1998

"Ginny!"

The castle was in ruins. A long way off, voices could be heard, presumably from the Great Hall; no doubt celebrating the victory of the war…mourning the dead. Rubble painted the floor grey, black and, in some horrific places, red. A few Slytherin emeralds had made their way through it, far from the shattered hourglass in the Entrance Hall. Splintered wood piled up in a corner, the remains of what looked like it could possibly have been a table, or a piece of furniture. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in silence across it all, hand in hand, stumbling over unexpected bumps and objects. They couldn't be sure, but suspected it was around midday.

"She's- she's probably in the Hall, mate…"

"Ginny!"

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm, comforting him. A flash of red caught his eye in the distance, and he strained his eyes to recognise Ginny Weasley, coming towards the three of them. She was alone; her hair and face were almost black with dust and grime, but the tracks on her cheeks stood out white and glistening. Harry broke out of Hermione's hand to race as best as he could across to her. Ginny melted immediately into his arms when he held them out, and they stood in the embrace whilst Ron and Hermione made their way behind, being deliberately slow.

"Ginny," Harry breathed into her hair, "you're... How are you?"

"I- ... Better than I was around twenty seconds ago." Harry smiled at her sniffled laughter. Ron and Hermione caught up with them.

"Gin-" Ron reached for her, and Harry stood back with Hermione as the brother and sister held each other tightly. From his right side Hermione's throat caught, and she stifled a little sob. Harry took her hand and squeezed it; unspoken words of thanks, she leant into it.

Nobody spoke. Ron released Ginny, and the four of them found a space of ground which wasn't as littered with mess as the area they were currently standing on; they all sat down, uncomfortably numb. After a few moments of staring at the floor, Hermione raised her head and spoke.

"Fifty-four. I think- I think that's what it amounted to."

She subconsciously tilted her body so that it was closer to Ron, and he placed an arm around her shoulder and put his lips to her head. All of their minds lingered on one face in particular, and there were no words to describe the mutual loss of Fred Weasley.

They talked for some time; about the losses, about the damage; deaths, destruction. Neither of them had the heart nor the energy to lead the conversation in a happier direction. When they realised they didn't know what time it was, except that it was past twelve, and that they didn't know what day it was, only that it was somewhere near the beginning of May, the group decided to get up and make their way back to the congregation in the Main Hall.

Harry stood up slowly, rubbing his head with a couple of fingers. "You go on," he said to the others, "I'll… I'll follow behind in a bit. I just…I just need some time."

Ginny nodded and squeezed his hand; as did Hermione, and they led Ron off in the direction of the faint noise. Harry watched their retreating backs, and leant back against the wall. He sighed, taking in his surroundings. Grief filled his chest as he realised he had no idea where he was; maybe it was because of the time he had spent away from the school, or maybe it was purely because of the state of the area he was in. Looking around, Harry thought he would recognise something on the walls, or an object on the floor; sadly, he was mistaken. Breathing deeply, he shook himself off the wall and started to slowly follow the direction of the others.

So absorbed was he in finding them, Harry unknowingly went down a wrong corridor and wound up in a different place entirely. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, looking back the way he came. He continued on, retracing his steps by the dusty footprints they left; this part of the castle had noticeably less rubble adorning it.

Harry was facing the floor as he walked, hands in his pockets and not paying attention to any sounds to be heard, so he didn't realise there was anyone else there until he came into contact suddenly with another body. He staggered slightly before looking up to meet the startled eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy clearly had had the same problem, as he was just getting his balance when their eyes met.

On recognition of each other, they were silent. The air seemed sharper; a bird could be heard in the distance tweeting shrilly as if it had something to be happy about. Harry looked into Malfoy's grey eyes and inwardly recoiled at the weakness he found there. He could almost laugh out loud; after six or seven years of absolute loathing, neither of them could find anything to say. Malfoy must have spotted this, because his eyes hardened slightly and his mouth twitched as if he wanted to speak. Neither of them had moved an inch since recognition, and so stood in fairly close proximity like statues.

Draco didn't know what to say to Potter; there was nothing that could be put into one sentence, anyway. All he managed was one word.

"I…"

What? I What? Draco shut his mouth.

I want to apologise for being a git.

I want to thank you for saving me from the Fiendfyre, when it would have been easier and more justified to leave me there.

I want to scream and swear and hit at you for letting Crabbe die in the Room of Requirements

…I want to make amends.

The unspoken words seemed to pass through the air into Potter's mind, and his eyes became slightly unfocused as he tried to find a way of response. He was so close; Draco could have just reached out and…and touched him. Shaken his hand, shaken him, forced him to respond with something. Anything. Draco hesitated, with his arms at his sides-

And the moment was over, even more abruptly than it had begun. Voices calling Harry's name could be heard, and he focused his eyes over Malfoy's shoulder in the direction of which he heard them. Malfoy turned his face away as Harry looked back to him, and then longingly to where he knew Ginny was. Malfoy retreated suddenly into an empty classroom Harry hadn't known was there and a glimpse of his face before he was gone showed... What? Regret? Remorse, even? Harry sighed and followed the sounds of his name, back to his friends.

About an hour had passed, and the people in the Great Hall were gathered in groups with their friends and respective families. There was a soft buzz of conversation, but it was tinted with sorrow. The Weasleys, accompanied by Harry and Hermione, sat in comfortable silence on the end of what they believed to be the Gryffindor table; there were some communications between brothers, but other than that there was nothing. Ron had his head buried in Hermione's shoulder and was motionless; Harry and Ginny sat across from each other, and he gazed dully at the wooden table as she examined him from the small distance.

Harry was only just beginning to comprehend the full devastation of the battle; he was only just beginning to come to terms with the losses. Sat around his only true family, their grief hounded down upon him like a ton of bricks. Yes, Voldemort had been killed- Harry had killed- but at nothing if not a desolate cost. Severus Snape, Colin Creevey, Crabbe had died. Remus was gone, Tonks... Fred. Fifty others amongst them. Harry raised his head to look at Ginny; he could tell by her response that his eyes alone, if not his entire face, were contorted in pain and guilt. She reached out her hand and nodded, giving Harry the consent to rise from the table and slip quietly off.

Once out of the Hall, Harry looked around and debated which way to go to get some peace. His eyes fell upon the emeralds rolling around next to the Slytherin hourglass, and he stumbled towards them having made up his mind to go back the way he had come earlier. Harry barely recognised any of it from before; he relied on the sets of footprints to take him back.

Certain twists and turns became familiar to him again, and Harry paused as he went past what looked like a brick wall. He turned, faced it, and saw into the classroom concealed behind. Malfoy was in there, where he'd left Harry before, and was hunched over a table. His body was perfectly still, but Harry was still reminded of a time when he'd found Malfoy in the same position, hunched over a sink.

Sectumsempra…

Harry entered the room light on his feet, so as not to disturb the silence. He thought that Malfoy wasn't aware of his presence, and hovered behind awkwardly. He was struck with the same feeling as before; he didn't know what to say that could make the situation easier. Before he had made his appearance clear, Malfoy spoke.

"I know you're there, Potter." His body showed no signs of recognition, but Malfoy's voice was cold. "What is it?"

Harry hesitated before he replied, "Malfoy. I… I-"

"Spit it out. I don't have all day."

Malfoy straightened up and folded his arms across his chest, refusing to turn and look Harry in the eye. Through a slightly disarrayed reflection, Harry could see his eyes were as hard as ever. He took a step closer.

"It's over, Malfoy. You don't need to be so… spiteful anymore; there's nothing left for us to hate each other for."

"Yeah; we can just make up and pretend the past seven years just didn't happen," Malfoy retorted, finally turning his head so that he could see Harry out of the corner of his eye. "I don't forgive that easily, Potter. In fact; I don't believe I forgive at all."

Frustration slowly built itself up in Harry, but he resolved to keep his calm.

"Malfoy, stop being a git."

"Potter, stop being a patronizing twit and I may take you up on your offer."

Harry growled, and couldn't stop himself from going over to Malfoy and wrenching him from the window. He glared into Malfoy's grey eyes, cold as ice, and swore. He punched a table.

"Well, there goes my keeping calm," he muttered.

"Oh, get over yourself, Potter," Malfoy spat the name out and leant in closer to Harry. All, if any, of the former relaxation was gone and he tensed up in his anger.

"So you still hate me, even now. Ok."

Harry shrugged, shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Hey, Malfoy," he said with his eyes shut, "D'you remember that time when I found you in the bathroom?"

Malfoy hissed something unintelligible underneath his breath by way of response, and Harry continued. He didn't once open his eyes.

"Well I for one remember what happened when I first came in," he continued, "and I remember when you looked up. And for that brief moment, before the humiliation and danger of the situation hit you, you held my eyes. You didn't hate me then, Malfoy."

Harry held up a finger as Malfoy's mouth opened to contradict him; he hadn't opened his eyes yet but just guessed that this would happen.

"And when we first met in Madame Malkins, and you talked out of your arse to me for god knows how long we were in there," Harry said, a small smile forming at the edges of his lips, "you didn't hate me then."

"I didn't know you then, Potter, you insufferable idiot."

Harry finally opened his eyes, and they had a touch of wistfulness to them.

"And when you held out your hand on the staircase. When you asked me to be your friend," he said softly, "don't try and tell me you hated me then."

Malfoy glared icily at him, giving him only more confidence.

"Well, try that again, Malfoy." Harry straightened up, not affected by the coldness emanating from Malfoy. "Hold out your hand."

"Potter, I don't have time-"

"Just do it, Malfoy."

After a moment, Malfoy put a hand into the space between them.

"Good. Now, you are eleven years old. You have just requested my friendship, and said something which probably has an undercurrent of anti-Weasley-ness."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered something about a waste of his time.

"And I, after having spent a long time contemplating whether or not to take you up on the offer, have come to a conclusion in my little eleven-year-old head."

"Potter, I know where this is headed; why do you feel it at all necessary to replay the events of seven years ago?"

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something else, but Harry closed the distance between them and grasped Malfoy's outstretched hand. He shook it. He didn't let it go.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Malfoy only looked at him suspiciously. Harry leant in to his ear and spoke quietly.

"And all of the time, when I was talking to you with my eyes shut and my wand away; you didn't hate me then, either," Malfoy's head turned downwards as he stared at the floor, "and how easy would it have been to attack me, Malfoy? You could have easily disarmed me, punched me, done whatever it was you desired."

He leant back out and looked at Malfoy closely; saw the circles underneath his eyes, the insecurity beneath his perfected looks and postures. He saw the horrors of the past year or so as a Death Eater and exhaled.

"Draco, you're a mess."

Tentatively, not wanting to ruin things any more than he may have already done, he tugged on Malfoy's hand and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms protectively around the once enemy, and felt him stiffen up. After a moment of awkwardness, Malfoy let his body relax and leaned into Harry. They were silent, and let themselves be comforted by the others' close proximity. It could have turned into something more. Both of them felt the tension, and stopped themselves from responding to it; being satisfied by the comfort of the situation.

However, it was short-lived; two people were calling for Draco…Draco? Draco! and their voices were getting more worried by the minute. Harry let go of Malfoy, who straightened up expectantly; it was his parents. Before Lucius and Narcissa could appear in the classroom, Malfoy looked briefly and…apologetically to Harry before he disappeared through the open door.

A/N: Well, here it is. The first instalment of the long-awaited (i.e. 15-or-so-days awaited) prequel to A While In The Life. I hope it will answer some questions, and please bear with me if I delay in updating. Thanks!