Chapter 5: Bricked Windows and Scars

On the second day the two former rivals had developed a strange sort of bond over muggle music. That night after dinner, Harry lamented that Malfoy never bought a stereo and they had to bring their heads together to share the headphones. He could hardly enjoy the music comfortably with Malfoy's lips only inches away from his own as they sat with their shoulders pressed together on the couch. Despite this, most of their time was filled with tension, on alert with the threat Lestrange posed lingering over their heads. They were ready to bolt as soon as the storm passed.

On the third morning of being trapped together, listening to the wind shriek outside, and still no answering Patronus from Ron, Harry was growing worried. Malfoy whinging in the background, particularly irritable that morning, only worsened Harry's mood. His former rival was tutting and huffing as he washed the dishes.

"After all I did for you, the least you could do is wash up after yourself. I'm not your bloody servant!"

Harry was sitting at the table, reading a muggle esoteric book. He sighed, growing vexed, and said, "Just use magic. I'm your guest, aren't I?"

Malfoy slew around. "No, you're a stupid suicidal maniac that can't even do his job properly!"

That caused Harry's already frayed temper to boil over. He slammed the book on the table and stood. "Are you serious? You ungrateful little shit! If it wasn't for me you'd be a sitting duck for Lestrange and whatever nasty things he has in mind for you!"

Malfoy flinched and the blood drained from his face. Harry swore under his breath. Slowly, Malfoy turned to the sink, shut off the faucet, then walked towards his bedroom.

"Malfoy?"

"Leave me alone, Potter." With that he closed the door behind him.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He knew they were both high-strung.

Striding determinedly to the door, Harry knocked and said, "Are you okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown my help in your face."

Malfoy called back petulantly, "You stupid oaf! That's not what I'm upset about!"

"Then what? You're acting like a woman!"

Moments later, the door was swung open abruptly with an irritated Malfoy, his black eyebrows furrowed deeply under his bangs. "First of all – so what if I act like a woman? You say that as if it's a bad thing – are you a misogynist, Potter?"

"Ah-what? No! That's not how I meant it! I meant that you're acting irr..." Harry trailed off, realizing what he was about to say.

Malfoy looked smug as he finished the sentence for him, "Irrational?"

"Erm, sorry?"

"Well, I'm a man and I'm being all those things. So fuck you, fuck my father and fuck the Death Eaters!"

"Huh? What do they-"

"And second of all, I highly doubt it's acting like a man to be so fucking clueless. Did it ever occur to you that you're not the center of everything? I'm sick to my stomach because I'm the target of a psychopathic murderer. I'm barely keeping myself together because I don't know what's going to happen. But you have to remind me by saying things like, 'I'm the only thing standing between you and the nasty things Lestrange has in store for you.'!"

Harry was stunned. The only one that ever chewed him out like that was Robards, his boss. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm agitated with this situation too, so..."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Isn't an Auror supposed to keep civilians calm?"

Harry glared and said dryly, "Okay, I got the point."

Suddenly it became awkward between them and the strained silence seemed to stretch until Harry cleared his throat. "We can go over our plan again. It'll help calm us down to focus on what we need to do rather than what might happen. Navy SEALs - those are American Muggle special forces - call it a three-foot world. Focus on the things you can control, not what you can't influence. Worrying about what's out of your hands will tire you out and make things worse. Don't think about the situation you're in now and compare it to an ideal situation you'd rather be in. We can't control the weather, or being trapped here, or Lestrange. We can take stock, plan and prepare so that we have steps we can focus on to progress the situation to our advantage once we're out."

Malfoy seemed to think about then said, "Why three foot world?"

"Let me go make us some tea and I'll show you."

Malfoy nodded, looking like a bird with its feathers ruffled and it reminded Harry so much of the old Malfoy back in school – the one that acted like an attention-seeking prima donna when something bad happened to him. Even though Harry had detested that Malfoy, it was nice to see that the war hadn't completely destroyed him.

Harry snorted. "We sounded like a married couple just now. Let's reign in the dramatics in the future, yeah?"

Blinking, Malfoy stared, mouth agape, then led out a peal of laughter as he hid his face in his hand. Harry had never heard him laugh without derision inflected in his voice before. It was a lovely, youthful sound and Harry couldn't help it – it infected him and he followed suit.

"Merlin, Potter...please never say that again!"

"Sure thing," Harry said with a hesitant smile of his own. But secretly he thought he wouldn't mind making Malfoy laugh like that in the forseeable future. Then he realized how insane it was that the last person in the world he ever expected to make him feel again was doing just that.

Dreading to delve to deeply into it, Harry turned away from Malfoy and went to boil water in the kettle. When Harry sat down across the table from Malfoy with their teas, a paper and pen. He drew two circles overlapping each other. On the first circle he wrote 'THINGS THAT MATTER'. On the second circle he wrote 'THINGS YOU CAN CONTROL'. And under the bubble where the circles overlapped he drew an arrow pointing at it and wrote 'WHAT TO FOCUS ON'

Draco said softly, "That's not a lot of things that matter that we can control."

"Not a factor. Let go everything else, out it out of your mind, and give all your energy to this area in here," Harry said tapping the third bubble in the middle. "Bit by bit, you progress and get more done than you thought you would. This is how you survive and stay calm in a storm. They teach this briefly on Auror training - not as well as with special forces I think. Lots of Aurors always get so deep in their emotions when they should focus on the mission. Myself included. I should have been handling this situation better." When he looked up at Malfoy he caught the man's curious stare. "What?"

"I didn't say this before but there's something really different about you."

"That's not surprising. And I can list each thing I found different about you. It's a long one."

Malfoy cupped his teacup and watched the steam dance in front of him for a moment. "How do you do it?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Eyes glued to his own teacup, Malfoy seemed uncertain whether he should expound on his vague inquiry. After a moment's pause, he licked his lips and said, "You did more than enough during the war. You accomplished your lot in it, so why...how do you just gear up and go back out into battle like it's nothing? Aren't you tired of fighting?" Suddenly Malfoy chortled derisively. "Look who I'm talking to..." he said to himself, then, "Have you ever even known fear?"

"Yes," Harry looked straight at him as he answered. "But I've been fighting for so long that it's familiar. Peace...is what I fear. I'd rather fcous on action then sit in a room where my mind thinks it's safe to come out."

Harry hated the look of guilt on Malfoy's face. As if he was the one that broke Harry.

"To tell you the truth, I like the adrenaline," he continued. "Fear only fuels my anger and lately that's all I can feel. If I don't go back out there, if I don't take each one of those bastards down..." Harry shook his head. "I'd go completely numb – maybe go mad, start believing it was all a dream. I wouldn't be able to live like you. I can't just forget what happened. I need to destroy them all after what they did or I won't be able to sleep at night."

Harry was struck by the hurt look Malfoy had in his eyes. "I haven't forgotten," he said through gritted teeth. "Just because I'm not an adrenaline junkie doesn't mean I sleep well either!"

The urge to argue with Malfoy, to let his temper rise at the sound of his rival's challenging tone was strong. But Harry kept it at bay, remembering the huge stock of calming draughts, the ingredients to make them and empty vials taking up a whole cabinet.

Harry rubbed the spot between his eyes. "You're right, sorry."

Malfoy looked at him curiously again. "See, that's what I mean. I just saw you get angry and then hold yourself back. The old you was like a volcano. There was no student or teacher that would have been spared your temper."

Harry chuckled. "Only if I thought they did something wrong. But you're right...I guess age and training mellowed me a bit."

"Not mellowed. Matured. It looks good on you."

Harry eyed Malfoy closely, who turned his face away, ears red.

"I meant you look decent enough to function in normal society, Potter. Don't get you knickers in a twist!"

Harry smirked. "I'm not the one getting his knickers in a twist."

Malfoy faked coughing behind his hand to hide the tinge of pink on his white, soft cheeks. The black hair against his pale skin only made his blush stand out more. "Another thing that's different: you're much more confident. Aside from that you look and act like the same old brash Gryffindork you were in school."

"Griffindork?...got a bit of colonial parlance, there. Are you sure you're Draco Malfoy?"

"Maybe I have a few American books and maybe every time I see the word dork I think of you."

Harry's eyebrows rose and he couldn't help the grin that slowly split his face. "Been thinking about me?"

Focusing rather avidly on tracing the gold brim of his tea cup, Malfoy shrugged with affected nonchalance. "From time to time, in the worst of ways as I'm wont to do when I need a bit of cheer. Like the time I made those Potter Stinks badges – ah! Good times indeed!"

With a grimace, Harry added darkly, "Or the time you broke my nose?"

"I don't regret that one bit. It felt good at the time."

"Oh! Remember that time me and my mates cursed you so badly you turned into a giant slug? Or the multiple times I shut you up in public and your smug face would suddenly turn sour?"

Malfoy pursed his lips so tightly they almost disappeared.

"Ooh just like that!"

"Shut up, Potter." Malfoy sniffed indignantly and took a dainty sip. Harry was a little enchanted by the perfect grace of Malfoy's table manners, if nothing else.

One particular memory cropped up bringing a more somber expression on Harry's face. "There is one thing I did to you for which I am truly sorry." While Harry searched for the proper words, Malfoy seemed to pick up on what he meant.

"Don't," he whispered. "Don't go there. I don't want to."

"Stop running," Harry retorted, a bit more brusquely than he intended.

Malfoy glared back and spat, "And what of you then? From what I hear, the war isn't even over for you. It's like you want to drag it out!"

Harry didn't respond to that. A self-centered coward like Malfoy could never understand his mission.

"There!" Malfoy pointed at him. "That look! That change. Sometimes you look like you're made of stone and its eerie. You've always been emotional but now you're like...Rodulphus."

Harry's mood suddenly dropped to a dark place. He looked away, inspected the bricked up windows and pondered his own inability to feel sorry for himself. Maybe then, pathetic and sad like Malfoy, he might feel more human.

After a moment's silence, Malfoy mumbled, "Forgive me, Potter. It wasn't my place. I'm not one to talk, after all, am I? I've...bricked myself in quite literally."

When the minutes rolled by and Harry remained impassive, Malfoy's tentative voice broke through his brooding. "Are you alright?"

If it had been Ron or Hermione, he would have told them he's fine and they needed to stop fussing over him like old women. They were important to him and he simply didn't want to bother them now that they had started a new life together. Ron was finally able to talk about Fred. Hermione had managed to find her parents the previous year and was still working on the remaining gaps in their memories.

Malfoy, however, was lonely. Dealing with his own mental issues all on his own and prodding Harry the way Harry wanted to prod Malfoy – as if trying to look for their own image in one another, hoping that what they discovered wasn't terrible – then they didn't have to feel so alone.

That was why Harry chose to say what he had never said out loud before."I still have nightmares," said Harry. "I see people I love die in them. I hear them screaming in them. Sometimes though I dream that they're still alive and I'm so relieved and happy...then I wake up and realize it wasn't real – those are worse."

There was a heavy pause during which the silence seemed loud, then he continued, "I also hate forests. When I'm in them I feel like death is standing close behind me, like nothing is real and what I call life now is all a figment of my imagination. Sometimes I wonder if I did die and all this is playing out in my own dead mind. If part of me died, then maybe that's the change you see?"

Malfoy was silent, contemplative, attentive – an odd look for him. Harry added, "And Voldemort – there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of him. I won the war but he took half my mind with him, I think. I mean I had a piece of his soul in mine all my life, without even knowing. I was one of his horcruxes, you know."

At that, malfoy paled and swore under his breath. "Bloody hell, Potter. That's...horrific."

Harry smiled grimly. "So is walking towards your death, knowing it's the only way to save the world from a madman." Harry told Malfoy the story of how he came back to life and when he was done, he wanted to laugh at th irony of Draco Malfoy giving Harry Potter a look of pity.

"I always watched your life from the side lines," said Malfoy. "Must say, it's worse than I thought. I remember seeing your body...thinking hope was dead. Believe it or not I was rooting for you. I would have rather gone to Azkaban than spend another day ruled by him."

Harry said, "I believe you. I did speak for you at your trial. I also watched your life from the side lines. The time I got too close you almost Crucioed me."

Malfoy winced and looked away. "I was going mad with fear...spent the whole summer forced to practice Crucio on others. And I knew you were following me around which only added to the pressure so when I saw you I just reacted blindly."

"So did I. I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"But see, that is why it's not over yet. Not as long as those who made you do bad things to survive – you and me and many others – are still out there. They need to be off the streets. I feel like the only way I'll ever be whole again is making sure every last remaining terrorist is dead or rotting in Azkaban."

When Malfoy didn't say anything but seemed to be holding back his tears, Harry added, "The first time I've felt empathy for someone in a long time was the other day when you cried. It's terrible but the reason why is because I'm not envious of you the way I am of my friends. You're...well, you're jus as fucked up as me."

At that, Malfoy lowered his gaze. He stayed quiet for a long time. Then, he finally spoke, but hesitantly – as if he thought he owed Harry something but didn't want to say anything. "I-I'm pyrophobic."

"Yeah. I noticed," Harry whispered, remembering Vincent Crabbe and Malfoy's grip around his waist.

"I have nightmares too. I..."

Harry touched Malfoy on the arm but he flinched and snatched his arm away. "Malfoy, it's okay."

"It's not."

"I'm sorry I tried to pressure you before. You don't owe me anything."

After a rather pregnant pause, Malfoy said, "You didn't pressure me. You're right. I am running away. I don't know what's going to happen and you're the only person I've had a proper conversation with in so long," he whispered the last part as if in awe. "Well, other than my mother once a month. It's just...when I dream the screams I hear aren't from loved ones...they're the people...when I helped – Merlin this is hard. I need a drink." He got up and went into his room.

When he returned with a bottle of vodka and two tall glasses, he spoke as he poured the drink, filling up his own glass, his voice reinforced by determination. "Most of the Death Eaters were vile and cruel – the ones that weren't there because they were pissing themselves at being branded traitors and did the bare minimum. But Rodolphus and Greyback were particularly skilled at cruelty.

"It's all a blur now. Even back then the days meshed together. Half the time I was jaded or Imperioed. But one day the Snatchers brought in a muggle mother and her daughter – I think she had received her first Hogwarts letter," Malfoy paused, closed his eyes for a second, then abruptly threw back the glass and took a generous, if desperate, gulp. Harry winced.

Malfoy continued, "You-Know-Who gave them to my uncle and Aunt Bella. They tortured them...then made me do it. At first, I couldn't. Got Crucioed enough times to teach me to obey. And I'm not you. If I had been I probably would have withstood the torture, come up with a crazy plan to escape with the girls, and with your heaven's blessed luck I would have succeeded beyond all odds, but I didn't think I was lucky, I wasn't brave, and I didn't think of any plan...I did as I was told."

Malfoy drank again, emptied half the glass and scrunched his face as the alcohol settled. His voice was rough with the burn of liquor, "They threw the girls back in the dungeons and I was told to feed them. I took them their food and the woman...she begged me to kill her daughter. The girl was sleeping in her arms and she kept begging and begging. I almost didn't do it. I couldn't. She broke down, the child woke up and started crying and screaming. Her wild magic was making the whole place shake." Malfoy chortled wryly. "She would have been a powerful witch. Her mother tried to shush her. As I watched I felt...like this numbness wash over me. As if I'd been Imperioed...like I was a spectator in my own body. I watched as I pointed my wand at the girl...and I did it. She stopped screaming but then the woman started to, and so I killed her too."

"I didn't think you had killed anyone."

"Do you regret testifying for my innocence? I don't blame you. I intended to take this to my grave."

Harry said nothing at first, then shook his head, "I've tortured and killed too."

"You're different. Your targets are evil, mine were innocent. You would have been able to save them. All I could do was spare them a worse fate than death."

Harry didn't say anything.

"But...well if it makes you feel better I was not spared punishment." Malfoy's hand was shaking as he downs the last bit of vodka. His eyes were red; they seem to be looking into the distance. He poured himself more of vodka. "I think I stood there staring numbly at them for a long time...or maybe seconds, I don't know. I was out of it. Rodolphus and Greyback walked in eventually and that brought me back from whatever subspace I was in. They saw what I did. I don't remember what they said. I remember Rodolphus was unmoved but Greyback went into a rage...I think because he wanted to rape the woman. So he..." Here, Malfoy let's out a dark, breathy laugh and wipes his tears. "I can't imagine why Greyback thought I was an adequate substitute or maybe he just doesn't care as long as it fulfills the need..."

"Fucking hell, Malfoy...are you serious?" Of course he's serious, Potter, Harry told himself, somehow with Malfoy's voice in his head. What the fuck kind of question was that? "Why the fuck would you think that'd make me feel better!?"

Malfoy didn't look at Harry – wouldn't look at him. But he shrugged off Harry's display of outrage and said, "Rodolphus too. Greyback was violent...but Rodolphus was gentle and made me tell him endearments as if we were the sweetest of lovers. I thought that was worse."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, recalling Malfoy's reaction when Harry told him Lestrange was nearby and searching for him. His heart hammered and his fingers tingled the way they did when he was about to go after a particularly nasty criminal. The blizzard still raged outside but Harry's body seemed to think he was ready for combat.

"I'm not going to let him anywhere near you. You have my word, Malfoy."

Malfoy still wouldn't look at him. He dragged his vodka glass across the table, it seemed heavy for him when he finally picked it up. Harry waited for him to finish his sip before taking it from him. Malfoy didn't put up a fight, his hand went limp on his lap. Harry knew that the best thing to do when his own mind fell into that dark pit, where all the bad things from the past were kept, was to leave him be. He pushed the glasses and bottle of vodka to the side and sat in silence with Malfoy.

An hour must have gone by with only the sounds of the winds shrieking outside breaking the somber quietude. When Malfoy spoke, it was so low that Harry almost didn't catch it. "I never told anyone that. Not even my parents. Especially not them. I thought I could pretend it never happened."

Harry didn't say anything. He knew Malfoy wanted a silent ear, so he sat and waited but Malfoy didn't say anything else until he started nodding off. Harry, then, got up and escorted him to bed where he took his shoes off and tucked him in the covers. Then he returned to the couch, looking straight ahead, and quietly let his rage simmer.

This was the reason Harry could "gear up and go back into battle like it's nothing". He felt great purpose course through his veins, pulling him away from the safety of home and hearth. He needed to bring down every last remaining Death Eater. And make damned sure that none ever rose again.

And once they're gone, what then, Potter? Malfoy's voice in his head questioned. Move on to hunt regular dark witches and wizards? Will you ever stop?

"No," Harry said to himself like a madman. "I won't stop until I take them all down. And if that's 'till the death then so be it."