We Open at the Close (Drarry)

Where Poppies Grow

"You're not a bad person, Draco," she intoned softly.

"I got Dumbledore killed," he said flatly.

"No, Snape—" she began, but Draco cut in.

"I know why he did it, but I as good as killed him; I was the one who got Bellatrix and the others into Hogwarts that night. And it's not just that night; I bully people because I enjoy it. I take pleasure in other people's misfortunes. I watched people getting tortured and killed and I did nothing. I want to hurt people who hurt me and the people I love, but I'm too much of a fucking coward to even do that. I'm a fucking Death Eater, Andromeda. Death Eaters killed your husband and daughter! I shouldn't be anywhere near you or Teddy. Potter said it himself, I'm not a good person. I'm no good for anyone— least of all you and Teddy."

"Did you enjoy it?" asked Andromeda. "Watching people being tortured and killed?"

"No!" he decried. "That's not the point. The point is I let it happen."

"The point is that there was nothing you could do!" Andromeda stated, her voice rising. "You were in a nest of vipers, if you had spoken out or taken action against them then you and your parents would have been killed!"

"So I'm a coward," Draco concluded, his voice cracking.

"You're a survivor, Draco!" she cried. "You did what you could, what you had to do to survive."

Draco shook his head. "Potter wouldn't have done that. He would have done or said something, he would have fought back."

"You're not Harry though, are you?" she said more gently, shaking her head. "Most people aren't. And fewer still would want to be."

She took Draco's hands into her own and looked up into his eyes. "You did what you had to do, just like everybody else. Not everybody is a hero— nobody is expecting you to be. If you were to live up to everyone's expectations, you wouldn't amount to very much, would you?"

"No," Draco answered quietly.

"I don't care what other people think, they don't know you as well as I do," she said.

Draco shook his head. "You don't know me at all. There's no good in me, Andromeda. There's nothing good left for you to save."

"That's not true," she proclaimed forcefully. "You have good in you, I've seen it."

"All you've seen is what I want you to see," he drawled. "It's been an act. I've been preying on your good nature to secure a roof over my head and a hot meal."

"Stop lying," she chastised him sharply. "I know it's not been an act because I saw you!" she said, her voice choked. "I saw you that day. After Dora's funeral, I went back to spend some time on my own, and I saw you by her graveside."

Draco felt his stomach sink. Oh, god.

"You weren't supposed to see," he said weakly. "I know I shouldn't have been there..."

"If you hadn't been there, then you wouldn't be here now. Why do you think I got in touch with you in the first place?" Draco blinked. Andromeda continued, "I may have never met you before that day, but I knew who you were, even with your back to me— you look remarkably like your father. But there the similarities begin and end, in my opinion."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Your father would never have felt guilt for the death of someone he'd never met, much less visited their graveside," she said. "Bad people don't feel remorse or guilt. They don't try to make amends. Bellatrix never felt remorse for anything that she did, she took pleasure in hurting others, even those she was supposed to love most. You're not like her, Draco— nor your father, nor Harry. You are your own person."