Being a hit-wizard is not easy | Drarry

Chapter six

"Malfoy!?"

Draco stops in his tracks, frozen on the spot. He knows that voice, he hasn't heard it for years, but he would recognize it even after a century. It's the voice that has hunted both his dreams and nightmares. It's the voice he'd listened spewing insults at him, it's the voice that had cursed him, in multiple occasions. It's the voice that had snarled his name and it's the voice that had defended him against the rest of the world.

Draco doesn't want to turn around, he wants to pretend he didn't hear his name said after all this time by that voice, for once void of hatred. He doesn't want to acknowledge the person whom that voice belongs to. He wants to keep walking, exit the club, find a deserted alley and disapparate. He wants to go do his job and forget about that voice while he watches the life drains out of Yaxley's body.

He turns around.

The first thing his eyes land on is the infamous mop of hair, the black sweaty strands shining every colour under the club lights. He traces the curls down to the other man's forehead where he can't see it, but he knows a scar lies behind the raven locks.

A couple of centimetres below and grey eyes meet impossibly green ones.

Draco isn't sure how long they stay locked in each other's gazes, time loses any meaning as he looks at the man he had thought he'd never see again.

Harry Potter.

Fuck.

Suddenly, he is back to his eleven year old self, full of confidence and all the wrong ideals, hating another child because of a denied handshake. Then he is twelve and calling a young girl a mudblood because he is jealous of her skills. Then thirteen and taunting a boy because he's seen such terrible things in his short life, that dementors make him faint. Then fourteen and making enchanted buttons to turn the school against a boy who is going to risk his life because adults can't or won't protect him. Then fifteen and joining a squad of bullies to follow someone who tortured students with dark artefacts. Then sixteen and cursing and poisoning classmates, letting Death Eaters in the castle and nearly killing the Headmaster. Then he is seventeen and lost, hopeless and alone in a house full of terror, praying for someone, anyone to save him. Then he is placed in front of a disfigured but oh so recognisable face and given a choice, cowardice or bravery. For once in his life, he chooses bravery. Then he is in a burning room, smoke quickly filling his airways and lungs, making it hard to breathe and the same boy he's bullied for years is zooming towards him, hand outstretched. Then he is in a cold damp cell deep under the Ministry, knowing that he deserves to be there and he will be sent to prison for everything he's done. Then he's in a courtroom, listening to the list of his crimes, when suddenly a lone figure stands and demands attention, telling the world that Draco needs to be free, even if Draco himself doesn't believe it. Then he is in that same room, watching his twice-over saviour leave him behind.

He blinks and he is back at the club. Big pools of green, glazed over by the alcohol, staring at him unwaveringly.

Draco doesn't know what to feel, his mind is a whirlwind of shock, anger, regret, relief and happiness and it doesn't seem to want to focus on either one. He feels hot and cold, his clothes are too tight yet not thick enough to protect him from the onslaught of emotions. His breathing his loud in his ears, but his lungs aren't getting enough oxygen. His fight-or-flight instinct is shouting at him to get the hell out of there, but his feet are glued to the floor.

Draco's synapses reconnect the moment Potter takes a drunken step towards him, almost falling on his face and catching himself on the wall at the last moment.

Draco flees.

"Malfoy! Wait!"

Draco is already outside when the voice reaches him and, this time, he doesn't turn around.