Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the books, the movies, or any people, places, or things associated with the franchise. All of it belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
Note: This was written with the movies in mind. It wouldn't fit anywhere near as well into the books. It is meant to take place near the end of the final movie, when Harry makes his decision to meet his fate at the hands of Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. At the point in which this fanfic takes place, however, he hasn't left the castle grounds yet.
I appreciate all reviews!
Hope
Harry knew what he had to do. It was no clearer to him at any other point in his life than at that moment. He'd already said his awkward goodbyes to Hermione and Ron. He hadn't stopped for the others. They had enough to mourn without his own impending death looming over them. He was just crossing the courtyard when a voice nearly startled him out of his jeans.
"You're really going through with it?"
Harry, jumpy from everything that had been occurring for the past year, turned and pointed his wand straight at the young man who spoke. He blinked in surprise at who it was but didn't lower the wand.
"Oh sure, kill me with my own wand. I appreciate irony." Malfoy wasn't holding his mother's wand anymore, likely having lost it in the fire. Harry still didn't trust that he didn't have something up his sleeves, though, and narrowed his eyes.
"Why aren't you with your Deatheater friends? Too good for them now?"
Malfoy flinched, pushing a loose blond bang out of his soot-covered face. "Okay. I deserved that."
The wand held by the Boy Who Lived lowered an inch in surprise. "You did?"
As if catching himself, the sneer returned. "Don't sound so surprised, Potter. I can be wrong. I'm not saying that means I'm sorry."
Harry looked him up and down a moment before lowering the wand. "Even when you're trying to be humble, you sound like a git," he pointed out, rolling his eyes. "You wear modesty terribly."
"Malfoy family trait," the Slytherin almost sounded proud of this.
"You didn't answer my question."
The cheeky grin melted into a moody pout. "If you have to ask, then you obviously don't know the Dark Lord as well as you think. He'd crucify me for my failure."
"I figured that one. I meant before. I asked why you didn't turn me over to Bellatrix LeStrange."
"Oh. That." Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, not looking at him. "I, you know, couldn't be sure. Your face was all… puffy."
"Don't feed me that. You knew it was me. I could see it in your face."
"Look, can't you just let it go?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Why won't you answer?"
Malfoy pursed his lips closed at that point. Finally, after contemplating, he replied, "It's stupid." He didn't make eye-contact, staring at the ground.
"I'll judge that."
"You'll laugh."
"What if I do?"
"Look it's just that… when I saw your scar and knew it was you…"
"Yeah?"
"Maybe I felt…"
"Go on," Harry encouraged him.
Malfoy hesitated, for once looking like that which he truly was. A frightened teenager. Finally, though, he managed, "…hope."
Harry shut his mouth, staring at the young man who became his rival. Oft times his enemy. He couldn't count how many times he had wanted to shove the git's wand up his pointy, up-turned nose. But…
"You fought us. You let LeStrange do what she did to Hermione, just… just stood there."
"I know."
"And you chased us through that blasted Room of Requirement, could have killed us all."
"That wasn't-"
But Harry was on a roll. "You've spent the seven years I've known you tormenting us, two of those trying to kill us."
"I know. It's just… I just…"
"Just?"
Malfoy made a frustrated sound, sitting on a fallen sentinel's leg. "It's everything. It's Voldemort, and mother, and father, and…"
"And you don't know how to think for yourself?"
At this, Malfoy finally took offense. He drew back into himself, clasping his arms as if creating a shield between them. His silver eyes turned icy and cold. "Don't act like you know what I've been through!" he snapped. "You don't say no to the Dark Lord!"
"So you'd rather live a coward than die to protect someone?" Harry challenged.
"I was protecting someone!" He stood and began pacing the courtyard. "What did I have to fear? All I'd have to do was ask Professor Dumbledore for protection, and he'd have given it to me in a heartbeat. But… but who'd protect mother and father? Father is too proud not to follow the Dark Lord; he's so desperate to go back to how things were."
"What about your mother? She had to be afraid for your safety."
"She was. But again, I was here, for the most part safe. If she didn't keep an eye on father, who knows what could have happened." Malfoy smirked. "She even made Snape take that binding oath to make sure nothing happened to me. Mother will have his head when she hears what I've been through tonight."
Harry hesitated a moment. So Malfoy hadn't heard. It made sense, as Hermione, Ron, and himself were the only witnesses, but… despite his mocking tone, Harry knew the youngest Malfoy was fond of the Potions teacher.
"She won't get a chance. Snape… Professor Snape is gone."
Malfoy seemed to freeze, and what little color retained in his already naturally pale features drained away. He stared at Harry as if expecting him to reveal a cruel joke. "No…" he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "You… you're lying… you have to be…" When Harry didn't say anything, he grabbed the Boy Who Lived by the collar. "What happened? What did you do?"
It was Harry's turn to get angry. "I didn't do anything to him! Voldemort and his pet snake killed him; we couldn't do anything but watch!"
"Watch? So you just stood there while Professor Snape was… was…" He couldn't bring himself to say it. How could he? As much death and pain as he'd seen over the last few years, nothing compared to the shock of losing someone so close to him.
"What do you want us to have done? Stormed out of hiding, wands blazing? We would have been killed within seconds."
Malfoy ground his teeth together, biting back whatever response he wanted to make. He instead let the Boy Who Lived go, backing off and turning his back on him. "And yet here you are. Marching off to your own death, anyway. You're the craziest son of a bitch I've ever met."
Harry ignored the sniffing sound coming from the shaking teenager, looking away to give him at least some remnant of dignity. "Yeah, well, at some point you have to face the facts. I have to do the right thing, even if it's the hardest one."
"You really think that he'll leave the school alone if you throw your life away?"
"No. But I think this is the only way we can kill him."
"Some use it'll be if you're dead. Everyone knows you're the only one who can do it." Malfoy jumped as a hand connected with his shoulder. He looked back and his silver eyes met green ones as Harry smiled, hand squeezing his shoulder in assurance.
"As long as there's someone willing to stand up to him for what's right, there will always be hope. This school is full of people like that right now. I'm not a savior, or a bloody miracle worker. I'm just a boy whose parents were killed by a really bad person. Someone whose life was completely thrown to flack by someone who doesn't care about anyone but himself. Just like all the others in there. And I'm thinking, just like you."
Malfoy turned away again, sniffing in again. He used the sleeves of his shirt to wipe away at his eyes and cheeks, huffing loudly in the process. "Damned bunch of sentimental dreg, you ask me. What are you suggesting? I stay here with them? They hate me. Hell, I don't like most of them either."
"Maybe, but if you turn your back on the Death Eaters, they'll at least give you protection."
"Mother and father…"
"Will be fine. Once I'm dead and Voldemort is weakened, someone can finally kill him. Then everyone will be safe again, including your parents."
The other teenager bit his bottom lip, hesitating one last time. It was… foreign to him. Someone outside of his own family thinking about his safety. Helping him without provocation, threat, or something to gain from it. The only other who would do so willingly was Professor Snape. And he was… gone. After a moment more, he nodded curtly, looking at the ground. He felt like he was abandoning his parents to protect himself, but Harry was right. Perhaps the best thing to do right now was follow the Malfoy family way: Ensure your own safety and worry about others later. Because he was afraid. He was afraid of Voldemort, afraid of the other Death Eaters, afraid of death itself. He didn't want to fight anymore. He just wanted to go back inside the castle and feel safe again.
"I… I'll go in," Malfoy finally agreed. Not wanting to agree with his arch-rival without some form of snark, though, he added, "But if you're wrong and they kill me for being a Death Eater, I'm haunting your arse until it's bloody dead."
"Wouldn't be a long haunting. But I'd be worried if you didn't," Harry smirked. He held out a hand. The blond stared at it as if it was going to bite him. "Come on, Malfoy. This is probably the last time we'll ever see each other. Don't make my last memory of you being a git."
Malfoy held out his own hand unsure. He then took Harry's giving it a curt shake. "Goodbye, Potter." Business finished, he pulled back as if it really had bitten him, and stared at his hand as if he'd never seen it before. When he realized how silly this must have looked, he turned on his heel, stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking towards the castle.
Harry shook his head and turned the opposite way to face his fate.
"Good luck, Harry."
He stopped mid-stride, turning quickly. Malfoy's retreating form had picked up pace, turning quickly around a corner and disappearing. After a moment, Harry smiled. "You too, Draco."