By the time the end of the first week of school had approached, Harry was exhausted. He did not realize how demanding the students were until he was no longer one himself. There was always a problem to be fixed, a fight to break up, a student to escort to the hospital wing. Besides the students, he had to be on a constant lookout for his own health. He saw one student try to slip him a love potion, and another student try to pour a sleeping draught into his mug before class had started. Maybe Mad-Eye had the right idea when it came to carrying around a private hip flask, Harry thought to himself.
Since their last confrontation, Harry refused to acknowledge Malfoy's existence. This proved to be easier than he thought it would be, because Malfoy taught in the basement while he taught upstairs; he ate at the staff table while Malfoy ceased to even appear at meals at all. Every once in a while he would see Malfoy walking down the same hallway he was in, but with so many students around, it was easy for them to keep their heads down and out of each other's way.
Despite his avoidance of Malfoy, one thing still remained to bother Harry. Back in his school days, one small glance in Malfoy's general direction would have led to a full-blown confrontation, but when he was practically screaming at Malfoy in the hallway earlier in the week, Malfoy remained perfectly calm. Perfectly composed, almost as if he had expected Harry to blow-up at him. Malfoy's words lingered in Harry's mind, I certainly do not like working with you, but I got over it. If it is what I need to do to keep this job, then so be it. I expect you to do the same.
I expect you to do the same. This is what bothered Harry the most. Malfoy has caused so much evil in his life; he has caused so much pain, yet he expected Harry to follow his lead as if he were a righteous man. The more Harry thought about it, and the more his initial anger had subdued, he began to see the truth in Malfoy's words. He was now in charge of the well being of hundreds of students, and he could not let a petty school rivalry intervene with that. His job was to ensure that these students leave Hogwarts with enough knowledge to protect themselves from whoever the next Voldemort will be, and unprovoked anger could not get in the way of that.
He did not know how long it would take to work up the courage to apologize to Malfoy, be he knew it was something that had to be done. Apologizing for being wrong is far more difficult than apologizing for being right. Harry and Malfoy may never be friends, but he knew they at least would have to be able to sit next to one another without one hand tightly gripped around their wands.
Harry walked over to the one window in his office; it overlooked the black lake. The weather outside was rainy and slushy, which meant that all of the students and staff would be indoors. With all of the students either in their common rooms, or in the library, now would be the perfect time for Harry to slip into the dungeons to talk to Malfoy without students to distract him or his courage. With the one task set in his mind, he made is way to the dungeons.
As Harry reached the last floor in Hogwarts, he realized that he didn't know where in the dungeons he would be. After walking through the deeper parts of the dungeons, Harry saw a dense cloud wafting out of a classroom a couple of doors ahead of him. He walked hesitantly towards the door of the classroom; embarrassment flooded through him as he got closer to Malfoy. His own childish words echoed in his ears as he peered into the classroom from the doorway.
Malfoy appeared to be standing over a cauldron with a dense fire underneath it. His hands reached towards a near by table that contained all of the ingredients to the potion he was concocting. Sweat covered his face; Harry couldn't tell if it was from the fire or his intense concentration. Whatever was in the jar that Malfoy reached for was dark, slimy, and possibly still alive.
"Are you going to come in, or is this your attempt at impersonating one of the Hogwarts ghosts, Potter?" said Malfoy without looking up.
As Harry crept into the classroom, Malfoy put a lid on his cauldron and wiped his hands on a rag. "What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy spoke again, but this time, he looked at Harry straight in the eyes. His stare was focused, unwavering; it made Harry feel as if he was being examined under a microscope. "I, erm…" Harry fidgeted with his fingers; Malfoy's stare was extremely unnerving. "I gave some thought to our last… conversation," Malfoy snorted. Harry gave him a hard look before he continued; he let his hands drop by his sides. "I gave some thought to our last conversation and I have come the realization that there was truth to what you said, no matter how obnoxiously you said it." Malfoy remained silent. Harry took this as a cue to continue. "Although I certainly do not like you in the slightest, that should not get in the way of my, erm, our students' education. For the sake of my job and our students' futures, I want to call a truce, assuming you are still searching for one."
Harry exhaled slowly. The worst was over. Although admitting that Malfoy was right had been a huge blow to his ego, but he also knew it was necessary.
Although Malfoy's face remained expressionless, Harry could tell that he was deep in thought. The smoke from the cauldron was seeping out from under the lid, giving the room an ominous mist. Malfoy's shape started to blur as the smoke fogged up Harry's glasses. Suddenly Malfoy took a step forward out of the cloud of smoke that had settled around his unmoving body. He held out his hand. "Truce." He said. A sense of relief washed over Harry. He met Malfoy's hand with his own and shook it. His grip was firm, but not to the point where it caused Harry discomfort. It gave the aura of a businesslike transaction; a contract; a deal.
When Malfoy let go of his hand, Harry turned around and quickly exited the classroom and towards the stairs that led out of the dungeons.
Calling a truce with Malfoy had been a hard thing to do, but in the end Harry was glad that he did. The weeks following the apology had been far less stressful without having to be on the constant look out for Malfoy in the corridors. Harry knew that they were nowhere close to being friends, but the air surrounding Malfoy was certainly far less tense. When Malfoy came to meals, he would acknowledge Harry with a curt nod. Harry no longer glared at Malfoy or bubbled over with anger at the sight of him, and during staff meetings, Malfoy never fought with him. Harry had not thought about raising his wand towards Malfoy since the second day of school.
The October weather made the castle slightly chiller; students now walked around with hats or scarves. The house elfs started to light the fireplaces around the school.
Harry had the students gather around a large tank on his desk; in his tank sat two grindylows. Harry watched the students' varying expressions in fascination. The braver of the students watched the tank in excitement, while others looked timid but curious. Harry remembered the first class that he started to learn about grindylows; Remus Lupin had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the time. Harry held back a shutter at the thought of his dead professor/friend.
Over the course of September, Harry started to feel secure at Hogwarts. Once getting into the flow of teaching, Harry's life had been pleasantly uneventful. However, while Harry's life carried on with undisrupted calmness while awake, war and destruction continued to rage on in his mind. Every night scenes of blood and horror overtook his dreams, resulting in long, undisturbed hours of the sleepless night. Even if he managed to fall back asleep, Harry always woke up tangled in his sheets panting, his knuckles white from the way they had grasped the headboard of his bed. On his worst night he had dreamed of his final battle with Voldemort.
Voldemort's cold, red eyes pierced his own over the tip of his wand. His smile twisted his face into something inhumane, something pure evil. Harry tried to reach for his wand, but he found himself frozen in his place. Voldemort started to laugh wildly; it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. A burst of green light burst from the end of his wand, but instead of hitting Harry, It hit Neville, who had jumped in front of him to save him. Voldemort tried to kill Harry again and again, but every time someone had taken his place. Hermonie, Ron, Ginny, Luna… Harry started screaming for Voldemort to stop. Begging for him to kill himself instead….
Suddenly Harry was being shaken awake by McGonagall. Harry's voice was hoarse. He must have been screaming while he was sleeping. He woke up covered in sweat and trembling uncontrollably. McGonagall met his gaze with a look of almost motherly concern in her eyes. She-
"Um, Professor? Are you ok?" Harry was jolted out of his memory. His student's voice washed over him as if someone poured a bucket of ice water over him. He could tell that he had only lost his concentration for a couple of seconds, because some of the students were still talking loudly, as if they hadn't noticed anything had happened. "Erm, yes, I am fine, thank you."
When the class was over, Harry began mentally slapping himself. Although he only lost his concentration for a mere couple of seconds, he shouldn't have lost his concentration at all. To take his mind off of his lesson, he started to search for seaweed extract, which is what the grindylows drank. He found the bottle open and on it's side with its contents spilled all over the floor. Cursing to himself, he quickly cleaned up the mess with a quick wave of his wand. The mess was gone, but so was the seaweed extract. He could make another trip to Hogsmeade, but that would take an incredibly long time, and it was already dark outside. He could hear students walking towards The Great Hall for dinner.
Harry tried to think which other teachers would have seaweed extract. Professor Sprout would have seaweed, but most likely not the extract of it. The only other teacher who he thought would have it was Malfoy. With a sigh, he started his way towards the dungeons; he would have to ask Malfoy if he had any seaweed extract to spare.
The dungeons were cold during the day, but now that it was nighttime, it was absolutely freezing. Harry could see his breath fog in front of his nose.
Malfoy was in his office. It was the only door with light escaping the cracks of its hinges. After knocking twice, a sharp voice called, "Enter."
Malfoy's office was decorated very similarly to when it was Snape's. Dark jars holding slimy objects lined the shelves of the very small room. Malfoy looked up and sneered. "To what do I owe the misfortune of having you in my office, Potter?" Harry took a deep breath. He refused to let himself be angered. "My grindylows need their dinner, but my bottle of seaweed extract was knocked over. I was wondering if you had some that I could use?" Malfoy considered what Harry had just asked for. "Certainly. I will come up to your classroom with you." Harry felt very awkward. "I wouldn't be offended if you just gave me the bottle and I went to go feed my grindylows myse-" "And risk you dropping my own personal supply of seaweed extract? I don't think so. Besides, I need to go upstairs to eat dinner anyway." With that, Malfoy grabbed a small black bottle to the left of him rose from his chair.
They walked in silence. Harry did not want Malfoy to accompany him up to his office, and much less did he want to talk to him. They rounded the corner that led to his classroom when suddenly Harry slipped and fell to the floor. Malfoy started laughing immediately. Harry stood up and brushed himself off. He looked down and saw that he had tripped on a chunk of a nearby statue. It must have been broken during the war and not repaired properly. He picked up the chunk of stone and turned around to show Malfoy.
The smirk that was on Malfoy's face was long since gone. His face morphed and twisted into a look of horror. Although his eyes were faced straight ahead, his gaze looked far off, as if he was staring at something completely different than Harry.
"Erm… Malfoy?" He did not respond. He started to tremble, and then he started to shake violently. "I didn't do it! I couldn't do it! Please stop! Don't hurt her! Please!" His voice was barely a whisper. Malfoy started to sink down the wall. His eyes were blown wide with fear. Harry couldn't move. He didn't know what to do.
"Please. PLEASE!" Malfoy's voice had risen. His normal posture of arrogance was long gone. "Stop hurting her! Punish me instead! She is all I've got! No stop- MOTHER! MOM! I beg you please stop!" Malfoy started to pull his hair, he started to hit himself. He seemed to be trying anything that would make himself feel pain, make himself suffer. Tears were streaming down his face. He made no attempt to wipe them away.
The sight of Malfoy's blood trickling down his head seemed to break Harry out of his trance. Malfoy, who was the definition of calm and composed, was breaking down. Harry tried to walk up to Malfoy, but he was too quick. "Get away from me!" Malfoy screamed. "All my fault, they are dead, all my fault… my fault…" He started to bang his head against the wall. The noise echoed down the hall like the booming of a cannon.
Harry had to stop Malfoy from himself. This time when he approached Malfoy, he put his knees on Malfoy's feet to prevent him from kicking. Harry tried grabbing Malfoy's shoulders in order to pin him down, but Malfoy was too strong. His arms continued to flail. Harry bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out when the back of Malfoy's hand caught him in the face. "Malfoy stop! You are here! Malfoy! Malfoy! Draco!"
As soon as Harry said his name, Malfoy slowed his flailing. "Draco, breathe. You are alright, you are here." Although Harry had no idea what was wrong with Malfoy, but from the lost look in his eyes, he certainly wasn't at Hogwarts.
Malfoy breathing was ragged and heavy. Every time he tried to catch it, his breath hitched, and spasmed. His once out-stretched hands landed on Harry's arms which were still pinning Malfoy against the wall. His grip was made of steel. His stare went in and out of focus. His grip on Harry's arms grew tighter, as if he was trying to grab onto what was real, what could steady him, what was in front of him.
After a long while Malfoy no longer was resisting Harry/ He had stopped his involuntary movements, though his grip on Harry did not loosen. He was no longer crying, but he was still shaking violently. Every other breath of his would hitch, as if something were trying to trap it, trying to prevent it from coming free. Malfoy finally looked up at Harry.
Harry had never, ever seen someone look so vulnerable in his life. Though the rest of his body was shaking, his gaze was steady. His eyes were wide with pain and fear. He was afraid of being so vulnerable, afraid that he let what happened happen.
Harry was the first one to speak. "You are here. You are safe. Everything is fine." he spoke with the tone that a mother would use when reassuring a child. "Thanks for stating the obvious." Malfoy breathed. Although the words were meant to be hurtful, Harry could not detect the malice in them. Malfoy looked far too tired to be angry.
It was one more minute before Malfoy's grip loosened. When he finally let go, his arms slid down Harry's until they reached his hands. After that they fell to the floor. His knuckles were covered in blood. In fact his head was covered in blood. His head was throbbing; he needed to get back to his room.
Malfoy started to stand up. "Woah, let me help yo-" "Don't you dare touch me, Potter," Malfoy said just as he started to fall. Harry caught him just as quickly. "Nice try. I am going to help you to the hospital wing-" "My room," Malfoy interrupted again. He looked like he was struggling to formulate words. "My room. Bring me to my room." "Fine." Harry lifted Malfoy's arm over his shoulders with surprising gentleness. Although he despised Malfoy, he could never be hateful towards him while in the state he was in.
The walk to the dungeons was slow and painful. Most of Malfoy's body weight was on Harry; he was practically carrying him. Malfoy bit his lip in attempt to suppress his groans, but did not succeed. Malfoy didn't want to talk, so Harry used this time to think.
What on earth just happened? Harry thought to himself. He had been screaming for his mother. It sounded like she was being tortured. That would explain why he didn't look like he thought he was in Hogwarts. But why was I able to break him out of it? He broke out of it when I called him Draco. But no one called him Draco. The only people he did were Snape, and his parents. Maybe he thought I was his mother…
Before he could finish his thoughts, they had reached Malfoy's office. Harry brought Malfoy inside. He placed Malfoy in the nearest armchair. He slowly sunk down, as if he was too tired to sit up.
The blood has stopped flowing from his wounds, but it had dried all over his face. "Malfoy, I have to clean your wounds. Where do you keep your towels?" This seemed to grab his attention. "Don't you touch me, I am going to take a shower. Get out of my room." Malfoy, who had reserved his energy being half dragged down to his office, stood up and miraculously made his way over to the small bathroom in the corner of the room. After the door closed, Harry fell into the armchair that Malfoy just came out of; there was no way he was leaving Malfoy alone after what just happened.
When Malfoy came out of the bathroom, Malfoy's walls were back up. The fear and horror that was in his eyes earlier had completely disappeared, covered by Malfoy's hard exterior.
Malfoy sat down on his bed and stared at his hands. He was wearing a black cotton shirt and black cotton sleeping pants. Harry was the first to speak. "Draco what happened to your mom?" At that, Draco's head whipped up with a speed Harry would have thought to be impossible. "Don't you ever, ever call me Draco. No one has called me that since The Dar Wa- get out. GET OUT!" Malfoy almost hissed at him. Harry lingered a second longer. Malfoy was having nightmares about the war. Except the weren't only nightmares. Malfoy's fears had consumed him, consumed him in a way that rendered him completely powerless. He was at the mercy of his own emotions, and that scared him. Although you couldn't tell by his face, Harry knew because he had experienced the same thing. Sometimes he forgot that Malfoy had been on both sides of the war. He was torn between his loyalty to his parents and his loyalty to himself. Harry got up to leave. Only this time he left Malfoy's room, he left with a sense of respect towards Malfoy. Harry knew what it was like to be a victim of yourself, and it was hard and painful. He left wanting to know more of Malfoy's story. Not because he was being nosy, but because him and Malfoy were two peas in the same pod. They were similar. Harry's respect for Malfoy had risen significantly, and although Harry did not know, Malfoy's respect had risen for Harry as well.
10