Title: An Unexpected Encounter

Author: Meatball

Rating: PG

Archive: sure, feel free

Summary: A short little fic that I've imagined out based on the ending of the fabulous Deathly Hallows.

Author's Note: If you've heard of it, then you know that I did not create it. I'm just borrowing JKR's characters for a little bit. Cheers!

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"Thank you."

Harry started at the soft, drawling voice, and he sat up, sliding his glasses on quickly. Just a few minutes rest, was that really too much to ask, he thought grumpily. He'd just finished the plate of sandwiches and flagon of juice that Kreacher had kindly brought to him, and had even consented to share with him. The elf had nearly been overwhelmed when Harry had asked him if he was hungry, and asked him to stay. After a companionable meal, Kreacher had disapparated with the empty dishes and a promise to be available should Harry need him for anything else. Harry had lain down immediately, tired and worn out, desperate for a short nap, and was angry that someone had seen fit to disturb him.

"Harry?" Ron's hesitant voice sounded outside the dormitory. "Someone here to see you. I'll stay here by the door, shall I?"

"Sure," Harry sighed. "Thanks, Ron."

"No problem, mate."

The door opened, and Harry's eyes widened, surprised to see a subdued, dishevelled Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway. "Ah…Harry…may I enter?"

"Sure," Harry answered, bemused.

"Thank you."

Harry studied the older man, wondering what was different about him -- other than the filthy, ragged clothes and battered face. After a moment, it struck him. Malfoy seemed humbled. His haughty, "holier-than-thou" attitude was not apparent. In the dim light, he looked older than he was. Harry moved aside to make room for Malfoy, so that he could sit on the bed. He didn't look as though he could stand on his own for much longer.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked, in a polite, but not, he hoped, an overly-friendly, manner. Based on what he had seen, he wasn't sure what to make of the Malfoys. True, Narcissa and Draco had tried to help Harry, but it was for their own personal gain, and not for any concern over Harry's welfare. Still…Harry was puzzled by Draco's odd reluctance to positively identify Ron, Hermione and himself, when held prisoner at Malfoy Manor a few weeks past. He really would have to ask Draco about that, sometime.

Harry was surprised when Lucius Malfoy laughed -- a bitter, self-mocking laugh. There was something about him that seemed almost -- defeated -- for lack of a better term.

"What can you do for me? Oh, Potter…surely you are joking." Malfoy shook his head. In the dim light, the cuts and bruises on his face were gruesome and looked painful. "What can you do for me? Potter…what haven't you done? Not just for me, but for all of us?"

Harry remained silent, not sure what to say. After a moment, Malfoy continued, and Harry could have sworn that the man was genuinely smiling at him. "Thank you, Potter. For my son's life. He told me how you saved him tonight. Thank you for…for everything. I know you despise me, and I don't blame you, but…perhaps someday, you will understand. Sometimes…to protect those we love, one does things that…perhaps…they would not have done, ordinarily." He sighed, then stood. "Enough. Perhaps someday we can speak more on this, but not now. You are tired, and you have more than earned some rest. I just wanted to say, though, from the bottom of my heart…thank you." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, briefly, then turned to leave.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then said, "Mr. Malfoy!"

"Yes?" Malfoy turned back to face him, an uncharacteristically kind smile on his face. Harry found it strange not to see the cruel sneer that he had become accustomed to.

"Er…yeah. I would like to talk to you sometime about…about everything. Your wife helped me tonight, and…I think Draco tried to help, a couple of times…" His voice trailed off, as Malfoy's smile widened, and the older man winked at him.

"I think," Malfoy said, slowly, "that we…may not have always been on…opposite sides. In…in our own ways…yes, I think that perhaps that is true. Now you must get some rest." He turned to leave, then turned again, struck by a thought. "Oh, by the way…did you say earlier that you had seen Severus Snape? That you had been talking to him? I haven't been able to find him anywhere, and I am becoming concerned."

Harry's mouth went dry. In the confusion, Malfoy must not have realized…must not have heard properly…

"He's dead," Harry said, softly. "Vol- I mean, Tom Riddle, had his snake kill Snape." Harry jumped out of his bed, to steady the older man, who seemed staggered by the news. "Snape -- er -- communicated with me just before he died. He, uh, gave me his memories. I saw them in Dumbledore's pensieve."

"Severus…dead?" Malfoy whispered, grief contorting his face. His blue eyes, so much like Draco's, welled up with tears. "It…it cannot be…not Severus…he…like a...a younger brother to me…" Malfoy looked away, to hide his pain and distress.

Harry's throat constricted, and he gripped Malfoy's elbow with sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said. "It…it was quick. He didn't suffer for long."

Blinking rapidly, Malfoy nodded his gratitude, and, after a moment, whispered, "That bastard,Voldemort. He didn't suffer enough, before you killed him. I wish…"

"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, softly. "I know what's happened to what's left of his soul. He's suffering now."

His eyes glittering and fierce, Malfoy looked back to Harry, and nodded. Then he spoke again, his voice low and chilling, in the quiet room.

"Good."