"Do your heroics never end, Potter?" Malfoy spat, whipping around to glare at the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, his gloved hand (expensive dragonhide gloves, Harry suspected) tightened on his wand.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Harry replied, trying his hardest to keep his tone calm. There was always something about the blond git before him that got to his nerves. A civil conversation just didn't appear possible.

"You always step in, always appear when people need saving. I didn't need your help that day, Potter, or any other day! I can take care of myself."

"Even that day in the Room of Requirment?" Harry regreted the words as soon as he'd said them. The look on Malfoy's face was one of horror, pain, and hurt. It was the lowest hit Harry could have given, and he was an arse for using it.

Malfoy's features hardened, "Yes, well, I suppose you regret coming back for me. It was stupid and foolish. I would have left you." He turned on heel, walking away from Harry as gracefully as he ever walked.

Harry felt something twist inside him at the sight of Malfoy walking away from him, walking away from this fight, away from the possibility of resolving years of issue, and out of Harry's life, probably forever. It was with that thought that the something grew, and Harry heard himself let out a choking sob. The sound was pathetic, broken, but it had achieved a greater goal - Malfoy turned around, eyebrow raised in question.

Tears flowed down Harry's face (he wasn't even sure why he was crying) but it was enough to make Malfoy's eyes grow wide, giving Harry a chance to walk forward, leaving only inches between them when he finally came to a stop. "I don't regret saving you. I-I never have, and never will."

"Then you are foolish, Potter," Malfoy looked away, focusing on the wall at he spoke instead of Harry. "I don't need saving-"

"This isn't about saving you!" Harry barked, causing Malfoy to jump and look at him curiously, "I know you're tough enough to save yourself. This is about saving me." When he finished talking, his own eyes grew wide. He hadn't expected to say that, but now that he had, he felt that it was right. He needed to feel normal, grounded, and Malfoy was the one person who did that to him. "You don't treat me like I'm about to break any second. Everyone else expects me too, says I've been through more than enough to justify a mental breakdown, but I didn't think I needed one. I don't need one. I'm fine. I'm alive, Voldemort is dead, and the world has nothing to fear. But... but I just, I don't-I don't know!"

Malfoy reached out, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. "How can you need saving, when you say that you are 'fine'?"

Harry's lip quivered, he was sure he was going to cry, but with Malfoy staring at him so intently, so eager to actually hear what Harry had to say, Harry knew he had to answer. He pushed aside the sob that wanted to escape and said, "I, I don't know. I have to be fine. Aside from cuts and bruises, nothing is wrong with me physically. I'm alive."

"But you shouldn't be."

Harry was frozen with those words. He stared, owl eyed, as he spoke. "No. No, I shouldn't be. I had meant to die. I fully intended to die. I didn't raise my wand in defense, I didn't try and move out of the way. I was dead. But I'm not. I'm here, right now. And... and it feels wrong." Harry had turned his head to the side, unable to stand Malfoy's piercing gaze. But the Malfoy heir wouldn't give Harry the advantage of being able to compose himself.

"Survivors guilt."

"More than that!" Harry pulled himself from Malfoy's grasp, now angry. "Why was I able to survive the Killing Curse when no one else did? Why was I allowed to come back when no one else got to? My purpose is done, so why am I still here?"

Silence filled the corridor as the meaning of Harry's words sunk in to both boy's minds. "Well, isn't the point of living to find new purposes. New reasons?"

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I, uh," he licked his lips, searching for words, "I just... I don't know anymore! What is my purpose now that Voldemort is gone. I was the Boy-Who-Lived. The only one able to defeat him, and now... now what?"

Malfoy's upper lip went up, as if in disgust. "Shouldn't you be discussing this with your Gryffindork friends? I could care less what happens in your future, and I certainly don't care about your issue of living or dying. I didn't care either way it happened."

Harry sucked in a breath, the hurt of Malfoy's words showing on his face. "Right. Fine." Harry offered a sad smile before turning and walking away. He got only a few feet down the corridor before Malfoy called after him.

"That's it! You're done already?"

"I'm done fighting, Malfoy. I can't continue," Harry replied, stopping though he didn't turn around.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Potter! What about feeling normal? Don't we normally fight? And if I don't pick a fight on you, aren't I just making your life too easy? Treating you like you're, of what was your wording, made of glass?"

Harry whipped around, "Enough, Malfoy!"

Malfoy's face held an odd expression. "What is it you truly want from me? You've been following me around here ever since we came back to finish this 'eighth' year thing, and that was three months ago! What. Do. You. Want?"

"Would you believe me if I asked for a second chance?"

A smile slowly graced Malfoy's lips as the second ticked on while Harry waited for an answer. "No, I wouldn't believe you." Harry couldn't explain it, but he felt his heart drop at those words, until Malfoy continued, "However, consider it your new purpose. Make me believe you. Make me give you that second chance. This could be a task that will occupy you for years, Potter, but I feel that my life debt to you owes payment."

Harry grinned, a lopsided smile that was more of a smile in his eyes than on his face. "Right. You're on, Malfoy. You'll be my friend one day."

Malfoy simply snorted, rolled his eyes, and walked away.

Harry was left alone in the corridor. "My purpose, hmm?"