I just realized I never told you what I did.
Draco had a feeling he knew what was coming.
Then tell me.
You know how we were talking about Draco Malfoy last night?
Yes.
Well, you see, I helped him out yesterday.
That's . . . Interesting.
He was getting attacked, and some guy punched him in the face.
Probably deserved it. Was Draco provoking him?
No, not at all. There were actually three of them, and two of them shoved him to the ground. Then once he stood back up, one of them punched him in the face.
Did you get involved in the fight? Are you hurt?
No, they didn't hurt me. After they hit Malfoy, I told them to scram, and they did.
So you saved him. How does that make you feel?
Really, really weird. I'm going to tell you something I haven't even told my best friends, but . . . It made me feel good. Really good. I think I'm glad I did it.
Draco could have passed out from shock. Potter was glad he'd saved him? How did that make sense?
At least you're aware of how you feel. That's a good thing. Have you considered talking to Draco and telling him how you feel?
Never, are you kidding me? I can already hear the jeers pouring out of his mouth: "Saint Potter, back on his saving people bullshit. Can never get enough of being the hero, can you, Potter?"
What makes you so sure he'll make fun of you?
Because it's Malfoy. That's what he does.
Okay.
I remember the other day, you were going to tell me something about your soulmate, and then we got to talking about mine instead. What were you going to tell me?
Nice subject change, but no.
Come on. You brought it up, and I really want to know. Who do you think I'd tell? I don't even know you.
Let's not go down that rabbit hole again.
Please tell me. I promise I won't make fun. It can't be worse than my soulmate situation. I don't even have a name, remember?
My soulmate situation is . . . pretty rough. It's someone I really like, but I know they will never like me back.
What makes you so sure?
Trust me, just take my word for it when I say they hate me with the force of a thousand Hippogriffs.
You have quite a way with words.
Thank you, I try.
You were saying?
Draco was about to tell Potter the most sensitive piece of information about himself, and he was going to do it anonymously so Potter would never know it was him. He drew a deep breath.
"Draco, darling, could you please pass the syrup?" hummed Pansy.
Utterly distracted, Draco picked up the thick, sticky bottle and handed it over to her.
"You keep glancing at your wrist. Are you messaging Potter again?" she asked.
"Maybe."
"Draco, I thought you were going to stop. I thought he didn't want you messaging him anymore."
"We made up," Draco said simply. "Besides, this is all I have. This is the only way I can ever talk to him. Can't you see?"
"If you grew a pair you could actually talk to him in person, you know," said Pansy. "And it's not like you don't have chances. He's your roommate."
"I know," growled Draco. "But I'm not subjecting myself to that humiliation. He'd just tell me to fuck off, and if he knew how I felt he'd laugh at me. He'd hold it over my head for the rest of our lives, he'd never let me live it down."
"You don't know that," insisted Pansy. "Potter may be an oaf, but he's not cruel. If you just talk to him like a regular person, and show him some respect, I'm sure you'd receive the same in return."
"I think you're overestimating this, mate," said Greg as he munched on his sausage. "Potter's not mean. If you went to him honestly and explained the situation, in person, I think he'd really respect the fuck out of that. Even if you don't get what you want in the end, at least he'll know. He has the right to know."
"No, he has the privilege to know. And because he resents me for no good reason, he'll never have the name."
"Not for no good reason," argued Pansy. "You targeted him and his friends for seven years. Some would call it bullying."
Draco placed his hands in his lap, appetite waning. "You're not helping, Pans."
Greg put a hand on his back. "I know you feel bad about the bullying. Which is why I think you should go to Potter and his friends, level with them, and apologize for it."
Hello?
"Hold on, he's messaging me again," said Draco, grateful for an escape from this conversation.
Right, my soulmate situation. Funny thing is . . . I don't just like this person. I love them. Which makes this situation pretty tough.
If you love somebody, you should absolutely tell them how you feel. I know more than anybody that tomorrow is never promised. I saw my life flash before my eyes many times in that war, and I'm about to tell you something crazy. I died in that forest. When Hagrid carried me out I was alive, but before that I died. And you know what? I didn't come back just for people to be afraid to say how they feel.
Draco gasped. Harry had died?
You died?
Yes. So grow a pair of balls, and tell that girl you love her.
That's the thing, actually, erm . . . It's not a girl.
Oh. You're gay?
Yeah.
Oh, okay. Then, go tell that boy you love him.
It's not that simple. He would hex the shit out of me, probably think it was some kind of joke.
Why would he think something that serious is a joke?
Because I'm . . . Me. He doesn't take me seriously as it is. I'm just a pathetic, snively coward to him. I sort of haven't always treated him the best, either. I haven't set myself up with the best circumstances for requited love.
I say you never know how someone feels until you tell them. You could be wrong about all of this, and he could love you, too. Do you know each other well?
Pretty well, I'd say. But strangely, also not. We're almost like two sides of the same coin.
Do I know this person?
Draco gulped.
"Draco, this isn't healthy," said Blaise. "You need to cut this off before it amounts to something dangerous."
"What's dangerous about a little harmless messaging?"
"It's always harmless . . . Until it isn't."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Potter's no fool. He'll catch on eventually, and when he does, he'll barricade you forever. I don't think you want that. Whereas if you talk to him in person, he can't possibly ignore you. And he'll respect you a lot more instead of hiding behind a wrist."
"You all think I should subject myself to the ultimate humiliation and talk to him in person?"
The group nodded unanimously.
Draco sighed. "You guys are the worst."
"We're only telling you the truth," said Pansy. "If you keep messaging him, he'll eventually catch on and block you. But if you talk to him, and apologize, you could restore ties between you guys and build a real connection."
"This is all I have," Draco said weakly. "Why can't you see that?"
"Because it's not all you have," Greg said softly. "I know owning up to your wrongs can be a scary thing, but it's necessary if you want Potter in your life."
"I'm not afraid to apologize," Draco argued. "I'm afraid he'll reject me and humiliate me forever. He'll never let me live it down if I tell him I'm his soulmate. He'll hate me even more because I'd be the one thing in his way of finding true love."
"You don't know that, sweetheart," said Pansy, sounding pouty and sad, and Draco hated himself for it.
"Can you just drop it?" said Draco. "I'm not going to tell him. I'm perfectly happy hiding behind my wrist, thank you very much, so enough is enough."
Hello?
Yes, you know them. But I can't tell you who it is.
Come on. You can tell me intimate details about your soulmate situation, but you can't tell me who it is?
I'm afraid not.
Okay, well wanna hear my advice? Go talk to them. You never know how they might feel. They may not like you right now, but if you talk to them in person and build a slow but steady connection, that could change. Just be genuine, be yourself.
I don't know how to be myself when I don't even know who I am. For years I had this identity attached to my back, and I acted on it with all my might and soul. But lately, I've been . . . Reassessing. And realizing that the way I acted was wrong. So I've been trying to make amends. But making amends with this particular person feels impossible.
I actually understand what you mean with not knowing how to be yourself. For years, I was always told what to do, who to fight, how to act. I had no room to explore myself or be who I wanted to be. And now, I'm eighteen years old and thanks to the war I have no idea who the fuck I am.
You're kind, you're clever, you're resilient, you're hot-headed, you're brave, you're loyal . . . I can keep going.
Please, you don't know me that well. I'm not all those things.
Sure you are. You're forgetting that I know you better than you think.
That doesn't sound creepy at all.
I didn't mean it like that. I've just sort of been . . . Watching from the sidelines as you've grown. And you've demonstrated all of those qualities.
Not helping.
Okay, I'll stop, I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry, just . . . Tone it down on the creepiness, alright? It's bad enough I don't know who you are. I don't need a stalker, too.
I'm sorry. I'll stop.
Hey, no, it's okay, just . . . It's alright. I know you're not a stalker. But I really think you should talk to that guy.
Not happening. He'll humiliate me. I'll never be able to live it down.
You don't know unless you try.
Draco wanted to hit something, because Potter's words were all too similar to his friends'.
"Fine, we'll drop it," Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. She twirled a strand of her black bob.
"Thank you."
Draco considered what his friends were saying. He didn't have to tell Potter about the soulmate situation, but he could try to apologize and make amends. It wasn't the most horrible idea in the whole, wide world. If he ever wanted this . . . thing with Potter to amount to anything substantial, taking ownership would be the first step.
You still there?
Yeah, I'm here. There's something important I have to do, though, so I'll talk to you later.
If by something important you mean swallowing your pride and talking to that bloke, then go get 'em.
Draco was going to apologize to Potter and his friends, and even if they could never be what he wanted them to be he still would have taken an important step in self forgiveness.
Because he knew that without Potter's forgiveness, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Harry was putting his books for tomorrow in his book bag when he heard footsteps at the door to his room. He sighed. Now that Malfoy was here, the air would become tense and uncomfortable.
"Erm, Potter?" asked Malfoy.
Harry looked up from his task. Malfoy was fidgeting, a tell-tale sign he was nervous. Harry might not have known him well, but after spending an entire year stalking him he'd picked up on a thing or two.
"Yes?"
"I-I have something to tell you."
"Okay?"
"Right. Well, I'm . . . I'm sorry. For bullying you. And insulting you."
Potter felt his own eyes widen.
"And I'm apologizing because I know it was wrong, and it's improper to use such vile terms against another witch or wizard."
"You're apologizing because it's improper?"
"What I mean is-"
"You're only doing this out of formality?"
"That's not what I-"
"You know what you can do with that apology, Malfoy? You can shove it right up your-"
"I'd also like to apologize to Weasley and Granger."
Malfoy's words took a moment to register with Harry, because what in the name of Christ?
"W-What?"
"I'd like to apologize to your friends as well," said Malfoy stiffly, though his eyes revealed more. They swam with pain. "Can you take me to them?"
Harry, absolutely gobsmacked, just stared at the Slytherin blonde.
"Potter? A-Are you going to say anything?"
"You want to apologize to my friends?"
"Yes. I hurt them just as much as I hurt you, so it's only fair, isn't it?"
"Malfoy, if this is some joke, I swear I'm gonna-"
"It isn't a joke."
Harry didn't know what to think. Malfoy was clearly out of his mind if he wanted to apologize, because normal Malfoy would never, ever apologize for anything.
Would he?
Harry decided to test him.
"I'll take you to them right now, if you want."
Malfoy's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded all the same. "O-Okay."
"Follow me."
Harry led him through the corridor, down the stairs and into the common room. Ron and Hermione were visiting in a couple of armchairs over by one of the fireplaces.
"They're over there. Would you like to go alone or would you like me to hold your hand?"
Malfoy glared at him. "I think I can handle it myself, thanks."
"Actually, I'm coming with you. Just in case you try any funny business, I'll be on my guard."
Harry could have sworn he saw Malfoy's face fall into an expression of dejection, but maybe he was just imagining things because after he blinked it was gone.
So the two boys walked over to Ron and Hermione, Harry with his hands hovering over his pocket containing his wand.
"Hi, Harry," greeted Hermione, but when her eyes landed on Malfoy her expression turned stony.
"Hi, Malfoy."
"What's he doing here?" asked Ron, as though Harry had dragged something poisonous along.
"Weasley, I've come to apologize," said Malfoy, and wow, he really didn't hesitate. Maybe he was serious.
Ron's eyes widened. He immediately stood up from his chair to be level with Malfoy. "You've come to apologize?"
"Yes."
"And what would you be apologizing for?"
"For calling you a blood traitor. That was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."
Ron scoffed. "Do you really think one apology is going to erase seven years of nonstop bullying?"
"I'm not trying to erase it," said Malfoy steadily. "I'm trying to take responsibility and let you know that it won't happen again."
Malfoy was pale as a sheet, and Harry almost felt bad for him. Almost.
"And what about Hermione?" asked Ron, gesturing to the brunette. "Anything you have to say to her?"
Malfoy swallowed, nodding carefully. "Granger, I'm sorry I called you a Mudblood. You're more than your blood type, you both are, and I apologize. It won't happen ever again."
Eyes wide as saucers, Hermione nodded. "Thank you for apologizing, Malfoy. I accept your apology."
"Well, I sure as hell don't!" exclaimed Ron. He rounded on a now slightly trembling Malfoy. "You think you can just waltz in here and take back every nasty thing you've ever said with one 'I'm sorry'?"
"No," said Malfoy. "That's not what I-"
"And you honestly think there's any conceivable reality where I'd ever forgive you for bringing your kind into the school who permanently scarred my brother?"
Malfoy hung his head, letting his hands fall down to his sides. "No, I suppose not."
"Ron-" Harry began, but he was promptly interrupted,
"No, I genuinely want to know. What game are you playing?" Ron asked Malfoy, taking a step closer to the blonde. "Is this some kind of power trip? Where you get us under your thumb before you plot something else evil? That is your specialty, after all."
Malfoy looked stricken, and all of a sudden Harry wanted to help him.
"I know there's no excuse," he said timidly. "I'm just sorry."
"Well, that's too bad," said Ron.
"Ronald," said Hermione, standing up. Ron turned to face his girlfriend.
"What?"
"Don't you think you should . . . Cut him some slack?"
"Cut him some slack? Do you even know who we're dealing with?"
"In a matter of months, we won't ever have to see him again," she said, and Merlin but she was right. After this year, Harry would never see Malfoy again. The thought wasn't allowed to fill him up with as much sadness as it currently was.
Wait, what?
Sadness? No. No. This wasn't happening. Harry was not sad that he and Malfoy were parting ways, he was glad. Very glad. That he'd never have to see the slimy git again. Yes, that was it.
Ron sighed. "Malfoy, Hermione may forgive you, but I certainly do not. Do you really think that one measly, little apology will erase seven years of your bullshit?"
Malfoy shook his head timidly.
"Then what the fuck are you doing here?"
"I-I dunno, I'll go, I'm sorry-"
"Damn right you'll go, and don't bother coming back. It's a shame you're here at all, I don't ever want to have to see your slimy face ever again."
Malfoy simply hung his head before turning around and walking away, but not before casting Harry one last look. It had Harry floored.
He looked crestfallen.
"Did you have to be so harsh with him?" Harry asked once Malfoy was out of earshot.
"Are you hearing yourself, Harry?" Ron exclaimed.
"I'm going after him," Harry decided, not liking the way Malfoy's expression had looked at all.
"Are you mad?" Ron asked.
"I very well might be."
Without waiting for a reply, Harry took off after Malfoy, who had already rounded the corner to go upstairs. Hurrying his pace, Harry rushed up the stairs just in time to see Malfoy disappear into their room. He hurried after him, and when he got to the door he said,
"Malfoy, wait."
Malfoy turned back around, and Harry was shocked to see how . . . disheveled he looked. His chest was heaving, and his eyes had a wild, crazed look to them. Harry couldn't help but notice how pink his lips looked, either. He looked almost . . . pretty. There was something vaguely feminine about Malfoy's pointy, elegant features. Harry wanted to touch.
But he couldn't. Because that would be disgusting. And wrong. Not because it was a boy, but because it was Draco Malfoy. The Death Eater.
But then his mystery messenger's words rang through his ears again, how Malfoy was a regular person and more than his Death Eater status. He had just apologized to Ron and Hermione and told them they were more than their blood types, wouldn't that also mean that Malfoy was more than his Death Eater status?
No, a voice in Harry's head reminded him. They were two completely different things, because blood type you couldn't control. Malfoy had chosen to become a Death Eater.
"What is it?" Malfoy asked softly, and he sounded defeated. Resigned. Harry's heart ached for him in spite of himself.
"I just . . . I just wanted to say thank you. For apologizing. I know that couldn't have been easy for you."
"It's not about easy," Malfoy said. "It needed to be done, so I did it."
"Still, that was good of you. I just wanted to say I didn't see it coming, and I appreciate it."
"Didn't see it coming," scoffed Malfoy. "What, because I'm a monster to you?"
"No," responded Harry reflexively, even though at one point he had seen Malfoy as a monster.
"Could've fooled me. Avoiding me like the plague, scrunching up your nose as if you smell something foul every time you're near me. You even tried to kill me."
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Oh god, Malfoy thought he'd actually tried to kill him . . . Nausea churned through his insides.
"That was an accident," said Harry. "I swear, Malfoy, that was a really, really bad accident. I never meant to kill you. I didn't know what that spell would do. It was my first time ever using it."
It was Malfoy's turn to drain of color. He dropped his book bag on his bed, then took a step closer to Harry. "Y-You weren't trying to kill me?"
"No." He needed Malfoy to understand just how badly he felt about the incident.
"You used a spell like that . . . Experimentally? Hoping for the best?" Malfoy asked shrilly.
"Well, when you put it that way . . . Yeah."
"So you just hoped the spell wouldn't do that much damage."
"I got it out of a book, are you happy?" Harry asked him. "There was a footnote that said 'for enemies.' I didn't know what I was doing. I was a scared kid, as I'm sure you were, too."
"I may have been a scared kid, but I would never, ever use a spell on somebody like that when I didn't know what it did," said Malfoy, sounding wounded and broken.
"I made a mistake, alright? I'm sorry. I really, really am, and I'm sorry I never apologized for it earlier. But I'm telling you now. I regret it, and if there were anything I could do to take it back I would."
Malfoy laughed bitterly, harsh and ugly and biting. "If only life were that simple, Potter."
"Well, you can't go back and un-bully us, can you? So you're doing the best you can, by apologizing. That's all I can do, too; that's all any of us can do."
"You got me there, Potter," Malfoy spat.
Harry sighed. "Why must you make every interaction between us so difficult?"
"I'm the one making things difficult?" exclaimed Malfoy. "You're the one who begged McGonagall to be switched out, you're the one who's acting racist against my whole house, have you even stopped and thought about the first and second years you're generalizing? How young they are for you to be categorizing them as inherently evil? Maybe you're onto something with me, maybe I am evil, but you cannot stand there and point the finger at them. I won't fucking allow it."
Harry felt dread seep into his veins. Malfoy was right. He was absolutely right. He'd fucked up.
"I don't know what to say, I'm sorry."
"Halting the insults to my house would be a great start."
"You're right. Not all Slytherins are evil. I know that, Malfoy."
"You sure weren't acting like it."
Harry sighed. "I'm apologizing to you. Are you going to accept it?"
"Like you 'accepted' my apology? Oh wait . . . You told me to shove it up my-"
"I didn't mean it," said Harry. "I was angry. I didn't mean it. And I didn't know you were being sincere."
"I know I seem like some hideous monster to you, but I'm not completely devoid of human sentient."
Malfoy sounded so small, so hurt, that Harry was suddenly overcome by the overwhelming urge to rush forward and scoop him up into a hug.
But, of course, he didn't. Since moments later, the logical side of his brain reminded him that he probably wanted to keep his bits attached to his body. And that Malfoy probably didn't even deserve the hug, after everything he'd done in the war.
He may have apologized for his prejudice, but that did not erase the horrific things he'd done in the war. He had tortured people, bragged to his cronies about being a Death Eater, and unleashed Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Malfoy may no longer be a danger to society, but he still had evil tendencies that had to be considered. He was no saint. And Harry couldn't afford to start treating him like one. He'd let it get to his head, the git, and he'd never let Harry live it down. So no, he couldn't fully forgive Malfoy. Especially not hug him.
"I know you're not," said Harry, choosing his words very, very carefully. "I only mean that you . . . Did things-"
Malfoy's face crumpled, and he turned away from Harry-
"-And . . . Malfoy?"
Malfoy's shoulders were shaking. Moments later, he turned back towards Harry, completely composed, as if nothing had happened. His shoulders were still again. The rapid transformation made Harry's blood run cold.
Malfoy was astutely trained in hiding his emotions, blocking people out when he wanted to. It was the one thing Harry gave him genuine credit for that he himself could not do. Everyone knew Harry wore his emotions on his sleeve, where Malfoy cradled everything so close to himself that not a soul could see inside.
It terrified him to see a person act so cold. And it made him wonder what exactly had happened to Malfoy to cause him to act this way.
"I was going to say you did things during the war that are unforgivable. You let Death Eaters into the school who nearly killed my best friend's brother."
Malfoy hung his head. "I know."
"That's it? You're not even going to try defending yourself?"
"Why bother?" Malfoy asked boredly. "They were unforgivable. There's nothing to argue about."
"You're not going to put up a fight and state your side?"
Malfoy sighed, looking back up at Harry. "That's just it, Potter," he said, and Harry heard a tiny bit of desperation in his tone. "No one wants to hear my side."
Harry realized that this was the end of their conversation. There was nothing else to say, because Malfoy was absolutely right.
So Harry didn't answer. He eventually stripped and changed into his pajamas, still feeling slightly uncomfortable at the notion of changing in front of Malfoy, but he was sure the last thing Malfoy was interested in seeing was his naked body, so he was fine. Then he crawled in bed to read. Yawning, he decided to see if his messenger friend was still up. It had been a long, eventful day.
You awake?
Yeah.
I've had the weirdest night.
What happened?
Draco Malfoy apologized. To me and my friends.
Wow, that's . . . Unexpected.
You're telling me. I didn't even realize the git was capable of basic human emotion, let alone something as strong as remorse.
Funny how people can change.
He's definitely changed. Something's also off about him, I can tell.
What do you mean?
He's thinner than I remember, he never smiles anymore, and the life is slowly draining out of his eyes. I'm only telling you this because I know you won't tell anyone, but it makes me kind of sad to see.
Things can't be easy for him right now, what with the reverse prejudice. Everybody hating on him, calling him a Death Eater. He's probably at his wit's end.
I just wish he wouldn't give up so easily, you know? He's strong- I know it. He can fight this, I know he can.
You mean that?
I would never, ever say it to his face, but I actually envy him for how calmly he handles everything that's thrown his way.
You never know what's really going on inside a person's head. He may be all cool and collected on the outside, but there could be a storm erupting inside.
You're right. I never thought about it that way before. The more I talk to you, the more I realize I don't know him as well as I thought I did. I'm sorry, you must be sick of hearing me talk about Malfoy by now. I'm sure I'm boring you.
Nonsense. Anything you want to talk about, I'm all ears. I'm here for you.
And expect nothing in return? Are you sure you don't fancy me?
Harry heard the smallest chuckle over by Draco's bed. Dismissing it, figuring he must be reading something funny in his book, he returned his attention to his messenger boy.
Would it be such a bad thing if I did?
You're ridiculous.
You didn't answer the question.
I shouldn't have to.
Fine, I'll give you a free pass, but only cause you're cute.
Harry felt his cheeks burn. The messenger boy was clearly flirting with him, and the craziest part was Harry didn't hate it.
Is it weird that I feel like I know you already?
No, because you do.
We are not having this conversation again.
Okay, we won't have it again. But like it or not, Harry, you know me.
Fine. I know you. Can we drop it now?
Alright.
I'm just not over the night I've had. Draco Malfoy apologizing . . . I thought hell would freeze over before that happened.
People can surprise you. Maybe he was affected by the war more than you think.
It shouldn't take a mass genocide to get somebody to see reason.
You're right. It shouldn't. But some people need more convincing than others, don't they?
And fuck, but he was right. Harry hated when he was right.
The war was all I had, all I knew. I was trained like a dog to fight, conditioned to be the hero. All my life. Now that that's over, I don't know what to do with myself anymore.
That's completely understandable. You know, you don't have to have it all figured out right now. You're only eighteen. You have so much time to find yourself you don't even know. That's more than can be said for me.
Harry frowned.
What do you mean?
My identity's already been laid out for me. I already know who I am, and so does everybody else. I hate it, and it's too late to change it. I can't tell you much more than that, or else you'll figure out who I am.
Would it be such a bad thing if I did?
You're charming. Genuinely. But it's for the better if you don't.
Harry couldn't help but smile. The boy had called him charming.
The more I talk to you, the more I want to get to know you. The real you. What is it about yourself that makes you want to hide from me? What are you so afraid of me finding out?
It took a moment for Harry to get a reply.
You don't want to know. I'm sorry.
Please. At least tell me your name. If you never want to meet in person that's okay, but please tell me your name.
I can't.
Why not?
Because . . . That will make everything so much more complicated. What we have right now is simple. I like simple.
I'll respect your boundaries. But I just want you to know that you don't have to be afraid with me. I will never do anything to hurt you.
I know you won't.
Harry somehow knew the conversation had reached its close. Feeling more confused than ever before, he drifted off into a restless sleep where he dreamed of green flashing lights and shouted curses and piercing screams.