The audience of the classroom was small—students were excused from attending the presentation if they had another class to show up to. It made sense, but Harry was a little sad that Hermione wouldn't be able to see the result of their efforts.
Draco removed his blazer, mindful not to let the fragile phial of Liquid Luck slip from the inner pocket. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, revealing the remnants of his Dark Mark as he set up the cauldron. Whispers could be heard among the classroom from everyone besides Ginny, who sat in the front row. She smiled encouragingly at Harry as he began the presentation.
"The name Jarik Lowen dates back as far as Hogwarts itself," Harry announced charismatically, "He was officially a wizard jeweler, but his talents spanned many different fields, including potion-making. In his book, Experiments of the Sullen Wizard, he details a cure for injuries created by dark magic."
Draco unraveled the rope coil of Thestral hair and added it to the potion. Any hint of anxiety that Harry saw earlier was gone from him. Draco no longer felt incapable. He fetched the powdered stalagmite rock they collected from Stump Cross cavern and sprinkled it over the lilac mixture as Harry spoke. They weren't able to prepare the cure in advance—the recipe emphasized how crucial it was to consume the potion within the hour of adding unicorn blood, lest the effects expire.
Harry continued, "For our assignment, we aimed to test the limits of magic. We know that almost any spell can be undone with a counter-spell, but dark magic isn't like that—it's more complicated. So, when we found the Cure for Dark Magic Wounds, we knew we had to try it. If it works the way it claims to, that would mean a fresh start . . . and a second chance for those who need it."
Harry smiled unknowingly at Draco as he got to work. He followed the instructions carefully, pouring the unicorn blood in a spiral motion. A puff of gray smoke erupted from the cauldron.
As the billows dissipated, Draco saw himself reflected in the potions's silver surface, like a makeshift mirror. Whether the result was due to his own talents or the influence of Felix Felicis, he didn't care—the potion was flawless. He suppressed his desire to jump up and down like Deja when she got excited.
The class seemed to look at the faces of other students before deciding how to react. Of course, they probably still saw Draco as a Death Eater—the same one that betrayed the school in the Wizarding War. Some of them might have still believed the rumor about Draco's act of revenge—his intention of cursing the school. They hadn't developed the same level of trust in him that Harry had.
They were suspicious, and rightfully so, considering none of them had even heard of Jarik Lowen or his Cure for Dark Magic Wounds.
Harry hoped more than anything else in the world that Lowen's potion would be a success, though he would never admit to such a hope being altruistic. If anyone asked, he intended to lie and say that he simply wanted a good grade. Those who knew him best also knew that he went to extreme lengths to deny how much he cared for Draco, though his actions proved otherwise.
As soon as Draco ladled the completed potion into a phial, the floor beneath them rumbled, causing the mirrored surface of the potion to ripple.
Draco shrugged at Harry with confusion plastered across his face, but they were equally perplexed—Harry didn't understand what had just happened. When the castle trembled again, it was much stronger than the first tremor. The class began to panic.
Just my luck, Harry thought.
Outside of the classroom, students started rushing into the lower level corridors of Hogwarts, in search of safety. The ground shook violently, and a cluster of seventh years crashed into one another like dominoes. Slughorn put down his quill and slip of parchment to tend to the frightened students, abandoning his post as a faculty spectator.
Draco got a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. It caught Harry off guard when he insisted on leaving the classroom to find out what was going on. "I really don't want to . . . but we have to," Draco exhorted.
When Harry asked what he meant, Draco just shook his head in befuddlement, "I don't know, but Felix does." He ran to his blazer and fished the phial of Liquid Luck from the inner pocket.
Draco's voice was serious, "I have a feeling that you'll need it." Held in his grasp, the golden shimmer of Felix Felicis sparkled majestically in the low-lit dungeon.
"I'll be fine," Harry said.
Draco begged Harry to take the phial from him as the castle quaked once more and cries of distress echoed throughout the adjacent corridor.
"I can't!"
"You can, and you will," Draco insisted.
Harry wasn't the biggest fan of how his words had been repurposed and used against him, but it was hard to be upset when Draco spoke with such sincerity, "You have to trust me, Harry." His gray eyes were pleading.
"I do," Harry admitted, taking the phial as if he were obligated to. He drank what was left of the potion, at the mercy of Draco's intuition.
Amid the chaos of panicked shrieks and professors trying to maintain order, he wondered to himself about what they might face above ground when they escaped the dungeons.
As they hiked up the staircase, Draco and Harry noticed that the upper levels were veiled in a green tinge. Lattice-covered windows revealed a stormy sky and torrential rainfall, but something more foreboding hovered over the school, just out of view. It seemed to be a manifestation of dread, itself.
"It can't be. . ." Draco said breathlessly, "This looks like a Death Eater's curse. . ."
Thick green clouds blocked out the sun, similar to the ones that rolled in at the time of Dumbledore's murder. What were the odds that something like that could happen again? Harry began to worry about who would fall victim to the Killing Curse this time.
Considering the worst possible case scenario, Harry asked, "Do you think Death Eaters are trying to take over Hogwarts again?"
Draco was frozen in fear and unresponsive as he stared out the window.
"Think, Draco!" Harry urged, "Is there a chance that any of the people you worked with formed their own coalition?" Draco nodded stiffly in consideration.
"Then we need to get closer," Harry declared. This seemed to snap Draco out of his daze.
"What?" he sputtered.
"To the clouds. . ."
"Oh, yeah," Draco said coolly, "I knew you meant that."
They rushed up several more flights of stairs as anxious students ran past them in the opposite direction. The tremors continued, mere minutes apart from the next. If there really was a Dark Mark in the sky, they would be able to Stupefy any Death Eaters that used it as a portal. They could only hope to find themselves within close proximity to the skull in the sky—within stunning range—before that happened. The higher they climbed, the stronger their hearts pumped with adrenaline and something else akin to dread.
Harry veered onto a seventh floor balcony, scanning the scenery below. The wind was loud, and the rain was near painful. Looking up at the tumultuous sky, Harry asked Draco with a titter, "Still reckon my Animagus is a bird that can fly?"
Draco nodded with certainty, though he seemed unsure of why he was so confident.
Harry turned back to face the darkened sky, "Then I need to jump off this ledge."
"What?!" Draco screamed, "That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard!"
"If you transform into a snake, I can fly both of us to the Astronomy Tower. It's the only way."
"Is it really?!" Draco pleaded with him desperately in a way that both expressed his worry and insulted the Gryffindor's intelligence, "You could die!"
"It's only a few stories up," Harry shrugged, "I've fallen from higher places. Don't you remember?"
Not entirely appreciative of Harry's tendency to tease him, Draco gave a begrudged nod. Harry was an adult wizard and could fend for himself, but he was still awfully careless, in Draco's opinion.
Even if the Gryffindor could conjure up a spell to cushion his lethal fall or slow his downward momentum, Draco struggled with the fact that he would risk his life at all—he had so much more to lose.
Harry removed his glasses and put them in his back pocket for safekeeping. He brazenly climbed atop the balcony while horrified onlookers accumulated in the entryway. The rain pelted Harry relentlessly.
He could no longer tell what time of day it was. The sun was completely obscured behind opaque clouds.
With a deep breath, Harry fell.
He envisioned wings—wings that fluttered in the passing wind of the highest altitudes. He repeated the necessary incantation over and over in his mind: Per Voluntatem Beluam Consilio Fio. Per Voluntatem Beluam Consilio Fio!
The rain fell in tandem with him as he plummeted, at the mercy of gravity. Just as he sensed how dangerously close he was to the ground, he caught an updraft. Harry looked down. His body was no longer human. Instead of feet, he had wrinkled talons. To either side of him, wings sprouted from where his arms were supposed to be. His brown feathers fluttered in the breeze. He was a Rupell's Griffon Vulture.
From above, Draco cheered with relief, soon realizing that his nails had been digging cuts into his palms.
Finally able to rest easy, he transformed into his Animagus and slithered up a baluster to reach the balcony railing. He braced feverishly, wishing that snakes had eyelids to close as Harry captured him in his talons. They soared higher and higher towards the Astronomy Tower, finally able to make out the weird shape of darkness in the sky. The boys landed upon the roof in their human forms, a sense of despair battling the effects of Felix Felicis within both of them.
Harry put his glasses back on with a start, rain whipping against his face, "It's like a giant Dementor!"
The hovering mass in the clouds was veiled by a black cloak, floating in and out of view. Draco brushed the soaked fringe from his brow in disbelief, as if staring more intensely at the phenomenon would cause it to make sense. A Dementor would certainly explain the sudden feeling of hopelessness, but one as gargantuan as this was unheard of.
Draco nearly slipped on the wet roof shingles while gaping at the gloomy sky, but Harry caught him at the last second. He wouldn't be able to defend the school on his own.
After securing his footing and adjusting his grip, Harry offered his other hand to Draco. "Are you with me?" he asked.
The Slytherin seemed to form a plan in his head, right there on the spot, as he grabbed on with fervor—no intention of letting go. He chuckled with exuberance, "Always."
They screamed at the sky, two voices as one, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The spell's recoil threatened to separate them, but they held on tightly and remained tethered to one another.
Their stag and ferret Patronuses rushed the Dementor in shimmering waves of blue light, forcing it further into the atmosphere until the sun reappeared and the storm clouds dissipated.
That was easy, Harry thought. Noticing that Draco was peering over the ledge, he warned him not to look down.
Draco ignored him, spectating the fallen tree which they stumbled across the evening before, near the outskirts of the Dark Forest. It looked incredibly tiny from the tallest tower of Hogwarts. Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place.
"It's not over," Draco said ominously. He pointed to the uprooted tree laying on its side, "Look familiar?"
Harry had almost forgotten about the miniature model of Hogwarts stashed away in Salazar Slytherin's hideout. When they moved the armoire out of the way, they also left the model exposed to any magical creatures that happened upon the manor. They knew this, but they never considered that the miniature model was connected to Hogwarts via Protean Charm, where whatever happened to the model also happened to the grounds.
Harry knew what they had to do. He only worried how long it would take for them to return and whether or not the effects of Lowen's cure would expire before then.
Harry's Animagus flew the distance to Slughorn's classroom. If they were lucky enough, they'd be able to use the abandoned Floo fireplace to get into the Chamber study, and they wouldn't be using it for frivolous means, this time.
In all the commotion, no one seemed to notice the vulture flying overhead with a snake in its talons. They eluded the crowd and dove into the classroom, where students were taking cover under their desks.
Harry and Draco landed in front of the Floo fireplace as humans. Ginny exclaimed at the sight of them, considering they were soaking wet. "What on Earth possessed you two to go outside in this weather?"
Harry didn't answer her question. Instead, he spoke with urgency, "Hogwarts is under attack."
Ginny stood astonished as concern washed over her.
"No time to explain," Draco added, following Harry diligently into the fireplace. Green flames covered them from head to toe, and they hit the ground running as soon as they reappeared in the Chamber study.
Harry frantically turned the golden key in its lock while Draco unhelpfully badgered him to hurry. They anxiously ran down the hidden staircase below the Flooless Floo, barreling into the corridor of Slytherin's hideout. Draco didn't see it immediately, but he surely felt it as a normal-sized Dementor fed on his life essence.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry chanted, sending the Dementor nine yards back.
Draco caught his breath, reeling from the unpleasant memories which had flooded his mind. Harry had once again saved his life. Draco wasn't keeping score, but he felt that, somehow, the universe was.
Before the cloaked figure could creep closer, Draco cast his own Patronus Charm, expelling the Dementor into the outside world. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would buy them time.
Draco ran outside into the lush grass of a cliffside meadow, staring up at the sky, half expecting the nasty creature to come back. He knew a meager Patronus Charm wouldn't last long enough to keep Dementors out indefinitely.
Without any indication of how much time had passed, Draco held his wand out in front of him, muttering, "Protego Maxima. Fianto Duri. Repello Inimicum. Repellite Maleficos."
Harry followed his lead and joined him in reciting the protective enchantments. Translucent disturbances in the air unfurled from their wands as the magical barrier took shape, two halves colliding to become whole.
They probably repeated the spell no less than eight times each due to the expansive size of Salazar Slytherin's manor. With the enchantments in effect, no one, not even wizards who stumbled upon it in the wilderness, would be able to disturb the history inside. Most of all, wandering Dementors would never again encroach upon the safety of Hogwarts.
Draco and Harry darted back through the Floo entrance, across the Chamber study, and downstairs to the potions classroom in an attempt to return before the hour was up. Draco stressed the volatility of Lowen's Cure for Dark Magic Wounds the entire way.
The castle remained still, and not a pinch of debris fell upon them. They saw Professor Knotcrown conducting foot traffic as surges of Hogwarts students returned to either their classes or common rooms after seeking underground solace in the dungeons.
Slughorn gasped once he laid eyes upon Harry and Draco, battered and drenched from the rain as they ran up to his desk. They were already cutting it close and had no time to change into dry clothes.
"Merlin!" Slughorn yelped, "Are you both alright?"
After scanning the classroom, Harry's face fell. "Where is everyone?"
"I'm terribly sorry, but I've already dismissed class . . . I had no idea you intended on returning," Slughorn apologized, gesturing to the empty seats before him.
Of course, as soon as they expelled the Dementor from the sky, the tremors had stopped, and everything slowly returned to normal. They were the only ones not in the classroom when the weather cleared and the threat had passed.
Minerva McGonagall fluttered hastily into the classroom with a complex expression on her face. She seemed furious but a little concerned, disappointed yet proud. "There you are!"—Harry and Draco braced for impact—"Never in my forty-something years of teaching have I ever seen such blatant recklessness!" She fired next at Slughorn, "Did you see them on top of the Astronomy Tower?!"
Slughorn sputtered in disbelief, "I-I was in the dungeons, helping the students! I'm afraid I d-don't recall."
McGonagall scolded the boys, "What were you thinking? You could've been killed!"
Not unfamiliar with danger, Harry defended them both, "Neither of us would've let that happen."
Draco nodded determinedly at this notion. McGonagall was taken aback by their obstinacy. Harry continued, "But if you still feel the need to deduct House points, you should take them from Gryffindor."
Draco interrupted him in a hushed voice, "No way you're taking the fall for this!" He faced his Head of House, Slughorn, with a beseeching gaze, "It was my idea! You can't let Harry take the blame."
Draco and Harry began to argue about who was at fault, but neither of them pinned responsibility on the other. Their bickering was futile, however, as they had worked as a team to defend Hogwarts. McGonagall knew this much.
"Enough!" boomed Minerva's voice, "Both of you will see me in my office for detention, this Saturday."—they lowered their heads in shame—"but"—Harry looked up wildly, not expecting a flipside—"for your . . . admittedly noble efforts in protecting the school, I'm awarding fifty House points to each of you."
Noticing Draco's despondent frown, McGonagall attempted to cheer him up, "Don't fret. Detention isn't that—"
"I'm not worried about detention," he interrupted, "I'm worried about our potion." Draco walked slowly to his cauldron with despair. "It's been well over an hour. . ."
Hermione and Ron reached the potions classroom in a breathless huff that startled Draco.
"I figured you were here," Hermione pined. After her ancient runes class evacuated, she left to find Ron. The two of them were only able to reach the potions classroom after the sky cleared and the sky returned to a cloudless state.
"The corridor was completely blocked off!" Hermione croaked, hugging Harry with relief. She pulled away almost immediately as she felt her robes dampen. "Why are you both . . . ?" she began. Hermione shook her head, assuming she might not want to know, "Nevermind that. Did Lowen's cure work?"
Ron looked down at Draco's left arm—the Dark Mark was still there. "I'm guessing not," he said.
Draco sighed despondently, "We'll never know because we didn't make it back in time to test it. It's over."
Harry reached out his hand, but it only hovered over Draco's shoulder.
"The potion won't work anymore," Draco said somberly.
Diverging his course of action, Harry lit up and grabbed the phial containing the Cure for Dark Magic Wounds. He forced it into Draco's grasp, "But the Felix Felicis still might."
"You gave him Felix Felicis?!" Hermione scolded.
Professor Slughorn confirmed that this was a good thing, "Liquid Luck ensures that the drinker's endeavors succeed. There is also a possibility . . . that this would cancel out the volatility of a less complicated potion."
Slughorn appeared much more at ease than before with the knowledge that Draco and Harry had luck on their side while risking their lives for the school. "It may be the reason they returned . . . relatively unscathed," Slughorn ruminated.
Accepting that he hadn't anything to lose, Draco brought the phial to his lips and downed its contents, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
Harry retrieved the translated potion instructions from a nearby table to jog his memory, "We might need more wand power." He wrote the incantation featured in the Cure for Dark Magic Wounds in large chalky letters upon the blackboard:
SANARE, RECUPERARE, RENOVARE. DELE TENEBRAS, SALVE LUCEM.
Hermione and Ron didn't hesitate to hold out their wands. Draco had no choice but to turn his blemished forearm to the sky. His Dark Mark lit up with a white glow as Harry, Hermione, and Ron recited the spell in unison, "Sanare, Recuperare, Renovare. Dele Tenebras, Salve Lucem."
Professor McGonagall glanced at Slughorn solemnly, touched by the scene before her, and retrieved a fir wand from the hem of her bell sleeve. Slughorn followed her lead and joined the rest next to Draco. "Sanare, Recuperare, Renovare. Dele Tenebras, Salve Lucem."
Intent on seeing it through, Draco refused to disclose how much it felt like fire running through his veins, like being burned alive by a Fiendfyre, but there was no sense in backing out now.
"Sanare, Recuperare, Renovare. Dele Tenebras, Salve Lucem."
Draco hissed in pain as the glow intensified and threatened to blind everyone in close proximity. A burst of light erupted with a force that caught the attention of students who were passing by the potions classroom.
As the light dissipated, Draco became anxious and refused to look at the cure's results.
He used only his sense of touch to determine the potion's success or lack thereof. He felt no presence of the scar he had despised.
Astonished, half convinced that it was too good to be true, his head snapped forward, eager to witness the miracle. There wasn't a single indication that there had ever been a scar, let alone one created by dark magic.
Draco normally had a solid hold on his emotions, but they all flooded back in that moment. Without the Dark Mark, Draco was free. "I can't believe this. . ."
"It worked!" Harry cheered as he felt the iron beads on his bracelet turn cold, "It actually worked!"
"Marvelous!" exclaimed Slughorn.
McGonagall was beside herself with pride for her students. In a flurry of excitement, Draco, Hermione, and Ron exchanged friendly hugs of congratulations, not even caring that they were soaking wet and covered in dirt.
Draco stopped celebrating when he faced Harry. "As if," he scoffed, pretending that he wouldn't hug him if he were the last man on Earth. Harry shoved him with indignation, reciprocating the same sentiment.
"Oh, please!" Hermione groaned, making an effort to push Harry into Draco's arms. "I'm sick of you two acting like you despise each other."
Draco contemplated her words, pulling away, "Despise . . . is a strong word."
Harry noticed that he had a pink tint blooming upon his cheeks. "Are you blushing?" he asked, wide-eyed.
Draco's face contorted with disdain, "So are you!"
Harry covered his reddened cheeks in embarrassment as Draco snickered.
Only Ron saw Hermione roll her eyes and sardonically mouth the words "here we go" with a breathy sigh.
Ron whispered, "Flighting," to Hermione, and she nodded exhaustedly.
Slughorn guffawed, interrupting the tension with his usual oily grin, "If you would be so kind, Minerva, to escort Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley back to Gryffindor Tower. . ."—Ron grinned in victory that the potions professor finally got his name right—"I need to have a word with these two."
Draco and Harry exchanged anticipatory glances.
Satisfied once the other two had left, Slughorn placed his uniquely patterned cedarwood wand back in the pocket of his robes. He smiled, "So . . . tell me what happened. This conversation will be off the record."
Harry winced, "It's a very long story, sir."
"Brilliant! I love a good story." Slughorn grinned, finding the most comfortable position in his chair.
Harry and Draco dreaded the potential consequences they'd face if they were truthful about their previous whereabouts to the wrong person, but Slughorn seemed willing enough to hear them out before knocking the gavel.
They told their professor why they left in the middle of presenting, why they went outside and, most importantly, why the tremors and torrential rain stopped.
"Let me get this straight," Slughorn said, "You found a charmed model of Hogwarts and protected it from a Dementor?"
The boys nodded.
Slughorn directed a question to Draco, "With the Patronus Charm Harry taught you?"
"Yes," Draco said.
Slughorn then addressed Harry, "And you used your Animagus to fly Mr. Malfoy to the Astronomy Tower?"
Harry gulped, "Yes."
"Well, then. . ." Professor Slughorn leaned back in his chair, preparing to announce his verdict.
Draco tried to save him the breath, "We failed the class, didn't we?"
"Good Heavens, no!" Slughorn chortled, "The main goal of this assignment was for students to learn cooperation and how to work in tandem with others. I think you've accomplished that much. I'm very impressed with your efforts. You both passed with flying colors."
The forlorn expression on Draco's face transformed into one of pure joy at his academic accomplishment. Harry was just ecstatic that he would never have to take another potions class again.
"Does that mean we got an O?" Draco smiled hopefully.
Harry elbowed him, "Don't push it."
Slughorn laughed jocundly, "I'll have to deduct points for the fact that you left the classroom during your presentation, but other than that, you shouldn't worry about qualifying for any position in the Ministry, as far as potions grades go."
With a jolly wink, he packed up his things and ambled merrily to the door. Before leaving, he turned to the boys for one last comment of humorous congratulations, "And the best part is you won't have to speak to one another ever again!" He proudly left the classroom with a hearty chortle, leaving Harry and Draco to contemplate his words.
He must have been under the impression that they were strictly academic partners and nothing more—that they still hated each other.
Sure, they felt animosity towards one another in the beginning, but so much had changed since then.
Slughorn's potions class was the only one Harry and Draco had together, and it had come to a bittersweet conclusion. Before he could be rejected, Draco wished Harry a farewell first.
Harry rolled his eyes at him, "You're out of your mind if you think I'd never want to see you again."
"But we passed potions. . ." Draco dejectedly retrieved his blazer from a nearby chair, intending to collect his belongings and leave rather than overstay his welcome. "You don't have to keep being my friend."
Harry shook his head in disbelief that Draco was so keen to talk him out of it. "I know," Harry furrowed his brow, "Is it so hard to believe that I'd want to?"
Draco didn't want to admit that this was indeed the case, so he stayed silent. Harry didn't need to use Legilimency to know what he was thinking. What he understood about Draco was hard to reckon with. It was hard to process how someone so outwardly prideful could think so little of themselves.
"You're a lot to handle, sure, but I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry shrugged, not being receptive of how much this statement impacted Draco. "Besides," he considered, "I'll still see you in detention."
Harry would much rather be trapped in detention with a friend than a stranger. He hoped that Draco wouldn't act like one after all they've been through. It would surely seem like a waste.
"So . . . see you tomorrow?" Draco asked.
Harry couldn't help but smile, "I better."
⟢⬦⟣
ONE SEMESTER LATER
⟢⬦⟣
The morning after graduation was permeated by a sense of accomplishment. There was, however, a lingering sadness in the air due to all the memories that the wizarding class of 2000 would leave behind.
Attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry gave rise to the most troublesome years of Harry's entire existence, but those experiences molded him into the person he had become. His destiny—his legacy—his home. He would miss it very much.
After lunch, Harry, Ron, and Hermione planned on riding the Hogwarts Express one final time. They didn't really need to, since they could Apparate, but another opportunity to say goodbye to the roaring scarlet steam engine probably wouldn't present itself in the future.
On the ground floor of Hogwarts, trunks and pet cages cluttered the walkway as they waited to be loaded onto the train. Harry diligently scanned a nearby cluster of green suitcases but saw no sign of Draco. He hadn't seen him anywhere in the castle, either.
As he traveled into the courtyard, the temperate spring air hit Harry's face with vigor and the refreshing scent of wildflowers. Hermione and Ron were walking hand-in-hand over a cobblestone bridge, taking in the beautiful weather until they noticed Harry.
"Looking for someone?" Ron said dryly.
As soon as Harry confessed that he was searching for Draco, Hermione and Ron glanced suspiciously at one another, as if they fully anticipated him saying that.
"Last I saw him, he said something about expecting a letter," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You should check the Owlery."
Harry nodded courteously in thanks before turning away and transforming into his vulture Animagus. He climbed the sky and made off towards the Hogwarts Owlery, figuring that flying would get him there faster.
After Harry returned to his human form and hiked up the stone steps, he started to slow his pace and listen quietly. He wasn't sure if he had heard the soft trills of an owl or someone sobbing.
Draco had his back turned to the entrance, looking out towards the mountain range from the balcony view. He gripped onto a half-crumpled letter shakily as he wept, his lowered head filling the room with sorrow.
Harry pretended to announce his presence with more purposeful footsteps. Draco frantically wiped his eyes and turned to see who had entered the Owlery. His eyes were red and wet.
Harry couldn't help the somewhat pitiful look he gave Draco. It was the last day they would ever spend at Hogwarts, and he was crying in the Owlery, alone.
"Draco, we've talked about this," Harry urged, "Don't pretend to be okay when you're not."
"I'm alright, really," Draco lied.
"As if," Harry folded his arms in confrontation. His voice softened, "I heard you crying . . . who is the letter from?"
Draco grimaced, tensely folding the tear-soaked parchment, "My mother." He held back tears as a lump formed in his throat. "I told her about Lowen's cure . . . and how it was a success. I-I might have mentioned something about Deja. . ."
Harry finally understood. "You told your mum that she was a Muggleborn," he concluded.
As Draco wearily shut his eyes, the morning sun reflected upon his blond lashes, damp with sadness. He croaked, "She told me not to come home."
Harry didn't say a word in his astonishment. He didn't have to. He caught Draco as he swayed forward, falling weakly into his embrace. The ice in his eyes melted and fell to Earth as tears.
He must really be hurting, Harry thought, privy to the fact that the Slytherin rarely hugged anyone voluntarily.
Draco never wanted to do anything to cross that unspoken line with others, especially with Harry. And yet, in that moment, that line had dissolved into nothing.
Harry didn't know how strict Draco was with himself, how he tended to bottle everything up and present a face to the world that was strong, resilient, and principled. He worried that any ounce of vulnerability would scare people off, but Harry was not afraid.
Draco's muffled cries were only barely audible just below Harry's ear, "I don't understand. . ."
Seeing the detriment of someone who was usually so put together and inviolable broke Harry's heart. "It's not your fault, Draco." He said softly. "Whatever you do, please don't blame yourself for this."
He couldn't begin to imagine how difficult this was for Draco, so all he could do was be there for him. Harry continued, "You have people in your life that love you and care about you. Ron, Hermione, Deja . . . and me." Draco pulled away and tried to compose himself as Harry urged him to listen, "We're your family."
Draco smiled bittersweetly, tears still streaming down his cheeks, "You're a good friend, Harry. Thank you . . . for everything."
Harry groaned, "Stop saying shit that sounds like you're saying goodbye!"
"But—"
"I'm not letting you give up. Sure, it's going to be difficult, but you don't have to bear it alone," he persisted.
Harry's face brightened as an idea entered his mind. He inherited the ancestral home of Black when Sirius passed. The eight bedrooms and seven floors felt lonely without loads of people stomping around and causing mischief. He smiled, "There's plenty of room for you at 12 Grimmauld Place. It's close to the Ministry, and Hermione and Ron will be living there with me, too."
Draco shook his head dismissively, "I couldn't."
Harry scoffed, "It's my house. You can if I say so."
He had never admitted that before. At first, it seemed insensitive to claim ownership of Sirius's home, as if not doing so would bring him back. The impossibility of that presented Harry with a sorrow which intended to haunt him forever, but he no longer felt the need to face it alone.
Accustomed to Harry's stubbornness, Draco half smiled in the gratitude he felt—simply for the fact that Harry stuck around. Even though they made snide remarks to one another and stirred up squabbles, they had each other's backs when it really counted. It seemed that even as their chapter at Hogwarts came to a close, a new era of whimsy and adventure had just begun.