Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling… I just borrowed it for a little bit.
An Unlikely Apology
"The evening was crisp, icy cold, with the scent of snow in the air. Faint wisps of music and laughter could be heard floating out from the pubs and homes as a solitary soul meandered along," breaking off the dramatic recital to snicker, the speaker looked sideways and finished, "feet shuffling unsteadily as the tragically dark figure stopped to gulp once again from the bottle clutched tightly in his hand."
“Can it, would you? I'm hardly solitary." Harry Potter carefully twisted the cap onto the bottle. “If you don’t stop pretending you're going to sell an article to The Quibbler, you don’t get any more of this!” He wagged the bottle to and fro.
Draco Malfoy recoiled in exaggerated shock. “Harry! You don’t mean it. I was only joking!”
“Tragic dark figure,” sputtered Harry, “if anyone’s a dark figure it should be you! You git!”
“Me?” came the reply, slightly mocking, trying to feign innocence, a dramatic hand splayed across his chest, “I’ll have you know, my good fellow, of the two of us, taken upon looks alone, I would be counted the more angelic of the two. You, with that shaggy black mane and infamous scar, are the bloody dark wizard hunter, hero of the Battle of Godric’s Hollow. Bloody-Mr-I-killed-the-Dark-Lord-in-the-same-spot-he-killed-my-parents!”
“Hey now, that’s uncalled for!” slurred Harry. “Aren’t we supposed to be enjoying ourselves? Isn’t this New Year’s Eve?” He carefully unscrewed the bottle again and held it up. “Here’s to never having to remember that sodding battle or anything else attached to that bloody war. All the Death Eaters are either dead or in Azkaban. My job is done!” He tipped the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. Cradling the bottle to his chest he glared at his companion, “Or do we have to really bring up titles? Mr-son-of-the-right-hand-of-Voldemort-forced-into-taking-the-Dark-Mark-to-save-his-mothers-life?”
“Oh, now that’s just cold!”
“Huh?”
“I thought we were over that,” Draco answered quietly, a brief expression of hurt quickly covered up with it’s usual cynical smirk.
“Over what?”
“What? Oh, you are bleeding drunk aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah. Of course, that was the point of the evening, right?”
“You get quite mean when you’re blasted, did you know that?”
“Really?” Harry hiccupped.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere.” Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. “Forgive me, but we need to do this, Aperio leviculus.”
“Ah Draco!” complained Harry, “Now I’m sober! What did you do that for?”
“Because you deserve it, you git!” Draco declared.
Harry sighed, tossed the bottle over his shoulder, ignored the crash as it hit the street and asked, “What did I do this time?”
“What you do every time I draw the short straw and have to walk your 'don' wanna Floo' inebriated arse home."
“Brought up your mum again, did I?” Harry winced at Draco’s nod.
Harry pulled out his wand and after a couple of flicks the broken bottle was a park bench and the alcohol was a fire burning in front of it. “Fine, let’s talk.”
Draco replied stiffly, “Why bother? We fought on the same side, but when you drink the truth comes out. Hermione may think you got over the past, but you still hold it against me."
“Look, if I held a grudge over the past, do you really think you’d still be alive?” Harry asked plainly.
Draco stared incredulously. “You would have killed me?”
“At one point in time, it’s all I wanted to do,” admitted Harry, “I never told you this, but I was there that night. On top of the tower. I saw it all.” He sighed miserably at the bleak expression in the other man's eyes. “So I know you didn’t kill Dumbledore. That’s what saved you, well, part of what saved you anyway. That’s why you’re still alive. That’s why, hard as it is to believe sometimes, we're friends.” Draco walked over and slumped onto the bench, staring into the fire.
“But, I. . .”
“No, I’m not finished,” Harry interrupted, “it’s time you knew. I hated you, mate. I wanted your blood on my hands. I guess you probably knew that, after everything that happened while we were still at Hogwarts. You know who saved you? It was Hermione.”
A warm smile crept across Draco’s aquiline features. “I knew I loved that girl for a reason.”
“Yeah, you’re lucky to get her. Even if it was at such a terrible cost.”
Draco reached out and gripped Harry’s shoulder. “I know he's your best mate, but I didn't steal Hermione from Ron. They knew they weren't meant for each other long before my father kidnapped and tortured him into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse. Even so, it took a long time for her to stop feeling guilty about loving me. Maybe it's time you stopped bashing yourself for being my friend.
Harry sighed and tried to smile a bit. “I know, it's just I wanted it to be me and Ginny, Ron and Hermione for so long, and now..." Looking away, he informed. "Ron's still at St Mungo’s. I went with Ginny and her family to see him on Christmas Day. He seemed much better. The Healers say he's improved dramatically since Lavender started visiting every day. There's still hope for a full recovery.”
“I never thought I’d be relieved to hear anything good about the Weasel.”
“Enough of the names, Ferret!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop if you will, Scarhead.”
Eyes met, apologies were exchanged and accepted.
“So, about the tower, the invisibility cloak?” Draco asked obliquely, referring back to the previous subject.
“Yeah, Dumbledore had petrified me under it just before you made it to the top. I saw it all and couldn’t do a damned thing.”
“So you knew it was Snape that actually. . .” Draco began.
“I knew. It didn’t matter to me at that point. I’d been suspecting you for months, following you around trying to catch you at whatever you were up to. I heard you admit to bringing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Your intent was to kill the man I looked up to the most. He had just drunk all that bloody potion holding a fake horcrux and needed help, and he still tried to save you.” The words came out angry, but Draco knew the anger was directed at Harry himself, because he’d been helpless.
“It wasn’t your fault Harry,” Draco tried again.
“No. Let me get this out, because as my New Year’s Resolution, I’m going to swear to never bring this subject up again.”
Draco nodded his agreement to keep his mouth shut while Harry told his part of the story. Tears glistened briefly in green eyes, Harry rubbed them away impatiently before continuing “He was a great man. I was too young, too angry, and too much of a bloody idiot to understand that not only was he trying to save you, he was trying to show me that you were worth saving.”
Harry talked for hours, describing that year, his suspicions about Draco, the horror he’d felt when he’d used the sectumsempra spell, the pride he’d felt when Dumbledore had acknowledged his intelligence and maturity enough that he had showed him Voldemort’s past in the Pensieve. The terror and the terrible fury he’d felt when Snape killed Dumbledore. “It was one of the most terrible nights of my life. Nothing until then prepared me for how everything came out. Finding the horcruxes and destroying them. Finding you.” Taking a deep breath, he looked at his friend and asked, “Do you have any idea how lucky you were that Hermione had stolen Snape's veritaserum? That, and her insisting that I had to question you instead of kill you is the only thing that saved you. I promised her I wouldn't curse you without giving you a chance, and I'm glad I kept my promise.”
“I’m rather glad you kept your promise too,” Draco said wryly.
“I think,” Harry began slowly, “I owe you an apology.”
Surprise was not an expression that often crossed Draco’s features; he looked a bit dumbstruck for a moment before he regained his usual control. “What the bloody hell would you need to apologize to me for?”
“For not accepting your hand or your friendship in the first year,” Harry replied quietly.
“You’ve lost me, mate,” Draco admitted, “I only offered you friendship on my father’s orders. It wouldn't have been real, it would have only been a way for him to gain control over you before you could learn to defend yourself.”
“Don’t you see though?” Harry asked, “If I’d offered you my hand, my friendship, it might not have happened that way. Maybe you would've turned against your father much earlier. There’s even the possibility that Dumbledore would still be alive.”
“Harry, you’re off your rocker,” Draco declared. “If I hadn’t cast the sobering spell on you myself I’d suspect you were still drunk.”
“Refusing to see it are you?”
“No, not refusing to see it. Refusing to even consider it. Should haves, would haves and could haves.” He shook his head. “Man, you might as well start playing make believe.”
Harry sighed, looking up at the streaks of dawn lighting the sky. “Maybe you’re right, but I’d feel better if you’d accept my apology anyway.”
“I never realized you felt guilty for what happened at Hogwarts, but if it will make you feel better, I accept,” with a grin Draco added, “you have to accept my thanks for listening to Hermione and interrogating me under veritaserum, otherwise I wouldn't have a best man at my wedding today.”
Harry laughed, stretched his hand out to his friend, and replied, “That’s easy enough to do. Now, mate, I think we'd best get going. The wedding will start sooner than you think, and I've got to cheer Ginny on to catch a bouquet!”
Finis
I have to take a moment to thank Kerichi for taking my ideas and making them better! I can't believe someone so talented and so busy actually takes the time out of her schedule to beta my attempts to tell stories. So here's to you my friend, Kudos!
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