Silver Hourglass

Melancholy of the Victors Chapter 51

Harry's feet hit solid ground again; his knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he and Draco had arrived in Dumbledore's office.

Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the headmaster's absence. The delicate silver instruments stood again upon the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: Dawn was approaching.

The room was silent, save for the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait. Harry turned around to see Draco was still standing where they landed, the golden head still at his feet. Harry did not know what to do, he wanted to help Draco, he wanted to take his pain away, to feel the suffering that Draco was feeling, but he couldn't. He took a step forward, but stopped. He opened his mouth, but said nothing as he watched Draco.

Draco moved suddenly. He walked to where Harry was, and stared at the Dawn sun. Harry felt a deep sense of shame building up. It was his fault Mr. Malfoy died. If he wasn't there, if he didn't fall for Voldemort's trap then Mr. Malfoy would still be alive. And Draco wouldn't be feeling the way he is.

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn't know what to say, but he just needed to say something, anything. He just stood there, mouth open, his feet seemingly stoned to the floor of the Headmaster's Office. The silence between the boys was tensed, only to be broken by the occasional grunt of the sleeping portraits. It seemed to Harry to last an eternity, him standing only five steps behind his fiancé as he stared out the window, feeling whatever anguish that was coursing through him. Harry wished he could feel it, he wished he could take Draco's anguish. He wished that he could pull Draco's despairing, dark feelings from him. He wished he could do something, anything, besides standing there watching his better half stare off into oblivion.

Then, sudden movement. Draco moved from the window and moved down towards a cabinet near the headmaster's desk. He silently opened it and began looking for something. Harry just turned around and watched as Draco moved things inside the cabinet before closing it and going to another one. He opened the second one and Harry heard a sort of clicking sound, followed by a sound of a cork being pulled, then liquid being poured. The cork was put back, and Draco turned around holding two old fashioned tumblers holding a light-bronze liquid that Harry somehow knew wasn't pumpkin juice.

One glass was filled half way, while the other only seemed to be a quarter-filled. Draco walked with the glasses holding the amber-colored liquid and stopped before Harry. He held out the glass that was only a quarter-full and waited silently for Harry to take it. Harry looked at the glass and hesitated before taking it. Draco simply looked at Harry before lifting his glass and drained it, drinking the amber-colored liquid in one full swing. Tears instantly came to his eyes, as if the drink burned in some way. Draco returned to the cabinet, took the bottle that held the light-bronze drink, pulled out the stopper, filled the glass to the halfway point, replaced the stopper, turned back to Harry, raised his glass and finally spoke. "To Lucius Malfoy," he said before draining the glass again. He watched Harry for a bit, as if expecting him to drink. Harry lifted the glass to his mouth and parted his lips, lifting the glass so the strange liquid slowly slid along the side of the glass and into his mouth.

It was definitely not pumpkin juice. The drink burned his mouth, and as Harry swallowed it burned his throat as well. He instinctively pulled the glass away and started coughing, his other hand moving to rub his throat as he coughed. Tears swelled in his eyes. Draco turned around and went to the cabinet again. Bottle, stopper, pour, stopper, turn. Draco stood before Harry for a third time and again raised his glass. "To Harry Potter," he said, "you did it." Harry watched confused as Draco again drained the glass. Then he remembered. Voldemort's dead. He killed him... he did it. He and Draco... they won the war.