Title: If I Had You
Summary: It all started with four words: "I'm so sorry Draco." When Harry Potter seeks to amend any previous discourse between Draco Malfoy and himself, he discovers something more beautiful than anything he has ever experienced. From blossoming friendship to unspeakable devotion, this story dapples in explaining exactly why it is so important to be yourself.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, settings, or anything else worthy of mention besides the plot.
Author's Note: In more or less words, this is the story of how I myself fell in love. I
just played around with some details and related my story to some
characters that I know and love. I love feedback, so please let me know
what you think!
Stuff You Should Also Know: 8th year at Hogwarts, Not epilogue compliant,
Pairing: Draco M. & Harry P.
Chapter 1: An Apology
From the Perspective of Harry Potter
It all started with four words.
"I'm so sorry Draco."
I felt the corners of my lips turn downward of their own accord as the foreign words left my mouth, making the sentiment slightly resinous with insincerity.
The blond-haired boy in front of me looked up from the book in his lap as his silver eyes searched fleetingly, uncomprehendingly, into mine.
"What?" He muttered in a tone so quiet that it almost seemed as though he was speaking to himself rather than me.
I took a deep breath before continuing, struggling to keep my tone even and my expression innocent.
"I said I'm sorry Draco." He looked away, obviously aiming to look disinterested. "I regret how much energy I've put into hating you. Considering all that we've been through, can we just put everything behind us? No more fighting. We're both on the same side now."
His eyes flitted back to mine, their expression dappled pointedly with malice. Then, just as swiftly as the apparent tension had come, it dissipated in front of me. His eyes dropped nonchalantly to my feet, and his expression softened considerably, though it was still unfriendly.
"Potter," he hissed, though he sounded more thoughtful than angry. "You can save your breath because I don't care if you think you saved the wizarding world; we will never be on the same side."
He rose noiselessly to his feet, an unkind smirk playing at his lips.
"Hey Pansy," he called, his eyes gazing somewhere over my left shoulder. "Wait up."
Without another glance in my direction, he started toward her, unceremoniously bucking shoulders with me as he stalked past. I turned my head and stared uselessly at his retreating figure, unsure as to what I should do next.
Since the end of the war, this had been his style. Silently, almost wordlessly hating me. Unlike before, when he always had a snide comment about me at the ready, he now only spoke to me as much as common courtesy absolutely demanded. He did not go out of his way to torment my friends and me anymore. Maybe this had to do with the fact that many considered me the world's current most powerful wizard. Everyone was scared of provoking me now because they knew what I was capable of.
Bothered by Malfoy's candid rejection, I made my way toward the Gryffindor common room, seeking the console of my friends.
"Why do you care what Malfoy thinks of you?" Ron grumbled agitatedly, furrowing his brows at Hermione, who sought to comfort him by rubbing the back of his hand.
"I think what Harry is trying to say, Ron, is that he wants to start off his new life right, and that includes making amends with those that he's had previous disputes with in the past." Hermione's voice radiated uncertainty, showing that even she did not fully understand my intentions.
"I just want to make everything right now that the war is all over. Preparing for the fight with Voldemort has consumed so much of the past seven years of my life. Everything is different now. I no longer have the desire to take part in pity arguments, and also . . . I feel a little guilty. It's hard to explain, but neither Malfoy nor his mother turned me into Voldemort when they had the chance. Even though they didn't help or support me much, they played a part in the bigger picture.
"If Narcissa hadn't lied for me in the forbidden forest, Voldemort would have sent another killing curse my way, and Draco lying about recognizing me in Malfoy Manor helped save my life too."
"Harry," Ron tried to cut me off, but I continued, adamant about my decision to make things right with Malfoy.
"Like I said, the Malfoy's didn't do much, but they showed their true allegiance all the same. There's no reason for us to hate each other."
"But Harry, what exactly do you want to gain out of making amends with him?" Hermione pressed softly.
"I'm not really sure," I pondered momentarily. "I don't really expect for us to become friends or anything; I just want us to be able to nod our heads at each other or wave with a friendly smile if we see each other some time in the future. I am tired of having enemies, and I don't really have any anymore. Well, expect for him maybe."
"It's not like he's a threat if that's what you're worried about," Ron grumbled desperately, sensing my upcoming resolve.
"I'm not worried about him attacking," I chuckled without humor. "I just don't want any more enemies."
"I don't understand." Ron looked at Hermione for support.
"You don't have to," I said innocently, smirking back at my friends. "I have already made up my mind. I am going to make Draco Malfoy stop hating me."
"Harry, what are you thinking about?" Hermione's voice penetrated my reverie, drawing my attention back to the Great Hall, the scattered voices of disjointed conversation, and the platter of untouched breakfast sitting in front of me.
Up until recently, I had been pondering a pair of tumultuous grey eyes and what they might look like if alight with an expression of excitement or curiosity rather than anger and calculation like the way I knew them to look so well.
"I'm trying to figure out why I decided to come back to school for an eighth year," I lied smoothly.
An admission would have been too embarrassing, but the truth was that I enjoyed having a project to focus my attention on: Malfoy. Unfortunately, I had to admit that I was investing myself a bit more than absolutely necessary into this case, but I am always happiest when seeking to right a wrong or help someone out. I guess that was kind of how I viewed my interest in Malfoy. By eliminating any previous discourse between us, I was helping him out, wasn't I?
"The year is going to fly by faster than you know it, and when you start Auror training, you will be grateful for the extra preparation," Hermione explained thoughtfully, striving to quell my apparent quandaries.
"I know. I'm just thinking about Potions class this morning and how I would rather de-gnome a garden than go to it," I grumbled purposefully, trying to invest myself into what I was saying without allowing my thoughts to wander back to him.
Ron grunted in agreement, and soon the conversation drifted smoothly into safer territory, a place where there was no reason for me to ponder Malfoy and why he bothered me so much.
"Mr. Malfoy, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" The nasal quality of Professor Slughorn's voice reverberated unpleasantly off the walls.
Malfoy shook his head wordlessly, evidently agitated. He elbowed Crabbe in the shoulder angrily, for he had been the one talking out of turn.
"As I was saying, today you will be trying your hand at brewing Amortentia, a rather potent love potion . . ."
I tuned Professor Slughorn out, for I was enraptured by Malfoy's dejected expression. His red-rimmed eyes lay downcast, obviously plagued by some unspoken sadness.
"What do you reckon's wrong with him?" I whispered to Ron in a tone that I aimed to make sound nonchalant.
"I dunno," Ron muttered thoughtlessly; I could tell by his tone that he meant to have said, "I don't care."
"His parent's trial is coming up, in three or four days I think," Hermione commented, visibly confused by my evident curiosity. "He knows that he is lucky to have gotten off without time in Azkaban but that his parents probably won't be as fortunate."
Allowing Hermione's observations to slowly sink in, my eyes roamed over to the broken boy in front of me. Gone was the pompous child who'd gone out of his way to fill my Hogwarts experience with unpleasantries; gone was the heartless brat who'd never understood the meaning of hardship or unhappiness; gone were my feelings of hate for this boy.
Yes, as I looked at the Draco Malfoy in front of me, I was positive of two things.
First, I knew he was a different man, a man who, in my opinion, deserved a little luck.
Second, I knew just how to give him a little luck, and now that I had my answer, I was going to do everything in my power to help him.
"Yes, I have something I'd like to say." My own voice sounded insignificant as it echoed in the large, oak-paneled court room.
"You may proceed, Mr. Potter."
"Narcissa Malfoy aided me during the final battle by lying to Lord Voldemort. Had she not assisted me, I am positive that I would not be standing before you today."
I heard audible gasps sound from all around me, but I refused to break eye contact with the judge.
"Would you please explain the situation for us in detail, Mr. Potter?"
I paused thoughtfully, struggling to recall the words from the speech Hermione had written for me.
"When Voldemort used the killing curse on me in the forbidden forest that day, I did not die because lying dormant within me was a horcrux that he never meant to create. He did not know this existed, so when he cursed me, he killed horcrux within me, and I survived. Just after doing so, he asked Narcissa to check if I was dead or alive. Checking my pulse, she discovered that I had indeed not died, but she told him I had done so anyways, fully aware of the implications that might follow.
"In lying on my behalf, Narcissa threatened the security of her entire family because it granted me the extra time I needed to make it back safely to the school. Had she told Voldemort the truth when he'd asked her, he would have undoubtedly sent another killing curse my way, and unprotected without my wand, I would not have survived it."
I allowed myself to glance thoughtfully around the room, observing the reactions that my words had ensued. Most interesting to me, was the stupefied gaze of Draco Malfoy. My eyes then ventured to Narcissa, who locked eyes with Lucius, devoid of any apparent emotion at all, seemingly dumbstruck by my willingness to defend his family.
"Would you attest that in lying to the Dark Lord on your behalf, Narcissa pledged her allegiance to you?" The judge's words rang with skepticism, but his tone was not overly critical. He appeared to be just as genuinely interested in my position on the Malfoy's freedom just as everyone else in the room. My curiosity piqued at the fact that I was the only one in the room who appeared comfortable using Voldemort's name.
"Yes," I breathed, fully aware that I was commanding everyone's attention. "Moreover, Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco all fled from the battle back at the school when I returned, which shows that they possessed no further desire to fight on Voldemort's behalf."
Several people in the room appeared to be taking notes. I picked out Rita Skeeter's pointed face in the crowd.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter. That is all, " the judge said, looking down at his notes.
The trial continued as I took my seat between Ron and Hermione, who were praising me for my performance. I could not listen to their encouragement, however, because it meant nothing to me. All that really mattered to me right now was that I had actually made a difference in Draco's future because when I had decided that I wanted to put my differences with him behind us, I had not made that decision lightly. By my participation today, I hoped he would be able to see that I was worthy of his trust, that I was sincere when I apologized to him.
Eventually, I heard the words that were my salvation.
"By overruling majority, the council has decided that the accused are not in violation of any real crimes."
Draco stepped out of the audience and joined his parents, where they were being released from their confinements in the center of the room. His pale skin had taken on a sallow, almost unhealthy pallor over the course of the trial, but for the first time since I'd seen him that day, his cheeks were beginning to show just a little bit of color.
After a few somewhat awkward embraces, obviously aware that everyone in the room was still watching them, the Malfoys retreated toward the door. Just before passing over the threshold, Draco glanced fleetingly in my direction. His eyes locked onto mine, and before I could even think about what kind of expression I was donning, he nodded once and turned away.