A/N: First subchapter is sort of covering two of the last chapters of Half-Blood Prince. Second subchapter occurs in Deathly Hallows directly after Harry tells Neville to kill 'll notice if you reread carefully that Neville's "bending over a body" when Harry goes up to him, but when Harry's done talking, Neville just leaves, without doing anything about the body. Finally, we get into post-books work.
The Seer Overheard/The Cave
Harry was happier with Ginny than he thought was possible. But he still thought about Malfoy. Not about kissing him—he was trying to be faithful to Ginny, even in thought, though he couldn't exactly help his dreams—but about the day he'd found him crying. "He's gonna kill me," Malfoy had said, and if "He" was Voldemort, Harry knew this to be entirely possible.
Draco might be doing this out of nothing but a simple fear for his own skin, and though Harry would rather have died than work for Voldemort, he could empathize a little with Malfoy. Fear like he had seen the Slytherin display was something hard to bear. But any pity vanished when he met Professor Trelawney outside the Room of Requirement, having quite accidentally entered after Malfoy, just as Harry had been trying to do all year. Malfoy had fixed whatever it was, Harry was certain, and Malfoy was not remorseful, then—Professor Trelawney had heard him whooping—only scared that he would not succeed. He was happy that his project would work. But Dumbledore side-tracked Harry from this thought by announcing that it was Horcrux-hunting night. And Draco Malfoy did not return to Harry's thoughts until he found himself Petrified once more, invisible, unable to do anything but watch as first Malfoy, then Snape, raised their wands on Dumbledore. Bits of news hit him like thunderbolts. Malfoy was the one who had poisoned Ron. He had got the idea from Hermione's talk of love potions. He, once more, called Hermione a Mudblood. He was trying to kill Dumbledore all along. But he was wavering…He was here to kill Dumbledore, but he had not…until Snape did it for him.
xxx
Deathly Hallows: The Forest Again
Harry looked down at the body Neville had apparently abandoned, and saw Draco, who was watching him, gashes in his chest reminding Harry forcefully of Sectumsempra. But then they began to heal over, apparently already treated with dittany, and he relaxed.
Draco raised a hand up to him and Harry knelt. Their eyes met. Draco's expression changed, from self-pity to…understanding? If he didn't know what Harry was doing, he saw the deadness in his eyes. His wandering hand grabbed the neck of Harry's robes and pulled him close. He paused, and kissed Harry.
Part of Harry wanted to climb on top of the healing Draco and kiss him back, so passionately he would lose himself in the feel of Draco's lips, forget that there was a world outside that needed saving, a Dark Lord in the forest he needed to find, a death he had to embrace. But he couldn't do it. So instead he just kissed the other boy back, not opening his mouth, taking solace and drawing strength from the touch of another's soul that such a kiss was. He had felt that before with Ginny, and he felt it now, with Draco, until Draco broke it off and something in his eyes said goodbye. He, of all people, would not push Harry to do the selfish thing and stay. Harry hoped his eyes showed gratitude for that. Draco could be all right when the dittany finished its work; now that he looked, the cuts were not deep. He stood up, still locked with the blonde boy's eyes, and threw the cloak around himself. He could see the change. The other pair of eyes could not see him anymore, were not focused on him, though they remained on the spot where he disappeared. Harry walked away.
xxx
Afterwards: Till Death Do Us Part
Dolohov advanced on the bound man, wand outstretched.
"You little piece of filth," he growled. "Good-for-nothing family. Couldn't kill Harry Potter before he killed the Dark Lord."
"I was seventeen!" shouted Draco Malfoy. "Antonin, what did you expect?"
"Harry Potter was seventeen, a half-blood child with a streak of luck. Your family is as old as time and you didn't have the guts or the power to finish him."
"Why don't you kill him, then?" Draco spat. "Why come after my family? Haven't you learned anything, Antonin? Winning is all that matters, and the Dark Lord wasn't winning. Voldemort—" Dolohov flinched. "I can call him by his name!" shouted Malfoy. "And you grovel still! And you think you could have finished Potter in my place!" Pansy Malfoy stiffened as she heard a voice in her ear.
"Have you ever even cast the Killing Curse, boy? Let me show you. Avada—"
"NO!" screamed Pansy, and ran, somehow loosed from her bonds. She flung herself in front of her husband as a blast of green light hit her square in the back.
"Pansy!" yelled Draco.
"Mum!" yelled the fourteen-year-old boy trussed on the sofa. Antonin Dolohov raised his eyebrows.
"Can't kill you now, eh, Draco? Not going to make the same mistake as our dear, departed Dark Lord. But, I can kill your son!" And he rounded on Scorpius Malfoy. Several people shouted several spells at once. A crowd of bat-demons appeared out of nowhere and swarmed Dolohov, who began shooting spells in random directions. Draco Malfoy found his bonds loose. And part of the roof came down. Scorpius, who had rolled off the expensive sofa in an effort to avoid being murdered, was sheltered under the coffee table. Malfoy, previously tied to a large pillar, was also safe. Harry Potter, who had whipped off his invisibility cloak, was unharmed behind the pillars. But pieces of plaster hid Dolohov and revealed a tangle of blazing red hair.
"Ginny!" hollered Harry, and ran to her, tenderly lifting pieces of plaster off her.
"Idiot. Bloody Gryffindor," snarled Draco, and took it upon himself to stun and bind Dolohov with his wand, which he retrieved from the Death Eater's pocket, before untying his son.
"I told you to stay outside. Routine Death Eater clean-up," muttered Harry as he cradled Ginny in his lap.
"Good hex, though, wasn't it?" murmured Ginny, her eyes out of focus.
"Your best. We need to get you to a Healer."
"No time. I love you, Harry. Tell the kids I'm sorry."
"You'll tell them yourself. Come on, Ginny. I can't lose you. Not you, too. Please. Hold on."
"It's too late, Potter," said Draco, almost gently. He and Scorpius were crouched beside Pansy's still body. Tears coursed down Scorpius' cheeks.
"No…" sobbed Harry. Draco stood up.
"If there are any reserve Aurors out there, you can come in. The coast is clear," he called. Ron Weasley entered. He scanned the area, and alighted on Ginny.
"NO!" he screamed, and ran to crouch with Harry beside her. "Ginny! Ginny, please wake up!" It was going to fall to Draco to clean things up, he could see that much. He left his son with his wife's body and went to the fireplace.
A batch of Aurors and Ministry officials arrived after long to help out. They took Dolohov into custody, helped Draco set wards on the remains of his house, and arranged for transport of the bodies of Ginevra Potter and Pansy Malfoy. Ron and Harry were taken back to their own houses to grieve with their families. Malfoys had to be strong, Draco had always told his son that, but this was something for which he could allow weakness. He was not his father. And so he held Scorpius while he cried. When the boy fell asleep in his arms, exhausted with grief, he carried him up to Draco's own bed and laid him there. Draco himself sat by the bed, thinking. Pansy had given her life for him. He hadn't realized she had loved him that much, and he wished he could tell her so. Had he loved Pansy? In a way. It had been akin to an arranged marriage. For the lord of a Slytherin manor, and head of a centuries-old family, he had very few choices for a partner. And Potter. Pansy's sacrifice had been rather akin to Potter's own mother's, if he remembered the stories rightly. Potter had been listening as he and Antonin argued about him. Draco would have expected him to step out, whip off that cloak of his and say, "Yes, Dolohov, why don't you kill me yourself?" He had, instead, acted almost like a Slytherin, slipping behind them to cut their bonds. It was only Dolohov's anger at Draco's taunts that kept everything from working out, with everyone still alive. Pansy's sacrifice had cost Mrs Potter her life. But it had bought his. He would never be able to thank her. As he thought that, it crossed his mind that he didn't want to thank her. The look on Potter's face, as his wife died…no, that was foolishness. And Pansy couldn't possibly have known. Had it even occurred to her who had been behind her, invisible? But Draco couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for Potter.
xxx
Aftermath
Harry and his family spent a lot of time with the Weasleys after that. Ron and Harry were both appalled at the way even after death, Voldemort had snatched one more thing from them.
"Fred wasn't enough," said Ron bitterly on one such occasion. "Amelia Bones, Emmeline Vance, Lupin and Tonks and Colin Creevey weren't enough."
"My mum and dad," added Harry. "Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Cedric. I thought the deaths would be over."
"Guess that's what we get for being Aurors, mate," said Ron. "And for Ginny being so bloody noble."
"That sucks," said Harry, burying his face in his hands. "I chase my dream, finally make it when I should have died, and what happens? It gets my wife killed." His eyes burned, but no tears fell. He was done crying by now.
"I suppose we have to be grateful she wasn't killed in the final battle, though," said Hermione, coming to sit beside them. Sorrow streaked her face as much as the boys'—she and Ginny had been close friends as the only two girls between their three families. "You got more than twenty years with her, when it could have been none."
xxx
"Dad?" asked Lily when she stepped out of the fireplace back home. "Do we have to go over there quite so often?" Harry was taken aback.
"Not if you don't want to," he replied. "Why?"
"They don't get it," she replied. "Rose and Hugo. Yeah, she was their Aunt Ginny, and they miss her a lot, but their home life hasn't changed. But I can't walk in this house and know Mum isn't here. I can't pretend she'll cook the meals or come to hold me when I'm sad or yell at James for flying too close to the Muggles. If you're not home and I want dinner, I have to make it. If I want James not to tease me, I have to tell him. And they don't get that."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. The boys thus far were silent, standing behind their sister, but their expressions told Harry they agreed. He hadn't thought about it, but he supposed they were right. The Weasleys could push Ginny's loss to the back of their minds when they had to. The Potters were faced with it every day. He supposed it was like George's life without Fred. All of his siblings had missed him like a lost limb, but George had lost his best friend, his partner in magic, and his closest confidante. Which Ginny was to Harry now, or had been for twenty-three years. Ron loved his sister to pieces, but he hadn't lost what Harry had, just as neither of them had lost what George had, or—
"You know who would get it?" said Harry without thinking. "Scorpius Malfoy." James and Lily stared at him, too adult to say, "But he's a Slytherin!" but not enough that it didn't show on their faces. "I know he's a Slytherin," said Harry wearily. "And I know at your age that's all that matters. It was just a suggestion."
"Dad's right," said Al unexpectedly. Everyone looked at him. "I remember what you said about my name," he mumbled. "Not all Slytherins are bad."
"Come to think of it," said Harry, "I wouldn't think he's got anyone to talk to. Malfoys are supposed to be stronger than that." Lily melted.
"Can't hurt to try," she said. "One visit, and we'll see how it goes?" James gave up and submitted to his siblings.
"Fine," he said irritably. "But I won't be held responsible for what happens if he says 'blood traitors'."
