693Chapter 14: Reconciliation
Author's note: I'm not sure if I should continue book two in this story, or make a sequel. I think they both have merits. A new story keeps this from seeming cluttered. Keeping it all here (all five books, plus up to four years of my own story) makes it really easy to findAny suggestions?
Draco knew what was happening in the third-floor corridor right now. He knew Harry would play his flute and tame Fluffy, Hermione would defeat the Devil's Snare, then Harry would catch the key, Ron would be injured in a chess match, and Hermione would easily puzzle out Snape's logic test. Then, Harry would come face to face with the man who murdered his parents. He would defeat Dumbledore's enchantment, then Quirrell and Voldemort. It would be a near thing, with Dumbledore sweeping in for a last minute rescue, but in the end Harry would be fine.
Yet, Draco couldn't sleep.
Eventually, he slipped down to the common room to wait for Hermione to come back to the House since Harry and Ron would be taken to the infirmary wing. He had to wonder if Neville had fallen asleep yet, or if he was too frightened by Draco's body-bind curse to get any rest. He wondered a lot of things, mind flitting from place to place with nothing else to concentrate on.
When the door finally opened, Draco was on his feet in a shot. He moved so fast he startled Hermione badly enough that the girl drew her wand and stumbled backward into Ron. Considering they night she'd had, he didn't take offense and hurried to her side. Putting an arm around the shaking girl, he helped her into a chair while giving Ron close inspection. He hadn't expected to see him at all, let alone in one piece.
"Where's Harry?" Draco whispered. "Are you both alright? What happened? Did you stop Voldemort?"
Hermione winced at the name, leaning back on the couch pillows slowly. "Slow down, Draco, we don't know yet. Dumbledore took Harry to the infirmary."
"We're fine, mate," Ron slumped into another chair, looking completely exhausted. "My head hurts pretty bad, but Harry's the one you should worry about. He looked awful."
"I've never seen Dumbledore look so worried," Hermione whispered, looking like she might burst into tears at any moment. "I think Harry, might…might…"
"And Voldemort?" Draco pressed, confident that Harry would be fine.
"Dunno," now Ron winced at the name, "Probably blasted, right? I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't just let him run off after hurting Harry. Bet Harry got 'im, though."
"When he pulled Harry out he was so pale," Hermione burst into sobs, covering her face with her hands, "What if he dies? We should have just let the teachers handle it. We're just First Years!"
Alarmed, Draco slid over and put an arm around the crying girl. He pulled her into a hug, glancing at Ron who was wide eyed and looked like he had no idea what to do.
"He'll be fine," Draco promised. "And if you hadn't helped, Voldemort might have come back. You were very brave, 'Mione, but you have to be brave a little longer. Harry needs it."
"Yeah, come on," Ron said, "What would he say to you going on like this? Blubbering like a girl…"
Weakly, Hermione laughed and nodded, pulling away from Draco and wiping at her cheeks. "I am a girl. But you're right, thank you."
She sniffled again, but seemed to pull herself together for now.
"You know, I haven't seen Snape anywhere. I wonder if he got away." She must have seen the way Draco's mouth opened and shut again, because she gave him an apologetic look. "Come on, Draco. After all this, you can't say he isn't involved."
"I don't know what happened," he lied.
Ron, thankfully, took that as his cue. Sitting up and suddenly full of energy, he launched into the tale with gusto. Starting with the already open door to the third-floor corridor, he went into detail about each trial. When he had to stop after the chess game, Hermione picked up the tale, albeit with a bit less enthusiasm.
As they were finished telling him how Dumbledore had shown up before they'd even sent an owl, Hermione burst into tears again. Draco pulled her into another hug, but wasn't sure just words would make her feel better this time.
"It's going to be alright, 'Mione. You just need some sleep. Get some rest, yeah?"
Standing up, head down to hide her face with her hair, Hermione nodded. Quickly, she gave them both a hug and then hurried up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. Draco guessed she'd cry some more before the night was through. There was nothing he could do to reassure her that Harry was fine. They'd have to go to the infirmary first thing tomorrow to reassure her.
"What a nutter," Ron said quietly, "I mean she's utterly brilliant and we'd be dead without her, but she's a bit weird. Just First Years," he scoffed, "We took on a troll!"
Laughing, Draco had to agree, "Yeah, not many First Years can say that. Hell, not many Seventh Years can!"
Getting to his feet, he motioned for Ron to follow. "Come on, mate," he said, "You can grab a few hours before the rest of the House wants to hear you tell that story again. Don't worry about Harry, if trolls can't take him, Voldemort can't."
It was three days before they actually got to see Harry. Madam Pomfrey kept them from trying to visit, but assured them that Harry was fine, just sleeping. That didn't keep them from hanging out by the infirmary doors, waiting for word that Harry had woken up. When Dumbledore arrived, they knew something important had changed and Hermione was practically dancing back and forth with anxiety.
"Relax, 'Mione, sheesh," Ron scolded, but he was no better. His eyes hadn't strayed from the infirmary doors for a second. Draco wasn't sure he was blinking.
Despite knowing the future and that Harry was fine, he wasn't any better. Like Dumbledore had said, nothing was truly set in stone. It was only once the head master came out again and smiled at them that any of them relaxed.
"He is well, just a bad headache now," Professor Dumbledore said, "He needs rest."
Before they could ask him any more questions, the infirmary doors opened and Madame Pomfrey nodded to them. "He's asking for you," she said, clearly displeased with the idea of Harry asking for anyone. "You have five minutes and don't upset him or you're out."
"We won't," they promised in chorus.
Inside, Ron and Hermione hurried down the row of cots, but Draco lingered, no longer certain he should have been invited now that he was here. They hadn't really made up, after all, just a moment of trust where Draco did what Harry couldn't.
"Harry!" Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him, but managed to restrain herself. "Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to – Dumbledore was so worried –"
"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"
Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. He was a wonderful story teller and Ron and Hermione gasped appropriately at all the right places. Hermione even screamed out loud when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban. Draco, having heard the story, probably didn't react how he should, but he was too anxious to fake it. At any moment, he expected Harry to start glaring at him again.
"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"
"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it? – 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"
"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.
"It's not like he's lived far longer than anyone is supposed to," Draco finally spoke up, "I'm sure he's had more than his share of living."
Something passed over Harry's face and Draco tensed. He wasn't the only one. They all expected Harry to yell at him at any second and tell him to get out.
"Draco," Harry said, "Snape, I should've listened-"
Something shifted in Draco's chest and he smiled at Harry.
"It's alright, he was a real git. Still is."
The smile he received from Harry would stay in Draco's memory for a long time.
"So what happened to you two?" Harry asked. "And Neville?"
"Neville's fine," Draco promised. "He hates me, but he's fine."
"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round – that took a while – and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall – he already knew – he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."
"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"
"Well," Hermione exploded, "if he did – I meant to say that's terrible – you could have been killed."
"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more of less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…"
"If he is back," Draco added, "Harry is going to face him sooner or later. Now, we know he can be beaten. Now he's not the boogey-man under the bed."
"Yeah he is," Ron muttered, causing both Draco and Harry to laugh. Turning pink, Ron said quickly, "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course – you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrolled by Ravenclaw without you – but the food'll be good."
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over. "You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.
Harry looked like he wanted to protest, meeting Draco's gaze, but the blonde just smirked and winked. "Later, Harry," he said and the others chorused his farewell.
Outside the infirmary, Hermione let out a long sigh.
"Well, at least you two aren't fighting anymore," she said. "I've been worried about that for days."
"You worry about everything," Ron teased. "Come on, let's get some dinner. I'm starved."
Hermione cornered Draco that night in the Common Room once everyone else had gone to bed. While she said she had wanted to pick his brain on how to cast a proper shielding charm, she really just wanted to get him alone. As soon as Neville headed upstairs with Trevor – someone had found him in the toilets – she pounced.
"You knew he would be fine," Hermione accused, abruptly interrupting his explanation on the proper angle for the deflection of curses.
"What? Well, yeah," Draco looked confused, not quite sure why she was angry at him for that.
"No, I don't mean you were reassuring yourself or us, you actually KNEW he was going to be fine. You knew everything that happened to us before we told you."
"What? I- 'Mione, that's absurd. It's not possible."
"You're not as great an actor as you think you are, Draco."
"Hermione-"
"You knew it was Quirrell. That's why you didn't think Snape did it."
Draco was speechless. He stared at Hermione, trying to find a way out of the trap she'd laid for him and failing. Was he going to lose her now, just after he'd gotten Harry back?
"Admit it. You're a Seer."
Not knowing what else to do, Draco nodded mutely. What else could he do? Tell her he was a time-traveler instead?
"Why haven't you said anything?" Hermione said, clearly exasperated. "We would have believed you! Then you wouldn't have had to fight with Harry this whole time."
"I- it's- Look, it's complicated," Draco hedged.
"What's complicated? You see the future. We could have told Dumbledore about someone trying for the Stone and none of this would have happened!"
"But what if it needed to happen," Draco blurted. "What if by stopping Harry from facing Voldemort, I doomed him later in life to die by his hand?"
Hermione went pale, staring at Draco with wide, uncertain eyes.
"Would he?" she whispered.
"I think so, but that's the thing about this, I can't really know until it happens. That's why I never said anything. I'm not always right, sometimes I'm completely wrong and- and sometimes it's just indigestion. Harry has…has a hard future, by most standards, and he can't rely on me when I can be so wrong."
Hermione was silent so long, Draco had try again.
"Please, Hermione, don't tell him."
"Okay," she said quietly, "I won't tell him."
For a moment, Draco was relieved. She believed him and she wouldn't give up his secret, even if that secret was half a lie.
"But I won't lie to him either. If he asks me if I think you know more than you're letting on, I'll tell him."
"No, please! He won't forgive me if he thinks I'm lying to him again."
"But you are!" Draco was surprised by her shout and rocked back into his chair. "You are, Draco," she said again, softer, "and he has a right to know why. I won't tell him, that's your secret, but I won't hurt him like you do."
At seeing the hurt in his eyes, she sighed. "Oh, Draco, if I noticed, he will, too. Eventually. Just tell him the truth. I know how fighting with him hurt you. Why would you set yourself up to go through it again?"
Draco didn't know what to say to that, but she was right. He had hoped that he could make it through another three years before he had to tell Harry the truth and risk his wrath. For all he knew, then it could be too late and he'd have spent his last chance. He had to tell Harry at least some of the truth and trust that it would work out alright.
"Okay," Draco said, dropping his eyes from hers. "I'll tell him. Some of it."
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to blackmail you," Hermione looked at him guiltily.
"It's okay, you're right." Weakly he smiled. "I'll tell him."
"Okay, well," Hermione looked incredibly uncomfortable, "goodnight."
Hermione got up and hurried up the stairs. It would be a long while before he followed.
The end-of-year feast came as it had before. Draco, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall to see it decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. The Slytherin House was in high spirits, cheering and grinning now that they'd won the house cup seven years in a row.
Draco could remember how excited he'd been to help win the house cup his very first year at Hogwarts. He remembered thinking how proud his father was going to be and could see from Crabbe's expression he was just as pleased. That was alright, though. Draco was the only student who knew how this evening was going to end and this time he didn't think it was bullshit.
Harry was the last to arrive, drawing stairs and gossip from everyone in the hall. For the first time, Draco could see how badly he wanted to just disappear. How stupid had he been to think Harry wanted all this attention? Nudging Ron to the side, he shifted over and Harry slid onto the bench between them. They were both a little taller so he was hidden a little from the stares.
"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked quietly.
Dumbledore entered as Harry nodded. The babble died away in anticipation of his speech.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were…you have a whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Draco could see Crabbe banging his goblet on the table and wondered if he'd looked as smug. Glancing at Harry, he saw how sick he his friend looked, and bumped his shoulder to get his attention.
Winking, he mouthed, 'Just wait and see.'
Harry shot him a confused look, but focused on Dumbledore as he began speaking again.
"Yes, yes, well done Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. Harry shot Draco a bewildered look.
"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes.
"First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley…" Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn. "…for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Draco joined in with the rest, reaching around Harry to slap Ron on the back. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
At last there was silence again.
"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor fifty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms; Draco strongly suspected she had burst into tears. He rubbed her back, laughing and grinning. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – they were a hundred points up. This was much different from watching this all from the Slytherin table and he watched with pleasure the crumbling smiles of the Slytherin students.
"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points – exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup – if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one point point.
Harry was staring, dumbfounded at Draco who couldn't stop grinning like an idiot. Leaning over, he shouted into his friend's ear, "It gets better."
Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.
"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Ron, Draco and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Draco had to drag Harry to his feet, then nudge him and pointed at Crabbe, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the body-bind curse put on him. Ron saw it, too, and they both burst out laughing.
"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were cheering the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and the towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, which a horrible, forced smile. Draco caught Harry's eye and leaned in again.
"We'll talk later."
The look Harry gave him threatened bodily harm if they didn't.
Draco had completely forgotten about exam results and hardly glanced at his. To their great surprise, both Harry and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years, though she wouldn't stop saying Draco would have done better if he'd just applied himself. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. Ron and Harry had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too.
It would have been the best change in this timeline, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.
There was only one chance to talk to Harry before they had to leave Hogwarts for the summer. In the common room that evening, Draco whispered for Harry to get his invisibility cloak. When he came back with it, they slipped out of the portrait hole for the last time that year.
Under the cloak, Draco lead the way up to the Astronomy tower where he knew they would be alone. That had been where he liked to sneak out to during his school years – the last time – and that hadn't changed. It was beautiful up here.
"So how did you know we'd win the house cup?" Harry asked, getting straight to the point as soon as the cloak was off. "You did know, right?"
"Yeah," Draco said, "I knew. I knew about Quirrell, too."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry sounded like he couldn't decide if he was hurt or angry or just confused. Thankfully, he also sounded like he wanted to listen.
"It's…complicated," Draco couldn't look at Harry, but stared out over the tower's edge towards the Forbidden Forest. "I know things about the future-"
"Your bad feelings?"
"Yeah, but it's not cut and dried like people think it is. I knew that Quirrell was the one trying to kill you, trying to help resurrect Voldemort-"
"And you didn't SAY anything?!"
Draco winced as Harry shouted, but shook his head. "Please, let me explain. Then you can yell at me all you like."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry didn't answer, but he didn't argue either. Draco took that as agreement and rushed on.
"I couldn't turn him in to Dumbledore. If you were going to be hurt, it would have been different, but I knew you'd survive. More importantly, I knew – I know that you had to face him yourself. Otherwise, if I'd stepped in and told Dumbledore…" He wouldn't have done anything, but that wasn't the point here. "…you'd die, Harry. Not this year, maybe not the year after, but you would. Voldemort would kill you."
"Is that why you choose Gryffindor? Because you're trying to keep Voldemort from killing me?"
"Yes," Draco answered, relieved to be telling the truth.
"Why didn't you tell me this?"
"Because…Because I'm afraid," Draco finally turned to look at Harry, "I'm afraid that I'll influence you some way and I'll be the reason you die. I'm afraid that I'll muck up because the difference between what HAS to happen and what I can change is really grey. Because I'm not always right, I don't know when I'm wrong, and- and because you're ELEVEN Harry. You shouldn't be told you've got someone out there trying to kill you."
"You're eleven, too."
Draco smiled weakly and rubbed his eyes.
"I don't feel eleven."
Arms wrapped around his shoulders and Draco melted into Harry's hug. His own arms slid beneath Harry's, holding him carefully; as if he might slip away.
"Thank you for telling me," Harry said as he pulled away. Draco felt cold. "I'll try not to badger you to tell me what's going to happen, but you have to talk to me when it's making you sick. Even if you don't tell me the details, tell me what you can. You can't keep this all bottled up inside, Draco; you'll explode."
He laughed, feeling his burden actually slip away. Harry might still die in the future, Draco might still screw everything up, his parents' lives were still on the line as was his future as a reviled werewolf, but they'd manage. This time he had Harry Potter on his side.
"Come on, let's go back to the common room," Harry said, "If we're gone too long they'll think we're kissing or something."
Draco's lips quirked, a smirk forming on his face.
"Wouldn't want that."