Okay, so this is a very short chapter – only a scene, really. But I thought it was important and I really wanted to include something about Draco's wand... I always wondered about it, anyway.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Harry Potter is JK Rowling's.

Chapter 9

Black and White

14th August, 1998

The gate was made of wrought iron, which surprised him.

His memories of the manor were vague at best – he remembered all that had happened, but had been in such a state of panic that the background was a blur. He had expected something like gold or at the very least silver, possibly encrusted with ridiculously expensive gemstones. It was still fancy, though, with branches of iron coiling around at the top and ending in sharp spikes. The result was a sort of gloomy arch that somehow reminded Harry of a cathedral.

Then the gate spoke through a mouth that had suddenly appeared, which jolted him out of his thoughts. "And who are you?"

It was surprisingly polite for a manor's gate; over the past couple weeks he'd come across some downright snobs. Kingsley had him practically going door-to-door to Death Eaters' houses, which were most often mansions, looking for Dark Artefacts. Talking gates were, apparently, a good way to keep people from entering.

He reached out, touching the cold bars. They were solid enough, which meant he wasn't allowed to pass through. Predictable.

"Harry Potter," he said, taking his hand back.

"State your purpose."

Well, maybe it was a snob, after all.

"I want to speak with..." He hesitated. "With Draco Malfoy."

"I will pass on the message." The gate fell silent. After a moment, it swung open. "You may pass through."

There was an elf waiting on the other side, and something like both anger and sadness surged through him at the sight of the creature. The Malfoys still had a house-elf? Hadn't Dobby been the only... Dobby.

"My name is Dippy, sir," the elf squeaked. "Master says I am to escort you to the third drawing room."

The third? Harry thought with a wry smile. Was Malfoy Manor really that big?

"Thank you, Dippy," he said sincerely, and followed the elf as he led him up the drive, up some steps, and into a wide hallway he could dimly recall, one lined with portraits.

Then Dippy opened a door to the left, which led to a smaller, longer hallway. Tapestries decorated the walls, depicting unicorns, dragons, and winged horses. And then there were too many twists and turns and steps for Harry to know where he was. Malfoy Manor was something like a maze.

Finally, though, Dippy stopped in front of a door, slightly out of breath, bowed to Harry, and said, "It is here, sir."

"Thank you," Harry said again.

The elf Disapparated and Harry stood there for a moment, looking at the door, half-wanting to run away and pretend he'd never come. No one would be the wiser; he wasn't here on official duty, anyway. Though the elf had been sent by Malfoy himself, so –

The door swung open.

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

Malfoy stepped aside to let him in, and Harry looked at him curiously. His arms were folded over his chest defensively, and he was looking straight at Harry, chin slightly jutted out in defiance. There were light circles under his eyes, and his robes hung around him loosely. He was even paler and thinner than the last time Harry had seen him, which was saying something. At the Ministry, during his trial, he had already looked terrible.

The trial in which Harry had taken his side, which had made front-page news the next day.

"I don't suppose I need to ask you what you're doing here," Malfoy said icily.

"Actua –"

"We're grateful."

Harry stared. "I'm sorry?"

"Thank you, Potter, that meant thank you!" Malfoy snapped, and Harry noticed the ever-present drawl was gone. "For saving my life twice, for saving the bloody world from the Dark Lord, for getting us out of Azkaban! Thank you, all right?"

Harry laughed, and Malfoy glared at him.

"No – seriously? You think I came to gloat?" Harry paused. "If anything, I should be thanking your mother. She didn't do it for me, but she saved my life, you know. Lied to Voldemort and all. For you."

"Of course I know!" Draco had gone even paler at Voldemort's name. "I remember the trial as well as you do. And – and how did you survive the curse, anyway?"

Harry paused. Wizards were almost ridiculously superstitious, and death wasn't something to be toyed around with. If he admitted he had, in a way, come back from the dead...

"I don't know."

"Like hell you don't. You said that, too, during the trial – I know you lied."

"And it served, didn't it?" Harry shot back, riled up in the way that only Malfoy could make him be. "You can continue to live your glorious life in your glorious mansion –"

"My life is anything but glorious, Potter."

They glared at each other for a few moments, then Malfoy relented and said, "Fine. What are you here for, then?"

"Well, like I said, your mother –"

"If you wanted to thank her, you would have asked to see her, not me."

"I feel more at ease with you," Harry admitted. "I know you."

"You don't."

"I do," Harry insisted. "And that's not the only reason I came."

He drew out a wand, seeing Malfoy flinch and step back at the sudden move. The idiot had misinterpreted his gesture, though Harry was pleased to see he hadn't tried anything. Maybe Malfoy was changing. Or maybe he realised cursing the Saviour was not a good idea, or maybe he didn't have his wand.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, almost without noticing it. "It's yours, you dolt. It worked just fine for me, but I still prefer my own. I figured you'd want it back."

"Back – oh." Malfoy looked at the wand again and, after a few seconds, nearly wrenched it out of Harry's hand.

"Yeah," Harry said, appraising him as he twirled the wand around in his fingers. "Does it, you know, feel right?"

"Feel – yeah. Yeah, it does." Malfoy was still staring at his wand as though he could hardly believe it. "It is mine."

"Yeah."

"I couldn't..." His voice trailed off and his eyes took on a sort of faraway look; for the first time, he seemed to let his guard down, as though he had forgotten who he was speaking to. "I'm glad. I couldn't get a new one, you see – it wouldn't feel right to – and besides, it's not like anyone would have made one for me. Willingly, I mean."

Harry said nothing.

"It's... different. The link feels strange. Weakened, I suppose, but it's better than using... my mother's."

"Ah. Yes. Ollivander – well. I took the wand from you, so... its allegiance transferred to me, technically. But it is your wand, and I thought that if I gave it back..."

Malfoy said nothing for a moment, though he seemed to tense up again. Harry wished he hadn't mentioned the taking your wand part. It was only begging for awkwardness.

"You know," Malfoy said slowly, "I told Dippy to take you here because the main drawing room is where it happened."

Harry looked into space. He didn't need to ask what it was. "Yeah... thoughtful of you, but I don't remember it all that clearly."

"Lucky you," Malfoy said, the drawl suddenly back again.

"Hardly." Harry paused. "I'm sorry."

Malfoy looked taken aback. "What for?"

"The... Our sixth year."

"You mean when I got the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? I'm sorry, too."

"Not that." Harry looked at the floor. There was a fancy rug lying at his feet, representing snakes and dragons fighting against a wizard. "The curse. Sectumsempra. When I found you..." Crying. "You could have died."

Malfoy laughed, which made Harry glance back up at him, surprised. He wasn't sure he had ever seen Malfoy laugh. It was a nice change. It sounded slightly bitter, but there was something else in his expression now, disbelief and definite amusement.

"Potter, I was about to throw an Unforgivable at you. I don't think you're supposed to apologise for not letting me torture you."

"I... It was wrong, though."

"Still hung up on that? Right and wrong, black and white... Grow up, Potter. Look around you and tell me if you can see a single person who's a hundred percent good or bad."

Harry smiled. "Well, I can't, but then, there's only you in this room."

"And you," Malfoy pointed out. "I was wrong. Behold the wonder of the wizarding world, the hundred-percent good Harry Potter."

"I'm not... Merlin, I nearly killed you! That's not 'good!'"

"I don't count," Malfoy said breezily. "I'm bad, remember?"

"You aren't," Harry said adamantly. "Or you'd be in Azkaban right now."

"I've been."

"And I'm sorry about that," Harry said truthfully. "I would have got you out earlier, but... I didn't know. I really didn't know – I thought I'd be warned when there was a hearing –"

"There are no hearings for Death Eaters," Malfoy said bitterly. "No trials. Directly carted off to Azkaban, and they deal with the paperwork when they've got the time."

"There was a trial," Harry corrected.

"Yes, two months after the battle. Two months in bloody Azkaban, Potter. And the first month – Salazar. They only kicked the Dementors out in June. It was... I thought I was going to..." Malfoy trailed off and was silent for a moment. "While we're on uncomfortable subjects, I suppose I should thank you. Properly, this time." He looked Harry in the eye. "For what happened in the Room of Requirement, during the battle. You saved my life. And then again, later – that was you, right?"

"The two-faced bastard, you mean?" He could feel the corners of his lips twitching. "Yeah, that was us – me and Ron. He's the one who punched you, by the way. I only stunned the Death Eater."

"I'll be sure to remember that the next time I see Weasley." Malfoy almost looked like he was about to smile, but then the moment was gone and he was frowning. "Thank you."

Welcome back, awkwardness. "You're welcome."

"You're an Auror now, right?"

"I'm going to enter training in September, yeah."

"Not going back to Hogwarts?"

"Not if I can help it. Are you?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I... I don't know. I didn't finish my seventh year, and with the Carrows teaching we didn't learn much anyway, but... I have a feeling it would be hard. And it's not like anyone's going to offer me a job, so what's the point?"

"You don't –"

Malfoy met his gaze evenly. "We both know it's the truth."

"Yeah... maybe," Harry said unwillingly. "I... suppose I better go now, then."

"I suppose so."

"And... Thank your mother for me, will you?"

Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes drilling a hole – ten thousand holes – into his back as he left the room.

Please review; as Draco has become one of my favourite characters, this is one of my favourite chapters. What about you?