harry Potter was something he didn’t wanted to think
about.
TBC
***** Chapter 3 *****
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being
made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Again, thank you to my Beta, Connor!
 
Chapter 3
Morning came early at the Burrow as everyone rushed about, packing and
gathering their things. Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry were beyond irritation,
attempting to hunt down stray socks, quills and spellbooks. Mr. Weasley was
turning about, looking for his wand while Mrs. Weasley set about gathering last
minute robes, hats and boots.
Nearly invisible, Draco perched upon his trunk near the front door. He had
packed everything the night before, after crying quiet tears until he could cry
no more. Meticulous concern for his possessions was perhaps the one…er, value,
Draco’s parents had taught him that he still appreciated and adhered to. He was
always careful to fold his clothes neatly, hanging up the rest, putting his
shoes in the same spot in the bottom of his wardrobe. He was equally meticulous
with his appearance. Usually. Lately he found he didn’t bother to slick his
hair, preferring to let it hang loose, gilded threads that shone of their own
accord.
Once everyone was ready, they followed Mr. Weasley out to the Ministry of Magic
car sent specifically for Harry. Just like everything else in the Wizarding
world, the appearance of the car was deceiving. It didn’t look as though it
should be able to fit five teenagers and two adults, yet the inside of the car
was extra roomy, allowing for plenty of space.
There were two seats that faced each other in the back and somehow Harry ended
up sitting next to Malfoy. Ginny, Hermione and Ron squeezed together on the
opposite seat with Mr. & Mrs. Weasley seated up front.
The drive to King’s Cross was bereft of the usual excited chatter on the first
day back to Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron seemed to be in quite a deep and quiet
conversation, their eyes occasionally catching and holding.
When did that happen? Harry thought. Of course, he knew Ron and Hermione were
mad for each other but he didn’t think either had the nerve enough to ever do
anything about it.
Suppressing a snort of amusement, Harry turned to gaze to Ginny. She had been
quiet, spending the last few days mostly in her room when she wasn’t with the
twins or subtly owling off letters to Neville. She seemed more thoughtful than
sad, for which Harry was relieved. He didn’t want her to be anything but happy.
“Er, Ginny, will you be meeting….” Harry trailed off. He had momentarily
forgotten that Malfoy was sitting next to him.
Ginny grimaced but answered a quick, “Yes.”
The five teenagers rode the rest of the way in silence.
************************************************************************
Having arrived at Platform 9 ¾, it was decided that Draco should go through the
gateway first, with Mr. Weasley close behind. The rest followed and Harry was
surprised to see Tonks speaking quietly with Malfoy. Of course he knew Tonks
and Draco were cousins but it was the look of earnestness on Malfoy’s face that
was more the cause for Harry’s surprise.
Tonks and Malfoy gazed about quickly then seemed to end their conversation.
Malfoy strode ahead, his arrogant swagger not quite back but maybe getting
there.
Shaking his head, Harry followed his friends as they boarded the Hogwarts
Express but not before greeting Tonks warmly.
“Wotcher, Harry, how yeh been?”
“Hey Tonks, good to see you. How’s Remus?”
Harry realized, too late, that he had just said something that obviously upset
Tonks for she flushed and muttered a quick, “I have to go...see you soon,
Harry.”
Worried that he had somehow upset Tonks, Harry picked his way through the
train, looking for an empty carriage. He found one, as usual, in the very back.
Throwing himself into the seat, Harry took a moment to think about what he was
facing and wondering where the first Death Eater attack would come from. He
knew he would be safe while within the confines of Hogwarts but what happened
when he ventured into Hogsmeade? Harry couldn’t help but be just slightly
worried, despite his earlier, brave words to Mr. Weasley.
It wasn’t long, as the train began it’s rumbling journey to Hogwarts, that
Harry heard raised voices that seemed to come from just outside his door. He
poked his head out and saw Malfoy and his fellow seventh year Slytherin
Theodore Nott glaring at each other, with Nott’s wand centered over Malfoy’s
chest. Just as Harry was about to draw his wand and go to Malfoy’s aid, Ron
rushed down the aisle, Hermione close at his heels.
“Oy! What’s going on here?” Always lanky and tall, Ron had finally filled out
and developed some muscle (much to Hermione’s delight, if her frequent covetous
glances were anything to judge by). He stood towering over Nott, the tips of
his ears red and his blue eyes flashing.
“Do you honestly believe this is any of your concern, Weasley?” drawled Nott
with obvious contempt.
“Hm…let me think about that, Nott. I do think it’s my concern, as I’m Head
Boy,” Ron fairly bit out.
A voice behind them said, “And as Head Girl, I’ll thank you to lower your wand
and slink off to your seat,” finished Hermione.
With a last menacing glare and ill-concealed shove in Malfoy’s direction, Nott
dropped his wand and left.
Harry wasn’t sure what he expected from Malfoy but he should have known it
wouldn’t be gratitude. Eyes flashing, white-blonde hair flying, Malfoy’s head
snapped up as he snarled at Ron, “I don’t need your help, Weasleby. Just leave
me alone.”
Malfoy turned on his heel and strode away.
It took Ron a second before things sunk in and he said, “Guess Malfoy’s back,”
which was greeted with laughter from Harry and Hermione.
The trio headed back into Harry’s compartment, Ron and Hermione’s duties
finished.
The remainder of the trip back to Hogwarts was uneventful, although Harry did
wonder where Malfoy had got off to and was secretly worried that he’d meet up
with more trouble from his fellow Slytherins.
Grimacing at his line of thought, Harry tried to distract himself with a heated
discussion of what they would be welcomed with on their first day back for
their final year at Hogwarts.
************************************************************************
The Sorting ceremony went off with the usual nervous excitement shared by the
first years, although the seventh years by now found it endlessly boring. It
seemed there was an even number of first years sorted into each House. Maybe it
was a sign of changing times, Harry thought.
He didn’t quite understand why, but Harry caught himself gazing across the
Great Hall, seeking Malfoy’s sleek blonde head. He couldn’t suppress the worry
he had felt earlier on the train and it actually seemed to be growing. Knowing
there were still Death Eaters roaming around and that some of those Death
Eaters probably had children at Hogwarts had to mean that Malfoy’s year might
not be easy or pleasant.
Why the bloody hell he even cared was truly a mystery to Harry. Yet he did
care. Hermione would say that it was his hero complex, that he had to save
everyone. But this was Malfoy of all people. Considering the hell he had put
Harry and his friends through over their years at Hogwarts together, not to
mention everything Lucius himself had done, Harry should be reveling in
Malfoy’s pain. He couldn’t, though. He just couldn’t bring himself to feel
anything but empathy.
The start of term feast ended with announcements voiced by Dumbledore and the
announcement of new professors. It wasn’t so surprising to learn that Snape was
back teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, but the last professor that
Dumbledore announced was a surprise.
“Please join us in welcoming Professor Janna Bunsun as Potions mistress,” was
met with a more energetic response than Snape’s return to Hogwarts as their
Defense professor. Harry could understand why as the new Potions mistress was,
well, sort of appealing. As he looked around, he could see many male eyes
trained on Bunsun. Somewhat surprising was his own lack of response. Faced with
a new and very attractive professor, Harry felt absolutely nothing. Maybe it
was his pervasive feelings of emptiness. With a rueful smile, Harry realized
that the person that had been able to ignite any sort of emotion in him
(carefully avoiding thoughts of Ginny and their conversation at the Leaky
Cauldron a few days ago) was Malfoy.
As the students all rose to file out, Harry flicked one more gaze in Malfoy’s
direction and was shocked to see him staring at Harry. For the barest of
moments, Harry thought he had seen a softening in Malfoy’s gray eyes. Realizing
he was caught, Malfoy quickly looked away and followed his fellow Slytherins
out into the Great Hall.
**************************************************************************
After leaving the Great Hall, Draco found himself not following Blaise Zabini
as he led the rest of the Slytherins to the dungeons. He instead began working
his way towards the seventh floor corridor where he knew the Room of
Requirement was hidden. It took longer than he expected; however, soon a
nondescript door finally appeared in front of him. Grabbing the knob and
pushing inside, Draco looked about, finding only a simple sofa in front of him
with a table on either side, one holding a complete tea service and the other a
pitcher of water. Shrugging, Draco dropped down onto the sofa and put his head
in his hands.
Some time later, Draco emerged from the Room of Requirement and quietly made
his way down to the dungeons, feeling slightly better yet not enough so that he
regained his swagger. Anyone seeing Draco right then would not have believed it
to be him.
**************************************************************************
“So what d’ya reckon, Harry? I mean, Nott looked like he was close to using an
Unforgiveable on Malfoy.”
“Um, I don’t know, Ron. I think it’s all down to Malfoy’s not, well, y’know
doing what he did – er didn’t – last year. Maybe the other Slytherins, I don’t
know, resent him?”
“I guess. Well, there are still Death Eaters out there and his aunt…” Ron
trailed off.
Harry didn’t want to think about Malfoy right then, or ever, so he tried to
distract Ron with the suggestion of a game of Exploding Snap. Their day had
pretty much gone well. They had Potions, which was interesting as their new
professor seemed a bit out of sorts. Of course, that could be down to nerves.
Snape was an annoying snarky, git but that was nothing new. Their other classes
were pretty uneventful, except for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall told
them they would be learning more difficult Transfigurations.
Much later, Harry lay in his four-poster, unable to sleep. He had been having
some problems sleeping since the end of the war, but now it was for a different
reason. He couldn’t get the image of Malfoy out of his head and it was driving
him mad.
Ripping the covers off, Harry reached out for his glasses and Invisibility
cloak, putting both on as he quietly made his way down into the common room,
being careful to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t have his map, so he poked
his head out of the portrait hole, saw no one and figured he was safe for the
moment.
He really had no idea where he was going but at least he wasn’t back in his
bed, tossing and turning. Soon, without realizing it, he found himself in the
seventh floor corridor heading for the Room of Requirement. Reaching out a hand
to the doorknob, he hesitated. Given his state of mind lately he was almost
afraid to open the door, not knowing what he would find behind it.
What he did find shocked him.
Seated on a sofa, his hair a mess, face paler than usual and with his own look
of utter shock on his face, was Draco Malfoy.
Harry could think of nothing to say but Draco beat him to it.
“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy couldn’t quite dredge up the anger and
arrogance he wanted to, and his question instead came out as a hoarse whisper.
Usually Harry would reply in kind, anger coloring his voice…but not tonight.
Against his better judgment, Harry took a step into the room, not missing
Malfoy’s widened eyes. He took another and then suddenly he was standing before
Malfoy, looking down at the blonde, concern brightening his eyes.
“Malfoy, what’s going on?” Harry cringed when he realized what he had just
said. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He tried again, “Are you okay?” Rolling his eyes in self-disgust, Harry dropped
onto the sofa next to Malfoy and took a deep breath, figuring he truly had
nothing to lose.
“Er, how’re things in Slytherin?”
With a snort, Malfoy suddenly stood and snapped out, “Nothing you need to
concern yourself with, Potter. You’ve got enough people around you, why would
you need to care about me?”
“Well, you see, I guess I just do because you haven’t looked good…uh, well not
as good as you usually look.” Blushing at what he had just said and to whom he
had said it, Harry tried to backtrack.
“What I mean is you look bloody horrible.” Blushing further, Harry just threw
up his hands in frustration and said, “Look I’m worried, okay, can you just
deal with that without bloody pissing at me?”
Despite himself, Malfoy couldn’t help but smile at Harry’s obvious nervousness.
Honestly, he had never seen Potter quite so flustered. Well, except maybe
around that Ravenclaw, what was her name, oh, Cho, that’s right. Stupid bint.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Draco fought to control a giggle that was inexplicably welling up and tried to
put his mask in place. He found he couldn’t. He also found he didn’t care.
Harry was a little taken aback at the smile on Malfoy’s face. Not so much that
he was smiling to begin with (after Harry’s little show he couldn’t really
blame Malfoy, he would have laughed himself) but that it appeared to be a
genuine smile. Without his usual sneer, Malfoy had a beautiful smile.
Um, wait, what the bloody hell was he thinking?
Shaking his head, Harry moved to stand but was stopped by a tentative hand on
his right arm.
Looking down at the pale, long fingers, Harry said, “Uh, Malfoy?”
Pink-cheeked and suddenly shy Draco peered at Harry from beneath blonde fringe.
“Thanks, Harry. I – It’s just all been too much and I don’t even know what I
feel anymore. But, thanks, you know, for asking.”
Barely catching the use of his first name, Harry rose the rest of the way,
watching Malfoy’s hand fall away and muttered, “Well, I’m sorry – I know how
much you’ve lost and I…” Harry trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.
Taking a deep breath, Harry tried again. “Look, Malfoy, I can’t say that all of
the…well, stuff between us never happened. I mean, you know, we hate each
other, but I also understand that it’s gotta be hard for you right now. If you
know, y’want to talk, well, I’d listen.”
Not understanding why he felt so shy, so unsure of himself, Harry waited for
Malfoy to stop staring into his eyes and say something.
With a deep sigh, Draco finally tore his eyes away from Harry’s and tried to
say something relatively intelligent, given that he felt as though he was about
to faint. He was feeling feelings that terrified him. No matter that his life
was in shambles and he was completely confused – no, these were feelings
definitely caused by Harry.
“Thanks, Harry. That’s, that’s nice of you. I’m just not sure what I’m going to
do. My entire life was planned out for me; every step was plotted, every word
written before I could talk. It’s - I’m just lost” - Draco finished in a
whisper as he brought his gray eyes up to Harry’s green. He felt a strong
tightening of his stomach, felt a swoop deep inside that did nothing to dispel
his nervousness. In fact, it made him want to flee.
“I have to go. It’s late, but - thanks.”
Harry watched as Malfoy shot up, muttered something about having to go and fled
the Room of Requirement.
Feeling strangely sad and disappointed, Harry roused himself and trudged back
to his dorm, falling into a fitful sleep.
**************************************************************************
Berating himself for his cowardice, Draco crept into his room and fell into
bed, gathering the silver and green bedclothes around himself, not even
bothering to undress.
He had wanted so badly to stay with Harry, wanted to tell him so much, unburden
himself and seek comfort, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t know if it was
just a reaction to someone actually caring about him, someone offering support
or if it was because Harry had stood in front of him without hostility, anger
or hatred. He suspected it was much more than that but he couldn’t deal with
it, not now.
As Harry tried to find the comforting arms of sleep up in Gryffindor tower,
Draco himself laid awake in the dungeons, both boys feeling a quiet longing
that neither was prepared to face.
 
TBC
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