AN: Thanks to those who have reviewed! This is the last chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter 13: Facing the Past
Draco Malfoy examined the locker room in distaste. "You would think now that they are actually winning, they would be able to afford some decent facilities," he muttered to himself. The walls looked dark and dingy, and there was a faint musty smell. Draco felt similar to a prisoner. Or perhaps it wasn't the condition of the room, but merely what he was there to do that was making him feel like the room was getting smaller and the air less plentiful. The Chudley Cannons had just won another game and Draco desperately needed to talk to Harry Potter. He paced nervously trying to come up with something to say, but words did not come to him at that moment. He was too busy revisiting painful memories that he wish he could forget.
His palms felt clammy as he raised his wand. Somehow he couldn't do it, couldn't, but he had too. He heard voices around him. Voices Everywhere. "Do it!" they called. He looked down at his wand and then up at the struggling boy. For a moment, their eyes met and Draco could not do it.
"Perhaps the boy needs a lesson, Lucius?" he heard a cold voice hiss. Draco gasped; he couldn't take any more torture. Had to do it. Had to. The only way. Trying not to look into the other boy's eyes, he raised his wand slowly. "Crucio!" he choked out.
The other boy cried out with pain. His body shook and trembled. His eyes rolled back into his head and his face wore an expression of pure terror.
"What are you doing here?" an icy voice brought Draco back to reality. He realized that he was sweating and out of breath. He looked up to see Potter staring down at him, wearing an angry expression. His teeth were bared and he seemed to be trying hard not to punch Draco in the face.
Draco did not answer right away. His pride took over at exactly the wrong moment. He couldn't apologize to Potter; he just couldn't do it. He turned away, resolving to go back to his flat and never see Potter again, but the thought of the dreams forced him to turn back. If he ever wanted a good night's sleep again, he would have to deal with his past instead of running from it. He sighed and took a closer look at Potter.
He was certainly different than the boy whom Draco had tortured at the age of 17. He was taller, but still rather lanky for a Quidditch player. His eyes looked different, worn down and tired, as if they had seen things that other people could only imagine.
"I…wanted to tell you…that…well…I'm sorry," Draco said slowly. But now that he had started he felt he couldn't stop. The rest of his words came out in a rush. "I'm sorry for torturing you, for acting like a prat in school, for everything I ever did as a Death Eater." Potter examined him closely. By the doubting expression upon his face, Draco could guess that Potter didn't believe him.
"Let me tell you something," Draco began again. "Your father was smart, funny, and a star Quidditch player. If it hadn't been for the damn war, he probably would have went pro…at least that's what everyone says. My father was a cruel, sadistic bastard who got it into his head that people were lower than you based on their bloodline or what kind of clothes they wore. My father was also a Death Eater. We both followed out father's footsteps, but maybe mine just chose the wrong path."
Potter considered him for a moment. "You know, maybe someone else would believe that your father was the only reason that you turned out the way you are, but not me. I didn't have parents, Malfoy. My aunt and uncle, who are Muggles, raised me and they made me do all the housework, and practically starved me and verbally abused me. And yet, I turned out fine. You made the choice to follow Voldemort. You could have actually used the brain in your head and made your own decisions, but no…daddy knows best. Maybe you should have questioned the morals you were raised with. And them maybe Hermione's parents would still be alive…and you wouldn't be feeling guilty as you are now." Potter stalked away leaving Draco with his jaw hanging open.
Draco had barely contained his rage throughout Potter's little declaration of heroism. Who was he to insult his father? Maybe the man hadn't been the nice, perfect, smart, wonderful person that Potter believed his father to be, but he was really all Draco had. Draco hunted through the locker room for Potter and found him adjusting his robes as he prepared to head home. Feeling the unwelcome anger bubbling up again, Draco grabbed the smaller man by his shoulders and spoke fiercely, "I came here to apologize. I've been jealous and envious of you since first year and yet I thought I would throw that aside so we could at least get through this stuff without it hanging over our heads for all of eternity. You're the goddamn hero Potter, shouldn't you be practicing forgiveness?"
Potter removed Draco's hands from his robes. "Malfoy, our paths have crossed too many times already. Can't we just leave each other alone?"
Draco fiddled with the ring on his left hand nervously. He had to tell Potter about the dreams or go. They were the only two choices. But for once, Draco wanted to make the right choice the first time. As Potter closed his eyes and prepared to Apparate, Draco shouted, "Wait! I…I've been having these dreams."
Potter cast an amused expression towards him. "Dreams?"
"Yes, about the night I tortured you and a few about Hermione's parents. I can't stop thinking about everything I've done. I need closure. Do you understand me? I'm going nutters with this stuff swirling around in my brain constantly," Draco finished.
Potter gave a fake laugh. "I should have known. Typical Draco Malfoy won't do anything unless it benefits him. I can't believe I actually thought you might be apologizing just because you thought you were wrong. Silly me."
"I KNOW I WAS WRONG! Okay! Is that what you want to hear because I'll gladly say it! I WAS WRONG! All I saw with those damn Death Eaters was respect…that's all I wanted. I got in way over my head. I underestimated Voldemort and the Death Eaters…I just never knew what the hell I was talking about. I was wrong in all our years at Hogwarts. Every single time I said something to Weasley, I was wrong! Sure he might not have had money, but look where the hell he is now! He has a great job, a wife, and best friends that will never leave him. What the hell do I have? Nothing! And I was wrong to judge people by their bloodline! Look at Granger! She has a husband, best friends, and is probably the smartest witch that I have ever met. And…I was wrong to say things to you too." Draco took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.
Potter eyed him bewilderedly. He laughed genuinely this time. "So we've established that you're wrong," he said with a grin.
Draco stared at him and couldn't help but smile a bit. "Listen…Harry…I'm sorry alright. For everything."
Potter ran a hand through his already untidy black hair. "Okay," he said softly. "If you're honest about what you say, consider yourself forgiven. I have to go. Have a good life, Malfoy." Draco nodded and stuck out his hand. Potter looked at it for a second as if wondering if it was some kind of joke. After a moment, he shook Draco's hand. Before Draco could say another word, he had Apparated.
That night, Draco crawled into his bed and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.
"You know…Harry, Ron and I have all done things that were not exactly proud of in the war. And sometimes I know I still dream about things…sometimes I wish I could forget the whole thing…but I settled for forgiveness. And if someone can find it in their heart to forgive me…then I think I can do the same for you."
"If you're honest about what you say, consider yourself forgiven. I have to go. Have a good life, Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy awoke early the next morning from the first full night of sleep he had had in a long time. No longer were echoes of the past haunting him through the nights. Now his dreams were filled with visions of forgiveness and compassion like none he had even known. And for the first time in his life, Draco saw a sign of hope. He could turn things around. It was not too late to make something of himself, to try and help others do the same. Draco watched the sun rise, thinking of how appropriate it was. Today would be his new beginning. It was time to put the past behind him and look to the future.
AN: Thanks for reading and please review! I was thinking of writing a sequel to this, in which Draco begins turning things around. If you would like to read a sequel, please state so in a review. Thanks!
