WARNING! SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

Summary: Sometimes things happen that change a person's life. There are certain events that cannot leave a person unchanged. Draco Malfoy had one of those nights. Spoilers for DH.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, JKR does, you know the deal.

Author's Note: Just a little ficlet that popped into my head after finishing Deathly Hallows, way back on July 21st, and I finally got courageous enough to post it now. JK didn't seem write enough Draco in the end, so I dashed this off. Remember, reviews are love.

Hope For You Yet

The noise in the Great Hall was deafening. People were running around, laughing, screaming, and hugging each other until they were blue in the face. Finally, the darkness over the world was lifted, the threat expelled. Harry Potter had done what many had feared he would not be able to do; he killed Voldemort.

But amid the noise, there were three people huddled together, unsure of what to do, where they belonged, and ignored by all. Three shocks of hair so blond that it was almost white were pressed close together, their three voices mere whispers amongst the din.

"But…but…I don't understand," hissed the youngest of the three, his grey eyes jumping from his mother to his father.

Narcissa, his mother, quietly draped an arm around him. "Draco, if you died what good would winning have done?"

"But what happened to…everything you taught me?" His voice was shaky and slightly high-pitched; he still feared someone would find him, take him away and lock him up in Azkaban.

Lucius looked away, his mouth a thin line drawn in pain. When he spoke, his words came slowly and awkwardly. "If the Dark Lord's success meant your death your mother and I would have no part of it." He sounded torn, as if the life of his son just barely won over the beliefs that he had held his whole life.

Draco turned from his father, his mind whirling with contradicting thoughts. Everything he had ever been taught, everything he had ever believed, was now in question. His whole life he had built a wall around him, preserving his pureblood dignity and name. But in the course of one night it was all crashing down around him, the hard bricks raining down and shattering into pieces beyond repair. "So does this mean that everything has been a lie?"

"Of course not!" Snapped Lucius loudly, so loudly that everyone around them jumped and stared in shock. After glaring them down, he bent to his son and whispered, "Nothing can change the fact that we're pureblood."

He stared at his father, lines of confusion drawn upon his face. "But if it isn't a lie, than aren't we traitors?"

"No, we're not." Narcissa grabbed his son's shoulders, turning him towards her and she leered at her husband. "We are just surviving, for each other."

"Wouldn't we still be…blood traitors? Or are we just cowards?" His questions came slowly, but not because of fear. His brow furrowed in concentration, his grey eyes bright, he had the look of someone just beginning to understand.

His parents glanced at each other, both fearing to look at their son. Sure they still believed in all that they had stood for, it just wasn't something worth dying for. They had to be practical about things, dying got them nowhere. "Listen Draco," said Lucius, "we are not cowards, we are survivors."

"So we're right back where we started, then?"

"Yes, but we're alive! And free!"

Draco shook his hand slowly, as if trying to shake his thoughts into some sort of order. "It doesn't work, we can't be both." Lucius grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing him in warning, trying to tell him that he shouldn't follow that train of thought any farther. A sudden, inexplicable, wave of revulsion surging through him, Draco wrenched himself out of his father's grasp. "Don't touch me!"

Lucius withdrew his hand as if burned, staring at his son with open shock on his normally empty features. Draco was staring down at his knuckles, trying to calm the rage of emotions that threatened to overtake him, he who had learned to feel nothing, to expect nothing, to be a passive tool to do the bidding of others. Or at least tried to.

He was confused, not understanding how he was supposed to believe in one thing but act upon another. He was indignant in understanding, now knowing that what he had been taught was not the complete truth, if it was even truth at all. He was scared, not knowing if these moments were a brief reprieve stolen before the punishment came. But most of all, he was curious. If there was one thing he could have at that moment, it would be the knowledge of what his life had been about, the truth and the lies. And most importantly, what was left that could rise from the ashes.

"You're wrong, Father," Draco said, his voice calm and devoid of any emotion. "We cannot be the same as we were before all this happened. At least I can't be." His voice had risen from a whisper, now loud and sure. "Either we believed as we believed, and we fall with the remaining Death Eaters, or we learn that we were mistaken and create new lives with those who were right all along. We cannot be both. That would be a lie and an impossibility."

When he finished speaking, he did not notice that his father glared at the back of his hate with a strange mixture of shock and anger, while his mother burst into tears, proud of her son. Nor did he notice that all who could hear him had fallen into awed silence, creating a calm bubble hidden in the noise. Nor did he notice that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, stood not five feet behind him, a look of triumph in his shocking green eyes.

What Draco did notice was that the storm inside had calmed a great deal. Gone was the confusion, the indignation, and the fear. All that remained was the curiosity, his eyes bright like that of a child first seeing the world, wanting to know why, and believing that life was good. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest, a weight that had been slowly suffocating him since he was born. "You're wrong, Father," he continued suddenly, his mind still racing down paths previously forbidden. "If the Muggle-Borns are as inferior as we believed, than why are they right, and we wrong? Why did we follow the will of a madman, while they fought against him? Why did we kill, torture, and humiliate for no reason but our own perverted amusement, while they did not? Maybe…" he paused suddenly, realizing what he was about to say.

"Maybe what, Malfoy?" Harry said.

Draco spun around, surprised to see Harry standing there, and was even more surprised to see the gleam in his eyes. "Maybe blood really doesn't matter."

Harry inclined his head ever so slightly, acknowledging Draco's victory over his former self. The gesture was a smile, a salute, infused with forgiveness and understanding. Raising his head, Harry said with a small smile, "Took you long enough."

Smirking, Draco responded, "Shove it, Potter."

"Maybe we should talk," Harry said, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate that he meant talk alone. Draco merely nodded, rising and following Harry out of the Great Hall and into a quieter corridor, leaving his shocked parents behind. Once they were alone, Harry whirled around and pulled a wand, ten inches long, made of hawthorn and containing a single unicorn hair. "I believe that this is yours."

Reaching out, Draco snatched the wand from Harry's hand, tearing it from him in a violent gesture. Wrapping his fingers around it, he felt a familiar tingle and warmth surge up his arm. It felt like he regained use of a paralyzed limb, or like a part of him long thought dead was returned to life. "You are correct, this is mine." Rolling the wand in his fingers, he looked up to Harry, a question dancing on his tongue, a question he did not wish to ask. Finally, it was torn from his lips. "Potter, you saved my life, why?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by the question; he thought the answer was obvious. "Believe me Malfoy, it's not because I like you," He joked. But he saw the burning look in Draco's grey eyes, and it made Harry take a step back in fear.

"Why?"

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and raised himself to full height, which was just shorter than Draco, and met his intense gaze. "I couldn't just let you die. I knew that you weren't evil, just stupid, and decided that maybe you could use a second chance."

"I see," said Draco softly. It was the tone in which it was uttered that said it all; Harry knew it was the closest thing to a Thank You that he would ever get out of Malfoy. But still, he was grateful, even if he didn't seem to know the proper way of expressing it, and that is what convinced Harry that he had done the right thing.

"So what will happen to my parents?"

Harry shrugged, "Your father will probably still be sent to Azkaban, but for a lesser term that some of the others. But I'll do what I can to keep you and your mother out. Neither of you have earned that."

Draco grunted to acknowledge Harry's response. Both were unsure of what to say next. Now that this was settled, an awkward silence grew, so thick that it was nearly smothering them. Even though this night had thought both of them new things about the other, there was just too much in their past. Too many wrongs, on both their parts, for anything even close to friendship to grow. Instead, all they had a reluctant respect, and a smidgen of growing admiration.

Harry knew what it took Draco to reach the point where he was. He realized that he had gone against his entire past, redefined his every belief, and had now thrown himself headfirst into an entirely new kind of life. And he could respect that.

Draco realized that when Harry had saved his life that night, Harry had taken a leap of faith for him. Harry could have easily let him die, both those times. He was not obligated to risk himself, but yet he had done so. Knowing that even Harry Potter, the boy who he had made his life's mission to defeat, saw a glimmer of hope in him, did more for his confidence than anything anyone else could ever do. For that, though they could never be friends, Draco could admire –he couldn't believe he was about to admit this, even to himself-Harry Potter.

"So Potter, see you around." Draco spun on his heel, not waiting for Harry's response. He didn't see the smile on Harry's face, nor hear his soft chuckle. Instead, he plunged back into the noise of the Great Hall, were he was assaulted by sight and sound. Weaving through the hubbub, he bypassed his parents, who huddled together fearfully, whispering. His mother appeared to be pleading with Lucius, who watched her with eyes of stone.

Instead of returning to them, there would be time enough later, he searched for one face, the face of one he knew he had seriously wronged. Sitting alone, she watched the others celebrate with a smile on her face, knowing that the battle had finally been won.

Two years ago, in his fifth year, Draco had sudden taken notice of Andrea Allerdyce, a Ravenclaw, and a Mudblood. He had sneered at her in the halls, remarking that such a body was a waste on a Mudblood, but watched her in the classroom, amazed by her wit. He screamed that she was a waste of life, yet wished she would look at him. And look at him she did. She confronted him one evening in an empty classroom, showing much more insight than he had believed possible. She forced him to open his eyes for the first time in his life, had challenged his blindly held beliefs. Furious, he ran from her that night, leaving her staring smugly after him. The next night, he sought her again, starting another row, and then fleeing from her. This had gone on for months, giving her another glimpse into him with each meeting, though he did not realize it. Over time, their meetings became less heated, and for the first and perhaps only time, someone was able to understand Draco Malfoy.

No, they had not been friends, not in the conventional sense. Rather, they came together like two prospectors, wanting to understand the other, searching for values and vices. No, they weren't really friends, but they could have been. But then Draco had to go and ruin it all. After months of showing Andrea that he was more than a spoiled, ignorant, Slytherin Prince, he gave a public display of his bigotry, with her as the target. She didn't cry, she didn't run, she just stood there calm and proud until he ran out of steam, staring at her impassive face. "Is that what you really think?" was all that she said, and the cold stare of her hazel eyes cut him far deeper than his empty words had hurt her.

Since that day she had neither talked to him nor acknowledged his presence. That more that anything hurt him. Once in his life someone saw past what he was and instead saw what he could be and he ruined it. From that time on he never felt comfortable when she was around, though he did not know why. Tonight he did.

"Andrea," he said softly when he came beside her, "I was wrong."

She scoffed, her hard blue eyes not once looking at him. "Really?" Her voice was cold as ice, her posture tense. Draco looked away, knowing that what he said could not erase what he had done. "I heard what you said earlier." He looked up at her stern profile, not quite believing what he was hearing. "If you truly meant what you said, there is hope for you yet."

He grabbed her chin, turning her head so that her eyes locked with his. She met his hard gaze with equal strength, showing no fear or hope, only arching one slim eyebrow. "I did mean it."

Holding his eyes, Andrea let her mouth slip into a small half-smile. "I know you did."

Releasing her, he let himself look at the still ongoing celebrations. He knew he still had a lot to learn, but this night had changed his life. His posture was taut, his chin raised and his gaze strong. This dawn was a new beginning.

Epilogue:

Draco went on to restore the Malfoy name to respectability. His father, Lucius, spent a five year jail term in Azkaban. To this day Lucius refuses to renounce his former beliefs, but no longer forces them upon others. His mother, Narcissa, remained at Malfoy Manor and now lives with Lucius, and refrains from expression her opinions on the purity of blood.

Draco went on to finish his final year of Hogwarts under the new Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. After taking his NEWTs, he became an Auror, hoping to earn penance for his past deeds but putting his first hand knowledge to use in capturing Dark Wizards. He works under Harry and has frequent interaction with both him and Ron Weasly, who is also an Auror, and Hermione Granger, who works with Magical Law Enforcement. To this day the grudging respect remains, though they have been unable to actually become friends.

Andrea Allerdyce came to forgive him, and after two years of courtship, agreed to be his wife, much to Lucius' displeasure. Their first and only child, Scorpius Harold Malfoy, was born six years later.

Andrea stood by Draco's side that September first morn when they wished young Scorpius good luck during his first year at Hogwarts, where he would be with Albus Potter and Rose Weasly. Though he could never be more than an acquaintance with the Golden Trio, he wished his son would be smarter he was, and would have the luck he never had.

All was well.