Harry and Draco walked outside in comfortable silence. The night was quiet compared to the commotion within the castle, and a few lights were on in windows higher up - younger years who were up late, it seemed. The winter air was cool on Draco's warm face. He hadn't noticed the temperature when he'd been dancing, but now he was outside he was grateful for the cold.
He felt the inexplicable urge to reach over and take Harry's hand, to say something. He wanted to kiss him. He looked so good, in his green dress robes with his flushed face and ruffled hair. Draco wanted him to be his, he felt unfairly possessive of him already, and they'd only recently become friends.
He supposed he'd always felt a bit possessive of Harry.
Even back in the old timeline. In the original fourth year, when things started to intensify and Draco had stopped being on his radar; when Harry had made other priorities than his arch nemesis Draco Malfoy, Draco had felt betrayed. He wanted Harry to look at him, to sneer back at him, to fight him, but Harry would do nothing.
Even in the years which proceded that, Draco would glare at him from across the Hall, scoff at his words- his hero antics. But Harry would never look back.
He'd slowly gotten worse. As the years went by he'd gone from indifferent to self absorbed. He was consumed by himself, by his feelings. Draco remembered all too well the shadows that tailed them all through sixth year, that followed them into seventh and still hadn't left now. The curse Harry had shot at him, the red stains left in his home from Hermione Granger's short stay.
He supposed he forgave Harry, in the end. He had certainly had more on his mind than Draco had in fourth year, and when he'd cursed him, Draco had been about to do exactly the same. And yet it still stung.
"Sorry." He said into the air.
"Hm?" Harry turned to him.
"About- well. Everything."
Harry's eyes widened in realisation.
"Oh. You don't- we don't have to talk about this."
Draco inclined his head, "No, but we should."
Harry grimaced.
"I'm sorry too." He said. "For cursing you. And for.. well, I don't know. A lot of things probably. I'm not sure I've always been fair to you."
"I could say the same thing."
"I'm sorry for turning down your friendship, back in First Year."
Now it was Draco's turn to look surprised.
"You are?"
"Yeah," Harry frowned at the floor.
"Do you regret it?"
"No."
Draco closed his mouth. Harry looked up.
"I don't regret it, but I'm still sorry. You were a prat, and you were nasty about Ron, but you were only eleven. It wasn't really your fault that you acted the way you did."
"No, I suppose that's true. Apology accepted then, but I don't really care if you're sorry about then, so long as you think I'm decent now." He smiled at Harry.
Harry met his gaze, nudging him slightly and grinning. "Yeah, I 's'pose you're alright."
"I'm glad we're past that then."
Harry hummed.
"But I'm sorry about the curse."
"You said that already."
"I know, but it's true. I never meant to hurt you, not like that."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously. I read it in a book and it didn't really- it didn't describe what it would do. It just said 'for enemies'."
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?
Suddenly, the chill of the night felt stronger. Harry was cold.
"I think we should go inside. It's getting late."
Draco's gaze softened.
"Harry?"
Harry shut his eyes. "Don't."
He tried to speed up. Draco tugged at his sleeve, "Hey," he said, pulling Harry back to face him.
Harry stared resolutely at the floor, worried if he met Draco's gaze then he'd do something stupid like cry.
"Are you.. are you okay?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"But you should."
"But I won't."
Draco rolled his eyes, pulling Harry over to a lonesome tree, tucked away from the prying eyes of the castle.
"Look at me."
Harry stared at the roots of the tree, they wound far around them, curling like tentacles over the earth.
"Harry."
Harry tore his eyes from the tree, meeting Draco's steely grey glare.
"You're not selfish."
"What?"
Harry had been expecting many things, but not that.
"You're not selfish."
"I don't- What are you.." Harry looked at the tree again, he could feel the tears welling up.
"You aren't selfish for wishing they'd stopped you. It doesn't matter what the consequence would have been, I never would have done what they did."
"But then Voldemort would have-" Harry began, alarmed.
"I don't care. I wouldn't give up a friend for the sake of a war- for the 'Greater Good', not you or anyone else I love."
Harry's heart thudded. Love.
"But Draco, if I hadn't died then Voldemort could still-"
"Did anyone try anything else?"
Harry had been afraid he'd say that.
"Well, no, but-"
"No. They didn't. They wanted it over with. They didn't care if it costed them your life as long as it was the fastest way out of the war. Nobody tried to get the Horcrux out of you some other way, they just heard your word that 'Dumbledore the Holy' spewed some utter bollocks that old Voldie's own curse was the only way out and then believed you because it's what was easiest for them."
Tears of anger and betrayal bubbles at Draco's words.
"You don't know shit about my friends, they did everything they could! They fought for me! For everyone!" Harry said indignantly, "Where were you? Hanging around in Death-Eater-ville waiting for Daddy to come home and tell you it was all done and dusted?"
"Yeah, maybe I was on the wrong side of the war, but I was raised there!" Draco spat, "Look at me now, Potter, and tell me you don't think I've changed?"
Harry stayed silent.
"Surely you don't think that maybe now my loyalty lies elsewhere? That even though I had to relearn everything I thought was right to get where I am, I still wound up here. On the right side. Or are you just as willing to bail on a friend after one argument as your precious Weasley?"
Harry fumed, "Don't say a word about Ron!"
"Oh yes, your loyal Gryffindor Weasley who'd hand you over to the Dark Lord without a second glance the moment you offered it!" Draco scoffed.
"They thought it was the only way! My friends loved me!"
"Not as much as I would have loved you!"
Harry stared at Draco, stunned.
Draco stared back, eyes wide, as if he'd only then realised his own words. His posture sagged, defeated, as his eyes turned sad.
"I would've done anything. I wouldn't have let you go." He said quietly.
Harry felt tears prickling his eyes for the third time that evening, "It wasn't that easy," he whispered, barely audible.
"I know. It would've been one of the hardest decisions I'd ever had to make, but I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have let you go."
Harry wanted to say a lot of things. How maybe Draco wouldn't have let him because he cared less for the fate of the Wizarding World- or more particularly the Muggleborns. He wanted to say how Draco didn't care because he was a Slytherin, and he was too self-interested to think of the consequences stopping him would've had. But more than anything Harry wanted to tell him how much it meant to him that Draco cared, that his love - no matter what kind - and loyalty was more than worth its weight in gold.
But he didn't.
He locked eyes with Draco. Harry's tears were mirrored in Draco's eyes, and the thunderstorm beneath the surface of them spoke a thousand words. The tension between them was electric, Harry wanted to touch him, to tell him how he wished he'd had him before. To do something. Say something.
Instead, he leaned in. Draco leaned in too, eyes fluttering shut, long lashes casting shadows across his pale cheeks. Harry could see the tiniest amount of light brown freckles when he was this close. He could smell the Draco's cologne, he smelled of mint and coffee and something herby Harry couldn't place.
Bang.
The two of them leapt apart.
There was a flash of light. The branches whistled.
"Excuse me,"
Harry turned suddenly to the source of the interruption, and none other than Moody-Crouch emerged from the bushes.
Harry's face began to redden in embarrassment, before he even truly registered who it was who had just stepped into their midst.
Draco stared, astounded, but mostly angry.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" He shouted.
Harry placed a hand on his shoulder placatingly.
"Draco-"
"Ay, there Mister. You've got no business askin' me what I'm doin' here. I'm a teacher, if you'd care to remember, Malfoy."
Harry gripped Draco protectively, remembering only too well the disdain for which Crouch Jr had spoken of the Malfoys in the original timeline. He wouldn't let Moody-Crouch get away with anything this time, as funny as the ferret had been, he doubted it would be quite so humorous now Harry knew who was really behind the mask.
"You're the one who snuck up on us, Sir." Draco drawled.
Harry was impressed with the level of dislike Draco managed to squeeze into such a respectful sentence.
"I wasn't sneakin', Malfoy, I was just..."
But Moody-Crouch's words were fading. Harry looked dazedly at his feet, where he noticed idly that one of the trees roots was climbing up his leg.
Huh.
That was odd.
A brief second of pure terror overcame him, as Harry realised he was losing consciousness.
"Draco!" He yelled, or he thought he did. He couldn't hear himself, perhaps he'd said nothing at all.
The last thing he remembered was Draco's terrified face appearing over his own, his muffled voice yelling his name, his hands on his face.
Draco had nice hands, they were soft.
It was with that thought, a powerful sleep overcame him, and he thought no more.
—-
"What have you done to him?!" Draco said fearfully, Harry's collapsed form cradled in his arms.
Moody-Crouch looked outraged, "What have I done, Malfoy?" He spat.
Draco held Harry closer to him.
"What have you done? Don't think the Headmaster will be too pleased with you now, Sonny." He said nastily.
"No!" Draco said, pleadingly.
Just as he did, Hagrid approached through the bushes.
"Aye, Professor! What's goin' on 'ere?" Hagrid said, surveying the scene, enormous frown deepening.
"Malfoy here seems to have tested some sort of spell on Potter. Don't think it's gone the way he planned." Moody-Crouch said, tone altered to match Hagrid's newfound suspicion.
Draco stared despairingly between the two judging gazes, "No! Hagrid, please, you need to understand me! He's done something to Harry! He's put him under a spell or-"
"Alright, Malfoy. Tha's enough of that. Assumin' you aren't familiar with Moody bein' an ex-Auror then, eh? Nice try." He said scathingly.
"No, no it wasn't me!"
Hagrid and Moody-Crouch approached him.
"Alrigh' Malfoy. You can tell tha' to the Headmaster when you see 'im."
And with that, Hagrid reached for Draco, gripping his shoulders and tearing him from Harry.
"No! No, you can't! Please, I need you to listen to me!" Draco begged, reaching futilely for Harry.
Moody-Crouch and Hagrid ignored his cries.
"I've got Potter. I'll take him to the Hospital Wing, then I'll get Dumbledore. I trust you can deal with Malfoy for now." Moody-Crouch said, casting a venomous look at Draco as he spoke.
Draco's eyes widened in realisation, and he began to struggle against Hagrid tenfold.
"NO! PLEASE! Don't take him away, don't let him go with him, Hagrid, please! He isn't who he says he is," Draco almost ripped free from Hagrid's grip, "He's a Death Eat-"
Hagrid slammed one gigantic hand over Draco's mouth, tugging him close and keeping a firm hold on his body. Draco squirmed and writhed to no avail.
Moody-Crouch shot Draco a terrifying glare at his words, scooping Harry's limp form and turning toward the school.
Draco's eyes welled with frustrated, helpless tears as he watched Harry, his Harry, carried away by a monster.
He pulled Hagrid's hand free one final time to yell a desperate, "Please, don't hurt him!" Before his mouth was clamped shut once more.