The Boy Who Lived

The Boy Who Lived Twice

'I'm glad that didn't happen, even though I...'

They both knew what Harry meant, that he'd nearly done it for Draco.

'If you hadn't turned up, I would have done it. I felt so numb, I remember thinking that it wasn't going to hurt, that if I sliced my skin open it would just bleed and I wouldn't feel it. Only it did hurt and I just happened to look up and the first thing I saw was your eyes...'

***

He looked into Harry's eyes now, so green behind his glasses. It seemed fantastical that anyone could have eyes that green. They made Draco think of the Forbidden Forest; enticing and dangerous, drawing him into shadows that seemed to offer safety. They were a contradiction: unreal, yet so very, very real with bright flecks that were almost lime green set against dark Aleppo-pine green around the edges. He remembered his mother once telling him about the irony of the colour of the killing curse: that green was symbolic of compassion, and harmony; that it brings hope and alleviates anxiety and often indicates safety. Yes, Potter's eyes were a paradox, offering an honest safety that Draco felt he was drowning in. They made him feel like he couldn't catch his breath, like he was suffocating. They made him feel alive.

He shuddered and never before had he wanted someone to hold him as much as he wanted it from Harry in that moment. He was glad Harry still had his hand on Draco's wrist and it felt like there was electricity crackling between them. But that touch was keeping him grounded and it brought back memories of the hospital wing and the warmth Harry's touch had brought him in the most desperate of times.

'I guess we have to look at the good things that came out of that day,' Harry said.

'Like you not killing me?'

'Definitely like me not killing you. And I finally understood. I finally saw that the situation we were in wasn't black and white. I didn't know what was going on with you but I saw you clearly didn't have a choice in whatever it was.'

'You gave me hope, when you came and told me not to give up and believe things may end up differently. I held on to that. I hoped the Order might managed to intervene, something, anything. Dumbledore still died...'

'...he was already dying...'

'...I wasn't sure I wanted to believe that when you said it in court.'

'For all his wisdom and experience, the stupid bugger decided it was a good idea to wear a cursed ring. Severus was keeping him alive until "the right time". It was all about "the right time" with him. He held back an awful lot of information that might have helped me because it wasn't "the right time" and then there was the small matter of me having to die at "the right time".'

'You really did survive another killing curse?'

'Yes.' There was an abruptness in Harry's voice and he removed his hand from Draco's wrist and sat back in his chair. Draco immediately missed its warmth.

He sat back too and it was his turn to nudge Harry's shoulder. 'Sorry.'

Harry gave a heavy sigh. 'Don't apologise, it's me. I need to take a leaf out of my own book and differentiate between a friend asking and someone from the sycophantic idiotic adoring masses...'

'Friend?'

'What else should I call you? We've saved each other's lives and managed several civilised conversations now on four separate occasions, five if you include outside the court room. I think we're doing okay.'

'So, you're not about to challenge me to a duel?'

'Not unless you're about to do something particularly nefarious.'