Dawn was breaking; its beams shooting through the tall, decimated windows of the hall, signaling the beginning of a new age. Victory had been awarded to those who fought for love, and Chosen One stood victorious over the prostrate form of the Dark Lord, his face shining with both shock and relief, as though the moment had only sunk in half way. There were a full three seconds of stunned silence, then, suddenly, a roar of sound engulfed the hall as dozens of people swarmed in to touch their savior, like the freed Jews of Egypt embracing Moses. The remaining dark servants fled, some to hiding, some to their families, and some desperate to turn themselves in and beg for mercy, as though they believed that the Ministry would let them reconcile their differences. However, quite unnoticed in a corner of the hall, a squabble was taking place between three people, a young man and two others who seemed to be his parents. They appeared to be trying to convince their son to come with them wherever they were headed, but he was having none of it. His father inquired, in a slightly louder voice than before, why the young man didn't just run away from the punishments that were surely to come his way. The young man's reply was loud and angry enough that it attracted the attention of the few not caught up in the sudden celebration.
"Are you insinuating that I am willing to become a coward like you? No, Father, I will not follow your footsteps any longer. I am of age and you will treat me as such, or suffer the pain of losing a son!"
The people who had looked around when the outburst occurred now watched the young man turn and storm off, and his mother burst into tears and attempt to run after him, only to be stopped by her husband. At a nod and a somber expression from him, she turned her face into his robes and, with a last look at the place where his son had abandoned them, the man apparated the two of them away to safety. The scene was soon forgotten by those who had witnessed it, and the celebrations quieted down to normal conversations at the long tables that were now lined up in the center of the hall.
A few hours passed, and still no one showed any signs of wanting to leave. The victors were spread about the hall; some resting, some drinking or eating, some laughing in their own groups of confidants, and others with their families. One, however, was tired of the endless noise and yearned for some peace and quiet. He leaned over and whispered to his daydreaming friend, requesting that she create a diversion so that he could disappear unnoticed. She nodded in understanding, and her face swiftly changed to one of surprise and pointed to something imaginary out of the window. The people around them fell for it, and the young man slipped away under his Cloak of Invisibility. He paused for a moment, debating whether to get his best friends to accompany him; but decided he wanted some time alone for a bit. Once outside the hall, however, he could not decide where to go. Then he realized that he wanted to talk to his most trusted teacher and mentor, who would most likely be in his portrait. He set off to that part of the castle and came up with a list of things to discuss in his head. That was all driven from his mind when he got to the end of the seventh floor corridor and saw the figure slumped against the wall next to his destination's entrance. He had not expected this person to still be here when his parents were certainly nowhere to be found, and he had assumed that this man would have accompanied them. But as of late, he had learned to expect the unexpected from his nemesis, and now approached him cautiously instead of angrily, as he would have done in the past. The figure looked up from his slumped position on the floor and looked equally surprised. Then his mask of stone was back in place, and he smirked up at the young man approaching him.
"Forgive me for not throwing myself at you, like so many of your admirers downstairs, but those of us who still have regrets have reputations to maintain," he stated from the floor, staring at the ceiling instead of the person he was addressing, as though it would appreciate his words more than the young man likely would.
"Still as charming as ever, I see," replied the other, who had expected this type of greeting already.
"Well, don't let me keep you from doing your godly duties, Chosen One," said the figure on the floor, smirking slightly as he slowly rose from his spot and started walking back down the corridor. The man who had been addressed as the "Chosen One" stared, noticing that the other had lost his usual swagger and now walked dejectedly, stooping slightly at the shoulders.
"Hey, wait!" shouted the "Chosen One" at the other man.
"I don't have time for you to order me around like a member of your precious D.A., Potter!" snapped the other angrily while swinging around aggressively.
"Oh, relax, Malfoy, I only wanted to ask you a simple question," said Potter, "And stop calling me the 'Chosen One', the war's over; I'm not the Golden Boy anymore, and I always hated that title ."
The two men stared each other down for a moment. They could not have been more different in their appearance. Potter, the "Chosen One", was skinny, thin faced, and shy, though less so than he had been before the war, and he had some muscle left from his Seeker days. His raven black hair was untidy as usual and had grown out a little too much from his days in hiding. It now hung into his face. His eyes were the color of freshly polished emeralds; vibrant and full of knowledge well beyond his seventeen years. Malfoy on the other hand was also thin, and slightly muscled for the same reasons, but his thinness was due to lack of nutrition and sleep, not genes. His face was pale and pointed like his father's, along with the same silvery-blonde hair that looked a little worse for wear, and steely silver eyes. They were hard and cold, sharpened like knives from his years under the Dark Lord's unending service. His usual graceful movements had been lost, replaced by a defeated shuffling that he had used in the past two years. In this perspective, he and Potter were polar opposites, and although they didn't know it, that was soon to change.
"Well by all means, fire away, 'Golden Boy'", sneered Malfoy. He didn't quite believe that Potter fully hated the names he was given and wasn't in the best of moods at the moment.
"I only wanted to ask you why you were sitting in front of his office," replied Potter, curiosity burning a hole in his chest.
"What's it to you?" questioned Malfoy, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.
Potter noticed that he had evaded the question entirely, and decided to return the favor.
"Well, if you wanted to come up, I can get you in since you clearly don't know the password for the gargoyle. I'm going up anyway, so it's no big deal."
"Why are you offering to help me?" replied Malfoy suspiciously," I thought you hated me."
"I offer to help anyone who helped me in the war. Anyone and everyone who did the right thing at the right time and saved me from death and torture I will repay a favor to, or however many it takes until I feel that I have repaid my gratitude," said Potter blatantly, smiling wryly when he saw Malfoy's shocked expression at his statement.
"Help you? When did I ever help you?" he inquired.
"Don't pretend you don't know, Malfoy. We both know what I'm talking about," countered Potter, knowing full well that Malfoy was trying to reclaim his dignity from his earlier expression.
"Well, don't think I did it just for you, Prince Potter," he snapped, "I was trying to save myself from seeing anyone else I know tortured into oblivion or killed by the hands of my stupid, cowardly father. The fact that it happened to be you and your little friends was purely coincidence."
Potter, not expecting this response at all, gaped at him, his mouth hanging open stupidly as he took in Malfoy's response. He had had suspicions when he saw that vision of Malfoy torturing people against his will, his face stoic, but miserable, and realized that applied to everyone Malfoy knew, friend or otherwise. Malfoy, obviously realizing he had let on too much, said quickly,
"Quit gawking at me, makes you look more idiotic than you already are."
He was irked that Potter had reacted like that, but hadn't really expected anything less. However, he did not know about Potter's suspicions and observations of his behavior as of late, and stood there, merely waiting to see whether Potter would heed his command, or he would have to go over and shut his mouth for him.
Potter, however, realized his mistake quickly, and closed his mouth quite abruptly, scratching the back of his neck in discomfiture.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, averting his eyes from Malfoy and looking back down toward the gargoyle who guarded his mentor's office.
"Do you still want to go up?" he asked, trying to divert the topic of conversation so that it made Malfoy uncomfortable again. He still wondered why Malfoy wanted to go up in the first place, but thought better of it and decided to only observe when they entered.
" Will he..Will he mind?" inquired Malfoy hesitantly, as though Potter's old mentor would swoop down out of nowhere and curse him into Tartarus for going into his office.
" He won't mind, I assure you," said Potter confidently, "I have very good reasons for knowing that, although I'd rather they remain private at the moment," he added. He thought that Malfoy would not want to hear anything about the Dark Lord quite so soon.
"Alright, but if he curses me, I will drag you down to Hades with me," warned Malfoy, shooting Potter a furtive glare under his blonde fringe. His face was stern but his silver eyes, Potter saw with some amazement, had the slightest dance to them, like a ballerina taking her first steps in a studio. Potter grinned to himself and started towards the gargoyle, not looking back to see whether Malfoy was following him. He was glad that this part of the castle had remained intact, and he didn't want to picture the office that he had spent so many important days in crumbled to bits.
"Lemon drop," he stated, addressing the haughty looking gargoyle. The creature stepped aside, and Potter ascended the moving staircase. When it stopped at the door, which was open, he could almost hear Malfoy's jaw drop to the floor, and he did hear his sharp intake of breath at the sight. His mentor's office never failed to amaze him either, and every time he had visited it, it was always slightly different. For those who had never seen its beauty, of course, the sight was enchanting.
Dozens of ornate portraits lined the walls, bookshelves filled one wall, candy shelves and the Pensieve stood on the other. Delicate silver instruments on little, spindly tables, were whirring and gently puffing smoke in complicated patterns. The huge desk stood where it always had, as did the two chairs. One that Potter had sat in numerous times and the thronelike seat opposite it with the golden crowns on top. The Sorting Hat was no longer on its perch on the high wall, having been summoned down to the grounds to fulfill a brave purpose for a brave person. Potter made a mental note to ask Neville to return it when he next saw him. Fawkes, the beautiful and noble phoenix, was long gone, and Potter was sad that he would never see him again. However, he was glad it had not stayed to witness the destruction of its master's beloved home. Potter's eyes now strayed to the object he had come to visit, and from what he heard behind him, Malfoy had noticed it, too. Albus Dumbledore's portrait was set just behind the throne like chair and its occupant was watching the two men approach with a relieved expression and tears in his dancing blue eyes. Potter stopped a few feet in front of the portrait and waited as Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully before speaking.
" Harry, my dear boy," said Dumbledore, his eyes sparkling with pride, " You have succeeded beyond this old man's wild, foolish dreams, and become the brave, kind young man I had dreamed you would be, despite the suffering you had to endure along the way. For that, I apologize most sincerely."
Harry nodded understandingly, grateful for Dumbledore's well-earned content that his life's goal had been reached. Then he remembered who he had come up here with, and stepped back to allow Dumbledore to see the blonde man behind him. He had been skulking behind Harry for the past few minutes, as though wanting to hide from Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. Harry knew the feeling well, having experienced the old man's gaze a time or two himself. Malfoy looked up in alarm as Harry exposed him to Dumbledore's line of vision and appeared positively terrified at the prospect of being face-to-face with his would-be victim. Dumbledore regarded him silently for a second, and then beckoned with one long, thin finger for Malfoy to come closer. Malfoy did so, trembling visibly from head to foot, even though Dumbledore was a mere portrait, unable to physically hurt him.
" Come now, young master Malfoy, no need to be frightened of an old man like me. You are a man now, and I wish you to act as such," said Dumbledore, both reassuring and firm in the same statement, trying to put the nervous young man at ease.
"Yes, sir," said Malfoy quickly, as though he were addressing a war general while at attention. He glanced up nervously at Dumbledore, then down at the floor again. His hands were clenched behind his back and his head bowed, his knuckles white and shaking slightly, despite Dumbledore's reassurance.
" You have nothing to fear, Draco. For you have done nothing truly wrong, merely in the wrong place at the wrong time for so much of your sad, lonely life. Do not fear my judgement, for I have none for you."
Dumbledore's voice was sympathetic and somber as he addressed Draco in a calm, neutral voice. He knew what the young man feared, and completely understood, as he had felt that way himself not long ago. Draco looked up at him abruptly, shock clearly visible on his pale face. Clearly, that had been the last thing he had expected Dumbledore to say to him.
" But...b-but...I tried to kill you several times last year and almost did at the end of it! You're not mad?" spluttered Draco, looking still more terrified when, instead of yelling at him, Dumbledore merely smiled wryly at him, his eyes twinkling.
"No, Draco, I'm not mad, disappointed, or anything of the sort. I have lived the life of two Muggle men and seen a lot of things in those many years. One of those things happens to apply to your situation and others' in this world. Funnily enough, you and Mister Potter here are not as different as you might believe, no matter how much you may try to disprove it."
Dumbledore's eyes danced merrily as in reaction to his latter statement, Harry and Draco both took one look at each other, and both looked away almost immediately, embarrassed because they had just confirmed what Dumbledore had said.
"Sir, what do you mean by that? I'm not related to him or anything, am I?" asked Harry fearfully, dreading the answer.
" Well, technically speaking Harry, you are both of pureblood family lines, and in so saying, are in fact related. However, I shall explain another time," said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. He plunged on instead to explain what he meant about the relationship between the two men, even though both of their mouths were hanging open.
They have no idea how much more astonishing this will become, thought Dumbledore, and began his story.
" Mr. Malfoy here was raised as the single male heir and only child to one of the most powerful pureblood families in the wizarding community. That being said, his future had to be perfectly sculpted to convey all of the finest virtues the Malfoy family could offer, at least, according to his father. His father had been living under the wing of the darkest, most powerful evil wizard in history for half of his life. Lucius Malfoy was constantly living on the edge of death, as any move he made under the Dark Lord's merciless eye could be his last. Therefore, he had to ensure his son could do nothing that would put his family in jeopardy, and raised him to share his aristocratic views of the wizarding community. This included his hatred of all people who were impure in their blood status, such as Muggleborns. Since Draco here was sheltered from any other influence at a young age, he had no choice but to be an image of his own father. His mother only played a small role in his childhood and tried to protect her only son from the wrath of her husband if Draco did anything to insure it. In marrying the monarch of the Malfoy family, Narcissa Black reduced herself from a proud member of the wealthy Black family to the submissive and powerless duchess of the Malfoys. Lucius married her for love, yes, but also for her to be the beautiful face of his family. She had almost no power over him, and could have turned Draco into the kind and honest child who cared for others, but she never got the chance. Now, we see before us the product of those circumstances, and what those circumstances have done to this now misguided, innocent young man, who only wanted to avoid the punishments of his father, and the Dark master his father worshipped."
Dumbledore stopped here now, for he had noticed that tears had been silently cascading down Draco's face at his words. The young man looked up a the wise, old man before him then, his eyes, once as piercing and sharp as silver scimitars, now shimmered with the vulnerable sheen of angel's wings.
Harry had not yet noticed this, as he had been listening to Dumbledore speak with rapt attention. He had brought many unknown things to light for him that concerned his former nemesis. Draco, who had been as mistreated and uncared for as Harry himself had been in his younger years at the Dursleys house. Draco, who had been considered a lump of silver clay by his father, to mold him into the shape he saw fit. Draco, who had endured the will of the Dark Lord for the last half of his life. Draco, who had been sent to murder the beloved Headmaster of the place that gave him a refuge from his father. Harry suddenly realized that both Draco and him thought of Hogwarts as a sanctuary from their own homes, a place to be able to do anything they pleased and live their own lives.
Harry looked to his right, and, like Dumbledore, saw the tears on Malfoy's pale, pointed face, and felt a rush of guilt rise up in his chest. He had never once stopped to think about how his own behavior toward the Draco had impacted the young man's life, how strongly his various insults had hit him. He had never considered that Draco and his father were two very different people, if only Draco had been allowed to be his own person. He had never at all thought about why exactly Draco never said anything nice about anyone but himself and his father while under the pressure-filled eyes of his peers.
Now Harry saw that he had been one of the many people who had not stopped to think about these things before speaking to Draco. He thought of how wrecked Malfoy could have been had Harry's best friend Ron Weasley had had the courage to say many of the insults he had voiced over the years towards Malfoy, but that only Harry and Hermione ever heard. He now understood that his fellow Gryffindors' hatred of Draco Malfoy had stemmed from the fact that he was an exact copy of his ruthless, powerful father, and not his own person or voice. Harry felt absolutely wretched, and wanted to apologize over and over again to Draco, to make up for the abuse and mistreatment he had endured over the years. He knew nothing would, but he would do his very best to make that happen, he didn't care how long it took. However, right now, he had to do something to make up for it, and he would do it right.
Draco was still standing there, silently crying and looking at the heartfelt understanding in Dumbledore's eyes, when suddenly, he was engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Seeing that it was Harry, he had just made up his mind to shake him off when he realized with astonishment that Harry was shaking slightly. He was crying!
Harry Potter, the savior of all the wizarding world, the Boy Who Lived, the one to vanquish the Dark Lord not two hours ago, was standing here crying and hugging him. Him! Draco Malfoy, who had hated Potter ever since he had stepped foot into Hogwarts, who had insulted him and his two best friends for six years. The world had gone absolutely mental, it was surely crumbling at its foundations, for this could not be happening! But it was. Potter had lost his mind.
"Potter...what the hell are yo-," he began, but Harry cut him off.
" Don't say anything rude, you prat, it'll ruin the moment," whispered Harry, " You'll change my mind about saying this to you."
" Say what, Potter? Spit it out, it's getting awkward here," said Draco through clenched teeth.
He felt Harry take a deep breath, as if getting ready to make a speech, and without letting go of him, Harry spoke the last words Draco had expected to hear.
" Draco Malfoy, I apologize with the sincerity of a thousand heartfelt apologies, on behalf of my actions, of Ron's actions, of Hermione's, of your father's, and anyone else who mistook for someone you aren't and will never be. I know that this in no way makes up for the misery, suffering, and hate that you have endured in the seventeen years of your life, but I feel that I must try. I have, just moments ago, come to a revelation that concerns the clarity of your position in the wizarding community and at Hogwarts, and the things I never thought about when interacting with you. I now truly and sincerely recognize the sacrifice that you have made, and that sacrifice is your childhood and innocence. I now ask only one more thing of you. That you accept my thanks for saving my life and my apology that I have just made to you. Thank you for the biggest sacrifice a person could make during a war. Thank you for giving my friends and I chance to live, and a chance to save you ourselves."
It seemed as though the entire world had stopped to stare in shock at the two men in the quiet room. Silence blanketed itself over everything, and Albus Dumbledore, once the man of many words, was overcome with absolute dumbfoundedness. Harry took a minute to gather his thoughts and then stepped back, releasing Draco from where he stood, frozen in surprise and an expression of incomprehension on his face.
For the first time in many years, he didn't have a reply for Harry Potter. He didn't have any words to convey to the man in front of him that he was the most surprised, but at the same time, the most happy he had ever felt in his life. He came to the realization that now, for the first time in his life, people understood him and what he'd been through. And not just any people. Two of the people he had been raised to hate his entire life now understood what he'd been through. One was his now former nemesis and the other he had almost killed, but didn't. For the first time, he could rely on these people to protect him and make others understand him. His mother had tried, but had been too buried under his father's ego to help him. Revealing himself to the world suddenly felt possible, and he never wanted to hide from himself again. Those walls he had built around himself had grown too strong. It was time to break them down.
He looked up now and saw that Harry had been looking at him with a worried expression since he had released him moments ago, trying to discern whether he had made a mistake. Draco wanted to surprise him, wanted to pay him back for how much he had rattled him. So he now did the last thing that anyone in their year at Hogwarts would have expected him to do. He stepped forward and returned Harry's hug. He felt him tense up in surprise at first, and then relax. Then suddenly, Harry was hugging him back. Both young men realized at the same time that they had just battered down the walls between the protected and the broken.
A few years later, when Harry had secured a seat in the Wizengamot, the wizarding court system, he succeeded in passing a law that formed the program to help the misunderstood children of Death Eaters, the late Dark Lord's former servants. He, along with Hermione and Draco himself, established themselves as leaders of the program and helped dozens of children recover from the war. As a result, when Harry and Draco's own children went to Hogwarts, they were fully accepted and helped ingrain the idea that both the protected and the broken could be each other's shoulder. That everyone should have a chance to be their own person, and not the shadow of their elders.