Drarry Oneshots

Only A Fantasy

"Well, I mean, I'll help your mum because I owe her my life. And you're not such a bad sort. And you saved my life when the Snatchers had me. But I can't really think why I should help your father."

"Because you can."

Harry caught his breath. He and Malfoy were sitting outside Hogwarts near Dumbledore's tomb, and there was faint, grey sunlight streaking over them. It was near dawn. Malfoy had asked Harry to meet him here then because he had trouble meeting Harry alone otherwise.

Harry had thought it would be an uncomfortable conversation. Malfoy had the right to ask for his help, but he would probably be loud and taunting and difficult about it, and Harry would have to sit there and remind himself that the git had saved his life, and so had his mum.

But now Malfoy was looking at him with this faith. Not the demand that Harry save all of them that Harry had seen on so many faces by now. Not with anger that Harry hadn't done things during the war to save more people. Not the greed that people had when they wanted Harry's money or an interview or autographs or for him to promise to marry them.

Just faith.

"Father will agree to whatever you ask," Malfoy continued after a second. His eyes still held that faith. "Make it difficult if you want. Make it humiliating. I know Mother thinks he needs to be humbled." Malfoy stared at his hands for a second, then looked up. "She said the same thing about me, then took it back. She thought it would be so hard for me to come and ask you for help that it would count as humiliation."

"Was it?" Harry had to ask. He didn't think Malfoy looked humiliated at the moment, but it could be hard to tell.

"No."

His voice was soft, and his eyes were fervent. Harry sat up. He didn't feel like a hero, but he felt—better than he was. Larger than life. And like he really could do something, not just "do something" in that vague way everyone talked about.

"I don't know what it is about you," Malfoy whispered. "But you make me a better person. I think you could make everyone a better person, if you were allowed to do it."

Harry stirred a little, and thought about standing up from the chair he'd conjured and walking away. Now Malfoy was sounding more like the people who thought he could fix everything. It was just a matter, those requesters kept saying, of having the right people "on his side" or "by his side" or something like that.

"Listen to me. Please."

Harry had never thought Malfoy would ever say "please" in his life. He sat back because that was amazing, and turned to see Malfoy leaning towards him, holding his hand out.

Harry let his eyes meet Malfoy's. He knew the significance of the gesture for Malfoy. It was brave of him to be offering his hand when it had already been rejected once before.

"Let's be allies," said Malfoy. "If that's all you want to be. I'd rather be friends, but that's up to you." His voice was shaking a little, but he didn't stutter. He still went on watching Harry as though he was the center of the universe.

Harry swallowed. "Why do you want to be friends with me? I can try to get your family out of trouble, but you don't know if I can do all of it. Your father's going to be the hardest, assuming I decide I want to help him at all."

Malfoy nodded. His hand never wavered, although Harry thought he'd been holding it out long enough to at least get tired by now. "Because you're better than other people. I meant that. You can forgive people I never thought you could forgive. You have better friends than I do." For just a second, Malfoy looked bitter, but then he burned away the expression and just looked earnest again. "If you can forgive Professor Snape for killing Dumbledore—" he looked at the tomb for a second "—then I think you can forgive me. And I need a friend."