No one wins a war
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Word Count: 2,709
Summary: Harry's having a hard time on the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. He stands alone in his grief before being joined by someone else who at this time last year, was also enduring the largest trial of their short life. The boys have a long over-due discussion and learn to sympathize with the other, and maybe end the evening not so alone as they were when the sun first fell.
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The cold night air fogs his glasses, making the grounds down below indecipherable. He places his elbows on the stone that makes up the tower, and can feel the chill in his bones, even through the thick Weasley jumper he put on earlier. He rests his chin on his fists and tries to pay attention to nothing. He is alone in the tower, everyone else congregated in the great hall celebrating the culmination of the battle that took place a year ago. It feels like it was just yesterday to Harry, and he can still feel the weight of it all in his 18 year old shoulders. It’s quiet where he is, but he can’t stop thinking of curses flying, thunder rolling and guttural screams. He can still remember the cold hard ground he fell on when the killing curse met his heart, stopping it. He can still feel the hollow in his chest where his heart was never properly restarted.
How does he deserve to even breathe the sharp air of tonight? Or stomach the so called celebrations when so many families sit, incomplete, because of him. When so many people fighting in his name will never once again be able to breathe such air, or let alone get to celebrate their lives.
The door behind him opens, momentarily letting in the sound of dishes being interchanged, and people conversing, exchanging tales of that day. He sighs and takes of his glasses, polishing the lenses with his sleeve. He doesn’t turn.
“I know I’ve teased you about it before, but I think brooding does suit you actually. You play the tortured hero quite well, Potter.”
Harry puts his glasses back on and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can do this tonight, Malfoy.” He says softly.
He feels a body settle next to his and lean against the railing. He looks at the boy to his right. His eyes drift through pale skin accentuated by moonlight, and gray eyes open and staring ahead, no trace of their usual mirth in them. The boy’s pink lips part, “I don’t feel like it either,” he whispers, “I actually came up here to… check on you, I suppose.”
That came as a surprise. Although Harry and Malfoy had been more amicable since coming back to Hogwarts, their interactions had been reserved to polite greetings and a few unavoidable class interactions. They certainly weren’t the sort of people who checked on one another. At least not so blatantly, since unbeknownst to Malfoy, Harry had on occasions “checked on him”. He was the one who threatened, or, better yet, spoke to the group of Ravenclaws who took it upon themselves to hex Malfoy between classes and got them to stop. He not only advocated for Malfoy and his mother during their trials, easing their sentence, but spoke to McGonagall about letting Malfoy join the rest of the 8th years in Hogwarts in the fall.
As much as he felt he wanted to ease the suffering, of anyone, after the events of last May, he felt an inexplicable pull to the other boy. He couldn’t seem to get a grasp on his feelings, for one moment he felt himself filled with incredible rage, he drowned in pity for him the next. He had so many questions, and yet felt as though he knew the answer to all of them, for who better to understand others deciding your fate for you, than him?
“Well, I’m fine.”
Malfoy chuckled, “You’re obviously not, or you would be down there with everyone. They called on you to make a speech you know? I knew you were off being melancholic somewhere and came to find you when you didn’t grace the public with your appearance.”
“Where, exactly did ‘somewhere’ translate to the Astronomy Tower in your head Mafloy?”
Malfoy crosses his arms across his chest and Harry sees his long fingers grip his cloak at his sides, knuckles pink from the cold. “Lucky guess.”
“Have you seen me come here before?” He asks, suspecting he already knows. If the lonely, distant figure sitting by the lake, looking up at the stars, he’s occasionally spotted is any indication.
“I have,” he snaps. “Just like you’ve seen me before, doing some brooding of my own.”
Figuring he embarrassed the other boy, he softens “We have a lot to be upset about. I’d say our brooding is justified.”
Malfoy deflates and color blooms in his cheeks. “Yes, which is why I wanted to see if you were alright. You have more to be upset about than most, especially today.”
Harry turns away, silent. Instead his gaze falls on the forest, his eyes following the trees as far as they can, stopping at the dark line of the horizon, were beyond that, he knows the forest spans. He wonders where lies the clearing where he died last year. If he had to guess, it would be pretty deep within the trees. He remembers how he had to have walked a long time for so many thoughts to have plagued his mind, for his fear to grow so unbearable he could barely make it all the way to his fate. Where his exhaustion chipped away at his armor, exposing the most painful and powerful emotions he ever had the misfortune of experiencing.
“Lupin and Tonks died a year ago today… Fred… Fuck, Colin… I just— I can’t believe they wanted me to make a fucking speech.” He grumbles. Malfoy stirs beside him, “Most people forget you were— are— just a boy.”
“Yeah. I get that from an outsider perspective everything we did seemed very heroic, but it was just an everlasting nightmare, tragedy after tragedy. I would give all the fame and the money back right this instant in exchange for one fucking day as a normal kid.” Harry puffs. He places both of his palms against the ragged stone and pushes himself up so he’s sitting on the railing, and twists so he can lean back and stretch one leg in front of himself, the other dangling above the grass thousands of feet below him.
Malfoy bends over the railing and looks down, “idiot,” he says before pulling himself up and mirroring Harry’s position across from him.
“I know people mean well, but.. I fucking hate it. When people shake my hand in the street, stop me to thank me… I never know what to say. What can I even say? I can’t tell them I wish I had never had to save anyone in the first place. I can’t tell them that that day everything ended it almost never did because—I almost ran away. You know? When I found out I had to die for Voldemort to be defeated I genuinely thought about running away. Just for a second, but the thought did cross my mind. How fucked up is that?” He says and picks at some loose thread on his trousers.
“I don’t think it’s fucked up at all.” Draco says, simply. As if it’s true, as if it’s obvious.
“How can you say that?”
Malfoy pulls his knees up to his chest. “I understand wanting to give up. I—“ he sighs, he turns his face, obscuring half of it from view. But he can’t hide the tremble visible in his throat and audible in his voice when he says, “I tried to kill myself, in the manor. The dark lord, he— Potter, fuck. He made me do the most unspeakable things. I couldn’t stomach it. I still can’t. We were put in unfair positions, we didn’t have a lot of choices, but I understand wanting to get away from your responsibilities.” He sounds wrecked, yet there are no tears on his face, they remain held back in his eyes, glistening like the stars that adorn the sky that evening.
Harry stares at him for a moment. “I didn’t know.”
Malfoy gurgles out a laugh, “No one does.”
Harry scratches the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. It must have been hard for you, wanting to stay for your family but not liking what Voldemort stood for, or what he made you do.”
Malfoy’s head whips around and he looks at him dead-on. “No. Don’t make excuses for me. I knew what he stood for, I believed he was right just like I believed everything my father told me growing up. I took that mark deliberately, I wanted the glory of being a death eater, of defending my superior pedigree. I believed those things, Potter. I’m not innocent. Just because I became a coward when the reality of spilling blood dawned on me doesn’t mean I’m a good person.”
“But you don’t believe on those things anymore?” Harry pushes.
“Of course not!”
“That’s a start. You can’t change your past, but I can tell you’re trying to do better from now on. It will have to be enough. A person who was truly bad wouldn’t bother to change who they are, wouldn’t have felt guilty about what they did.”
Malfoy closes his eyes and tears trickle down his cheeks “Still.” He says, “Potter— Harry. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I don’t know where to begin. I’m so sorry for every comment I made about you, your family, your friends, the stupid taunts. I’m sorry for what my father did to your girlfriend in second year, I’m sorry for helping Umbridge, for Dumbledore, for what happened to Bill Weasley. I’m sorry about Edward’s parents, your Godfather—“
Harry interrupts him, “I forgive you. Really I do.”
Malfoy—Draco, looks at him in disbelief.
“Honestly, I just want to move on, and I believe you understand your wrongdoings and are doing all you can to make up for them.” He says and Draco nods cautiously, as if waiting for the knut to finally drop.
“And Ginny’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
Draco wipes his cheeks, “Oh?” He says nonchalantly.
“Yeah turns out being mentally unstable puts a bit of a damper in a relationship.” Harry says, a corner of his mouth lifting up.
Draco barks out a surprised laugh and Harry joins in. They quiet down after a while and sit in comfortable silence. The only sound being that of the nighttime critters chirping and that of the celebrations bursting inside the castle walls. The walls that were destroyed and bared curse marks just months ago— the halls that cradled people as they fell— Harry stops himself from going down that road again.
“Ah, I recognize that look on your face.” Draco murmurs. “You know, that thing you said to me earlier, about not being able to change your past— applies to you as well. It’s not because I believe you are some hero, I know things were hard for you but, Harry, you didn’t run away, you could have and I wouldn’t have blamed you but you didn’t. I know you believe people died because of you, but it wasn’t your fault. It was his. He started all this, he chose you for his stupid prophecy. Don’t look so surprised Severus told me pretty much everything. Don’t forget, a lot more people would have died if it wasn’t for you. You aren’t perfect either. But you did good in my book.”
“Well, you don’t have the best reference for good,” He says and winces when Draco kicks at his foot. “But thank you. Logically I know you’re right but… you know.”
“I do. It’s okay. It’s only been a year, you’re not going to be ‘mentally stable’ immediately. It will take a lot of work but you will get there.” Draco says determinedly.
“You know, you’re actually alright Draco.” Harry says, pleasantly surprised.
“Goodness, thanks ever so much.” He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Harry feels warmth bloom on his chest when he notices the small smile that adorns Draco’s mouth.
He then hears what first appears to be thunder, but after a thorough investigation of the sky and paying close attention he deciphers it’s coming from the crowd currently in the Great Hall. Draco’s little jump he quickly covers up indicates he heard it as well. Then, he distinctly hears his name being chanted. Mortified, he stares at Draco who immediately procures his wand and casts a Muffliato around them both. “Ridiculous.” He sneers, before stashing his wand back inside his cloak.
“I hate being Harry Potter” He pauses. “Is that selfish?”
“No. Although what’s wrong with being selfish?”
It is now Harry’s turn to roll his eyes, “Slytherins.”
Draco smirks, “Hey. You’ve spent your entire life doing things for other people, your selfishness is completely valid. In fact, as a Slytherin, I encourage it.”
Harry fights a smile and tries to look casual “You know I was almost sorted into Slytherin.”
“What!” Draco exclaims, indignant. Harry tries not to be too endeared at the sight of his dramatically bulging eyes and open mouth.
“Mmmm. I begged the sorting hat not to put me there.”
“Good choice, you wouldn’t have lasted a day,” He sniffs. “I do wonder what it would have been like.”
“If we’d known each other all this time?” Harry muses, enthralled.
“Maybe we would’ve been friends.” Draco says quietly.
Harry sits upright, “We are.”
“Well, now.”
“I thought the theme for our discussion tonight was ‘fuck the past, live in the present’” Harry teases.
Draco glares at him playfully. “Anyhow, it’s no matter. It probably would have made things more complicated.”
“More complicated than they already are? How come?” Harry asks.
Draco hesitates for a second, then continues resolutely, “There would have been no distance… No way for me to control my... feelings.” He says, biting his lip. Harry makes a choked sound when the implication of his words sink in, he watches the pale hands fidget with the clasp of his cloak. Draco nods once and jumps down from the railing.
Before he can take one step toward the exit Harry has jumped down as well and walked over to him, slowly backing him against the wall.
“There’s no distance now.” He whispers, relishing in the shiver thats goes through the other boy.
Draco licks his lips nervously and Harry’s eyes drop to look at them.
“I— this is a bad idea, you’re emotional from tonight and— I’m sorry. It was tremendously inappropriate of me to imply anything. I’ll go.”
Harry’s hand reaches for Draco’s waist, “Please don’t go.”
Draco’s breath shutters, but he doesn’t walk away.
“Tonight has been rough but, it’s been like this for a year. I’m going to struggle with this for the rest of my life probably, it’ll never stop hurting but I’m… alright. I’m working on it, tonight brought a lot of emotions back but I’m not, like,” He looks up at the other boy hopefully, “I know what I’m doing. I know what I want.”
Draco steps a little closer to him as Harry wraps his arms around his waist. “You know, I lied,” Draco whispers, “I noticed you were gone long before they called on you to make that stupid speech.” He places his hands on Harry’s shoulders, snaking them up to wrap behind his nape.
“I can notice if you’re in a room or not as soon as I step in it, Potter.” He angles his head toward him.
“I don’t even have to look,” Draco murmurs against his lips, “I can feel you, always have.”
Harry closes the remaining distance between them and crashes his lips onto his. Draco’s fingers tangle in Harry’s wild locks, enclosing them in his fists as he uses the leverage to pull him closer. Harry moans softly into his mouth when he finally feels Draco’s tongue against his own.
They cling desperately at each other, their passion not coming from an impulsive need to mend each others sorrows but from the knowledge that the other understands, better than anyone, what they have lost, the mistakes they have made and the pain they go through everyday to deal with their guilt, so they can atone by becoming better men.
Harry’s hands flatten on Draco’s lower back bringing his body flat against his own. Letting his warmth fill every hollow in his body where cold once resided.
