Thanking Narcissa [post-war drarry] HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

(1) Diagon Alley

Tuesday, July 7, 1998

He wasn't expecting to recognize anyone on his short trip to Diagon Alley. In fact, he'd intended not to recognize anyone, and in turn he intended not to be recognized. The war was only a couple months ago, yet people seemed to quickly forget the resulting grief when met with a chance to speak to the great Harry Potter. He didn't understand how everyone could forget so easily. He didn't understand why everyone worshiped the ground he walked on. It disgusted him.

Harry had faced down Voldemort and ended the war, but not before it left its marks. There were the mental scars, the losses of friends and family. Sirius, Hedwig, Dumbledore, Fred, Remus, Tonks, and others. Then there were the physical scars. Hermione's arm scarred with the word "Mudblood." George's missing ear. Even Harry had a new scar from the war. That day in the Forbidden Forest, as Harry was struck once again by the Killing Curse, his lightning scar grew. What was once a small caricature of lightning now held a much closer resemblance to the real deal, covering a third of Harry's forehead with the tips stretching down to his cheekbone. Each scar left on his body, his friends' bodies, reminded him of what he couldn't prevent. No matter how hard he would try to heal his mental scars, the sight of all the physical ones undid his progress like a knife.

Harry took as many precautions as possible when he took the rare trip outside Grimmauld Place. He wore a long cloak with a hood to shield his face, the color dark enough to blend into the shadows that came with night. Harry only went out after dark, the benefits being a combination of reduced population and increased camouflage. He wore a slight glamour, erasing his scar and dulling his eyes to an ashen brown.

Harry was very thankful for each layer that masked his appearance when he recognized Narcissa Malfoy at Diagon Alley. He felt compelled to speak to her, to thank her, but he needed time to compose his thoughts.

He had spoken at the trials of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, shamelessly using his reputation as Savior of the Wizarding World to defend the pair from punishment. He hadn't seen either of them since, and he was glad that he saw Narcissa instead of Draco. With all the years of rivalry and aggression, he wasn't sure how Draco and him would react after the sudden olive branch Harry extended at the trials.

Harry knew he could walk away and leave good enough alone; he knew he could pretend his words at the trials were enough to repay Narcissa for saving him in the forest. But he would never be able to convince himself, never be able to sleep peacefully knowing he walked away from an opportunity practically shoved into his arms. Harry mustered his courage before the distance between them grew too great.

"Mrs. Malfoy," His whispering voice cracked. He cleared his throat, pulled down his hood, and released his glamour. They were alone in the streets. "Mrs. Malfoy!" This time he shouted, and the woman froze.

Narcissa's blood ran cold, and she did not turn to face the man shouting at her. She did not know who he was, but she knew her family's reputation was enough to land her in uncomfortable and harmful situations. Once she snapped out of the sudden shock of fear, she increased her pace, briskly walking to get somewhere in the light where people might see if her situation became dangerous. She heard running footsteps behind her.

"Mrs. Malfoy, please! I just need a word with you," Harry yelled as he ran. He quickly caught up with Narcissa, darting in front of her to prevent her from continuing her path.

He did not recognize the fear in her eyes until he saw her shaking. "Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, I just saw you and I knew I needed to speak to you, and-"

"Mr. Potter, is that you?" Narcissa didn't understand why the boy to whom she owed so much was standing in front of her, rambling after chasing her at midnight. She took note of his scar, how it was much larger than she remembered from when he was collapsed on the grass at her feet.

"Yes, I just... I just wanted to say thank you. For that day in the forest. You could have told him I was alive but you didn't. You saved my life. Thank you," Harry said as he looked Narcissa in the eyes, pouring as much feeling as he could into his words.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, you needn't thank me, you have done so much for me and my family. You know, you saved my son's life that day. In fact -and I know you must be tired of hearing this- you really did save us all that day. Even more so me and my son. You gave us an escape from a life forced upon us by my husband. When you showed up once more to save Draco and I at the trials... well, I believe it is I who should be thanking you." Narcissa gave Harry a small, awkward grin, which Harry returned.

"Please, Mrs. Malfoy, don't thank me. I'm quite tired of being thanked."

"Narcissa. Call me Narcissa," she said, gently resting her hand on the Potter boy's shoulder.

"Then, Narcissa, call me Harry."

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few short seconds before Narcissa awkwardly hugged the boy. Harry was startled at first, but quickly hugged her back, finding comfort in one of the first people to not revere him for what happened in the war.

When Harry finally pulled away to leave and find a new quill—what he originally came to Diagon Alley to buy—he found himself more content than he had been in a while. "Thank you, Narcissa."

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Word Count: 994

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