There is no logic to how Draco ended up here. How he ended up curled in on himself on a window ledge, in a corridor that was abandoned. No life passed through, the only sounds that could be heard were Draco’s sobs. It was late, close to the curfew of the lower years. The eighth years had no specific curfew, being that the year was made up of adults. Draco was eternally grateful for this, spending many of his nights aimlessly wandering the castle, avoiding sleep. Though, with that being his aim, his wandering is technically not aimless.
Regardless, he wandered. Searching empty, silent corridors for something, though unsure of what. On this particular night, he found something. Not physical, however. More of a realisation, one that had shaken him completely. Hogwarts was one of the closest things he considered to be his home. He had a house, a manor, but he would not declare it as a home. Yet, as the year had passed on, as had the homely nature of the castle.
It was as though everything had been building up within him, waiting to be released. It finally came crashing through him as he sat on the window ledge, tucked away into a corner. His body became racked with sobs once again as his memories came flooding back. He curled impossibly further in on himself, hugging his legs to his chest as though it was his solace. Draco didn’t often crave comfort; he had been raised to perceive it as a sign of weakness. Yet, in this moment, he craved nothing more. Something within him was tugging, yanking, aching. Aching for warmth to encompass his body, for soft words to fill his ears, for reassurance to welcome him with open arms. The lack of it only made his state deteriorate further.
So much so, that he didn’t notice the footsteps approaching. Not until he felt the presence of another figure watching him, stood directly in front of him.
“Malfoy?”
Draco’s head snapped up, his hands moving instinctively to wipe away any signs of a breakdown. Before him stood none other than Harry Potter.
“Of course.” Draco scoffed, yet he was unable to erase the shakiness in his voice.
He couldn’t even bring himself to glare at the other. Rather, he stared down at his knees, which remained pulled up to his chest. Silence rested between the pair. Usually, Draco would fire an insult and storm off, coupled with a sneer. And, yet, he stayed in his spot. He could hear Potter shifting in his spot, clearing his throat.
“Are you, um, okay?” He asked uncomfortably.
Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes, attempting to stop the tears that had continued to fall down his face despite his internal protests.
“Oh please, since when do you give a fuck?” Draco retorted with spite.
Because since when would Potter care? He has never cared. In any case, nobody has, truly. Aside from Pansy and Blaise, and even then, they had never seen him in a state like this.
“You just can’t accept anything, can you? Fine, be like that, fucking hell.” Potter responded, exasperatedly.
As Draco heard him turn to leave, a new sense of panic entered his body. He couldn’t place why, but Potter leaving would somehow make things significantly worse. For the first time, every bone in his body wanted him to stay.
“Wait.” Draco croaked out.
“No. For once, you can just deal with it. I’m too tired to be dealing with your shit right now.” Potter spat, turning around to face Draco from where he stood a few feet away.
Draco couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Potter.”
“No, Malfoy. I have tried to help you so much this year, and yet-”
“Potter.”
“You just reject it; you are cold and cruel. You-”
“Harry.”
At this, the other froze. Even Draco could hear the raw desperation in his voice. It was new, his voice had never sounded like that. And the fact that it was directed at Harry Potter, of all people, caused a wave of nausea to flow through him. Speaking of, the other was frozen in his spot. His eyes wide, his mouth open ever so slightly. The nausea became coupled with shame, with a further panic that caused Draco to begin hyperventilating.
“You-” Harry began, but upon noticing Draco’s inability to breathe, he rushed over and crouched down beside him, “Hey, it’s okay. Just, okay, follow my breaths? It’s okay, just copy me.”
Draco finally met Potter’s, Harry’s, eyes. They were soft, gentle. There was a mild panic in them, but overwhelmingly, there was concern. Concern for Draco. That was entirely new. Sort of. Draco had seen the concerned glances that were flashed in his direction as he sat alone in the Great Hall. The worry after he was shoved by random students. The fear when insults were thrown at him maliciously, and he just kept his head down and continued on his way. He ignored it, every time. Yet this time, he indulged in it, and did exactly as he was asked.
He breathed. He breathed until his chest didn’t feel like it was being clutched and wrenched at. Tears still fell, but he could breathe through them more efficiently, and no longer felt as though he was drowning.
“Better?” Harry prompted gently.
Draco merely nodded. Why was he being gentle?
“Why are you being nice?” Draco whispered, to himself more than anything.
“Because, you seem as though you need it.” Harry responded simply. As though it was the simplest thing in the world.
Draco shook his head, more confused than he had ever been.
“What happened?” The brunette asked, his voice unwavering and gentle, still crouched beside Draco.
Draco wrapped his arms around his legs once more at this, tipping his head back to rest it on the wall. He had experienced a whirlwind of emotions throughout the day, and now that Harry – God, when did he become Harry? - was there, they seem to have become amplified.
“I’ve seen you watching me for the past few months, you know. You aren’t exactly subtle. So, you of all people, shockingly, should know exactly what’s been happening.” Draco scoffed, yet there was no spite behind it, rather it was clouded by sadness.
He tipped his head to the side slightly to glance at Harry. He was met with a deep-set frown on the others face. He studied it for a moment, before resuming his staring at the ceiling.
“But today, you weren’t there.” Draco added shakily.
“I wasn’t.” Harry responded, and Draco may have imagined it, but there was almost regret in his tone, “What happened?”
“Just, y’know,” Draco couldn’t finish his sentence, squeezing his eyes shut as tears flooded his face once again.
He bent forward once more, resting his head on his knees as his body became racked with sobs. He could hear shuffling beside him, and he filled with dread once more at the idea of Harry leaving. Yet, that was diminished when he felt a presence opposite him. He looked up, and saw Harry sat on the ledge, facing the opposite wall and staring down at where his feet dangled above the floor. Draco let out a deep sigh, attempting to regulate himself before speaking due to a fear of being unable to do so. The emotion flowing through him was nearly suffocating.
“I used to be great. People respected me, they nearly worshipped me.” Draco mumbled, near enough to himself.
“Like an empire.” Harry scoffed.
“Only you would call it that,” Draco retorted through tears, “But, all empires fall eventually.”
Harry glanced over at the other at that, yet he remained silent. Upon realising he wasn’t going to respond, Draco continued.
“It’s like, like my entire castle has come crumbling down. People are- they're afraid to be around me. Afraid of me.” His voice cracked on the final sentence, the admittance of it all becoming far too much.
Silence rested between the pair, the only sound being Draco’s sobs as he felt himself collapse. It was almost a perfect metaphor. He crumbled down like the castle he once ran.
“Isn’t that what you wanted though?” Harry questioned, the curiosity in his tone genuine.
“No. I wanted intimidation. I didn’t-” Draco couldn’t bring himself to complete his sentence, recalling the event that led to him being in this state.
Harry remained silent whilst Draco took a moment to compose himself.
“I wanted intimidation. I didn’t want first years to cry when I walk towards them.” The tears only persisted at the retelling of this.
“Is that what happened?” Harry asked, once again oh so softly.
“I was walking back to the dorms after lunch, and a first year was sat on a windowsill, alone. There was nobody else in the corridor. She saw me, and I could see her fear. She teared up, Harry. She ran away. I was only walking. She looked at me like, like I'm a monster.”
Draco let his head fall to his knees once more. Following the war, he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms. He knew that everybody was aware of his part in it all. They didn’t, however, know that he had craved so badly to be on the other side. That he was aware of how awful everything was. Nobody knew that Draco had contemplated the idea that death would be better than this. As he listened to the murderous screams from his room, as he watched classmates and professors die before his very eyes, he wanted nothing more than to save them.
He watched Blaise and Pansy freeze when he entered a room. He watched his friend's distance themselves from him, unaware of the fact that he never wanted this. The fact that he was being forced, his life along with his mother's was at risk. Both friends and foes watched as Draco returned to Hogwarts, and he became an outcast. His reign collapsed right before their eyes, and no comfort was provided. Maybe he deserved it, he had convinced himself that he did.
“I never wanted to be hated.” Draco gasped out between sobs.
“I don’t hate you.”
This made him look up. This was something that Draco didn’t know he needed. Harry was now looking directly at him, and Draco searched his face for any hint of mockery. Any hint of a lie. And yet, he was met with honesty. Harry’s eyes burned with it.
“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”
“I know, which is why I’m not. You were an asshole. A teenager who was, frankly, an ass. But you were just that. A teenager. At the Manor, you lied to Bellatrix’s face. You knew the risk she posed, and you lied. You saved my life; you saved the lives of countless people in that moment. I don’t hate you. Sure, I don’t love you, or even deeply like you. But I don’t hate you.”
And that altered Draco’s train of thought entirely.
“I never wanted anyone to hate me. I never wanted you to hate me. I wanted to be your friend, and when I couldn’t, I think I tried to convince myself that the only other option was to hate you.” Draco knew he wouldn’t be admitting this if he wasn’t in such a vulnerable state.
“I never wanted you to hate me either. And I don’t. Hate you, that is. Nobody knows what I know. Nobody knows that you were forced into this, that you were withering away in Sixth Year. They hate what they have been told. But they don’t know you, or what truly happened.”
“I don’t think anybody would want to know me. Especially not now.”
“I want to know you.” Harry responded, nearly instantly.
Draco laughed slightly at this, which sounded ridiculous through his tears.
“No, you don’t. I'll let you down. I let everyone down.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
That’s a risk I’m willing to take.
That resounded through Draco’s head. It bounced around his mind, sending him into a near state of shock.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, placing a hand on Draco’s knee.
The warmth of it was something Draco didn’t know he needed. Harry seemed to be providing him with that a lot. The warmth of a hand that was there for no reason other than reassurance, than for comfort. Draco left Harry’s hand as it was, as he moved to wipe his eyes.
“Yeah, I'll be okay.” He said, followed by a deep sigh.
Harry smiled at him, and Draco couldn’t help but respond with a watery smile of his own. Something about Harry’s smile was unconditionally warm, it was never ending. He had seen that smile directed at others nearly a million times. Having it directed at himself for the first time made Draco feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a monster.
“I should get back to the dorms, do you want to come with, or do you need some time alone?”
“I’ll be there soon. And, uh, please don’t tell anyone about this, if that’s okay.” Draco added the final sentence quietly, almost through shame.
Harry smiled once again, and Draco could feel the warmth radiating from it.
“Of course. And for what it’s worth, you don’t need a castle to be respected. You aren’t a monster, and so many people want to know you. I promise, Draco.”
Harry turned to walk away, and Draco couldn’t speak up to stop him. He couldn’t quite bring himself to wholly believe Harry. And yet, there was a partial belief. He sat in shock, his tears dried, his mind contemplating everything that Harry had said. The fact that he called him Draco. The fact that someone truly wants to know him.