HP: Gen: PG-13: Amendment
Title: Amendment
Author: gibson_fic
Recipient:For sciencegeek in the axial_tilt exchange 2008.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Harry/Draco pre-pre-pre-slash if you squint hard, jump three times, spin in a circle and chant, “I think it is, I think it is.”
Spoilers: Very vague spoilers for the entire series.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the Bloomsbury Group. No profit is being made from these characters.
Summary: Draco has a moment of realization.
Author’s Notes: sciencegeek I hope you like this. I really wanted to stay within canon but also give these characters the chance at a different future, possibly together. I hope I was able to do that. :D Thanks to megyal,emporess_zia , foretinterdite for their beta help. Many thanks go to my flist for their support and last minute hand-holding! :D (Additional Notes at end of the fic).
Brief note on the title, I’m using the following definitions for amendment as taken from dictionary.com: “1. The act of amending or the state of being amended” and “1. The act of changing for the better; improvement.”
Draco felt Potter’s gaze fall heavily against him, almost palpable against his skin. It wasn’t enough that Potter had saved his life, and now his family, but that he’d done it so easily. That was the problem with Potter. He did the most incredible things effortlessly. Not that he counted the whole defeat of The Dark Lord in that. Considering Potter’s condition when he emerged from the forest, and the rumours that the git had actually died in the process, that particular bit of incredible hadn’t been so effortless. But it was still too bloody easy. Harry bloody golden fucking Potter to the rescue.
Draco felt his face flush with the memory of his own rescue--Potter pulling him up behind him on his broom, dragging him up and away from the Fiendfyre that was hotly snaking along his legs, his arms wrapped tight around Potter’s waist, the hot dry air scraping along his face, Vincent’s terrible scream. Draco swallowed and stared at the smooth, familiar wood of the table, this table where he had sat and plotted and laughed and fumed for the past seven years.
He could feel his parents next to him, his father no doubt scrambling to find a way to salvage this situation. Draco wanted to laugh. This was not something that the Malfoy money or the Malfoy name would be able to smooth over. They’d gambled everything and lost. Frankly, they were all lucky to be alive and his father’s energy should be focused on remaining that way.
He looked up, leveling his own stare at Potter who was, clearly, in need of a bath and something to eat. It didn’t look like the git had bathed in months, and it’s possible that was actually the case. There’d been rumours about him and his lackeys hiding out, being on the run. At the time it had been funny--another unnecessary proof that the hope of the side of the Light was absurd. This scruffy, scrawny, slightly rank teenager was The Chosen One. A month ago he might have laughed at the sight, two years ago he certainly would have, but today he struggled with an unfamiliar emotion, especially as it pertained to Potter, respect.
Potter must have found some other recent recipient of his heroic deeds at which to gaze imperiously, as he was no longer staring at Draco. Good, he was no charity case; he didn’t have to rely on Potter for his safety or his security. He didn’t need Potter the way the mindless sycophants that surrounded him did; he didn’t even want Potter. Potter’d had his chance and that time was past. They could never be friends, not now.
But maybe, considering recent developments, they didn’t have to be enemies.
Draco supposed it was always difficult to discover that your parents were human, that they were imperfect, that they were wrong, but it was impossible for him to believe that anyone had had a more difficult time than he with this revelation. It wasn’t until he’d found himself face to face with the madman that his father, his father, had called Lord, that he’d realized the depths of the danger he was in. Draco currently had no further illusions about his parents or their fallibility. They had succumbed to the ravings of a power-hungry half-blood. It wasn’t just that the cause they’d devoted themselves to, devoted him to, had failed, it was that there was no substance to it. No; if the Malfoy name were ever to be associated with anything other than pain, murder, and shame, it would be up to Draco to make it happen. It was up to him to be a better man than his father, or who his father had raised him to be.
It would have been enough to discover that his father was kowtowing to a hypocritical, sadistic lunatic without knowing that Potter had been right. That was possibly the worst part. Draco’s dire predictions about the “right sort” had come true, but not in the way he had anticipated.
That hadn’t been enough to make him walk away, at that point there was nothing that could save him. He’d been branded, like a common Muggle herd beast, and he had killed. The side of the Light could forgive much, but not the murdering of innocents.
Or so he’d thought. If Saint Potter was right, Snape had been on the side of the Light since Draco was a child and Draco knew that he’d done his share of murder and torture. Perhaps there was a moment for redemption, a moment where a smart, savvy, perceptive person, a Slytherin, could make his move, choose his fate, earn his atonement. Maybe this was the moment for him. Potter had saved him twice already, without thanks or cause, perhaps Potter would help him save himself this time.
Draco straightened in his seat. The world he’d been born into and raised to rule no longer existed, had never truly existed. This was his moment to become a man, his own man, in this world, this new future. He was no angel of the Light, but he prided himself on his intelligence and discernment. They couldn’t all be angels, there was room for the less than pure, for shades other than white and black; he had knowledge and skills to offer, and a life to build.
Additional Notes:
I struggled with this piece for a variety of reasons and I want to credit the following people for their assistance. redsnake05, lena3 and my dearest faeriefire78 for talking to me while I struggled to write.
Once I got going, things went fairly smoothly actually, but the promptings of tjwritter, kath_ballantyne, midnightblue88 and redsnake05 helped me start percolating and moving my thoughts in this direction. Don't blame them; they knew I was writing, not what or whom. ;)
This is the first time I've ever written Draco's voice and I wanted it be as authentic as possible. The original request was in the Harry/Draco direction, but I can never write a pairing unless I know how they got there. For me this was one in a long line of steps that might take them there.
This is also, a canon compliant piece. It's textually situated at the end of DH when Harry spots Draco and his family sitting alone at the table. This is that moment from Draco's perspective.
And now that my notes are longer than the fic, I think I'll stop there. ;)
Author: gibson_fic
Recipient:For sciencegeek in the axial_tilt exchange 2008.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Harry/Draco pre-pre-pre-slash if you squint hard, jump three times, spin in a circle and chant, “I think it is, I think it is.”
Spoilers: Very vague spoilers for the entire series.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the Bloomsbury Group. No profit is being made from these characters.
Summary: Draco has a moment of realization.
Author’s Notes: sciencegeek I hope you like this. I really wanted to stay within canon but also give these characters the chance at a different future, possibly together. I hope I was able to do that. :D Thanks to megyal,emporess_zia , foretinterdite for their beta help. Many thanks go to my flist for their support and last minute hand-holding! :D (Additional Notes at end of the fic).
Brief note on the title, I’m using the following definitions for amendment as taken from dictionary.com: “1. The act of amending or the state of being amended” and “1. The act of changing for the better; improvement.”
Draco felt Potter’s gaze fall heavily against him, almost palpable against his skin. It wasn’t enough that Potter had saved his life, and now his family, but that he’d done it so easily. That was the problem with Potter. He did the most incredible things effortlessly. Not that he counted the whole defeat of The Dark Lord in that. Considering Potter’s condition when he emerged from the forest, and the rumours that the git had actually died in the process, that particular bit of incredible hadn’t been so effortless. But it was still too bloody easy. Harry bloody golden fucking Potter to the rescue.
Draco felt his face flush with the memory of his own rescue--Potter pulling him up behind him on his broom, dragging him up and away from the Fiendfyre that was hotly snaking along his legs, his arms wrapped tight around Potter’s waist, the hot dry air scraping along his face, Vincent’s terrible scream. Draco swallowed and stared at the smooth, familiar wood of the table, this table where he had sat and plotted and laughed and fumed for the past seven years.
He could feel his parents next to him, his father no doubt scrambling to find a way to salvage this situation. Draco wanted to laugh. This was not something that the Malfoy money or the Malfoy name would be able to smooth over. They’d gambled everything and lost. Frankly, they were all lucky to be alive and his father’s energy should be focused on remaining that way.
He looked up, leveling his own stare at Potter who was, clearly, in need of a bath and something to eat. It didn’t look like the git had bathed in months, and it’s possible that was actually the case. There’d been rumours about him and his lackeys hiding out, being on the run. At the time it had been funny--another unnecessary proof that the hope of the side of the Light was absurd. This scruffy, scrawny, slightly rank teenager was The Chosen One. A month ago he might have laughed at the sight, two years ago he certainly would have, but today he struggled with an unfamiliar emotion, especially as it pertained to Potter, respect.
Potter must have found some other recent recipient of his heroic deeds at which to gaze imperiously, as he was no longer staring at Draco. Good, he was no charity case; he didn’t have to rely on Potter for his safety or his security. He didn’t need Potter the way the mindless sycophants that surrounded him did; he didn’t even want Potter. Potter’d had his chance and that time was past. They could never be friends, not now.
But maybe, considering recent developments, they didn’t have to be enemies.
Draco supposed it was always difficult to discover that your parents were human, that they were imperfect, that they were wrong, but it was impossible for him to believe that anyone had had a more difficult time than he with this revelation. It wasn’t until he’d found himself face to face with the madman that his father, his father, had called Lord, that he’d realized the depths of the danger he was in. Draco currently had no further illusions about his parents or their fallibility. They had succumbed to the ravings of a power-hungry half-blood. It wasn’t just that the cause they’d devoted themselves to, devoted him to, had failed, it was that there was no substance to it. No; if the Malfoy name were ever to be associated with anything other than pain, murder, and shame, it would be up to Draco to make it happen. It was up to him to be a better man than his father, or who his father had raised him to be.
It would have been enough to discover that his father was kowtowing to a hypocritical, sadistic lunatic without knowing that Potter had been right. That was possibly the worst part. Draco’s dire predictions about the “right sort” had come true, but not in the way he had anticipated.
That hadn’t been enough to make him walk away, at that point there was nothing that could save him. He’d been branded, like a common Muggle herd beast, and he had killed. The side of the Light could forgive much, but not the murdering of innocents.
Or so he’d thought. If Saint Potter was right, Snape had been on the side of the Light since Draco was a child and Draco knew that he’d done his share of murder and torture. Perhaps there was a moment for redemption, a moment where a smart, savvy, perceptive person, a Slytherin, could make his move, choose his fate, earn his atonement. Maybe this was the moment for him. Potter had saved him twice already, without thanks or cause, perhaps Potter would help him save himself this time.
Draco straightened in his seat. The world he’d been born into and raised to rule no longer existed, had never truly existed. This was his moment to become a man, his own man, in this world, this new future. He was no angel of the Light, but he prided himself on his intelligence and discernment. They couldn’t all be angels, there was room for the less than pure, for shades other than white and black; he had knowledge and skills to offer, and a life to build.
Additional Notes:
I struggled with this piece for a variety of reasons and I want to credit the following people for their assistance. redsnake05, lena3 and my dearest faeriefire78 for talking to me while I struggled to write.
Once I got going, things went fairly smoothly actually, but the promptings of tjwritter, kath_ballantyne, midnightblue88 and redsnake05 helped me start percolating and moving my thoughts in this direction. Don't blame them; they knew I was writing, not what or whom. ;)
This is the first time I've ever written Draco's voice and I wanted it be as authentic as possible. The original request was in the Harry/Draco direction, but I can never write a pairing unless I know how they got there. For me this was one in a long line of steps that might take them there.
This is also, a canon compliant piece. It's textually situated at the end of DH when Harry spots Draco and his family sitting alone at the table. This is that moment from Draco's perspective.
And now that my notes are longer than the fic, I think I'll stop there. ;)