It ain't yours to throw away
The abysmal days that trailed after the life-changing episode of The Final Battle were soul destroying, heart breaking and all consuming. A myriad of people were rehabilitated; a myriad of people were warped into pitiful, broken people. Lives re-written or wiped away for eternity. And what are we? But broken shadows of the past: searching, struggling and stripped of secrets as we find our way out of the darkness.
He was crawling through the motions, grasping for some semblance for normality after the fall of the Dark Lord and coming to terms with his betrayal to the people who fought for the right side, heroes who fought for him when he didn't deserve it. It's a shame he cannot expel and will never redeem. It's also a bittersweet relief; he is free from the tyranny and oppression, but he cannot escape the throws of his own self-hatred and disgust. For this very reason, every mirror in his desolate house is smashed beyond repair, irreparably broken; just like him.
Sometime after the reformation of the Ministry of Magic- days, weeks, Draco couldn't de sure – everyone present for the final battle were called to the Ministry to enter into the repetitive process of recounting every horrific moment. Something Draco could seriously do without. Why was it necessary to put everyone through this torturous experience? What more do they want from them? He didn't know if he had anything else to give; he was merely an empty husk, damaged beyond repair.
This is why he finds himself self stepping out of the fireplace in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic, eyes carefully averted from the curious and hateful gazes of the other survivors. That's how Draco sees it, they were all survivors of an unimaginable darkness, which strove to consume and subjugate. He wasn't sure if he was grateful to be a survivor; he wasn't sure whether he deserved to have been saved.
The grief in every haunted pair of eyes was suffocating and heart wrenching, yet it united them even though he was beyond the realms of deserving to be united with these people.
"We few, we happy few" mumbled words tumbled over his cracked lips before he even realised he had thought them.
"We band of brothers." It was barely a whisper, which meant the owner of the voice must have been stood very close for Draco to hear the sorrowful words so clearly. There was a gentle twist deep in the tortured crevices of his heart.
"I didn't have you down as a fan of Shakespeare, Potter" he didn't have any fight left in him. How could he even begin to look for trouble when he had no right to? Without his usual air of arrogance, he sounded defeated and irrevocably ruined; he knew it, he couldn't muster the courage to look back at Harry and the burning, prickly barbs of shame built within him.
Sadness seeped through Harry's very being as sighed, truly troubled on some unfathomable level. "I think it would be safe to say that we know very little about each other" the silence was deafening as Harry's brow furrowed in thought, shaking his head and looking upon him with tired eyes, he added "Draco" to the end of his sentence.
Worn-out eyes turned to meet Harry's weary gaze "why? Why did you save me, both times? You should have just let me die in that fire; I shouldn't have let you save me. I don't deserve this second chance. Not after-" he stopped before he reached an even more pitiful pitch, his voice had already broken during his confession. His eyes clamped shut. It was not befitting of a Malfoy… but then again, he wasn't sure what was anymore. What's in a name? Groaning internally, he waited for Harry's confession that he knows he shouldn't have saved him too.
"It ain't yours to throw away; life is a fragile and precious thing bestowed upon us, so many people lost theirs in this cruel time." Dead grey eyes snapped to meet warm emerald, surprise written in every crease of Draco's expression. "I have lost so many people in my life, death has stolen too much form me and I refuse to let him snatch everyone from my life. Even my sworn enemy" his lips quirked into a shadow of a smile; it was easy to miss in the blink of an unsuspecting eye. But Draco caught it.
"Harry" a soft, gentle plea, uttered like a litany. "How do I even begin to look for forgiveness? For the damage I have caused, the hurt I have inflicted? I don't know how to move beyond that."
"This. This is how you start; no matter how people respond to you, you keep seeking forgiveness. Just, maybe stay away from the Weasleys for now. That can come later, for now, they need to rally together to get through their grief. Be honest and accept all consequences. I can't promise that people will accept you, forgive you. Who knows what will happen."
"Do you?" There was a child-like plea in his voice, a soft hint of hope in his eyes, shrouded by suspicion and unease, but Harry recognized it nonetheless.
"Do I what, Draco?" It was maybe an unfair game to be playing, but Harry felt Draco needed to be more accepting of his faults, if he expected Harry to forgive him- if he even expected it, who knew with Draco these days- then he had to have the guts to say it properly. He wouldn't get anywhere with pathetic, half meant words.
"Argh-" Draco caught himself short, before he fell into disastrous old patterns in defense of his precious ego. "Do you forgive me Harry?"
"No. I don't." His words stole the breath from Draco, as though he had punched him in the gut. Gasping a shuddering gulp of air, he stumbled back a few paces. He didn't know what he expected, but that hurt more than it should have and he scrambled against his automatic responses learnt from years of self-preservation and fear.
"Harry! Come on, we are late for our appointment with the Inquisitor!" Hermione's voice echoed across the busy lobby, her eyes carefully assessing the two boys as the stood staring at each other.
Harry turned to face her, holding a hand apologetically in the air and mouthing, "I'll be right there!" quickly meeting the shattered grey orbs, he sighed, half raised his hand as if to touch Draco's shoulder and then let it drop at the last second. "I don't forgive you, Draco, because I think that you did the best that you could do in a shit situation. You did what you could to protect your family, you made some absolutely horrendous and abhorrent decisions, but I think in some messed up way I understand. The things I'd be willing to do if I could have saved my parents, Sirius, if I could go back- well, let's just say I know that feeling, like you're going to loose everything, and I get it. I know that life is way too short and cruel, so Draco, I have nothing to forgive you for. You made the right choice in the end. You couldn't do the unspeakable things that he expected of you and you chose the light. No one is innocent after this war."
With one last, small genuine smile, Harry was swept away in the folds of his black traveling cloak, rushing to catch up with his companions. Relief coursed through Draco's veins, and he released a breath he never realised he had been holding until little spots of light danced over his vision and his hands were shaking. Although, whether that was from the lack of oxygen or the promise of a brighter future, given by Harry's words and smile, Draco would never know. He didn't really want to think too much on the matter; there are only so many old habits he can break in one day and over whelming gratitude for his once sworn enemy was making his mind swirl. For the first time in a very long and painful time, Draco felt the slight hint of the light at the end of the tragic, life-altering tunnel.
If Harry could accept him, forgive him, then maybe others could too? Even the blasted Weasleys… One step at a time though, eh? He was making the right steps towards piecing back the shattered pieces of his soul, but he wasn't a miracle worker. After all, some traits are deep seated and unchangeable; There are only so many Operah moments he can handle.