We Were Strangers

Lucius had a sunken appearance, as though some of his vitality had withered inside of him, but he held himself with an air of superiority, and Harry noticed that Draco still cowered under his father’s gaze.

True to the boy’s word, Azkaban had released the eldest Malfoy that very morning, and before an hour had passed, Lucius had predictably appeared at Hogwarts, requesting a visit with his son.

Harry stood motionless behind a great pillar, draped in his invisibility cloak and listening carefully to the conversation between the two family members. With an incessant wind dancing across the grounds, he could only perceive snippets of what was being said, but he didn’t dare move any closer for fear of being detected. He wouldn’t put it past Lucius to have activated a secrecy charm around his son in case of an “intrusion.”

“…disappointed in you, Draco…” Harry suddenly picked up, and he strained his ears fiercely, taking just one more small step foreword. “…would have thought…didn’t listen….” Lucius was gesturing angrily, and Draco had lowered his eyes to the ground, looking defeated. “You know what might have happened….could have lost it all…you foolish boy.” Lucius spat the last part of the sentence, and Harry clenched his teeth in frustration, wishing he could somehow shield Draco from the verbal blows.

“No wonder he acts the way he does…” Harry thought, watching Lucius loom dauntingly over his son, shaking a finger ominously in the boy’s face. “What kind of father can’t even spare a friendly greeting after being away from his family for almost a year?”

There was a sharp noise, and Harry realized with horror that Lucius had slapped Draco soundly across the face. Harry had to grip the Pillar brutally to stop himself from bursting foreword to intervene, but Draco had hardly moved at all. His eyes were still downcast and his arms hung limply by his side.

“Yes, Father…” Harry heard him mutter obediently, and Lucius smiled coldly in the sunlight.

“Good,” he said predominantly, reaching foreword to stiffly ruffle the boy’s hair. “Make me proud.”

Draco nodded wearily, and the two of them turned to walk towards the Great Hall, Lucius throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulder to give the illusion that they had just been tearfully re-united.

Harry slumped furiously against the pillar, yanking off his invisibility cloak and kicking the solid marble with all his strength. The only thing that accomplished was a searing pain through his foot, but it certainly felt better than doing nothing.

“Is everything going to just…go back to the way it was?” he thought stormily, glaring at a young first year who happened to walk by him, and immediately feeling guilty about it. “Why did they let him out? How could they have?” He picked up a pebble and chucked it savagely towards the wall, listening to the sharp crack as it made contact.

Not only had Voldemort gained back one of his most vehement supporters, but, by what Harry had heard, and by what he knew about the Malfoy’s, he was about to gain Lucius’ son as well, and if Voldemort gained Draco…then that meant…that Harry would lose him.

A foreboding cloud drifted fatefully across the sun, and Harry clutched the soft cloak in his hands, staring at the dark shadow that fell menacingly across the grounds.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” came a voice from behind him, and Harry turned slowly to see Draco standing a few feet away. It had been approximately an hour since Harry had seen the two head towards the Great Hall, and he had been un-able to motivate himself to move to a new location.

Harry noticed that Draco had lost the broken appearance that he had exhibited with his father, but there was still a hint of despondence in his eyes, and Harry realized that the boy’s scars with Lucius must run deep.

“I’ve been…catching some fresh air…before exams, you know,” Harry said steadily, knowing fully that Draco was perfectly aware of his true intentions.

“No you weren’t.” Malfoy said blatantly, taking a step foreword.

“Better not do that, Draco. Your Father might be watching,” Harry said, finding it almost impossible to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Draco was silent for a few seconds before stepping back, and Harry looked up to see the boy’s face tinted with obvious pain at Harry’s comment. “Look…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry,” Harry said, getting to his feet and approaching Malfoy. “I’m…sorry. I know this isn’t easy for you, I know that…I’m just…I just don’t know what to do, that’s all…” His voice trailed off and looked hopefully up at Draco.

Malfoy’s features softened, and he hesitantly put his hand on the side of Harry’s face, attempting to reassure them both.

“There are… things to say…” he whispered gently, although with a profound sadness pulling at the corners of his eyes. “Come to the Trophy Room. It’s too risky out here. You were…you were right…about my Father…”

Harry placed his own hand over Malfoy’s and nodded, wishing that they could stay in this position for the rest of time…reaching out to each other…comforting each other…but the world didn’t want them to comfort each other, and the world was always watching.

“Right…” Harry mumbled quickly, turning away. “Let’s go…there’s not much time…”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Hallways were deserted as the two boys darted up the stairs towards the trophy room, praying that they wouldn’t run into Lucius, or anyone, actually, who would consider it strange to see the two of them together. “In other words, if anyone here sees us, it’s all over,” Harry thought worriedly, speeding up the pace.

However, Every one seemed to be outside enjoying one of the last few un-occupied days before the end-of-the-year tests, and Harry and Malfoy entered the Trophy Room without having been seen by a single other person.

They both looked around noiselessly, and with an almost crushingly intense sensation, the memories that the room held came rushing back into Harry’s mind, and his breath caught in his throat as his eyes drifted towards the equipment closet. “This is where it all really began…” he thought.

The trophies glistened brightly in the sunlight, and Harry detected the soft glint from the one that had been his father’s…a star Quidditch player…years before Harry had been born. “My father rests in this room…” Harry imagined, a feeling of warmth returning to his ice-cold chest. “My father rests here with me…”

He felt strangely consoled as he and Malfoy sat almost reluctantly on the same window sill that had been coated with a layer of moonlight not so very ago, and he raised his eyes, looking expectantly at Draco, who obviously didn’t possess Harry’s tendency to delay conversations, and began to speak immediately.

“You should know that I had a conversation with my Father today,” he said briskly, smoothing his hair back apprehensively and letting his eyes wander restlessly around the small area. “He wants me to do something…and I’m going to…right as soon as school gets out…sooner if he…if we…can find a way.”

Shocked as he was by this pronouncement, Harry didn’t falter, but kept his eyes sturdy, trying to draw Draco back into his gaze.

“What exactly is it that your father wants you to do?” he asked calmly, although his mind was reeling with the thought of the worst-case-scenario. Malfoy looked determinately out the window.

“Before he went to…before he went away…he told me that I should…seek out the Dark Lord…during his absence, that I should…join him…to carry on the family reputation. You see…my father didn’t know if he would get out, ever…and he wanted me to continue…in his place…” Malfoy stopped and cleared his throat roughly before continuing, giving Harry the impression that he didn’t want to speak the words almost as much as Harry didn’t want to hear them. “To make a long story short…I didn’t…as you most likely know, do that, and my Father isn’t pleased…nor is the Dark Lord apparently, and so…my…my Father is taking me to him…to give him my loyalties. I’m…well, I’m leaving…to join him…and that’s really all there is to say…” His speech ended shortly and left a deep, hollow gap that began to widen perceptibly between the boys.

“You’re going to what?” Harry uttered in amazement, staring at Draco as if he had never seen him properly before. “How can you say that so casually? You’re Father’s a murderer! Is that what you want to be?”

For a moment, Malfoy looked at Harry intently, and then he shook his head in weary disbelief.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he whispered, although his voice was full of quiet severity. “You really don’t get it. You’re not the only one who has a destiny, Harry!” It was the first time in Harry’s memory that Draco had addressed him by his first name. “I have a destiny too, and it’s not something that I can just walk away from!” Malfoy’s chest had begun to shake slightly as he breathed. “There are expectations for me too! I tried to tell you in the hospital wing…I tried…” Harry reached out to grab the boy’s hand, but Draco pulled away, his face going pale in the afternoon light.

“You don’t have to do something just because your father tells you to,” Harry murmured. “You have a choice, Draco…you have…a choice.” Malfoy laughed dryly, and the piercing sound seemed jarring as it echoed across the small room.

“What choice is that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I mean, tell me, what is this choice that you seem to think I have? Death? A life of hiding? I don’t call those choices… The world has a plan for me, don’t you see? It’s not just my Father! The whole bloody world has my life mapped out for me, and who am I to prove them all wrong? Who am I? I’m no one, nothing except what everyone always says…” Draco had stopped looking scared and was beginning to look determined, as though if he could only keep talking…kept reiterating the idea, then he would be able to convince himself that it was what he had to do.

Harry felt his eyes fill embarrassingly with tears, and he willed them fiercely away, looking down at his hands.

“What about what I say you are?” he asked hesitantly. “Does that mean anything at all?” Malfoy looked uncomfortable and smoothed his hair yet another time, as though trying to remain smooth and composed.

“You’re only one person. The Dark Lord and the Deatheaters…are the only people I’ve known for my whole life,” he finally said bluntly, his tone devoid of sympathy, and Harry sighed deeply, feeling resentment start to bubble to the surface of his skin.

“Don’t call him the Dark Lord. He’s not a Lord. He’s a killer.”

“Then don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to, Potter.”

“Why don’t you take responsibility of your own life for a change, Malfoy?”

“Who are you to talk, Potter? As if you have control over yours!” The two boys had barely raised their voices above whispers, but the gap between them had grown into an immense hole, and the tension was so thick that Harry could barely stand it. He hated the way that this was happening…He hated it…but…he realized selfishly that he hated it because he wasn’t the one who was leaving. He hated it because he had no power over the situation. He hated it because he couldn’t fix it with his wand, or with his broomstick, or even with sheer luck. That was why he hated it.

They sat glaring at each other and breathing heavily until the temporary rush of emotion had faded slightly and had left behind an awkward silence in its place. It seemed as if there was nothing left to say, or do even, as they sat rigidly on the cold marble with the sun setting behind them.

Harry tentatively lifted his head to watch Draco and was surprised to see how resolutely he was trying to maintain a brave and haughty expression. It was a struggle, and Harry detected a slight hint of fear that was breaking through the boy’s defenses. Malfoy needed his shield…and without it, Harry realized with a jolt, without it he was dead. The world didn’t play fair…and sometimes…the only way to keep the truth safe was to hide it behind a mask…

Harry would have liked to believe that he could have protected Draco had he chosen to come over to the good side, but in reality, there was a chance too large to ignore that this would have proved impossible…and even so…Malfoy couldn’t survive locked up the way Sirius had been. He would go insane… “The good guy doesn’t always win,” Harry reminded himself.

With an unimaginable sadness, and a feeling deeper than Harry had known could exist, he reached foreword and placed his hand on Draco’s cheek, just as Draco had done for him. Images flashed through his mind…the bush…the closet…the hospital wing…whispered words…lips…eyes…smiles…

“Then I guess this is fitting,” he whispered gently, stroking Malfoy’s skin. “I guess it’s fitting that the place where it all really began…is the place where everything ends.” Malfoy looked up, his eyes relieved and desperate at the same time, and Harry continued. “You’re right Draco,” he murmured, looking for one last time into the boy’s eyes, “I’m not your destiny.”

___________________________________________________________________