Tragic Trust

After learning all Harry needed to know, Harry raced out of Headquarters and apparate to a dark dead-end street in Hogsmeade. Just before Harry apparated, a hand rested on Harry's shoulder.

Once Harry reached his destination he strode forward and drew gun facing Draco Malfoy. Harry was shocked to see Draco. Draco's on the run from Deatheaters and the Order. His father was poisoned on the day of his hearing and his mother mysteriously disappeared a week after and supposedly so did Draco.

Draco was wearing a hood, his hair's long and unshaven, Harry could barely recognise him until he saw his eyes. Draco's eyes changed the day Professor Dumbledore was murdered. He lost the old smug in his spirit and the smirk in his right cheek has drooped. Draco looks different.

Over the years, Harry has forgotten to loathe Draco, in fact, Harry often pitied Draco. He too has become a victim of this forsaken war.

"Malfoy," Harry whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to seek your help."

Harry thought for a while.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I didn't."

"How did you know where the Order's Headquarters were?"

"I've on the run from both sides and neither of them would think I was so close. I just want to live peacefully."

"You expect to find peace in the middle of a war." Harry jested.

"My hiding has been peaceful, Potter, but I cannot sit by any longer for this war to end. I want to join the Order."

"Then why don't you turn yourself in?"

"Because I don't trust them and nor will they. Once they have me, they'll interrogate me and lock me up, Potter. I want to fight, I want to help and most of all I want this to end!" Malfoy was furious. Harry has seen Malfoy scared, smug, smirk, cheeky, rude and even affectionate, but never outraged.

"I know you can help me, Potter. You can convince them that I have changed my ways. I am not a Deatheater, I may have the mark on me, but I will not side with the Deatheaters even if my life is depended on it."

"What makes you think I won't turn you in?"

"Because," Malfoy looked a little easier. "I can trust you, Harry."

"You can trust me." Harry whispered.

Harry suddenly felt an interesting sensation and he had a flash back to the last time Harry talked to Ginny …

The Hogwarts Express was soon to make its way to Kings Cross station. Harry was alone in his carriage with Ginny in his arms.

Lately Harry has distanced himself from Ron and Hermione and everyone he once called friend after Molly …

Ginny was the only one Harry has yet thrown a tantrum at. Harry couldn't bear to lose her, but he must if he was to keep her safe.

They were both quiet through the entire journey and they were both awake throughout the journey as well, it was best that way. No one came in to see them. There was only the rhythmic echo of the train and the flying scenery outside their window.

Ginny finally said something.

"So, Mr Hothead, are you ready to open up yet?"

Harry remained silent, he held her closer to him, as if she'd slip away if he held her loosely.

"Harry, don't you trust me? Harry, I know the death of my mother must've been hard on you, but you need to talk, not just yell at us, we're your friends and your family."

"My family is dead." Harry said.

"Do I look dead to you, is my father dead to you, is Hermione an annoying bird on the window or are my brothers just vigilant pests." It was Ginny's turn to be mad. "Do you not love me?" They then stared deeply into each other's eyes. Both of their eyes began to water until Harry replied.

"I love you, Ginny, I swear on every breathe take from this second onwards, I love you. But ginny, you can't trust me …" Harry was only pausing, only for too long.

"Is that to say you don't love me?" Ginny was furious. Harry has never seen Ginny furious at him before. Harry felt his heart collapse. It was painful to see Ginny mad at him. Harry wished he could've whipped out his wand and killed himself on the spot, but he was suspended in sadness. Harry could not weep, cry or speak. Harry's jaw trembled as he stared desperately at Ginny. Ginny looked at Harry with wet bloodshot eyes and she ran out of the compartment into the corridor where everyone was getting off the train.

Harry stood still, he felt … destroyed, trampled and mutilated. From that moment on, Harry was all alone …

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