all the wrong choices // drarry

ashes

The promise of a free lesson before double Defence Against the Dark Arts brought happiness to the hearts of Harry, Ron and Hermione as they made their way back to the common room after breakfast next day. Harry had told Ron and Hermione what he had overheard; he wasn't wholly sure why he wanted to keep the information to himself. As they walked along the corridor, he lagged behind them as they bickered about whether or not they should go to Hogsmeade that weekend.

"I just think we should finish all of our homework before we go and enjoy ourselves," said Hermione. "That way, when we do get free time, it'll be so much better because we won't be thinking about all the work waiting for us when we get back!"

"That's stupid," Ron argued. "Not even three months ago, we were fighting in a war. I'd like to distract myself and finally catch a break."

Not wanting to listen to his best friends bicker yet again, Harry ducked down a narrow corridor which led to a tall spiral staircase. Curious as to how he'd never spotted this before, he followed the staircase up and up, emerging on what looked like the seventh-floor corridor. Yes, Harry recognised the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by a gang of trolls on the wall.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Harry strolled up and down the corridor three times, closing his eyes as he created an image of what he wanted. When he opened his eyes again, a door had materialised on the otherwise blank wall. He stepped forward, turned the handle and slowly edged inside. He was immediately greeted by the very prominent smell of smoke. Harry stared around the room at the ashes and ruins of the objects that had once been stored or hidden inside. He covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his robes and sheepishly toed at what looked like a piece of wood, perhaps from an old cabinet.

An image suddenly took over Harry's thoughts, causing him to almost collapse with shock. Roaring flames of amber and apricot swirled around him. He was running through the towering stacks of books and ornaments with inhuman speed... Harry staggered backwards, trying to shake the image - the memory - from his mind, if not for good then at least for now. It was no use: the sound of the room crumbling around him was growing louder and louder in his mind and Harry felt as though he was about to faint. He watched the room spin around him. The flames were diminishing, the room was getting darker and darker, Harry felt himself fall towards the floor and tried to break his fall with his hands, but it was no use. He was too weak.

Suddenly, there were hands slipping under Harry's arms, supporting him before he hit the floor. Harry couldn't look around at who was helping him. He didn't know why this was happening or why flashbacks like these made him physically weak. He'd been dealing with episodes like this since the war had ended, but there was no evidence to suggest that he'd gotten any better at dealing with them. Harry felt his eyes close as whoever had helped him gently laid him down on the cold stone floor.

A few minutes past before Harry's eyes fluttered open again. His back ached and his throat was dry. He sat up quickly; a little too quickly, and his stomach lurched as the room spun for a few seconds. He got to his feet and looked around, nearly collapsing again.

"Malfoy?" Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure if he was seeing properly.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy replied weakly. He was sitting on the floor beside where Harry had just been lying. Harry thought, for the brief second he and Malfoy looked right at each other, that he could see fear in Malfoy's cold grey eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy let out a short, scornful laugh. "Oh, aren't you charming - is that the thanks I get for stopping you cracking your head open and bleeding out in here?"

Harry stared at him. "You... That was you ?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it either-"

"Thank you," said Harry, quickly. He hesitated for a second, and then, "Why were you even here ?"

"I noticed you slip away from Weasley and Granger. I needed to talk to you, so I followed you here. Good job I did, too, or you'd be dead on the floor. When I saw that you'd come in here, I almost turned and left. I didn't want to come in here, not after..."

He trailed off, but Harry knew. Malfoy looked at the floor: it was clear that he was uncomfortable. Harry wasn't sure if it was because they were talking so casually or because they were in the room where they had both nearly died. Harry suggested they leave, and it seemed that Malfoy was more than willing.

"Did you say you wanted to talk to me?" Harry asked as the door shut behind him. He breathed in the clean air and felt his mind clear of the post-traumatic thoughts that had occupied his brain while inside.

"Yeah..." Malfoy shifted his weight with uncertainty. "Listen, I just - I wanted to apologise."

Harry stared at him, shocked. Malfoy went on, "I've been such a dick to you and your friends for all these years and it's finally come back to haunt me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again, let alone come back for another year. I thought that was it, after the war. I thought things would be ... bad between us forever, but then - then they said we could come back and make up for the year we'd lost. My first thought was making up for the years that we had lost. I'm - I'm so sorry, Potter. For being a stupid, jealous, petty child who took pleasure in making you and everyone in your life feel horrible. It was unfair and pathetic."

"I-"

"I know it's probably strange, to hear this from me," Malfoy went on. "-considering the side of me you've known for so long; the side of me that I've known all my life. But honestly, it's been eating me alive. I can't imagine how I must have made you feel. I mean, discovering that you were a wizard and starting at Hogwarts might have been the best thing that ever happened to you, and I had to go and ruin it. I'm sorry. Really, I am."

Harry had been looking at Malfoy as he said all of this. He could see that he meant every word that fell out of his mouth. Harry wasn't sure what to say. He definitely hadn't expected this.

"I'm sorry too," he found himself saying. "I've been so dismissive of you and the Slytherins, and for treating you all horribly purely because of what I'd heard about other Slytherins. And I don't think you're a bad person. I know that all of the shit you did these last few years was because you were forced into it and didn't have a choice. I think you just got a stroke of bad luck with the cards you were dealt."

Malfoy offered Harry a weak smile. "Thank you, Potter. That means ... a lot."

Harry nodded. "The same to you. I think we should just start over; put this childish rivalry behind us and focus on the future."

"Or maybe, just live in the moment and enjoy now ."

Harry grinned. "Yeah... That sounds good too."

Neither of them said anything for a second. Harry was staring at his foot. He looked up. "So ... a truce?" He stuck out his hand.

Draco's hand met Harry's in a firm grip, and he shook it affirmatively. "Yes. A truce. No more petty fighting or half-arsed insults or stupid backchat."

Harry nodded, pulling his hand away. "Right." He absent-mindedly lifted his hand to his hair and tried to flatten it. "So, I suppose - if you want - I guess we're..."

"Friends." Draco let out a hollow laugh. "We're friends now, Potter... Alright, we're nearly friends now. But we're getting there."

Harry smiled at him. Draco turned to leave but hesitated. "Also, while we're at it, don't do that to your hair. You look much nicer when you leave it untouched. It suits you."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor. Harry was left, in awe, watching him leave until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Harry shuddered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He told himself it was the draught in the corridor, but he knew, deep down, that it was because he could sense the potential of something great.