Drarry - Baby Steps

Eighth Step.

A little way down the street from the Hog's Head Inn where they climb out of lies the Three Broomsticks. It's the only building that has been reconstructed almost all the way and yet - "Closed. Why, that's awkward." Draco turns to Harry, whose shoulders and hair are coated with thin layers of dust and ashes from the ruins they just left.

"That makes sense, though. It's barely past sunrise. The early bird isn't even up yet."

"What bird?"

Harry fights the smile curving his lips at Draco's puzzled expression. Being struck by a sudden idea, he grabs his arm and walks back into the direction they came from.

"What's your epiphany?" Draco asks curiously without resisting even slightly.

"The Shrieking Shack." Harry comes to a stop and takes in the view for a moment. The fuzzy sun slowly climbs higher above the forest, the village and the haunted shed that somehow looks not one bit more fragile and wrecked than it did before Hogwarts and Hogsmeade were invaded. "You know, this isn't just the place where Voldemort killed Snape." Swallowing hard, Harry avoids the memory to focus on others: "Now you probably don't know this, but this is also where I met all of my dad's former best friends, including Sirius, my godfather. Well, at least this is where we figured it all out in Year 3. Did you know that uh, another entrance to this is the Whomping Willow?"

When Harry turns to him Draco gently shakes his head. "I did not."

"We found out because of Hermione's cat. Weird, right?" Harry can't help but beam a little, and Draco studies him carefully.

"You're cute when you're dwelling on positive memories."

"What?"

"Nothing. Hermione, how is she?" The reason for going over his own compliment isn't instant regret, on the contrary. He knows he wanted Harry to know, and for now that's enough.

Irritated, Harry focuses on the question: "Actually, I talked to her and Ron yesterday for the first time in a while. They're ready to have me around again."

"That sounds cruel to me."

"It's not. We're working on it, they even reacted okay when I told them about you."

A part of Malfoy wants to jump and shout "WHAT?!" but it's subdued by the part of him that learned to hold back his emotions over the years. "What did you tell them?" He inquires cautiously, the curiosity inside him barely noticeable.

"Well, they found the whiskey, so I had some explaining to do."

A nervous laugh escapes Malfoy's throat. "So we're off to a good start."

"I told them how different you act. I even explained to them what it meant that you were there when they weren't. They came to terms with it."

The words press down heavily on Draco's consciousness. What did it mean, Harry? He swallows hard. "You know I watched Bellatrix hurt Granger and I did nothing?" Feeling incredibly small, he winces at the memory. What if Granger still carries the scar that says "Mudblood"? He doesn't think he'd be able to look into her eyes.

Harry turns to him. "I know. But Draco, you made some pretty big choices since then. You changed."

But what if I haven't? Draco fears he might throw up at the thought. How despicable does one have to be to trick the one pure person in this world into believing one can be redeemed or forgiven? That moment Draco wishes he had a mirror just so he could punch his own reflection as hard as possible, and he takes a step away from Harry. "I ought to be going." He chokes out and prepares to disapparate, but Harry extends his arm.

He meant to grab Malfoy's wrist, yet only finds his hand and can't bring himself to let go right away.

In spite of the neutral weather, Draco's hand is quite warm, and Harry watches his jaw slowly unclench. His grey eyes that were brimming with tears just a second ago are now wide open in a pained expression, holding back an infinite amount of questions.

"Draco." Harry says unnecessarily, still holding on.

Draco thought he was going to snap or burst or break down and his heart is pumping just as quickly as before, but he doesn't feel like he's falling through an endless abyss any more.

"Trust me, okay?" Harry still hasn't let go. That fact and Draco's impulse to simply give himself up entirely and yes, trust that silly, stubborn, pretty boy in front of him with everything, scares him.

"I know it's hard to believe, but trust me to mean what I say. Yeah?"

Right then, Draco does. Because it's true he made big choices, the biggest possibly being to ring Harry's doorbell without knowing what expected him. It's true he changed, because all the barriers that kept him from admitting who he was and what he felt fell away one by one. All of that combined with Potter's hand that he reached out out of his own free will seem more horrifying than he thinks he's capable of handling.

Draco pulls away his hand and hopes Harry doesn't notice his distress. He runs his hand through his light strands of hair, wondering if he copied that move from Potter. "Even if that's the case" (That doesn't even remotely fit his question you twat, he scolds himself) "I still have this." And he pushes back the sleeves on his right arm, revealing the Dark Mark. It's faded and red from being itched too many times and with a shiver through his body he becomes acutely aware of how vulnerable and exposed he's making himself. Am I even in control any more?

"I still have this." Harry retorts, turning over his left hand. The soft skin there has partly been replaced by lighter scar tissue, spelling out the words "I MUST NOT TELL LIES."

"Who did that to you?" His voice trembling, Draco realises that he himself is no longer the target of his anger all of a sudden.

"Umbridge. But that's beside the point."

"I didn't know..." Draco interrupts, possibly even paler than before.

Harry snaps his fingers in front of his own face to gather his opposite's attention. "The point is, I get to choose whether or not I let that define me."

Silence.

"Sure, Phineas." Draco grumbled.

"Who?"

"Phineas Nigellus Black. Some grand-grand-grandfather of mine. Everyone used to quote deep inspirational things he supposedly said."

"Like Dumbledore?"

"Yes. He was a headmaster, too."

"...I think I met him once." Harry remembers talking to the portraits in Dumbledore's office and Draco doesn't even question it.

With a look at the horizon, he turns to Harry. "It's lighter now. The Leaky Cauldron could be open, if I remember correctly they're always a few hours ahead of the Three Broomsticks."

"So let's go." Tentatively, Harry holds out his hand, causing Draco's stomach to flutter.

Nonetheless, he takes it and they disapparate together from the abandoned village that Hogsmeade has become.