A/N: This is part 3 in my Alternative Battle series, Those That Change the World. It's an AU not really focusing on either the book- or the movie-verse.
I think this story is, solidly OK. Not amazing, not awful, just OK. I think I did some interesting things with the organization and the plot, and I actually like the dialogue (which is rare for me!) But like, overall I am very indifferent to it on the whole. But I had no reason not to share it (especially when the alternative is the flash drive dies and it's just gone forever).
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, Draco, or any other parts of the Wizarding World (settings, characters etc), and I make no money off of this fan work, which is for entertainment purposes only. And trans rights are human rights.
Saving Ginny
Harry Potter sprinted down the corridor and skidded around the corner, just managing to duck in time to avoid the hex that set the tapestry on the wall aflame. Hermione cast a deft, wordless Aguamenti to extinguish the fire- there was quite enough to be worrying about without the added trouble of a spreading blaze.
Ron's jinx shot inches in front of Harry's face, aiming for the Death Eater responsible for the missed attack, and then Harry lost track for a bit as he engaged a masked figure of his own in battle. When he finally looked around after his successful Stunner, he found himself halfway up the corridor, Hermione slightly ahead of him but still locked in combat with a Death Eater. Ron was hurtling towards her. Harry saw a flash of white bounce off of Hermione's Shield Charm- thank Merlin she kept it up around her. The caster spun around, stymied, and Harry took off after him.
His mid-stride hex missed its mark but ricocheted off a wall to hit Greyback right in the face- not bad, Harry mused, and sent another spell after his foe. It hit the edge of his robes as they whipped around the corner. Harry put on a burst of speed and, grabbing a lantern on the wall, swung through the turn much more sharply than the Death Eater did, allowing him to close the distance between them. The man got one terrified glance behind him before Harry's spell hit him squarely in the back and he toppled to the ground.
Triumphant, Harry raised his eyes from the prone form at his feet, and time stopped. He'd always thought it was so cliché and unrealistic when, in action movies, the hero realized that something awful was coming and he could do nothing about it, and everything seemed to be in slow-motion, tunnel-like on the source of his mental anguish. But now he realized that's exactly what happened, because at that moment nothing in the world existed for him- none of the bits of stone flying past, or the shouts from those around him, not the walls or the floor or even his own body- except for Ginny and the purple light headed straight for her, the spell she had no hope of blocking. And Harry didn't even hear his own violent "NO!" as he desperately raced towards her. But it was no use; he'd never make it in time. Ginny's eyes widened in shock and fear.
A bright blur swept past and the purple light hit; Ginny fell to the floor. Enraged, Harry unleashed the strongest spell he knew on the bastard who had done it, who had taken his Ginny, sent the man spiraling into the airscreaming, to land with a satisfying crunching sound. Harry could feel his magic pulsing in the air around him, fueled by his grief and rage, and every Death Eater left standing ran for it, falling over themselves in the mad dash to escape.
Harry let them, and the other Light side fighters did, too, turning to look at him with sympathy, shock, awe, maybe a little fear. But he ignored them, too, all the pairs of eyes staring at him as he ran to the spot where Ginny lay. Ginny, always so full of life, one of his best friends, his girlfriend, with luxurious hair that smelled of flowers and rain, Ginny and her warm brown eyes- Blinking at him.
"Harry?" she asked, cautiously, as she raised herself from the floor.
"G-ginny? But, I thought- the Seeping Cold, it was- you couldn't've blocked- how?" He wrapped her in his arms and actually cried, joyful though the tears were. Sure enough, her skin was warm under his hands, not cold like it would be if the curse had hit.
"I'm not sure..." she whispered, pressing herself close to him. "I must've tripped, or something, because suddenly I was on the ground."
Harry inhaled her scent, deeply. "I thought I'd lost you," he murmured, stroking her hair.
"I'm right here, Harry. I'm fine," she breathed back. "I'm right here."
Gasps and murmurs flew through the assembled crowd, which was comprised of Order members and students alike, as they finally made their way over to the couple and broke though the moment. Reluctantly, Harry pried his arms away from Ginny and stepped back. Her eyes were also tear-filled, but a quick once-over assured Harry that she truly wasn't hurt.
And then a sharp, pained intake of breath caught his attention, and Harry tore his gaze from Ginny to the source of the sound, a person curled on the floor. Ginny took three quick steps backward, alarmed, but Harry fell forward, onto his knees, and gently turned the person over; he could feel the chill in his skin even through the robe. Harry understood, then- the flash of white had been this person's hair when he knocked Ginny to the ground, intercepting the curse. This man was the reason Ginny was still alive.
Harry rolled him onto his lap, cradling the shivering body, and when his eyes traveled to his face they widened in disbelief. The person he held in his arms, the one who'd sacrificed himself for Ginny, was Draco Malfoy- Malfoy, who hated Ginny for being a blood traitor, who hated Harry on principle, who joined Voldemort's forces, who caused Dumbledore's death. Malfoy. Had saved Ginny's life.
"H-Harry?" the blond breathed, through chattering teeth.
"Yes..."
Draco smiled slightly and let out a sigh, but that wasn't good because a sigh required a deep breath and the deeper you breathed the faster the chill would take you. As a matter of fact, it was usually much quicker than this. Harry looked down again, and saw the horrendous frostbite covering Malfoy's left forearm. The curse had hit him there, and it had given him extra time; usually the casters aimed for the torso and the near immediate death that came from one's vital organs freezing inside them. Harry knew he shouldn't, but he reached out a trembling hand to touch the blackened flesh anyway- it was colder than ice.
Draco chuckled deliriously. "The Mark is gone... finally gone..." He coughed then, and Harry could hear the rattling of ice crystals in his chest. Desperate, he pulled Draco closer, up against his chest, trying to share some of his own warmth. Draco was heavy, though, heavier than he ought to be- the freezing was already spreading.
"So tired..." Draco mumbled, and laboriously raised his arms (sluggishly, as if they were trying to part molasses) to rest on Harry's shoulders. His ice-cold fingertips brushed Harry's back, and Draco's cheek was so cold against Harry's bare neck that it almost burned.
"Stay awake, now. Come on," Harry whispered, new tears forming in his eyes now as Draco did just the opposite, snuggling closer to him, every limb drooping as the cold overwhelmed him. At least it would be painless for him, Harry thought. "Don't sleep now, not yet. A little longer, stay with me a little bit longer, Draco."
The blond stirred at his name, tied to raise his head. "Shh, shh, don't move. Conserve your heat, don't move. Just stay awake now, come on. Talk to me."
"S'cold," he slurred.
"I know it is. I know, Draco, fight it."
"You're warm," he said, voice scratchy now as the ice invaded his throat. Harry curled his arms around Draco's back and rubbed as best he could, rubbed fiercely, tucking Draco into his body, trying with all his might to give off heat. Ginny was nearby, she was saying something to him, softly, but he couldn't pay attention to anything except Draco.
"Warm... nice... Harry..." Draco's head drooped again, his eyes slid shut, and Harry knew that it was nearly time. It's not fair, he thought. It's not fair...
Draco's breaths were shallow now, and small snowflakes even came out with each exhalation to land in Harry's hair or on his clothes. Harry instinctively pulled Draco even closer to him, however impossible that was, and moved a hand to his hair. "I'm sorry, Draco... I'm sorry I can't save you. All I can do is thank you. You saved Ginny's life," he whispered.
"Yes..." It was barely audible, just the smallest puff of breath carried the syllable, but it reached Harry's ear nonetheless.
"Why?" It was a dumb question, an especially dumb last question, but Harry's brain was numb at the moment, and he wanted desperately to understand.
"...love..." That one word was the only part of Draco's answer Harry could hear, but it sent him reeling. Draco loved Ginny? Harry would never in a million years have guessed it, but for him to be willing to die for her, it had to be true.
"Ginny, did you hear-?" He looked over at the girl now, at the tear-stained face and huge, surprised eyes. She shook her head, hair a red waterfall, and shifted closer. "He said... He- Ginny, you take him. Here, you do it, you hold him."
She didn't even argue; she was probably in shock over all that had occurred. Harry knew he should be feeling jealous, angry even, about Malfoy's love of his girlfriend, but he couldn't, because that was the reason she was alive now. And after what he'd done, Draco deserved to spend his last seconds in Ginny's arms.
But the blond squeezed Harry tighter instead, when Ginny reached a hand out to his shoulder. "Draco, it's okay... Ginny's here, she's all right. She'll take care of you."
"Hi, Dr-Draco," she whispered shyly. "Thank you. Thank you so much, I..." She had to swallow past the lump in her throat. Ginny bent down to kiss Draco's forehead. He stirred slightly, very slightly, just a few millimeters' movement of his head, and Harry felt Draco's lips on his neck- they were cracked and hard from the chill, but seemed to have a subtle smile. Harry didn't have the heart (or the voice, at that moment) to tell Malfoy that he wasn't Ginny.
"Love," Draco sighed again, with a long, rattling breath that brought goosebumps all across Harry's neck, then down his arms, now his whole body.
The people around him finally moved, now, stepping forward and reaching out for Draco tentatively. But Harry shook his head, eyes beseeching, and everyone obeyed, backing off at once. Harry wasn't even sure why he felt so strongly, only that he did; tears were prickling his eyes now. Just when the man had shown a flash of humanity, of compassion and selflessness, he had his life ripped away from him. It just wasn't fair, wasn't right. Draco should have had decades left to him, to spread his love to others- he should even have had a chance to win Ginny's heart; knowing what he'd do for her, Harry couldn't begrudge him that. Something good had been lost here, something redeemable (if not redeemed), something pure and fragile and beautiful.
I should have been the one to take that curse, Harry thought bitterly. It should have been me; I'm the one who's supposed to protect her- protect him, protect all of them... I've failed... Poor Draco... Now Harry was properly crying, hot, wet, salty tears pouring down his face, in front of everybody, but he didn't care. Malfoy deserved to have someone mourn him. Looking down, Harry saw that at least the man looked peaceful; he'd been right about the smile, and even though his limbs were frozen he looked utterly relaxed and comfortable, as if there was nowhere else he'd rather be. Harry's tears dripping onto Draco's face completed this vision; they could have Draco's own joyful ones.
Ginny was silently crying, too, Harry noted dimly. Hermione had pushed her way forward and was hugging her as Ron cleared the crowd, sending them off down one hallway or another. The distant sounds of the battle helped to draw them away, but Harry still couldn't bring himself to move, not even when Ron tapped him on the shoulder.
"Look, mate, we've got to-"
"No."
"Ron," Hermione interjected softly. "Give him a minute."
"I- yeah, alright," he huffed.
But Harry didn't get his moment, because at that point Voldemort's voice boomed, "POTTER! COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN! AT LEAST YOUR MUDBLOOD MOTHER HAD THE COURAGE TO LOOK ME IN THE FACE WHEN I SNUFFED HER OUT AS EASILY AS A CANDLE."
Suddenly Harry couldn't see straight or hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears. He felt his heart pounding and rage coursing through him, his magic pulsing around him. That monster was the reason Draco was gone, Sirius was gone, his parents were gone- Voldemort had taken away so much life, so much joy and love, and for that he had to pay.
Still fuming, magic still swirling and pulsing dangerously, Harry looked up at Ron, eyes blazing. The red-head nearly stumbled backward in fear of what he saw there. But Harry gestured to Draco, too incensed to speak, and Ron understood. Carefully he helped Harry slide from under Draco, without jostling him. Then Harry took out his wand- not his wand, Draco's, he'd stolen it from him back at the Manor; that made the instrument feel different in his hand, sacred almost. He channeled some of his magic to levitate the blond into a small recess in the wall, where the battle wouldn't touch him anymore.
He knelt to place the wand at Draco's side; it was rightfully his, but Hermione's voice stopped him. "Don't, Harry, you don't have a replacement. You- you can give it back later, after this is over."
"And it will be over tonight," he snarled and abruptly stood and whirled around. Somehow he noticed a folded piece of parchment lying on the floor and picked it up, tucking it securely into his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione cast a spell on the alcove to further protect it, and he nodded his thanks.
Then, Harry set his jaw, clenched his fist around Draco's wand, and marched toward his destiny.
&.&.&.&
"Don't shout!"
Ron and Hermione looked over at their friend sheepishly. He was perched, as always, on the chair by the bed, silhouetted by the sunlight pouring in through the big window.
"We're not shouting," Ron insisted.
"Well you're not whispering, either, and I've told you a hundred times-"
"Geez, Harry, you're starting to sound like-" Ron cut himself off abruptly with a sidelong glance at his girlfriend; the last thing he wanted to do was offend Hermione Granger. The witch clearly knew what he had been about to say, because she rolled her eyes, but she also smiled slightly that he was even considerate enough at all to hold his tongue.
"Sorry, Harry," she whispered, and grabbed Ron by the elbow. "I think we'd better be going anyway. This is the change of shifts, so the press corps will be smaller and easier to evade than usual."
"It never ceases to amaze me how you managed to pick that up in only a week," Ron commented.
"Thank you, Ron. Harry- you'll let us know if anything happens, won't you?"
"Yeah, 'course. Bye," he murmured distractedly, dunking the washcloth in the warm water. Hermione shook her head fondly and shepherded Ron out of the door. Harry barely noticed; he was too intent on his task. He used his free hand to smooth back the pale blond hair and gently rubbed Draco's face with the washcloth, smiling softly himself when the lips twitched into a smile.
"That's better, isn't it?" he whispered. "Much better... bring some more color into those cheeks." He had been told that Draco couldn't hear him, but he was sure that the blond relaxed, however minutely, whenever Harry spoke. Plus, it was comforting to him to do so.
"Ginny stopped by today, did you know? And Ron and Hermione just left; I'm sure you heard them, the racket he makes... I've asked them to be quiet, but..." he shrugged, which really was absurd because there was no way Draco could see it, regardless of what he heard. "Anyway. Mrs. Weasley sent more flowers, bright cheerful ones this time; told her the roses were too much. Forget what she said these were called... ah well."
Harry looked up at the grandfather clock on the far wall- 5:30. "Dinner time," he said cheerily, and with one last brush of the hair removed his hand from Draco's head. This time, though, the blond stirred fretfully, turning towards Harry's retreating back. The brunet caught the movement and darted back over.
"Draco?" he asked hopefully. The blond shifted again, eyes still closed, and mumbled something incoherent. "What is it?"
"Warm," Draco said, frowning. "Nice."
"You like the warmth? Here, let me heat the washcloth again."
"Not cloth... hand..."
"My- my hand?"
"Mhmm. Warmer. And softer," he whispered. Harry felt a bright surge of excitement and hope blossom in his chest and hastened to comply, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, not the chair, and resuming his stroking.
Draco smiled and sighed contentedly, curling around Harry and nestling closer. "Are you going to go back to sleep?" Harry asked.
"No..." But within minutes his breathing had deepened and evened, and he was fast asleep.
Harry woke up at quarter past midnight to a soft rustling sound. He looked to the right, where Draco was still wrapped around him, although both men were lying down now. The blond was shifting restlessly and twitching. Harry turned completely over onto his side, concerned, when suddenly Draco's eyes snapped open.
They had the slightest blue tint to them, aftereffects of the Seeping Cold, but otherwise were that piercing grey Harry remembered so vividly.
"Harry?" Draco whispered.
"Yeah... hi," he murmured, slowly raising his hand to rest on Draco's cheek. He nuzzled it.
"Your hand really is quite warm. And sweaty," he added distastefully, with a frown. At that, Harry couldn't help but laugh. It was such a Malfoy thing to say- it meant the blond really was alright.
"Sorry," he mumbled, averting his eyes, and lifted his hand up.
But Draco's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare remove that hand, Potter." Harry obligingly returned it to its proper place, and this time Draco's came up to rest on top of it. "Much better." After a moment, he asked, "Where are we?"
"I rented a little flat in Muggle London. Avoid the press, you know. Plus you needed quiet to recover."
"Ah... well, my guess would have been heaven, so I'm not too far off then." Draco looked highly amused.
"Di-did you honestly think you were dead?"
"Yes," said Draco bluntly. "I wake up to your dazzling eyes and your hand on my cheek, what was I supposed to think?"
"I dunno," said Harry with a nervous chuckle. "Er... what do you, ah, remember?"
"Hmm... I got hit by the Seeping Cold, on my arm-" he glanced over at his forearm; an ugly, blotchy scar was there, the last remnant of the frostbite. But Harry still thought it was better than the Mark. "I'm quite sure I was dying. In your arms, in fact. I was so happy... if we're here, that means you defeated him? The Dark Lord?"
"Yes," Harry said simply. It wouldn't do to go into specifics, certainly not right now. "And for good this time."
"Of course. I never expected anything less of you," he admitted, with a faint blush.
"Thanks," Harry acknowledged awkwardly. "Listen, um... can you remember what you were doing when you got hit by the curse?"
"Saving Ginny," he drawled casually. "I leapt at her and shoved her out of the way."
"Yes. Well, I was wondering, why?"
"Why? I thought it was quite obvious. You did get my letter, didn't you?" Draco asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice for the first time. Harry nodded.
That had been the parchment Harry picked up in the corridor. After they'd managed to slip away from the chaos that followed the battle, he had taken it out of his pocket and been shocked to find his name. 'Harry.'
Trembling, Harry had managed to shake the note open. 'Harry' it said again. 'If you are reading this, I am dead.
'I know it sounds terribly melodramatic, but I feel that I am entitled. Besides, you weren't really naïve enough to think that everybody would emerge from this war intact, were you? Well, perhaps you were... At any rate, by now, I am dead. Hopefully slain in the act of performing some horrifically selfless and heroic deed, saving countless lives in the process. A close second would be getting Avadaed by the delightful Mr. Riddle as I attempt to single-handedly defeat him (highly unlikely, of course, but if given the opportunity I will certainly try).'
Harry had found himself smirking; it was exactly the kind of thing that Malfoy would say. But his handwriting wasn't at all what Harry expected. Instead of perfect, even letters, the words were slightly slanted, and some shapes were stretched or constricted. It was almost playful, and strangely intimate.
'Obviously, you doubt that assertion. No matter; I have missed far too many opportunities to, as they say, 'come to the light' to be entirely believable. However, for what it is worth, I am being entirely sincere here- no point in lying or hiding now, is there?
Draco, his hand still on Harry's, smirked. "Of course, I should have figured as much; how else were you going to discover the cure for the Seeping Cold, stumble upon it by accident?" Harry flushed at that; that was precisely what had happened. It had been with complete astonishment that he read what Draco had had to say next.
'Before we stray too far down the rambling paths of my confessions, let me share with you some things of vital importance. I don't want to forget them later. If you're reading this, most likely you have succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord- I commend you for that. However, realistically, you will still have large numbers of Death Eaters to contend with. While I'm sure you and your Order friends are more than a match for them (here Harry pictured Draco rolling his eyes), you are notoriously susceptible to the Seeping Cold, a curse the Dark Lord himself uncovered in his noncorporeal wanderings.
'The first thing I must ask you is not to stare dumbly at the spell as it darts towards you. Honestly, at least attempt to defend yourselves (even if Protego isn't effective). Because, the first step to survival is to avoid getting hit in the head, chest, or stomach. Some simple dodging is more than possible, and an impact on the hand, arm, leg, foot (finger, toe, ear... etc.) drastically slows down the spread.
'Next, you need to expose the victim to a source of heat. Granted, artificial heat doesn't work (so wands and fires are out), but biological heat of the kind naturally emitted by humans and certain animals does. Bring the victim as close to the source as you can- hugging is going to be required.
'Now that that's settled, you need salt water. Warm salt water, mind you. And it must be dripped carefully into the victim's mouth, drop by drop. The warmth, obviously, warms them, and the salt acts to slow down the formation of further ice.
'Afterwards- pay attention, Potter, this is crucial, and probably why your previous attempts at revival have failed- the person needs to be treated with a pulsing energy source. Don't worry about being gentle or kind- it needs power behind it, some force. The curse is very sensitive to motion, you see, and it will short-circuit and cease causing damage. Additionally, the pulsing will seem threatening to the victim's own magic, which will kick into overdrive and, happily, it will devote some of its efforts to healing the affected areas.
'If the victim isn't too far gone, this should suffice to save them. It may take a while, certainly, but there is all likelihood of recovery.' At those words, Harry had bolted from the room, past the Great Hall, up the stairs to the alcove where Draco's body was hidden. His skin was still blue, and he was still cold to the touch, but somehow, miraculously, he was breathing now, and his breaths were clear and warm, his heartbeat steady. Harry had never felt so overjoyed in his life.
"You- you actually did discover it on your own, didn't you?" Draco looked incredulous. "Merlin... maybe there was something to all the Dark Lord's 'luck and chance' bit after all..."
"Yeah," agreed Harry weakly. "You're not really complaining though, are you?"
"Certainly not," he said primly. "I will say that you took your bloody time reviving me, though, Potter. Most people are gone once they stop breathing."
"Hermione said something about your blood storing enough oxygen for some amount of time... wasn't really listening too closely, to be honest. Still, it's damn lucky."
"Indeed... now, where were we? Ah. I had just told you why I deigned to save your little Miss Weasley."
"Er, you didn't, actually. You just asked me if I read the letter, and said that that explained it, but it didn't."
"You're sure you read the entire letter? Including the last three paragraphs?"
"That was my favorite part," Harry whispered softly. He already had the passage memorized.
'So. Seeping Cold, check. My burial wishes, check. Possible Death Eater hideouts, check. Alright, well. Now we get to the part that is actually the entire reason I started this letter in the first place. Even on parchment I can't seem to open up to you properly... well, there's nothing to it but to go for it- can't do any harm now. I love you.
'Yes, you, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived-to-make-my-life-hell. I don't exactly know when this started, but it's been so long now that I can't remember a time I didn't love you. You may not believe this, what with all the bad blood between us, but it's the honest truth. I only acted that way because I didn't know how to tell you otherwise, and because I was terrified that you'd reject me like you did on the train. You have no idea how much I wish that had turned out differently...
'Anyway, there it is. My confession. The reason I was able to die such a noble and just death (assuming I did, of course), the reason I am even now preparing to fight the Dark Lord, fight my family and friends, and for the past year of my unwilling service the reason I have been able to get up in the morning is because I love you. And I always will. I hope that, knowing this, you can at least remember me with something other than pure hatred.
'Be happy, Harry. You of all people deserve it. All of my love,
'Draco Malfoy'
"Well, there you are." Draco smiled brightly.
"But- but, I still don't understand! If you had been saving me, yeah, it'd make sense, but Ginny... you hated Ginny, she was your rival for my affections."
"But she made you happy," he said softly. "She was important to you. And I knew you'd be miserable if anything happened to her. It was always for you, Harry."
He had tears in his eyes again. "Wow... do you know, before I read that letter I thought it was because you loved Ginny. When I asked you, you said, 'I love her.'"
"So that was why you tried to pawn me off on her..." said Draco with a fond eye roll. "I said 'I love you, Harry.' Apparently the curse had affected my throat by that point- or you need your hearing checked."
"Or both," said Harry cheekily, wiping away tears.
"True," murmured Draco softly, and leaned in until their lips were only a hairsbreadth apart. His breath flittered over Harry's mouth as he asked, "Is this what you want?"
Harry answered by closing the rest of the distance to press his lips to Draco's, softly, chastely. The blond shivered at even that slight contact. When his eyes fluttered open again, they were shimmering.
"People are going to question it, you know," Draco murmured.
"Not the ones who matter," Harry replied, pulling Draco tight against his chest. "And if they do, I'll just tell them to sod off, it's none of their business."
Draco chuckled. "Which will do less than nothing to squash the rumors of enchantment and trickery on my part."
"Well, then I'll just have to explain to them why I love you. You can be brave and selfless, you've always been able to ignite passion in me, you see me for me and not for my fame or my image, you're damned attractive- what? it's true!- and we have a lot in common. Like a love of Quidditch, and a desire to save Ginny Weasley."
Draco full-out laughed at that last one, and all was right in Harry's world.