My name is Draco—after a star constellation of some sort—Malfoy, malice, malignant, something bad. But the truth is that deep down, I could never really hurt anyone. Sure, with my words I do, almost every day. The deepest truth is that I could never hurt a soul. I only tried to do what was expected of me, whatever my parents said. Our survival counted on it. I'd spent the better part of my childhood feeling tormented deep down. Nobody really understood my conflict. No one could have fathomed the war that raged in my heart; the clichéd Armageddon that I was. I've always been good at heart, but I only let everyone see the evil. It was all a ruse to save face. The only one who ever really understood this without me verbalizing it was Potter. He knew from that moment I could have turned him in to the Dark Lord…I'd known it was Harry's face I was looking at the entire time. I think my parents had known it, too. We could have followed orders, been responsible for Harry's death…we could have. A year after the battle, I was hoping I could redeem myself. I never wanted to have enemies. I never wanted to be hated. A house elf showed Harry to the table where I sat. Sitting at the head of it, where Voldemort sat before, so many horrifying memories flashed through my head. I tried to clear it but couldn't, not until I looked up and saw Harry's eyes. Ron had refused to come, Hermione sticking by him and following suit. I wondered if they knew that Harry was even here. I wondered if they knew he'd accepted to come at all.
"So," Harry said, shrugging.
"What's this all about?" he asked. The elf made busy pouring Harry a cup of tea before leaving us in peace. I couldn't decide how to break the ice.
"You know why Ron didn't come," said Harry knowingly.
"And you know why Hermione couldn't come either," he added. I had been staring at the centerpiece but when my gaze shifted back to Harry I knew he'd been looking at me the whole time. He stood and sighed.
"Well, if you're not going to say anything, then I've got to be on my way—"
"I'm sorry," I called out, standing up so hard that I knocked the chair over behind me.
"For everything. After all this time, I'm sorry," I said, the words rolling out of me like steam from a screaming kettle, burning but leaving me with a feeling of redemption. The tears poured out of my eyes and dripped upon the table.
"I wanted to apologize to his face, but he wouldn't come here."
Harry already knew who I was talking about. Ron would never have spoken to a Malfoy again, not after what happened to Fred.
"And I suppose you want me to tell you that it's not your fault. You want me to accept the apology—one which should've come from your late aunt herself—for killing my godfather…You want me to forgive you."
Harry said it with such unease that I thought he might have fainted or thrown up on the spot. I wiped my eyes furiously. He was still looking at me.
"It's not you who should be apologizing, Draco. Maybe for the little things that you've said, things that you've done, but that's all in the past. It never really hurt us as much as it hurt to lose Fred. It never hurt me as much as it did to lose Sirius. You can't possibly atone for that—I'm just being blatantly honest." And Harry's face was in fact blatantly honest. I sighed and stood up straight, containing myself.
"From the start, I tried to befriend you. But my motivations were all for the wrong reasons. I don't feel I should be blamed, Harry, you have to understand," I tried not to sound so like a beggar.
"It was all a lie. I grew up on all of these pretenses about pure blood. But being pure of blood doesn't mean you're pure of heart... I've never really been honest about myself. I never meant to be so cruel…and Harry, you and I, we've had our rows, even physically hurt each other. I'm hoping that somehow, someway, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Everything I was told to do and everything I did, those weren't actions done of my own volition. It became a matter of survival, and not just for me, but for my family. Bellatrix got what she deserved. I could never honestly defend her for…" I swallowed hard.
"She was truly evil. She went after children. How do you think that makes me feel, to know that I am the blood of purest evil? But it's not who I really am."
"I know that," said Harry. I wasn't surprised at this fact, but surprised he was willing to admit it.
"You were always braver than me," I said truthfully. "If you had been in my place, you wouldn't have cowered away and gone along with it. You would've risked your life to stand up for what you know is right. And I just never did that."
There was a moment of silence, one that must've been seconds, but felt like centuries. And then, to my utter surprise, Harry embraced me. Hugging him back, I realised that this was the most honest gesture I'd ever made.