Disclaimer: Despite my wishes, Harry Potter will never belong to me.
Between Black and White
By: Looly
Never in his life would he have thought the Slytherin Prince and himself would have anything in common. They differences between them were so numerous that he had come to see them as pure opposites; white and black, light and dark, good and evil. It was a belief he had fallen into years ago, and had never doubted that he was in the right and that the boy he had argued with so many times was in the wrong.
It frightened him to think that perhaps they weren't so different after all.
Both of them had been forced into positions that they hadn't asked for. For him, it was the role of the hero. He was expected to bring greatness with him everywhere he went, to rid the world of evil, and to accomplish the impossible despite only being a kid. Draco was in the same boat, wasn't he? Born to a family of Death Eaters, he was expected to be incredible with magic, to become a Death Eater as well, and was forced to carry tremendous burdens, too.
Harry had never met his parents, and had forever longed for the love of a family; Draco had always had doting parents, but never the true love of a family. Both of them were afraid of the future, weren't they? Afraid of what they had to do, of what was expected of them, of what would happen if they did live up to these expectations and what would happen if they didn't.
Funny, wasn't it?
Where did black and white break off from grey? He couldn't find it within himself, for once, to hate the boy who had always been his enemy. After all Draco had done, the only thing he felt for the boy was pity. Hate, anger, sadness—all of what he usually felt had flashed only briefly in his mind, and then disintegrated.
It was odd to understand an enemy so well. Enemy? Could he even consider the former Slytherin Prince an enemy?
He could remember stepping in on Myrtle consoling a sobbing Draco… The image made reality no easier. If the time came, Harry may have to kill him. But still the image persisted in his head; was he really evil, or was it for show? The image of Draco lowering his wand just the tiniest fraction after hearing Dumbledore's promise of safety returned to him, and he felt another jolt of guilt.
Draco never would have done it, he knew. Draco had been unable to finish his job, of which he had spent the whole school year obsessed with. All of it had come down to the face-off with Dumbledore. And all of it had fallen apart at the promise of safety. Of freedom.
In the icy blue eyes of his enemy, Harry had seen hope.
Forcing his eyes closed, Harry turned over in his now too small bed, pulling the covers tighter around him. What if the time came for him to have to kill Draco? Would he be able to, knowing that both of them were in over their heads and wanted nothing more than to spend a normal summer at home with their friends? Would he be able to, knowing that both of them were so similar?
With a sigh, he drove the thoughts from his head. He didn't want to think about it.
But the question still lingered. Where, in a world where most judged in black and white, did the Slytherin Prince and Boy Who Lived lay?
AN: Aaaaangst. Yeah. I know. Mad angst. I dunno what to think of this one; I literally finished reading HBP again today, and I just... felt something after reading the part where Harry felt only pity for Draco and the suffering he must have gone and would soon be going through. It just made me incredibly sad to think of how Harry and Draco were both in such a similar boat. But, alas, here ye be. Hope you enjoyed it.