DISCLAIMER: The following stories are based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This is unbetad. I write for my own enjoyment.

.o.0.O.0.o.

After talking to Katie, Harry wasn't sure what to think. What was Malfoy trying to do? What would cursing her do? He knew if he rushed into the room wand blazing, it wouldn't solve anything. They would duel, get caught and he would lose points. Besides, he had enough enemies, he didn't need anymore.

He followed Malfoy into the bathroom, and paused. This couldn't be right, could it? This boy couldn't be the pompous Draco Malfoy that Harry had known for the past five years. Harry wasn't quite sure why, but somehow he knew that this was one of those choices that Dumbledore had talked about. But could he do it? Could he put aside all of the anger, and hate, and, well, everything? He wasn't sure, but he could try.

"Come to play the avenger, Potter?" Malfoy snarled, his voice shaking, "Go on then, have your vengeance."

"Look, Draco," Harry sighed quietly, "I don't know what exactly you have to do…or why you have to do it, even, but… I don't want to fight you anymore. So, I'm not going to." Harry returned his wand to its holster, and took a step forward.

Draco didn't move away from the mirror, but he wasn't hexing him either, so Harry took it as a good sign to step closer.

"You don't understand, Potter," Draco replied, "How could you? You're the prodigal son of the wizarding world" He laughed humorlessly and turned around. "You don't understand having the fate of your entire family resting on your shoulders, on….on your ability to—Oh, never-mind. What's the use? I don't know why I'm even trying to explain it. I can't even get it to make sense to myself."

He folded his arms across his chest and slid down the wall.

"You know," Harry said, finally, "I may understand it better than you think. My family isn't depending on me, but everyone else is. It doesn't seem to matter, does it? That we're only sixteen, I mean. You know, I had hoped that going to Hogwarts would allow me to get closer to my parents. It certainly has, I reckon, but not in the way I wanted it to. It's almost certain that I'll be joining them soon. I imagine there's a sort of peace in death, don't you think? You can just let everything go, all the pain, the prejudice, the anger. All the guilt. Sometimes I hope that it'll just happen already, but then Hermione will make this cooing noise that she always does when she finds something in a new book, or Ron will ask me to play chess, like he almost knows I need to get my thoughts away from something. And I go on, because I have to. I go on for them, if not for myself."

"Touching, Potter," The other boy responded, though without his usual bite, "And Weaslette? Does she have some mystical power to make you not want to kill yourself?" He snorted, "Don't answer that, I'm not sure if I want to know."

Harry laughed once, softly, "Ah, Ginny… I'm not sure about Ginny at all, really. Sometimes I think she likes me for me, not because I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived, or because I've been the only constant boy in her life apart from her brothers, but sometimes she'll say or do something, and I'm not sure again. She just doesn't understand, and how could she? Ever since she was taken, we've coddled her, all of us. Actually, I think she's been coddled her whole life. Maybe that's the problem, or maybe I just wanted a piece of normalcy. Either way, I don't see Ginny and I lasting past the end of this year."

"I know you know about the Dark Mark, already. I took it this past summer. With my father in Azkaban, the other Death Eaters were starting to get ideas about my mother. I know it wouldn't be long before the Dark Lord forced her to let them into her bed. Mother told me that before you took him out the first time, Aunt Bella's husband lost favor with the Dark Lord, and in punishment, she was forced to bed him. I imagine it's what caused her to go insane. At least, partly….I am sure Azkaban had something to do with it, as well."

"You became a Death Eater to save your mother? Draco, why didn't you just…? Dumbledore—"

"If you think Dumbledore would lower himself enough to help a Malfoy, you're more idiotic than I thought possible, Potter. Dumbledore wouldn't get us out and you know it. Once Death Eater filth, always Death Eater filth…I'm not deaf Potter, or blind. I can protect her better this way."

Harry was at a loss. He'd always thought the best of Dumbledore, even after Sirius, even after the prophesy. He just couldn't put the vitriol Malfoy spoke together with the Dumbledore he knew. The pieces wouldn't fit. "But if you—"

"But if I what Potter? Forget what I am? Who I am? Put aside every part of myself, and beg? Please, please Dumbledore? Please, help my mother, help me. Oh, Dumbledore, kind, and merciful Lord. Spare us, save us. Please, please, please? Does that not sound familiar, Potter?"

"But Dumbledore's not—"

"Dumbledore is as much a leader and a manipulator as the Dark Lord, if not more. At least the Dark Lord doesn't pretend to be a saint. If you think for one moment that Dumbledore is as shining and clean as his ridiculous robes, then a new world will have to be added to the English language, because idiot is no longer enough."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. Part of him understood that Draco was right. Professor Dumbledore was the leader of their side of the war. He had to be a manipulator. But Harry didn't think that Dumbledore was callous, or cruel, just human. He knew, however, that Draco wasn't ready just yet. So, he waited and took a look around. This bathroom wasn't used often. It was too cold to use, being so close to the outer walls of the castle. There was grime on the windows, and dust on most of the sinks. The floor was scuffed, the tile cracked. He could just make out a spider web in the far corner of the wall, near the windows.

"Is Potter at a loss for words? Have I destroyed your, not doubt faultless, image of Dumbledore?"

"No, Draco. You can't destroy it, because it doesn't exist. I know Dumbledore isn't perfect. But that isn't why I wasn't talking. I was giving you time. Do you think we could get out of here? I want to talk with you some more, but don't fancy doing it in this bathroom. Smells a bit, don't you think?"

"Why not. There's a small common area off the prefects bathroom, we could talk there. And yes, I believe it does smell in here." Draco gave a small half-smile, "You know I can't believe it took you five years."

"What took me five years?" Harry asked as they began walking out of the bathroom.

"Think back to first year, Potter, before we were sorted. I offered something, and you refused."

"Oh, oh. Well, you were a git, and you reminded me of my smarmy pig of a cousin."

"I reminded you of a pig? Certainly not."

"I didn't say pig; I said my smarmy pig of a cousin. There is a difference."

"Of course, Potter."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're patronizing me?"

"Perhaps, because I am?"

Harry smiled, "Pig."

"Oh, how original," Draco drawled in reply, but he returned Harry's smile.

It wasn't perfect, and Draco was still a git. But Harry knew that when it came down to it, He had one less enemy.

.o.0.O.0.o.

"Now there is a final reason I think that Jesus says, "Love your enemies." It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can't stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they'll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That's love, you see. It is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There's something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies." –Martin Luther King, Jr.