Rewound (Drarry)

You Deserved Better

Draco snorted, "Perfect for me, then."

"Well," Harry smiled sheepishly, "You can't say we were friends."

"Hm, no, that's true. We would've been brilliant though."

"What do you mean?"

"If we had. Been friends- that is. I could've been the brains, you could be the brawn." Draco smirked.

Harry laughed lightly, "Well I had Hermione for brains, and besides," he gestured at his scrawny frame, "I'm not sure I'm quite the brawniest at this school."

"You're good enough for me." Draco said, flushing at the double meaning. Harry blushed, looking away.

"You're only saying that because you're just as pointy."

Draco let out an incredulous noise, "Pointy?! Excuse you!"

Harry, too, began to laugh. "You are though!"

"How dare you! I am not pointy! I am refined, Potter."

Harry was breathless with his laughter.

"Not that you would know. You were probably raised in a barn. Probably don't even know the difference between arched and rounded brows."

"A cupboard, actually." Harry said through fits of giggles.

"What?"

"I was raised in cupboard. Not a barn." He corrected, attempting to regain some semblance of composure, Draco stared at him, entirely dumbfounded.

"You what?"

"You said I was raised in a barn. I said it was actually a cupboard, at least get your facts right if you want to insult me." Harry repeated, trying to school his features into a look of seriousness.

However, at Draco's desperate loss for words, Harry couldn't help it, collapsing into another fit of laughter.

—-

The conversation progressed from there, Draco began vehemently questioning Harry's upbringing, and soon the battle of giggles and interrogation segued into warm conversation of each of their lives.

Harry felt as if he knew more about Draco than he did anyone else, which was starkly shocking considering he'd spent months stuck in the company of both Ron and Hermione in nothing but a tent. Draco seemed to return his surprise, neither of them quite understood why they could speak so freely with one another, and quickly the talk of cupboards and Christmases turned into their memories of the war.

All of the hardships they'd faced. Draco told Harry how he'd had to share a home with Voldemort himself, Harry told Draco about the hunt for Horcruxes, and Ron leaving and how he'd actually died.

"And what? They just.. they just let you?" Draco stared at Harry, open mouthed.

They'd made their way around almost the entire Quidditch Pitch, and were now walking back up towards the castle.

Harry sighed, "Yeah. They knew I had to. They understood what it meant. Why it had to be done."

"But- but, what if you didn't come back?"

Harry shrugged. "They would've understood."

Draco wouldn't accept it, couldn't accept it.

"But-! But they're your best friends, if they weren't going to stop you from killing yourself then who was?"

Harry stopped. The realisation of Draco's words began to sink in. Was there really nobody who had loved him enough that they'd stop his death, even if it meant a terrible outcome? Nobody willing to stop him, to try everything to just find another way?