What if Harry never defeated the Dark Lord? With the Boy Who Lived in hiding and his world crumbling around him, his chance at redemption depends on the most unexpected ally.
Everything was wrong. The rolling clouds clapped and the sky shuddered, but the rain stayed in check, as if it too were afraid of the Dark Lord's wrath. People were dead, dying, or faced death, but the silence that filled the castle was deafening. Defeat had come to the defenders of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter never felt a deeper shame.
He stood beneath the Invisibility Cloak, brought along by Hagrid from the Forbidden Forest before he was killed, and watched as his friends and family were herded into groups, striped of their wands, beaten… He feared for Ron and Hermione, and wondered if Mrs. Weasley - who had always been like a mother to him - would pay for the life she took in the shape of Bellatrix Lestrange.
This was never the plan.
Harry thought dizzily that if Neville had survived, perhaps everything would have worked out; the last Horcrux would have been vanquished, and he and his enemy would have faced off like Fate had always intended. Instead, however, Neville had been shot down in a flash of green, the sword of Godric Gryffindor taken up by the Death Eaters, and the Snake was put back into its protective bubble.
So here was Harry - the Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One - hiding like a coward, coerced by Hermione's frantic demand that he must not be caught, that only Harry could stop this. But as he stood there, watching an unhooded Macnair kick Seamus relentlessly until he was wheezing up blood, harry didn't feel like he could stop anything.
Dark figures hooted and jeered, victorious, as their spells lit up the Great Hall like fireworks. It was during this commotion that Harry's unfocused gaze fell onto an out of place trio. Not bunched in with the others he'd fought beside, nor were they celebrating with their comrades. The Malfoys clung together off to the side, no doubt trying to blend into the background and go unnoticed. After all, they had defected to the Order's side when Harry had been proclaimed alive, just another thing he felt regret over. It would have been nice, Harry thinks, if Draco had switched sides on a winning day.
Instead, Mrs. Malfoy's eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and Mr. Malfoy looked as if he was about to vomit. Draco, on the other hand, was oddly stagnant.
Harry guessed everything that had happened in the past hour hadn't quite set in for Draco, something he had in common with Harry.
"We must leave," Lucius managed to choke out, his trembling fingers grasping his wife's upper arm in an attempt to spur her to action.
A brief pause followed before Narcissa gave a jerky nod, a sob escaping her throat as she pulled her son against her. This seemed to elicit a response from the boy, who shook his head desperately. "He'll think we're on the run," he said with a tremor of fear in his voice.
"We'll go back to our home and await the Dark Lord there. We can explain ourselves; convince him it was all a mistake. Yes… we were just looking out for our son, like any respectable parent would." Lucius seemed to be talking to himself at this point, but the two were staring at him with misplaced hope.
Struck with an impulsive idea, Harry quickly bridged the distance between them and shadowed the youngest Malfoy. They weren't the only ones needing to make amends concerning Voldemort, though Harry's intentions were marginally different.
Determined on a course of action, the group started to make their way towards the school grounds, making sure to remain undetected by prying eyes. It wasn't long before their hurried pace brought them outside the apparation limit. With only seconds to spare, Harry quickly pinched the edge of Draco's robe just as he began to disapparate, then with a crrraaack! They were gone.
Harry was worried he may be splinched or dropped off along the way to Malfoy Manor without a proper grip on the Slytherin, but by some stroke of luck, when he blinked he was still with the Malfoys and thankfully intact. He released a breath of relief, quickly letting go of the robe and backing away when Draco gave a strange look in his direction.
Harry's heart pounded loud against his ribcage, and he remembered again why he preferred broomsticks to apparation. The dizzying, condensed sensation of vanishing before reappearing was a sick feeling he'd rather avoid. Deciding to dwell on his queasiness at a later time, he sped to catch up with the Malfoys as they rushed through the wrought iron gate and into the lavished front yard of their household. The Dursleys would likely have approved if it wasn't so obviously "abnormal" with the lingering gloom of Voldemort's occasional presence.
"Darling, why don't you go to your bedroom? We'll handle the rest," Narcissa said with a convincing smile that Harry was familiar with; Dumbledore had sported it enough times when he had lied to Harry. And just as Harry had been eager to belief his Headmaster, Draco was equally keen to believe his mother. He nodded at the request and started up the staircase, the tension easing from his shoulders with each step he took. Harry followed behind, matching each step Draco took while taking in his surroundings.
By the look of things, Malfoy Manor was as extravagant as he'd always pictured along with the aura of Dark Magic that was a stark contrast to the Burrow. They walked past closed doors, another hallway that seemed to lead to a vast library, until they reached the second door to the end. The door opened soundlessly, an obvious sign of magic to Harry's years of sneaking about, and the two rushed into the room. The door closed with that same eerie silence, and Harry suddenly was having a hard time not to be heard. The room was pristine, but unlike what Harry had always imagined, it was also rather cozy in size; Harry couldn't get far enough from Draco that didn't involve him having to match their breathing, which was starting to make Harry frantic to suck in loud mouthfuls of air.
If Draco realized anything was amiss, however, he didn't show it. The Slytherin boy shed his cloak with a steady hand, carefully placing it on the coat hanger near the entry, before slinking over to his four-poster that much resembled the ones at Hogwarts. He didn't bother to lie on the bed or touch it; instead he just stared blankly in its direction. Harry was trying hard not to panic, his eyes seeking out a hidden passage or an ajar closet door to duck into, but to no avail. He'd had to use the Imperius Curse back at Gringotts, would it be so bad to use it to make Malfoy have the sudden urge to visit the lavatory? Harry was still weighing his options when he first heard it… the sniffling.
Draco was still at the edge of his bed, now hunched half over with his face hidden in his hands, his body tense as he was overwhelmed with feelings. Harry almost felt guilty being in here during his breakdown. He knew he would have hated to have his privacy invaded like this, but there was nothing to be done except look elsewhere and pretend he wasn't witnessing Malfoy have a moment of humanity.
At least he was able to breathe unrestricted without getting a wand in the face.