LOG. WHO: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. WHEN: Tuesday May 2, around 11.30am. WHERE: A deserted and damaged hallway of Hogwarts. SUMMARY: Two old enemies meet again, and talk. WARNINGS: Spoilers for the battle.
Draco and his parents hadn't been sure what to do — should they leave? Could they leave? They hadn't been swept up in the Death Eater arrests (as yet), and so they were still here. Draco had excused himself for the moment, taking the time to wander the halls, taking in the destruction. It made him sick to his stomach.
"Malfoy!" Harry called, once he had seen that familiar blond boy wandering the halls. There was a mix of irritation and calm as he happened upon Malfoy, and now that he was left to his own devices (he had been avoiding being around too many people), he wanted to have his chance to rage.
But when he had caught Malfoy's attention, he didn't know what to say. Instead, Harry frowned as he approached the Death Eater. "Trying to get away, are you?"
“What?” Draco looked over and scowled, Potter being the last person he wanted to see right now. “You've still got my wand, what would be the point?”
"Avoiding Azkaban…?" Harry replied, unintentionally mimicking the scowl.
“They haven't arrested me yet,” Draco countered. “But I'm sure they'll get around to it.” He sounded oddly resigned to the fact.
"Yeah, well, —," Harry started, though he wasn't sure where this conversation was going. Or what he'd expected by striking up a conversation with Malfoy in the first place. Still, he exhaled loudly, and glanced around at the debris on the ground, knowing full well that it couldn't be easy to be in Malfoy's position right now, either.
Finally, Harry cleared his throat, before he spoke again. "Tell your mother I'm grateful for what she did."
Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, nodding once.
“I will.” He paused, looking away from Harry as he contemplated what to say. He'd hated the other boy for so long, but right now all he felt was hollow. It'd started when he'd been tortured by the Dark Lord, and properly set in when he'd realised Pansy was gone.
“Nice job,” he said finally, his skin crawling as he complimented Harry. “Glad you didn't screw this one up.”
"Didn't have you around to irritate me enough," Harry responded, and for the first time in a very long time, the air wasn't filled with dread for the Chosen One.
He awkwardly shuffled around for a few moments, and spoke up again: "I can vouch for you, Malfoy. That you'd switched sides before the battle was over. You may not end up in Azkaban."
“Well, if the Chosen One vouches for me,” Draco started, his usual sneer coming out. But he broke off, contemplating the offer. His skin crawled at the idea of accepting any help from Potter, the indignity of it all. But then he remember what his father was like after he'd been released from Azkaban, the insanity of Bellatrix.
“Thanks,” he finished quietly.
Harry responded with a nod, before he exhaled loudly. His eyes caught the faintest trace of blood on Malfoy's nose and quietly chuckled to himself for a moment. "You have Ron to thank for your nose, by the way."
And quickly, Harry reached inside his pocket, and pulled out a wand that he had been using for a few weeks now. "This one's alright and all, but it's nothing like my own. Thought you'd like it back." He held it out to Malfoy, almost as though it were a peace offering.
Draco had opened his mouth to make a cutting remark about resorting to physical violence, when Harry held out his wand. He'd missed it, more than he'd thought, over the past few weeks. And in all honesty, he hadn't expected to get it back.
He took the wand reverently, his fingers running over the familiar wood. There was something odd about the feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint, but he'd worry about that later. He had his wand back.
“Thank you, Harry.”
"You're welcome, Draco." Harry offered Malfoy the briefest of smiles before he turned on his heel. The idea of his four-poster bed was extra welcoming now.