Give a Life, Save a Life (1/5)
Title: Give a Life, Save a Life (1/5)
Author: sugareey
Rating: PG
Characters: Harry/Draco, implied Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione and obviously Narcissa/Lucius
Word Count: 7,259
Summary: If life debts were so simple, they wouldn't be called life debts at all. Harry tries to figure out what they really mean and is left with another mission, just when he thought the war was over.
Disclaimer: Not mine. However, it is my duty to manipulate the characters.
Warning: MAJOR DH SPOILERS. I think that says quite a lot.
A/N: I had to write something. My muse insisted, and refused to let me rest until I did so. I hope it's good so far. I'm still working on the overall details because this meant to be a one shot, but things never turn out the way they should. Well, cheers anyway!
Living meant quite a few things. There was life with a nice home in a peaceful village. Or the materialistic kind, where money could buy anything. Not everyone could afford that though, so a life filled with love was just as good. And then there was the life of being abandoned and alone. Very few people were familiar with that kind of lifestyle, which was why they didn’t know what they were cheering for when Harry Potter finally killed Tom Riddle. It was supposed to be a victory, but to Harry, it would soon become another burden to him when he realised the war was over.
Harry and Tom were the same, being half-bloods and orphans at such a young age. They were both brought up in the Muggle world, only to be accepted into the Wizarding world because of Hogwarts. Hogwarts proved to be the best place to call home. And if that wasn’t enough, they both had the gift of Parseltongue, the language of serpents Salazar Slytherin was famous for. Yes, these two were the same, but they were also different. Choices revealed more about a person than their abilities, Dumbledore once said, and Harry knew that still held true.
Parseltongue might have made Harry a Slytherin, but he had chosen Gryffindor. And Gryffindor he was, through and through, because he was the first to pull Godric Gryffindor’s sword out of the Sorting Hat. It was bravery that enabled him to survive all of his adventures, not fear. His soul was pure while Tom’s was not. Harry didn’t believe in killing. Tom did. Tom wanted immortality. Harry was ready to accept his death from the very start. And while Tom liked to operate alone, relying on his Death Eaters as his servants, Harry had friends and the Order to back him up because they wanted to. They were his family. Most importantly, Tom died because he only knew of hatred. Harry lived because he knew how to love.
But Harry was having second thoughts regarding love, because love was complicated. Love was what killed everyone he knew and it hurt like hell. They had all died for him, just to keep him safe. Harry knew how to keep safe; he wasn’t that stupid when he had managed to live in a bloody tent for most of the year. Yet, even when people died for love, people lived for love. He had watched Ron and Hermione finally fall for each other, even though he knew they would since first year. Bill and Fleur were happily married. And even though Bill had scars, Fleur still loved him for it, for being man. Harry never expected Lupin and Tonks to get married either, and even after their deaths, he knew they must have loved each other a lot when they had Teddy Remus Lupin. Even Snape had learned to love, to love his mother and to do everything to protect Harry in honour of her memory. Finding out that secret had been rather touching, even though Harry had never really liked Snape much.
Love was a good thing, and ironically, it had been one of the weapons that let Harry triumph a dark regime. But if it was really good, then why wasn’t he happy? Why hadn’t he fallen in love yet? Harry knew there was Ginny, the very girl he could easily love. Their relationship had been short, and it was unbearable when he had to be away from her for so long, only to be briefly reunited before the fighting began. If he had to admit it, Harry didn’t know enough about her, besides that she was Ron’s younger sister, and that she was absolutely beautiful. She was also braver and more aggressive than other girls, which was very appealing. And surely, everyone expected Harry Potter to marry Ginny Weasley and have kids pretty soon.
But Ginny had been kept away from the war, from the Death Eaters and the Horcruxes, when Harry, Ron and Hermione were dealing with them. And weren’t loved ones supposed to fight together? That was partially his fault, but it had been for Ginny’s sake. He wanted to protect her. There were still many people who didn’t know what fighting really meant. In fact, most people his age had been still been at Hogwarts to finish their education, or otherwise captured for being a Muggleborn. And then there was Draco Malfoy…who had resided with the Death Eaters.
Harry wasn’t sure if Draco knew what fighting entailed, but he knew how to save a life. It sounded stupid, but Draco wasn’t that much of a dunderhead to not recognise Harry that night at Malfoy Manor. Draco had known it was Harry within his swelled body, tied up with Ron, Hermione, Dean and Griphook. The scar was a dead give-away, yet Draco never blew his cover, thus giving Harry the chance to escape. But did he really save his life?
Enemies didn’t save each other. Loved ones did. Yet Harry couldn’t help but think about saving Draco in return not once, but twice. He didn’t know why he did it, as everything had happened so quickly. He just wasn’t the type of person to let people die. It must have been his heroic factor coming in play, like always. And it was Draco who tried to stop Crabbe and Goyle from getting to him, Draco’s wand that helped him kill Voldemort. Why did everything come down to Draco? Hell, even Draco’s mother was the one to save him back in the Forbidden Forest, and really, it made no sense.
Harry waved his newly repaired holly wand once more before he pocketed it. He still had two other wands, and what to do with them now? He needed to give them back to their rightful owners, and it was just amazing how these particular wands had ended all the chaos ensued from years ago. That wasn’t what he expected from this last duel. Harry glanced up at his friends, who were smiling back at him. There was still work to be done, like cleaning up Hogwarts and retrieving the dead. He sighed as he looked around the headmaster’s office, the portraits glancing back at him, as well as Dumbledore.
“Ron, Hermione,” he said as he bit his lip. “Is it okay if I just…well…stay for a bit?”
“We’ll meet you back in the Great Hall,” replied Hermione understandingly, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “You did really well, Harry.”
“Yeah, you did,” agreed Ron, nodding, before turning around with Hermione. “We’ll see you later, mate. Remember, we still have things to…take care of…so…”
“I know,” answered Harry. “I won’t be long. And…thanks, to the both of you. For everything.”
Ron and Hermione both grinned faintly, making their way through the doors before disappearing. Harry looked around, noting that the room hadn’t changed much, despite it being previously belonging to Snape. Perhaps that was Snape’s tribute to Dumbledore? And speaking of Dumbledore, there were certain matters Harry needed to discuss before they started bothering him.
“Professor,” Harry began, setting the wands down next to the Pensieve. “About the Elder Wand…well, your wand…”
“I do not regret that the plan failed, like we discussed before,” answered Dumbledore gently.
“You mean…that wasn’t all in my head?”
Dumbledore just smiled and waited for Harry to continue.
“It’s just…well, Malfoy was the one with the wand, he was the true master and he didn’t even know it, when he…”
“Disarmed me,” finished Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling above his half-mooned spectacles. “Yes, I was aware of that as soon as it had occurred. Remember, Harry, though Draco was meant to kill, he did not. As he mentioned, he was doing it for his family-”
“Not out of love!” responded Harry, incredulous. “That’s insane! He didn’t want to die…so he attempted to murder you!”
“That was something I was well aware of since the beginning of last school year, as you heard me tell Draco last year. I do not know of the love within his family, but there must have been a very strong bond if he was willing to accept such a dangerous task from a dangerous wizard. A person like Draco has never killed before, and thus he never intended to, whether he joined the Death Eaters or not. His options were not much. If I am not mistaken, you should be glad it was Draco who held the power of the Elder Wand, only for it to be passed on to you.”
“Professor, he…what would you consider a life debt?” asked Harry suddenly.
“I would think you would know the answer to that, my dear boy,” replied Dumbledore, frowning slightly. “If you remember Peter Pettigrew-”
“Pettigrew’s dead,” spat Harry, regretting it immediately. “Sorry, sir, it’s just…well, he fulfilled his debt…he strangled himself…when I was held at Malfoy Manor.”
“I assume that was how you came to take Draco’s wand then?”
“Yes. But there was this moment…” hesitated Harry. He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “Malfoy was obviously there with his family and they were trying to identify me. Hermione was clever...she hit me with some Swelling hex, making it harder for them. But Malfoy… he knew it was me. But he didn’t say anything.”
“So you think he saved your life then?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know if he did.”
“Curious, very curious,” said Dumbledore, shifting in his portrait frame.
“That’s what Ollivander said to me when I first bought my wand,” replied Harry sheepishly. “But sir, I still don’t understand. Why would Malfoy do that?”
“It is not for me to say. You will have to ask Draco yourself, if you wish to know.”
“I saved his life too. Twice. Does that mean he owes me a life debt?”
“Again, I cannot say,” repeated Dumbledore, clasping his long fingers together. “But tell me, what does a life debt mean to you?”
That was a good question, because Harry had no idea. What was a life debt, anyway? “I don’t know,” he finally answered, feeling slightly ashamed.
“Perhaps you should find out. A debt is what you make out of it, Harry, whether it is subtle or something more.”
Harry didn’t know what that meant, but Dumbledore had been right most of the time, so why should he question him now? He nodded, taking the wands with him before heading toward the doors.
“I will. Thanks, Professor. Thank you for helping me win the war.”
“Do not thank me. You should thank yourself.”
~~~~~
Draco was glad he had finally lost his parents in the rubble that was considered Hogwarts. Of course, the castle was still standing, but many parts of it were damaged from all the fighting. There were still bodies to be found and certainly, he didn’t want to be a part of that. Draco still couldn’t help but think about Vincent. He was probably burnt up in the Room of Hidden Things by now, his body reduced to ashes. If it hadn’t been for Draco, he was sure Vincent and Greg would have succeeded in killing Potter. Secretly, he never wanted Potter to be dead, not when he had Draco’s wand.
But why did Potter bother to save him? Potter could have left him and Greg to burn with Vincent; he, Granger and Weasley had an advantage with broomsticks to escape. If he could, Draco would blame Vincent for casting fiendfyre, but Vincent was dead, damn it! Why did fiendfyre seem like a good idea at the time? Had Vincent not understood what the Dark Lord wanted? It might have been Potter who also stunned the Death Eater Draco had been pleading with, though he wasn’t sure. He only felt the punch in his face before hearing Weasley’s yell. If he really owed Potter two life debts…
Or perhaps it was one. How could he have forgotten when Potter had been captured by Greyback? Greyback was not a nice man; a filthy disgusting creature he was, and Draco wasn’t going to let him get his hands on anyone, not even Potter. The last thing he needed was for Potter to turn into a werewolf. But Draco could have given Potter to the Dark Lord. He personally hated the idea of the Dark Lord using the manor as a base though, making Draco torture victims, only to torture Draco in return. It still bothered him that his mother and father hadn’t done anything to stop it either. They only watched, every time the Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. Even Snape didn’t do anything, but then again he had been at Hogwarts. And Draco never told him about any of this treatment.
He was walking within a corridor now, one that looked vaguely familiar to him, and really, Draco had no idea what he was looking for. He wanted an escape, one where he could get away from the Death Eaters, from his persistent parents, from the war. He didn’t want to think about it, being all bloodied and bruised up, and wandless for that matter. He was surprised he was even alive after running and ducking from all the curses and spells aimed at him. He was so engrossed with his thoughts, his mind whirling from them, until he felt himself smack into something solid.
“Malfoy?”
Draco froze at that voice and instantly glanced up to see Potter staring right back at him. Potter was just as bloodied up, though his robes and clothing weren’t as tattered as Draco’s. There were scratches and smudges of dirt on Potter’s face, and if Draco stared long enough, he could see that those stupid round glasses were a bit bent up. Draco forced himself to back away as he looked past Potter’s shoulder at the gargoyle watching him uneasily.
“Malfoy,” Potter said again. “I-um…”
“Potter,” addressed Draco coolly, giving him a curt nod. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with everyone else? You did what you were supposed to do, and now they should be worshipping the ground you stand upon.”
Potter frowned, trying to dismiss the comment. “Well, I don’t need that from them right now. I had some place to be. Alone.”
“Precious Potter, alone?” sneered Draco, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Did you need to time to grieve? Are you feeling bad for yourself again?”
“Shut up!” yelled Potter, suddenly shoving Draco against the closed doorway near the gargoyle. “Don’t you even dare!”
“Get off of me!” retorted Draco, pushing Potter back. “Don’t make this my problem! If that makes you so angry, why don’t you do something about it?”
“What are you on about?”
“Why don’t you have a go at me if hearing the truth hurts so much?”
Potter glared at Draco with a dark expression as he slammed him against the doorway again. “Fuck you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re too scared to do it?”
“You wish.”
Draco was immediately reminded of their duel in second year, which in fact, had been his first real wizard’s duel. He remembered Potter and the snake, the Parseltongue and the way Potter hissed like no other person could. It had been disturbing but strangely, pleasant. Draco tried to clear the memory away as he pushed Potter again, this time more forcefully. Potter stumbled back but regained his balance quickly, his glare still fixed onto Draco. Potter had always preferred to be rather physical. Still, Draco was glad he had the advantage of being slightly taller than him.
“Malfoy.”
“What?” he demanded irritably, putting his fingers up to a bleeding cut on his cheek. He winced when he pressed on it. “What do you want?”
Draco found Potter walking toward him, his wand pointed to his face. He widened his eyes, feeling his heart beat a little bit faster. Was Potter seriously going to try to kill him? Draco had only been joking just to see if Potter would take the piss. He shut his eyes tightly, leaning back as much as the doorway would allow him to. If Potter really hated him that much, surely he would have just killed him already…
“Episkey!” came a low whisper, and instantly, he felt a slight tingling on his cheek.
When nothing else happened, Draco blinked to find Potter still looking at him, his wand now lowered. In fact, Potter was using a different wand, one that was not Draco’s nor the wand the Dark Lord had possessed earlier. Draco smoothed his fingers over his cheek again, dabbing at the remnants of blood that had once been an open wound.
“Thank you,” he murmured, still shocked Potter had not murdered him yet.
“You’re welcome,” replied Potter before brandishing two more wands from his trouser pocket.
“My wand!” exclaimed Draco, spotting a hawthorn wand along with a longer elder one.
“And Dumbledore’s,” added Potter, studying both instruments carefully. “You realise I couldn’t haven’t gotten it back if I never took yours, right?”
“No,” admitted Draco, looking at Potter bemusedly. What was he talking about?
“Never mind,” said Potter, grasping the wands, along with his own in one hand. “Funny, how all of these played some role in Voldemort’s downfall.”
Draco flinched at the name, though he recovered quickly as he continued to gaze at Potter. Potter seemed to notice however, glancing back at Draco peculiarly. And then he pinched the hawthorn wand with his fingers before holding it out to Draco.
“You’re giving it back to me?” inquired Draco, even more surprised then before.
Potter actually looked down at the wand for a moment before pulling his hand back, apparently changing his mind. “I’m not sure if I can, now that I think about it. And it’s not because I don’t want to,” he added quickly. “It’s just how wandlore is, if that makes sense.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” questioned Draco angrily, holding his hand out. “Give it back!”
“I can’t,” answered Potter regretfully, pocketing all three wands.
“Potter…”
“I can’t give it to you,” repeated Potter, shrugging his shoulders. “Not yet.”
“Why not?!”
At that moment, Draco could hear footsteps from the distance, accompanied by low voices talking to each other. If he were to run, he would get caught by whoever it was. And if he knew how to get through the doorway behind him, he would have done that by now. He glanced at Potter just before he was covered by something cool and silky. Draco opened his mouth but Potter covered it with a hand, merely shaking his head as they waited for the people to pass by.
“Why would he run off like that? We thought he was dead!” whispered Narcissa Malfoy frantically, sprinting down the corridor and pulling her husband along with her. “If we didn’t know any better-”
“He seems to be acting rather insufferable after all the Dark Lord has done to us,” responded Lucius calmly, trying to pull back his wife. “No need to hurry. We already know Draco is alive.”
His mother and father kept looking around, however, and at one point, Draco found them staring in the space where he and Potter were standing. Draco wanted to run in the other direction, away from them, but Potter restrained him by gripping his wrist. So Draco watched as his parents rushed further down the corridor, taking a bear right so that they vanished out of sight.
“They thought I was dead?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Potter, releasing him. “Errr…your mum went to check on me when we were in the Forbidden Forest earlier on. Voldemort…killed me but then I came back, and I told her you were okay.”
“The Dark Lord killed you?” queried Draco, clearly confused. “But you’re right here!”
“It’s hard to explain,” replied Potter absently. “Listen, I need you to do me a favour.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain things more thoroughly, but only if you come with me.”
“Why should I do anything for you? And where do you plan on going?”
“Malfoy…Draco,” enunciated Potter. “It’s important. Can you…just come with me? That’s all I’m asking.”
“I…”
Draco found himself nodding, realising how strange it was for Potter to refer to him by his first name. Perhaps he should be calling Potter Harry instead, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust the boy just yet. But he trusted Potter to take them somewhere unknown, as they were moving fast within the corridor, barely avoiding the broken stones and bodies littering the floor.
“So you had your Invisibility Cloak the whole time,” commented Draco, grabbing the interior of the smooth material so it didn’t fly out. “No wonder you never got caught when you were causing a ruckus.”
“It also helped save my life loads of times,” Potter breathed out heavily as they ran by the mourning students, witches and wizards. “It wasn’t always used for trouble.”
Draco smirked and held onto the cloak tighter, crouching down even more to obscure their feet. He had never owned an Invisibility Cloak, as they were rare, though he remembered begging his father for one when he was very young. To be under one now was just amazing, as it really did hide them quite well. They burst out of the castle into the outdoors, facing the view of the Black Lake. And then Draco stopped when he saw the white tomb close by. Now he understood what Potter wanted them to do. He couldn’t do this, even though this was Potter’s request.
“Keep up,” urged Potter, pulling on his arm. “I need you to help me do this.”
“Why?” Draco asked petulantly, still hanging back. “That’s where Dumbledore…”
“That’s his tomb, yes, but I need to give him his wand back.”
“Then do it yourself,” replied Draco malevolently, trying to turn away. “This isn’t called for…to have me-”
“He died protecting me and you!” hissed Harry, pushing Draco by the small of his back. “Is this how you want to show him respect? By not acknowledging him at all? Don’t think I didn’t know. Dumbledore knew you had to do it…I heard him when I was on the tower that night, y’know.”
“You-you saw me?”
“C’mon, just go and I’ll explain, ‘kay?”
Draco obeyed and walked on with Potter’s hands still guiding him. He knew he should be bothered by it, but really, it made him feel relaxed. His heart, however, began racing again as the tomb came closer in view. He couldn’t believe he was once supposed to murder this man, the man who lay beneath all this marble…
“His tomb…” trailed Draco, noticing the careless chips and cracks on the surface of the marble from the head to the foot. “What happened?”
“Voldemort broke into it to get the Elder Wand,” answered Potter, retrieving said wand from his pocket. “But it was never his in the first place.”
Draco watched Potter use the wand to lift up the wrappings, revealing the corpse of Albus Dumbledore. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t help but study the almost peaceful form of his previous headmaster. It was like the old man was sleeping, still with the half-mooned spectacles perched on his crooked nose and his hands folded together on his chest. Draco should have been frightened or mortified, but he felt nothing, nothing at all. He glanced to his side at Potter, noticing a tear slip down Potter’s cheek as he placed the Elder Wand between Dumbledore’s hands. Potter clasped Dumbledore’s fingers tightly around it before taking out his own wand to replace the wrappings.
“Reparo!” he whispered, aiming the wand at the tomb. It gradually became whole again, as if no one had disturbed it at all. The tomb glowed with reddish, fiery sparks, sealing itself for good. And then the sparks vanished and it was silent once more.
Potter let the cloak drape over them heavily as he took his glasses off to wipe his eyes furiously. Draco took that Potter didn’t really cry that often. He never liked to either, but they were only human. He also knew how close Potter had been to Dumbledore and felt a bit guilty for holding it against him for so many years. Draco didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at the tomb, listening to Potter sniffle for a few moments.
“Thanks,” Potter finally said to him, his eyes still fixed on the tomb as well. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Sure,” was all Draco could say.
“I didn’t want Ron or Hermione to come with me,” explained Potter, using his sleeve to wipe his eyes again before pushing his glasses back on. “They still can’t believe it…about the Elder Wand. They thought I was mental or something.”
Draco nodded, waiting for Potter to go on. From the sound of it, perhaps Potter was going mental after all. It seemed to fit, what with all the rubbish he kept rambling on about. Draco had no idea what to make out of Potter’s odd behaviour.
“You remember when I said that you were the true master of the Elder Wand, back in the Great Hall?”
“Yes. What about it? Honestly, that made no-”
“You disarmed Dumbledore when you tried to kill him,” continued Potter, touching the white marble with his fingers. “That made you the next master of the Elder Wand because its magic shifted to you. It was meant for Snape…Snape was supposed to get to Dumbledore first so he could be the next master.”
“There was…a vow,” Draco told him tensely. “I-I had to…”
“I know. But still, it happened to work out in the end. Voldemort was too stupid to realise his mistake, so he killed Snape anyway, thinking he was the master when it had always been you. That’s what I meant when I told him earlier.”
Draco could feel himself tremble at the mention of Snape’s death. The man had done everything to keep Draco safe and alive, even though he had to devote a large portion of his time at Hogwarts. He had gone back to Hogwarts too, of course, but Draco always had occasional notes permitting him to leave the grounds to return to the manor. And it was during those times Draco had been afraid, what with the Dark Lord lurking in his home. But at Hogwarts, Snape promised safety. And even though the man had been quite despicable all through last year, he had made sure to complete the Unbreakable Vow just so Draco wouldn’t die. But Snape still died anyway, and it almost seemed it was all for nothing.
“Hey…”
He could feel Potter put an arm around him, and Draco closed his eyes at the touch. It almost felt like his mother trying to comfort him, a silent way to assure him that everything was going to be okay. But this was Harry Potter, and Draco didn’t know why he was trying to make him feel better. They were adversaries, and adversaries did not console each other like this. They were supposed to leave each other to die. Yet they were both alive and they were both standing under an Invisibility Cloak while their friends and family were worried sick because they were nowhere to be found.
“Look at me,” muttered Potter roughly, his fingers digging into Draco’s shoulder.
Draco did, meeting the gaze of bright green eyes, eyes that were trying to search for something. He swallowed the lump forming within his throat, observing the lightening bolt scar on Potter’s forehead before looking into his eyes again. Potter was trying to reach out to him, trying to tell him something Draco didn’t understand, but then again, he had never understood Potter at all.
“People might not think about it,” started Potter, “but you actually became a good help in this war. I know you were with the Death Eaters. I know Voldemort made you torture people, and I’m sure he made you watch him do the same. Yeah, it was me at your manor, which I’m sure you figured out long before I grabbed for your wand, but why? Why didn’t you just hand me in?”
“You’re not serious, are you?”
“Yeah, I am. I want to know why.”
“I didn’t want him to come…the Dark Lord,” confessed Draco after a moment. He looked away from Potter as he stared into the distance, watching the reflection of trees within the lake. “I didn’t want him in the manor again. Of course, that didn’t matter when you escaped, but still. It was obviously you, Potter, with that scar, and the hair. Why else would Granger and Weasley be there too? They were with you, so the Prophet said.”
“Nothing more?”
“I…don’t know. I didn’t…I wasn’t sure if I really wanted him to kill you. The man was a bastard, mind you.”
Potter said nothing as he pulled the cloak tighter around them.
“Why can’t I have my wand back now?” asked Draco, changing the subject. “You said I could after you gave me an explanation, which wasn’t a bloody good one either.”
“About that. What did Ollivander tell you when you first bought your wand?”
“That was seven years ago! Why is that important? Mother was the one who dragged me into his shop after I bought my robes! She might as well have been the one who picked the bloody thing for me-”
“That was the day we met,” said Potter slowly, flushing slightly. “At Madam Malkin’s.”
“It was,” agreed Draco in realisation. “Interesting.”
“Um…yeah. With wands…the wand chooses the wizard. I reckon Ollivander mentioned that to you. And…well, when I grabbed yours, I was able to use it. Wands can switch their allegiances.”
“As you kindly mentioned regarding the Elder Wand, which I was not aware of.”
Potter pulled Draco closer and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Promise to keep a secret, and I’ll tell you how to get your wand back.”
“For Merlin’s sake!” shouted Draco irritably. “Stop playing bloody games and give it here already!”
“If you’re going to be like that, then no,” replied Potter, pulling out Draco’s wand from his robes. “Maybe I should just keep yours then. And then you can have mine? Or maybe I’ll keep both just in-”
Shuffling under the cloak, Draco stomped on Potter’s foot, grasping the hawthorn wand with his fingers and snatching it quickly when Potter loosened his grip. He could feel the magic warming around his hand before it traveled through his arm. Finally, Draco had it back and it was his wand once again.
“Hey! That was cheating!” mumbled Harry stubbornly. “I was going to tell you how to-whatever. Naturally, you can get it back by force. I reckon that worked?”
“It did,” drawled Draco smugly, pocketing the wand. “So if you’ll excuse me-”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“So you don’t want to know the secret?” inquired Harry curiously.
“Well, I figured out how to get my wand back, despite all the rubbish you’ve been trying to tell me,” responded Draco coolly, shaking Potter’s arm off of him. “My mother and father are running all over the school for me, and I’m sure Weasley and Granger are having heart attacks because they can’t find you.”
“Shite!” cursed Potter, slipping his wand away. “I forgot about them!”
“I take you prefer my company better then?”
Potter blushed at that, determined not to look Draco in the eye. He took one last look at Dumbledore’s tomb before pulling Draco’s sleeve so they could walk back to the castle.
“The Deathly Hallows,” muttered Potter simply, trudging alongside Draco. “That’s what saved me, saved everyone.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve heard of the story, haven’t you? About the Peverell brothers, three men who are stopped by Death-”
“The Tale of Three Brothers, you mean? Who hasn’t heard about that story?”
“I didn’t know about it. But it’s a true story. It all exists.”
“Right.”
“Really, it does! We’re using one right now, one of the weapons…the Hallows.”
Draco stopped, grabbing Potter by his robes. Potter staggered back into him, getting them tangled up under the material of the cloak. “This…your Invisibility Cloak? It’s one of them?”
“One of the Hallows that Death gave to the youngest brother,” confirmed Potter, giving Draco a weak smile and fixing the cloak so they could walk again. “The Elder Wand is something Death also gave away, something you and I got to use for a bit, and now it’ll rest with Dumbledore.”
“And the stone?”
“The Resurrection Stone exists too. It brought back everyone who has died for me, though I can’t tell you where it is now.”
“And the Dark Lord never knew?”
“No.”
For Potter to have all that power, to overcome Death…
“You are the master of Death then?”
Potter grinned wider. “Yeah. Who would have thought?”
Draco had no words to reply to that. He could see they were making their way toward the front of the castle, through the open doors and into the entrance hall. The strong scent of blood began to fill his nostrils again and the moaning of those crying over the dead could be heard, as well as the screams of a few more Death Eaters, the last of them falling to the ground. Victory had been achieved, but for a very big price. Draco could barely make out Weasley and Granger in the vast distance of the Great Hall, both clinging onto each other in sorrow. That was when Draco nudged Potter with an elbow.
“You better get out there. You’re already making Weasley and Granger cry again.”
Potter just rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Go to the corner…no, over there so no one will see us.”
“No one can see us, you idiot.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know! Keep moving! You don’t want to scare everyone off!”
They weaved their way around people as they reached an isolated corner near the stairway that led to the dungeons. Potter pulled the cloak off him and Draco, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“That’s one thing I hate about this,” commented Potter, draping the cloak on his arm. “It’s a bit small. And it always gets hot underneath after a while.”
Though Draco knew what Potter meant, he could feel his cheeks burning and he chose to look at the stone they were standing on, just to avoid Potter’s gaze. He could feel the eyes piercing into him anyway, and it seemed like forever before Potter broke the silence again.
“Well…I-see you, I guess.”
“Potter,” began Draco as soon as he saw Potter turning away to walk back to the Great Hall.
“It’s Harry.”
“What?”
“Call me Harry, yeah? We’ve outgrown surnames a while ago.”
“Alright, Harry. It’s just…”
Harry came closer to Draco, a puzzled expression visible on his face. Actually, it might have been one of concern if Draco looked closely. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Why did you tell me? About the story?”
Harry licked his lips as he ran his fingers through his untidy hair. Then he beckoned for Draco to lean toward him. Draco did, shivering when he felt Harry’s warm, moist breath against his face.
“You didn’t question it,” Harry murmured. “I knew you would believe it. Believe me. About the truth not many people will hear for a good while.”
“Surely, you told Weasley and Granger?”
“Yeah, but it was just a fairytale to them.”
“I see,” was Draco’s reply before he moved away from the stairs.
“Draco!”
He didn’t expect Harry to come running toward him, crushing him into a hug. It was awkward, being all sweaty and grimy in torn robes, having a boy he once hated clutching onto him as if he were his friend. They weren’t friends or enemies now, Draco decided as he reached around to hug Harry back. But if this was what Harry wanted, well, it would have to do. Draco wasn’t sure if he would ever see him again, which was a bit unnerving, so he let Harry rest his head against his shoulder and held him close. This was something he never had with anyone else, not even with Pansy or his mother. And it was the happiest Draco had ever felt as long as he could remember.
“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re not that bad, for a Malfoy.”
And then Harry let go and with the swish of the cloak, he disappeared. Draco walked into the entrance hall, dodging people here and there, and now it really didn’t matter because no one was paying attention to him. He saw Harry reemerge into the Great Hall, running towards his friends and hugging them both. Draco watched for a while before closing his eyes and tapping his wand onto his head. It felt as if an egg had been cracked, its yolk dripping down his face, onto his shoulders and when he looked down, he could only see the faint outline of himself. He saw Harry stare directly at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry quickly turned back though, as if nothing happened.
That was Draco’s cue to walk away, wand in hand. At least something turned out right. So he walked on, anywhere and everywhere, hiding for a little longer before looking for his parents. This was the way things were supposed to be. And for once, Draco accepted this as fact.
~~~~~
Harry was sure his life would never be the same, now that Voldemort was gone. Part of him was relieved, but the rest of him had no idea what was in store for his future. He had sacrificed everything to save the world, but what was he supposed to do now? Harry had taken the offer of living at the Burrow temporarily, due to the Weasleys’ insistence. Though he should have been happy, he was not. He was still blaming himself for all of those who died. Of course, people looked up to him now as their number one hero, but he had never cared for the title. It was because of him that their world had been nearly wrecked.
It was still nice to be with his friends, and finally spend time with Ginny. Ginny had waited for Harry, though he wasn’t sure why. She had given him a full-out snog when they sought for each other in the Great Hall only days ago, to the delight of many. He was still careful not to snog her in public after that, unless he wanted to deal with Ron’s wrath. But really, what did that say about his relationship with Ginny? What was it really? She was good enough to be Harry’ own sister, but he cared about her a lot. Harry had saved her life once, when that bloody diary had possessed her.
But he had also saved Ron and Mr. Weasley. Did that mean they owed him life debts too? It seemed ridiculous; with all the people he had saved, Harry did it because it was the right thing. They were his only family, and family was something Harry valued. Losing Fred had been bad enough for everyone. He was glad he did what he could, for the people who accepted him as their own, despite their bloodlines. Really, it seemed silly if they were obligated to do anything else for him in return. They had already risked their lives just to fight with him.
This life debt stuff was difficult to figure out, with Harry being the one to decide upon each and every one of them. Harry sat back on his bed in the messy bedroom he was still sharing with Ron. He chuckled at the thought of how Ron had tricked the Ministry with a ghoul dressed in his pyjamas, lying in the very room. He did it to help Harry on the Horcrux trip. That meant a lot, for Ron and Hermione to ditch their families and education for him. That was loyalty. Harry was beyond grateful for befriending these two on the train seven years ago.
“You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort,” he suddenly heard a voice ring within his ears. “I can help you with that.”
Draco. How could he forget? What would have happened if Harry had befriended Draco instead? It was strange, having his mind dwell upon a boy he surely wasn’t going to see again, not with the Malfoys alive. They wouldn’t care for Draco to do anything else, once he was out of Hogwarts, if the school were to reopen again. But what would Draco do? Harry never really knew him at all during their school years, and having Draco accompany him to Dumbledore’s tomb was the closest they have ever been to having a real conversation. But it hadn’t been about themselves…just the war. Would life debts change even though they never really gotten on with each other?
It shouldn’t have mattered so much to Harry, but somehow, the debts between him and Draco seemed more demanding than those of the Weasleys. Harry felt himself drifting off, his head resting against the wall as his eyes began to shut. He could hear Ron’s loud snores as he just sat there, the moonlight illuminating his shoulder and the clothes scattered all over the floor. It felt nice, not having to worry about someone trying to kill him for once. Harry felt in control, that he could do anything, which was a feeling he hadn’t had since he found out he was a wizard.
Sleep was really getting to him though, since there was so much sleep he had to catch up on for being on the move for so long. Harry could feel himself slouching, his feet touching the ground as he began sliding off the bed, his almost completely closed until there was a sharp tap on the window.
“What the…”
Harry jerked himself awake, turning to stare at the eagle owl glaring haughtily at him. There was a roll of parchment tied to its leg and it kept pecking on the glass until Harry let it in.
“Shhh…stop! You’ll wake Ron up!”
The owl simply blinked before biting his finger. Harry cursed under his breath, sucking on the cut as he used his other hand to hastily untie the message. The owl glared at him once more before flying out of the open window toward the full moon.
“Damn it,” grumbled Harry, shaking his finger and then opening his message. He barely caught sight of the large ‘M’ on the seal as he broke through the wax. He flattened the parchment on his bed, skimming it before stopping to reread it again.
I saved your life once. You saved his life twice, it has been said. And though we are the persons who may decide what debts should require, I request your help to find my son. No trace of him can be found around the manor, nor anywhere else. I should hope that a saviour like yourself should play his role once more.
Narcissa Malfoy
Just when he was starting to forget about life debts, here was one before him, presented to Harry on a silver platter. He could take it and live up to his name as the Boy-Who-Lived, or leave it be as if nothing happened. But he couldn’t leave it, because that would be unjust. He owed it to Narcissa, and to Draco. If Harry could save Draco one more time…but that was the problem. Where exactly was Draco?
Author: sugareey
Rating: PG
Characters: Harry/Draco, implied Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione and obviously Narcissa/Lucius
Word Count: 7,259
Summary: If life debts were so simple, they wouldn't be called life debts at all. Harry tries to figure out what they really mean and is left with another mission, just when he thought the war was over.
Disclaimer: Not mine. However, it is my duty to manipulate the characters.
Warning: MAJOR DH SPOILERS. I think that says quite a lot.
A/N: I had to write something. My muse insisted, and refused to let me rest until I did so. I hope it's good so far. I'm still working on the overall details because this meant to be a one shot, but things never turn out the way they should. Well, cheers anyway!
Living meant quite a few things. There was life with a nice home in a peaceful village. Or the materialistic kind, where money could buy anything. Not everyone could afford that though, so a life filled with love was just as good. And then there was the life of being abandoned and alone. Very few people were familiar with that kind of lifestyle, which was why they didn’t know what they were cheering for when Harry Potter finally killed Tom Riddle. It was supposed to be a victory, but to Harry, it would soon become another burden to him when he realised the war was over.
Harry and Tom were the same, being half-bloods and orphans at such a young age. They were both brought up in the Muggle world, only to be accepted into the Wizarding world because of Hogwarts. Hogwarts proved to be the best place to call home. And if that wasn’t enough, they both had the gift of Parseltongue, the language of serpents Salazar Slytherin was famous for. Yes, these two were the same, but they were also different. Choices revealed more about a person than their abilities, Dumbledore once said, and Harry knew that still held true.
Parseltongue might have made Harry a Slytherin, but he had chosen Gryffindor. And Gryffindor he was, through and through, because he was the first to pull Godric Gryffindor’s sword out of the Sorting Hat. It was bravery that enabled him to survive all of his adventures, not fear. His soul was pure while Tom’s was not. Harry didn’t believe in killing. Tom did. Tom wanted immortality. Harry was ready to accept his death from the very start. And while Tom liked to operate alone, relying on his Death Eaters as his servants, Harry had friends and the Order to back him up because they wanted to. They were his family. Most importantly, Tom died because he only knew of hatred. Harry lived because he knew how to love.
But Harry was having second thoughts regarding love, because love was complicated. Love was what killed everyone he knew and it hurt like hell. They had all died for him, just to keep him safe. Harry knew how to keep safe; he wasn’t that stupid when he had managed to live in a bloody tent for most of the year. Yet, even when people died for love, people lived for love. He had watched Ron and Hermione finally fall for each other, even though he knew they would since first year. Bill and Fleur were happily married. And even though Bill had scars, Fleur still loved him for it, for being man. Harry never expected Lupin and Tonks to get married either, and even after their deaths, he knew they must have loved each other a lot when they had Teddy Remus Lupin. Even Snape had learned to love, to love his mother and to do everything to protect Harry in honour of her memory. Finding out that secret had been rather touching, even though Harry had never really liked Snape much.
Love was a good thing, and ironically, it had been one of the weapons that let Harry triumph a dark regime. But if it was really good, then why wasn’t he happy? Why hadn’t he fallen in love yet? Harry knew there was Ginny, the very girl he could easily love. Their relationship had been short, and it was unbearable when he had to be away from her for so long, only to be briefly reunited before the fighting began. If he had to admit it, Harry didn’t know enough about her, besides that she was Ron’s younger sister, and that she was absolutely beautiful. She was also braver and more aggressive than other girls, which was very appealing. And surely, everyone expected Harry Potter to marry Ginny Weasley and have kids pretty soon.
But Ginny had been kept away from the war, from the Death Eaters and the Horcruxes, when Harry, Ron and Hermione were dealing with them. And weren’t loved ones supposed to fight together? That was partially his fault, but it had been for Ginny’s sake. He wanted to protect her. There were still many people who didn’t know what fighting really meant. In fact, most people his age had been still been at Hogwarts to finish their education, or otherwise captured for being a Muggleborn. And then there was Draco Malfoy…who had resided with the Death Eaters.
Harry wasn’t sure if Draco knew what fighting entailed, but he knew how to save a life. It sounded stupid, but Draco wasn’t that much of a dunderhead to not recognise Harry that night at Malfoy Manor. Draco had known it was Harry within his swelled body, tied up with Ron, Hermione, Dean and Griphook. The scar was a dead give-away, yet Draco never blew his cover, thus giving Harry the chance to escape. But did he really save his life?
Enemies didn’t save each other. Loved ones did. Yet Harry couldn’t help but think about saving Draco in return not once, but twice. He didn’t know why he did it, as everything had happened so quickly. He just wasn’t the type of person to let people die. It must have been his heroic factor coming in play, like always. And it was Draco who tried to stop Crabbe and Goyle from getting to him, Draco’s wand that helped him kill Voldemort. Why did everything come down to Draco? Hell, even Draco’s mother was the one to save him back in the Forbidden Forest, and really, it made no sense.
Harry waved his newly repaired holly wand once more before he pocketed it. He still had two other wands, and what to do with them now? He needed to give them back to their rightful owners, and it was just amazing how these particular wands had ended all the chaos ensued from years ago. That wasn’t what he expected from this last duel. Harry glanced up at his friends, who were smiling back at him. There was still work to be done, like cleaning up Hogwarts and retrieving the dead. He sighed as he looked around the headmaster’s office, the portraits glancing back at him, as well as Dumbledore.
“Ron, Hermione,” he said as he bit his lip. “Is it okay if I just…well…stay for a bit?”
“We’ll meet you back in the Great Hall,” replied Hermione understandingly, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “You did really well, Harry.”
“Yeah, you did,” agreed Ron, nodding, before turning around with Hermione. “We’ll see you later, mate. Remember, we still have things to…take care of…so…”
“I know,” answered Harry. “I won’t be long. And…thanks, to the both of you. For everything.”
Ron and Hermione both grinned faintly, making their way through the doors before disappearing. Harry looked around, noting that the room hadn’t changed much, despite it being previously belonging to Snape. Perhaps that was Snape’s tribute to Dumbledore? And speaking of Dumbledore, there were certain matters Harry needed to discuss before they started bothering him.
“Professor,” Harry began, setting the wands down next to the Pensieve. “About the Elder Wand…well, your wand…”
“I do not regret that the plan failed, like we discussed before,” answered Dumbledore gently.
“You mean…that wasn’t all in my head?”
Dumbledore just smiled and waited for Harry to continue.
“It’s just…well, Malfoy was the one with the wand, he was the true master and he didn’t even know it, when he…”
“Disarmed me,” finished Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling above his half-mooned spectacles. “Yes, I was aware of that as soon as it had occurred. Remember, Harry, though Draco was meant to kill, he did not. As he mentioned, he was doing it for his family-”
“Not out of love!” responded Harry, incredulous. “That’s insane! He didn’t want to die…so he attempted to murder you!”
“That was something I was well aware of since the beginning of last school year, as you heard me tell Draco last year. I do not know of the love within his family, but there must have been a very strong bond if he was willing to accept such a dangerous task from a dangerous wizard. A person like Draco has never killed before, and thus he never intended to, whether he joined the Death Eaters or not. His options were not much. If I am not mistaken, you should be glad it was Draco who held the power of the Elder Wand, only for it to be passed on to you.”
“Professor, he…what would you consider a life debt?” asked Harry suddenly.
“I would think you would know the answer to that, my dear boy,” replied Dumbledore, frowning slightly. “If you remember Peter Pettigrew-”
“Pettigrew’s dead,” spat Harry, regretting it immediately. “Sorry, sir, it’s just…well, he fulfilled his debt…he strangled himself…when I was held at Malfoy Manor.”
“I assume that was how you came to take Draco’s wand then?”
“Yes. But there was this moment…” hesitated Harry. He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “Malfoy was obviously there with his family and they were trying to identify me. Hermione was clever...she hit me with some Swelling hex, making it harder for them. But Malfoy… he knew it was me. But he didn’t say anything.”
“So you think he saved your life then?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know if he did.”
“Curious, very curious,” said Dumbledore, shifting in his portrait frame.
“That’s what Ollivander said to me when I first bought my wand,” replied Harry sheepishly. “But sir, I still don’t understand. Why would Malfoy do that?”
“It is not for me to say. You will have to ask Draco yourself, if you wish to know.”
“I saved his life too. Twice. Does that mean he owes me a life debt?”
“Again, I cannot say,” repeated Dumbledore, clasping his long fingers together. “But tell me, what does a life debt mean to you?”
That was a good question, because Harry had no idea. What was a life debt, anyway? “I don’t know,” he finally answered, feeling slightly ashamed.
“Perhaps you should find out. A debt is what you make out of it, Harry, whether it is subtle or something more.”
Harry didn’t know what that meant, but Dumbledore had been right most of the time, so why should he question him now? He nodded, taking the wands with him before heading toward the doors.
“I will. Thanks, Professor. Thank you for helping me win the war.”
“Do not thank me. You should thank yourself.”
~~~~~
Draco was glad he had finally lost his parents in the rubble that was considered Hogwarts. Of course, the castle was still standing, but many parts of it were damaged from all the fighting. There were still bodies to be found and certainly, he didn’t want to be a part of that. Draco still couldn’t help but think about Vincent. He was probably burnt up in the Room of Hidden Things by now, his body reduced to ashes. If it hadn’t been for Draco, he was sure Vincent and Greg would have succeeded in killing Potter. Secretly, he never wanted Potter to be dead, not when he had Draco’s wand.
But why did Potter bother to save him? Potter could have left him and Greg to burn with Vincent; he, Granger and Weasley had an advantage with broomsticks to escape. If he could, Draco would blame Vincent for casting fiendfyre, but Vincent was dead, damn it! Why did fiendfyre seem like a good idea at the time? Had Vincent not understood what the Dark Lord wanted? It might have been Potter who also stunned the Death Eater Draco had been pleading with, though he wasn’t sure. He only felt the punch in his face before hearing Weasley’s yell. If he really owed Potter two life debts…
Or perhaps it was one. How could he have forgotten when Potter had been captured by Greyback? Greyback was not a nice man; a filthy disgusting creature he was, and Draco wasn’t going to let him get his hands on anyone, not even Potter. The last thing he needed was for Potter to turn into a werewolf. But Draco could have given Potter to the Dark Lord. He personally hated the idea of the Dark Lord using the manor as a base though, making Draco torture victims, only to torture Draco in return. It still bothered him that his mother and father hadn’t done anything to stop it either. They only watched, every time the Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. Even Snape didn’t do anything, but then again he had been at Hogwarts. And Draco never told him about any of this treatment.
He was walking within a corridor now, one that looked vaguely familiar to him, and really, Draco had no idea what he was looking for. He wanted an escape, one where he could get away from the Death Eaters, from his persistent parents, from the war. He didn’t want to think about it, being all bloodied and bruised up, and wandless for that matter. He was surprised he was even alive after running and ducking from all the curses and spells aimed at him. He was so engrossed with his thoughts, his mind whirling from them, until he felt himself smack into something solid.
“Malfoy?”
Draco froze at that voice and instantly glanced up to see Potter staring right back at him. Potter was just as bloodied up, though his robes and clothing weren’t as tattered as Draco’s. There were scratches and smudges of dirt on Potter’s face, and if Draco stared long enough, he could see that those stupid round glasses were a bit bent up. Draco forced himself to back away as he looked past Potter’s shoulder at the gargoyle watching him uneasily.
“Malfoy,” Potter said again. “I-um…”
“Potter,” addressed Draco coolly, giving him a curt nod. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with everyone else? You did what you were supposed to do, and now they should be worshipping the ground you stand upon.”
Potter frowned, trying to dismiss the comment. “Well, I don’t need that from them right now. I had some place to be. Alone.”
“Precious Potter, alone?” sneered Draco, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Did you need to time to grieve? Are you feeling bad for yourself again?”
“Shut up!” yelled Potter, suddenly shoving Draco against the closed doorway near the gargoyle. “Don’t you even dare!”
“Get off of me!” retorted Draco, pushing Potter back. “Don’t make this my problem! If that makes you so angry, why don’t you do something about it?”
“What are you on about?”
“Why don’t you have a go at me if hearing the truth hurts so much?”
Potter glared at Draco with a dark expression as he slammed him against the doorway again. “Fuck you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re too scared to do it?”
“You wish.”
Draco was immediately reminded of their duel in second year, which in fact, had been his first real wizard’s duel. He remembered Potter and the snake, the Parseltongue and the way Potter hissed like no other person could. It had been disturbing but strangely, pleasant. Draco tried to clear the memory away as he pushed Potter again, this time more forcefully. Potter stumbled back but regained his balance quickly, his glare still fixed onto Draco. Potter had always preferred to be rather physical. Still, Draco was glad he had the advantage of being slightly taller than him.
“Malfoy.”
“What?” he demanded irritably, putting his fingers up to a bleeding cut on his cheek. He winced when he pressed on it. “What do you want?”
Draco found Potter walking toward him, his wand pointed to his face. He widened his eyes, feeling his heart beat a little bit faster. Was Potter seriously going to try to kill him? Draco had only been joking just to see if Potter would take the piss. He shut his eyes tightly, leaning back as much as the doorway would allow him to. If Potter really hated him that much, surely he would have just killed him already…
“Episkey!” came a low whisper, and instantly, he felt a slight tingling on his cheek.
When nothing else happened, Draco blinked to find Potter still looking at him, his wand now lowered. In fact, Potter was using a different wand, one that was not Draco’s nor the wand the Dark Lord had possessed earlier. Draco smoothed his fingers over his cheek again, dabbing at the remnants of blood that had once been an open wound.
“Thank you,” he murmured, still shocked Potter had not murdered him yet.
“You’re welcome,” replied Potter before brandishing two more wands from his trouser pocket.
“My wand!” exclaimed Draco, spotting a hawthorn wand along with a longer elder one.
“And Dumbledore’s,” added Potter, studying both instruments carefully. “You realise I couldn’t haven’t gotten it back if I never took yours, right?”
“No,” admitted Draco, looking at Potter bemusedly. What was he talking about?
“Never mind,” said Potter, grasping the wands, along with his own in one hand. “Funny, how all of these played some role in Voldemort’s downfall.”
Draco flinched at the name, though he recovered quickly as he continued to gaze at Potter. Potter seemed to notice however, glancing back at Draco peculiarly. And then he pinched the hawthorn wand with his fingers before holding it out to Draco.
“You’re giving it back to me?” inquired Draco, even more surprised then before.
Potter actually looked down at the wand for a moment before pulling his hand back, apparently changing his mind. “I’m not sure if I can, now that I think about it. And it’s not because I don’t want to,” he added quickly. “It’s just how wandlore is, if that makes sense.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” questioned Draco angrily, holding his hand out. “Give it back!”
“I can’t,” answered Potter regretfully, pocketing all three wands.
“Potter…”
“I can’t give it to you,” repeated Potter, shrugging his shoulders. “Not yet.”
“Why not?!”
At that moment, Draco could hear footsteps from the distance, accompanied by low voices talking to each other. If he were to run, he would get caught by whoever it was. And if he knew how to get through the doorway behind him, he would have done that by now. He glanced at Potter just before he was covered by something cool and silky. Draco opened his mouth but Potter covered it with a hand, merely shaking his head as they waited for the people to pass by.
“Why would he run off like that? We thought he was dead!” whispered Narcissa Malfoy frantically, sprinting down the corridor and pulling her husband along with her. “If we didn’t know any better-”
“He seems to be acting rather insufferable after all the Dark Lord has done to us,” responded Lucius calmly, trying to pull back his wife. “No need to hurry. We already know Draco is alive.”
His mother and father kept looking around, however, and at one point, Draco found them staring in the space where he and Potter were standing. Draco wanted to run in the other direction, away from them, but Potter restrained him by gripping his wrist. So Draco watched as his parents rushed further down the corridor, taking a bear right so that they vanished out of sight.
“They thought I was dead?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Potter, releasing him. “Errr…your mum went to check on me when we were in the Forbidden Forest earlier on. Voldemort…killed me but then I came back, and I told her you were okay.”
“The Dark Lord killed you?” queried Draco, clearly confused. “But you’re right here!”
“It’s hard to explain,” replied Potter absently. “Listen, I need you to do me a favour.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain things more thoroughly, but only if you come with me.”
“Why should I do anything for you? And where do you plan on going?”
“Malfoy…Draco,” enunciated Potter. “It’s important. Can you…just come with me? That’s all I’m asking.”
“I…”
Draco found himself nodding, realising how strange it was for Potter to refer to him by his first name. Perhaps he should be calling Potter Harry instead, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust the boy just yet. But he trusted Potter to take them somewhere unknown, as they were moving fast within the corridor, barely avoiding the broken stones and bodies littering the floor.
“So you had your Invisibility Cloak the whole time,” commented Draco, grabbing the interior of the smooth material so it didn’t fly out. “No wonder you never got caught when you were causing a ruckus.”
“It also helped save my life loads of times,” Potter breathed out heavily as they ran by the mourning students, witches and wizards. “It wasn’t always used for trouble.”
Draco smirked and held onto the cloak tighter, crouching down even more to obscure their feet. He had never owned an Invisibility Cloak, as they were rare, though he remembered begging his father for one when he was very young. To be under one now was just amazing, as it really did hide them quite well. They burst out of the castle into the outdoors, facing the view of the Black Lake. And then Draco stopped when he saw the white tomb close by. Now he understood what Potter wanted them to do. He couldn’t do this, even though this was Potter’s request.
“Keep up,” urged Potter, pulling on his arm. “I need you to help me do this.”
“Why?” Draco asked petulantly, still hanging back. “That’s where Dumbledore…”
“That’s his tomb, yes, but I need to give him his wand back.”
“Then do it yourself,” replied Draco malevolently, trying to turn away. “This isn’t called for…to have me-”
“He died protecting me and you!” hissed Harry, pushing Draco by the small of his back. “Is this how you want to show him respect? By not acknowledging him at all? Don’t think I didn’t know. Dumbledore knew you had to do it…I heard him when I was on the tower that night, y’know.”
“You-you saw me?”
“C’mon, just go and I’ll explain, ‘kay?”
Draco obeyed and walked on with Potter’s hands still guiding him. He knew he should be bothered by it, but really, it made him feel relaxed. His heart, however, began racing again as the tomb came closer in view. He couldn’t believe he was once supposed to murder this man, the man who lay beneath all this marble…
“His tomb…” trailed Draco, noticing the careless chips and cracks on the surface of the marble from the head to the foot. “What happened?”
“Voldemort broke into it to get the Elder Wand,” answered Potter, retrieving said wand from his pocket. “But it was never his in the first place.”
Draco watched Potter use the wand to lift up the wrappings, revealing the corpse of Albus Dumbledore. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t help but study the almost peaceful form of his previous headmaster. It was like the old man was sleeping, still with the half-mooned spectacles perched on his crooked nose and his hands folded together on his chest. Draco should have been frightened or mortified, but he felt nothing, nothing at all. He glanced to his side at Potter, noticing a tear slip down Potter’s cheek as he placed the Elder Wand between Dumbledore’s hands. Potter clasped Dumbledore’s fingers tightly around it before taking out his own wand to replace the wrappings.
“Reparo!” he whispered, aiming the wand at the tomb. It gradually became whole again, as if no one had disturbed it at all. The tomb glowed with reddish, fiery sparks, sealing itself for good. And then the sparks vanished and it was silent once more.
Potter let the cloak drape over them heavily as he took his glasses off to wipe his eyes furiously. Draco took that Potter didn’t really cry that often. He never liked to either, but they were only human. He also knew how close Potter had been to Dumbledore and felt a bit guilty for holding it against him for so many years. Draco didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at the tomb, listening to Potter sniffle for a few moments.
“Thanks,” Potter finally said to him, his eyes still fixed on the tomb as well. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Sure,” was all Draco could say.
“I didn’t want Ron or Hermione to come with me,” explained Potter, using his sleeve to wipe his eyes again before pushing his glasses back on. “They still can’t believe it…about the Elder Wand. They thought I was mental or something.”
Draco nodded, waiting for Potter to go on. From the sound of it, perhaps Potter was going mental after all. It seemed to fit, what with all the rubbish he kept rambling on about. Draco had no idea what to make out of Potter’s odd behaviour.
“You remember when I said that you were the true master of the Elder Wand, back in the Great Hall?”
“Yes. What about it? Honestly, that made no-”
“You disarmed Dumbledore when you tried to kill him,” continued Potter, touching the white marble with his fingers. “That made you the next master of the Elder Wand because its magic shifted to you. It was meant for Snape…Snape was supposed to get to Dumbledore first so he could be the next master.”
“There was…a vow,” Draco told him tensely. “I-I had to…”
“I know. But still, it happened to work out in the end. Voldemort was too stupid to realise his mistake, so he killed Snape anyway, thinking he was the master when it had always been you. That’s what I meant when I told him earlier.”
Draco could feel himself tremble at the mention of Snape’s death. The man had done everything to keep Draco safe and alive, even though he had to devote a large portion of his time at Hogwarts. He had gone back to Hogwarts too, of course, but Draco always had occasional notes permitting him to leave the grounds to return to the manor. And it was during those times Draco had been afraid, what with the Dark Lord lurking in his home. But at Hogwarts, Snape promised safety. And even though the man had been quite despicable all through last year, he had made sure to complete the Unbreakable Vow just so Draco wouldn’t die. But Snape still died anyway, and it almost seemed it was all for nothing.
“Hey…”
He could feel Potter put an arm around him, and Draco closed his eyes at the touch. It almost felt like his mother trying to comfort him, a silent way to assure him that everything was going to be okay. But this was Harry Potter, and Draco didn’t know why he was trying to make him feel better. They were adversaries, and adversaries did not console each other like this. They were supposed to leave each other to die. Yet they were both alive and they were both standing under an Invisibility Cloak while their friends and family were worried sick because they were nowhere to be found.
“Look at me,” muttered Potter roughly, his fingers digging into Draco’s shoulder.
Draco did, meeting the gaze of bright green eyes, eyes that were trying to search for something. He swallowed the lump forming within his throat, observing the lightening bolt scar on Potter’s forehead before looking into his eyes again. Potter was trying to reach out to him, trying to tell him something Draco didn’t understand, but then again, he had never understood Potter at all.
“People might not think about it,” started Potter, “but you actually became a good help in this war. I know you were with the Death Eaters. I know Voldemort made you torture people, and I’m sure he made you watch him do the same. Yeah, it was me at your manor, which I’m sure you figured out long before I grabbed for your wand, but why? Why didn’t you just hand me in?”
“You’re not serious, are you?”
“Yeah, I am. I want to know why.”
“I didn’t want him to come…the Dark Lord,” confessed Draco after a moment. He looked away from Potter as he stared into the distance, watching the reflection of trees within the lake. “I didn’t want him in the manor again. Of course, that didn’t matter when you escaped, but still. It was obviously you, Potter, with that scar, and the hair. Why else would Granger and Weasley be there too? They were with you, so the Prophet said.”
“Nothing more?”
“I…don’t know. I didn’t…I wasn’t sure if I really wanted him to kill you. The man was a bastard, mind you.”
Potter said nothing as he pulled the cloak tighter around them.
“Why can’t I have my wand back now?” asked Draco, changing the subject. “You said I could after you gave me an explanation, which wasn’t a bloody good one either.”
“About that. What did Ollivander tell you when you first bought your wand?”
“That was seven years ago! Why is that important? Mother was the one who dragged me into his shop after I bought my robes! She might as well have been the one who picked the bloody thing for me-”
“That was the day we met,” said Potter slowly, flushing slightly. “At Madam Malkin’s.”
“It was,” agreed Draco in realisation. “Interesting.”
“Um…yeah. With wands…the wand chooses the wizard. I reckon Ollivander mentioned that to you. And…well, when I grabbed yours, I was able to use it. Wands can switch their allegiances.”
“As you kindly mentioned regarding the Elder Wand, which I was not aware of.”
Potter pulled Draco closer and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Promise to keep a secret, and I’ll tell you how to get your wand back.”
“For Merlin’s sake!” shouted Draco irritably. “Stop playing bloody games and give it here already!”
“If you’re going to be like that, then no,” replied Potter, pulling out Draco’s wand from his robes. “Maybe I should just keep yours then. And then you can have mine? Or maybe I’ll keep both just in-”
Shuffling under the cloak, Draco stomped on Potter’s foot, grasping the hawthorn wand with his fingers and snatching it quickly when Potter loosened his grip. He could feel the magic warming around his hand before it traveled through his arm. Finally, Draco had it back and it was his wand once again.
“Hey! That was cheating!” mumbled Harry stubbornly. “I was going to tell you how to-whatever. Naturally, you can get it back by force. I reckon that worked?”
“It did,” drawled Draco smugly, pocketing the wand. “So if you’ll excuse me-”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“So you don’t want to know the secret?” inquired Harry curiously.
“Well, I figured out how to get my wand back, despite all the rubbish you’ve been trying to tell me,” responded Draco coolly, shaking Potter’s arm off of him. “My mother and father are running all over the school for me, and I’m sure Weasley and Granger are having heart attacks because they can’t find you.”
“Shite!” cursed Potter, slipping his wand away. “I forgot about them!”
“I take you prefer my company better then?”
Potter blushed at that, determined not to look Draco in the eye. He took one last look at Dumbledore’s tomb before pulling Draco’s sleeve so they could walk back to the castle.
“The Deathly Hallows,” muttered Potter simply, trudging alongside Draco. “That’s what saved me, saved everyone.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve heard of the story, haven’t you? About the Peverell brothers, three men who are stopped by Death-”
“The Tale of Three Brothers, you mean? Who hasn’t heard about that story?”
“I didn’t know about it. But it’s a true story. It all exists.”
“Right.”
“Really, it does! We’re using one right now, one of the weapons…the Hallows.”
Draco stopped, grabbing Potter by his robes. Potter staggered back into him, getting them tangled up under the material of the cloak. “This…your Invisibility Cloak? It’s one of them?”
“One of the Hallows that Death gave to the youngest brother,” confirmed Potter, giving Draco a weak smile and fixing the cloak so they could walk again. “The Elder Wand is something Death also gave away, something you and I got to use for a bit, and now it’ll rest with Dumbledore.”
“And the stone?”
“The Resurrection Stone exists too. It brought back everyone who has died for me, though I can’t tell you where it is now.”
“And the Dark Lord never knew?”
“No.”
For Potter to have all that power, to overcome Death…
“You are the master of Death then?”
Potter grinned wider. “Yeah. Who would have thought?”
Draco had no words to reply to that. He could see they were making their way toward the front of the castle, through the open doors and into the entrance hall. The strong scent of blood began to fill his nostrils again and the moaning of those crying over the dead could be heard, as well as the screams of a few more Death Eaters, the last of them falling to the ground. Victory had been achieved, but for a very big price. Draco could barely make out Weasley and Granger in the vast distance of the Great Hall, both clinging onto each other in sorrow. That was when Draco nudged Potter with an elbow.
“You better get out there. You’re already making Weasley and Granger cry again.”
Potter just rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Go to the corner…no, over there so no one will see us.”
“No one can see us, you idiot.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know! Keep moving! You don’t want to scare everyone off!”
They weaved their way around people as they reached an isolated corner near the stairway that led to the dungeons. Potter pulled the cloak off him and Draco, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“That’s one thing I hate about this,” commented Potter, draping the cloak on his arm. “It’s a bit small. And it always gets hot underneath after a while.”
Though Draco knew what Potter meant, he could feel his cheeks burning and he chose to look at the stone they were standing on, just to avoid Potter’s gaze. He could feel the eyes piercing into him anyway, and it seemed like forever before Potter broke the silence again.
“Well…I-see you, I guess.”
“Potter,” began Draco as soon as he saw Potter turning away to walk back to the Great Hall.
“It’s Harry.”
“What?”
“Call me Harry, yeah? We’ve outgrown surnames a while ago.”
“Alright, Harry. It’s just…”
Harry came closer to Draco, a puzzled expression visible on his face. Actually, it might have been one of concern if Draco looked closely. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Why did you tell me? About the story?”
Harry licked his lips as he ran his fingers through his untidy hair. Then he beckoned for Draco to lean toward him. Draco did, shivering when he felt Harry’s warm, moist breath against his face.
“You didn’t question it,” Harry murmured. “I knew you would believe it. Believe me. About the truth not many people will hear for a good while.”
“Surely, you told Weasley and Granger?”
“Yeah, but it was just a fairytale to them.”
“I see,” was Draco’s reply before he moved away from the stairs.
“Draco!”
He didn’t expect Harry to come running toward him, crushing him into a hug. It was awkward, being all sweaty and grimy in torn robes, having a boy he once hated clutching onto him as if he were his friend. They weren’t friends or enemies now, Draco decided as he reached around to hug Harry back. But if this was what Harry wanted, well, it would have to do. Draco wasn’t sure if he would ever see him again, which was a bit unnerving, so he let Harry rest his head against his shoulder and held him close. This was something he never had with anyone else, not even with Pansy or his mother. And it was the happiest Draco had ever felt as long as he could remember.
“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re not that bad, for a Malfoy.”
And then Harry let go and with the swish of the cloak, he disappeared. Draco walked into the entrance hall, dodging people here and there, and now it really didn’t matter because no one was paying attention to him. He saw Harry reemerge into the Great Hall, running towards his friends and hugging them both. Draco watched for a while before closing his eyes and tapping his wand onto his head. It felt as if an egg had been cracked, its yolk dripping down his face, onto his shoulders and when he looked down, he could only see the faint outline of himself. He saw Harry stare directly at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry quickly turned back though, as if nothing happened.
That was Draco’s cue to walk away, wand in hand. At least something turned out right. So he walked on, anywhere and everywhere, hiding for a little longer before looking for his parents. This was the way things were supposed to be. And for once, Draco accepted this as fact.
~~~~~
Harry was sure his life would never be the same, now that Voldemort was gone. Part of him was relieved, but the rest of him had no idea what was in store for his future. He had sacrificed everything to save the world, but what was he supposed to do now? Harry had taken the offer of living at the Burrow temporarily, due to the Weasleys’ insistence. Though he should have been happy, he was not. He was still blaming himself for all of those who died. Of course, people looked up to him now as their number one hero, but he had never cared for the title. It was because of him that their world had been nearly wrecked.
It was still nice to be with his friends, and finally spend time with Ginny. Ginny had waited for Harry, though he wasn’t sure why. She had given him a full-out snog when they sought for each other in the Great Hall only days ago, to the delight of many. He was still careful not to snog her in public after that, unless he wanted to deal with Ron’s wrath. But really, what did that say about his relationship with Ginny? What was it really? She was good enough to be Harry’ own sister, but he cared about her a lot. Harry had saved her life once, when that bloody diary had possessed her.
But he had also saved Ron and Mr. Weasley. Did that mean they owed him life debts too? It seemed ridiculous; with all the people he had saved, Harry did it because it was the right thing. They were his only family, and family was something Harry valued. Losing Fred had been bad enough for everyone. He was glad he did what he could, for the people who accepted him as their own, despite their bloodlines. Really, it seemed silly if they were obligated to do anything else for him in return. They had already risked their lives just to fight with him.
This life debt stuff was difficult to figure out, with Harry being the one to decide upon each and every one of them. Harry sat back on his bed in the messy bedroom he was still sharing with Ron. He chuckled at the thought of how Ron had tricked the Ministry with a ghoul dressed in his pyjamas, lying in the very room. He did it to help Harry on the Horcrux trip. That meant a lot, for Ron and Hermione to ditch their families and education for him. That was loyalty. Harry was beyond grateful for befriending these two on the train seven years ago.
“You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort,” he suddenly heard a voice ring within his ears. “I can help you with that.”
Draco. How could he forget? What would have happened if Harry had befriended Draco instead? It was strange, having his mind dwell upon a boy he surely wasn’t going to see again, not with the Malfoys alive. They wouldn’t care for Draco to do anything else, once he was out of Hogwarts, if the school were to reopen again. But what would Draco do? Harry never really knew him at all during their school years, and having Draco accompany him to Dumbledore’s tomb was the closest they have ever been to having a real conversation. But it hadn’t been about themselves…just the war. Would life debts change even though they never really gotten on with each other?
It shouldn’t have mattered so much to Harry, but somehow, the debts between him and Draco seemed more demanding than those of the Weasleys. Harry felt himself drifting off, his head resting against the wall as his eyes began to shut. He could hear Ron’s loud snores as he just sat there, the moonlight illuminating his shoulder and the clothes scattered all over the floor. It felt nice, not having to worry about someone trying to kill him for once. Harry felt in control, that he could do anything, which was a feeling he hadn’t had since he found out he was a wizard.
Sleep was really getting to him though, since there was so much sleep he had to catch up on for being on the move for so long. Harry could feel himself slouching, his feet touching the ground as he began sliding off the bed, his almost completely closed until there was a sharp tap on the window.
“What the…”
Harry jerked himself awake, turning to stare at the eagle owl glaring haughtily at him. There was a roll of parchment tied to its leg and it kept pecking on the glass until Harry let it in.
“Shhh…stop! You’ll wake Ron up!”
The owl simply blinked before biting his finger. Harry cursed under his breath, sucking on the cut as he used his other hand to hastily untie the message. The owl glared at him once more before flying out of the open window toward the full moon.
“Damn it,” grumbled Harry, shaking his finger and then opening his message. He barely caught sight of the large ‘M’ on the seal as he broke through the wax. He flattened the parchment on his bed, skimming it before stopping to reread it again.
I saved your life once. You saved his life twice, it has been said. And though we are the persons who may decide what debts should require, I request your help to find my son. No trace of him can be found around the manor, nor anywhere else. I should hope that a saviour like yourself should play his role once more.
Narcissa Malfoy
Just when he was starting to forget about life debts, here was one before him, presented to Harry on a silver platter. He could take it and live up to his name as the Boy-Who-Lived, or leave it be as if nothing happened. But he couldn’t leave it, because that would be unjust. He owed it to Narcissa, and to Draco. If Harry could save Draco one more time…but that was the problem. Where exactly was Draco?