Coming Home

A loud explosion shakes the walls of the tent, causing Draco’s eyes to snap open. He looks around the room, finding an empty pile of blankets where Harry’s body had been laying beside him.

Another crack of sound echoes across the grounds, sending the tent walls trembling as Draco’s entire body begins to tremble as well. He staggers to his feet as his heart jumps into his throat, hammering so wildly that his vision begins to blur as he stumbles for the opening of the tent.

He pushes the flaps back, squinting in the bright sunlight as another explosion rips through his eardrums. Draco staggers again, falling onto his knees as he covers his ears with his hands, a sob echoing through his chest as the world begins to go dark around him.

He should’ve known better.
He should’ve known that the Dark Lord wasn’t gone, his army wasn’t gone.

He should’ve known that coming back to this forsaken school would only cause more hurt and destruction.
That’s all magic is, that’s all he’s ever known it to be.

Hurt and destruction.
And death.

Suddenly something warm and solid wrapped around his body, it’s grip tightening against Draco, pulling him into it’s warmth as it muttered his name lowly under his breath.
“Draco it’s alright!” The voice murmurs, loud enough for him to hear, yet soft enough to somehow soothe the hammering in his ears enough to slowly cause him to lower his hands from the sides of his head. “It’s just the rubble clearing from the bridge. It’s just the rubble.”

Draco dares to open his eyes for just a moment, finding himself face to face with Harry, his eyes piercing through Draco’s from behind the lenses of his familiar, round glasses.
“I should’ve woken you, I should’ve warned you.” Harry breathes, his arms still wrapped securely around Draco’s shoulders, holding him tightly. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Draco looks around the grounds with wide eyes, taking in the scene of his former classmates as they slowly continue on with their tasks, averting their gazes from the scene just outside of the small tent.

His eyes settle back on Harry, his words finally sinking in as Draco’s eyes slide back down to Harry’s.
“Get off of me!” Draco spits, embarrassment heating his cheeks and burning through his chest as he staggers to his feet.

Harry puts his hands up, taking a step backward as he stands too, giving Draco space. Draco considers saying something else, but bites his tongue, turning on his heels and storming towards the castle.

He tries to ignore the sound of Harry’s shoes as he follows behind him, silently hoping that he can find a washroom somewhere in the castle that hasn’t been blown to pieces. He pushes through the crowds, storming down a half-destroyed hallway and sighing in silent relief as he finds an almost pristine set of sinks in the washroom at the end.

Draco turns the water on as hot as it’ll go, watching as the steam rises up from the water. He plunges his hands into the stream, ignoring the searing heat, not moving as it burns across his skin. His eyes flit to the mirror, finding Harry’s looking back at him in the reflection.

“You can go.” Draco spits, not moving his hands from the water. “You’ve done quite enough.”

Harry just takes a half step closer, shaking his head slowly.
“I am sorry, Draco.” Harry says quietly. “I forgot that they’d planned to do that this morning. I heard the first blast and came running to find you I—”

Draco laughs bitterly, turning to face Harry.
“I don’t care!” He shouts, cutting him off. “You’ve brought me here to embarrass me, consider it done! I’ll be going as soon as you leave me the hell alone!”

Harry doesn’t move, simply looking at Draco with a soft expression on his face.
“Draco, I know this is… difficult.” Harry says, looking down at his shoes. “I know all of this is just—”

“You don’t know anything.” Draco spits, his eyes burning as he stares back at Harry, tears threatening to spill from them. “You don’t know anything, about me Potter.”

Harry’s head snaps up as he looks back at him, taking a large step closer.
“So, tell me.” Harry says softly, a gentle pleading in his tone. “Tell me, Draco. What don’t I know?”

Draco laughs bitterly, shaking his head and haphazardly wiping the back of his hand against his cheek to hide a rogue tear.

“What could I not know?” Harry continues, walking closer to Draco. “I grew up beside you! We grew up in the same school with the same professors and had the same opportunity to fight in the same war, so tell me, Draco! Tell me what I don’t understand! Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t bloody hate you, Potter!” Draco screams back, stepping closer too. “I envy you!”
Draco steps even closer his face flushing with red as tears spill down his cheeks.

“How do you think we were in the same world, nevertheless on the same side of anything?” Draco cries, his hands balling into fists at his sides, the blistering from the hot water pulling against his knuckles. “You were the Boy Who Lived. I was the boy of one of Voldemort’s favorites. You were destined to win and I—I was doomed to fail.”

Harry takes a slow step forward, his hands outstretched slightly.
“I couldn’t even kill Dumbledore.” Draco breathes. “I couldn’t kill him when I was told to, I couldn’t stand and fight when I was expected to.”

Harry sets a hand on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco flinches under the touch. Harry pulls away for a moment, only to set his hand back down in the same place, and this time, Draco doesn’t move.
“You couldn’t kill him because you knew it was wrong.” Harry murmurs, looking into Draco’s eyes as tears spill from them. “You couldn’t fight because your mother needed you.”

Draco grits his teeth, roughly wiping his cheeks again.
“And Hogwarts didn’t.” Draco mutters. “They didn’t ever need me, and they surely don’t now.”

Harry shakes his head, squeezing Draco’s shoulder gently.
“Hogwarts has always needed you.” Harry whispers. “We’ve always needed you, and we always will.”

Draco looks into Harry’s eyes, searching for any flicker of falsehood, any shroud of a lie.

But he looks sincere.

Or at least, what Draco would imagine sincerity would look like on Harry. He supposes he’s never seen it before. He supposes he’s never seen most sides of Harry before.
He knows what he’s done, where he’s been.

But he didn’t experience much by Harry’s side.

He’d always been certain to be opposite of it, against Harry at every turn.
But now they’re here, side by side. Only one side to be on, yet somehow it feels like Draco has to choose to side with Harry.

He has the choice to do something good for once, the choice to stay and be—useful.

He looks at Harry again, really looks at him.

His eyebrows are furrowed, the concern in his face marring his scar in a way that twists the jagged lighting bolt into a more sinister crack in his pale skin. Draco reaches forward with a shaking hand, tracing a finger over the scar, smoothing the skin back to its rightful place.

Harry lets him, not daring to pull away as his features soften.

“I’ve looked at this scar for half my life, and never thought to ask you how you feel about it.” Draco mutters, his voice hardly louder than the water still running at the sink.

Harry laughs through his nose, shaking his head once.
“I think it’s nothing more than a glorified birthmark.” Harry murmurs, his lips pulling at the corners into a small smile.

Draco laughs, in spite of himself, caught off guard by the answer.
“Come on.” Harry says lowly, trailing his arm from Draco’s shoulder to his forearm, leading him back to the sink.

Draco follows, letting Harry lead him, watching him closely. Harry turns the water down, turning the knob on the cold water to make the water pour out lukewarm. He hesitantly slides his hand down Draco’s arm further, taking his hand and guiding it into the stream of water, cooling his burned skin down with the water.

Draco lets Harry pull his other hand into the water beside it, sighing contently as the water cools the burns.
“We save the medications for severe injuries.” Harry says quietly, trailing a finger over a blister softly. “But I’m sure I could get you some if you’d like.”

Draco looks at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if Harry’s insinuating that he’s weak enough to need medication for something so trivial.
But Harry’s scar is bunched together again in concern as he traces over another burned spot on Draco’s hand, adjusting the temperature of the water slightly.

Somehow, after all he’d done, Harry still cares enough to worry for Draco’s comfort. He somehow cares enough to worry about him, despite it all.

“I’ll be just fine.” Draco says softly, swallowing hard as he dares to squeeze Harry’s hand softly in the water. “Um, thank you.”

Harry smiles slightly, nodding his head once.
“I really am sorry about this morning.” He says lowly, shaking his head. “It was a stupid mistake.”

Draco shakes his head now, looking into Harry’s eyes, somehow feeling secure in the way his eyes shine behind his glasses.
“I overreacted.” Draco replies. “I’m sorry.”

Harry looks almost surprised at the response, smiling again before looking down into the sink. Draco follows his gaze, suddenly embarrassed to find his hand still locked around Harry’s under the water.

Draco looks back up at Harry, half expecting him to pull his hand away in disgust, push Draco away and run from the washroom.
But Harry just grins awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders once.

“Breakfast?” He asks with a chuckle.

Draco can’t help but laugh, the sound of it even surprising himself.
“Yeah.” He answers, nodding his head as he slowly, gently pulls his hands away and dries them on his pant legs. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Harry nods, shuffling aside nervously as he chuckles again under his breath, leading the way out of the washroom. Draco follows close behind, wondering why he suddenly feels content to follow behind Harry.

Wondering why he still feels Harry’s hand clasped against his.

He runs his hands against his pant legs as they walk, but the feeling doesn’t shake. With every run of his palms against his pants trying to forget the feeling, Draco wonders why he only wants to feel it again.

Harry hands him a bowl as they walk into the kitchen, and Draco follows dumbly behind him as he fills it with porridge. They walk outside, sitting on the remains of a wall as they watch people below milling about.

Draco watches Harry out of the corner of his eye, wondering why he feels so compelled to do so.
Harry uses a finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Draco finds himself grinning into his bowl, unable to put the reason into coherency.

“What?” Harry asks, nudging him gently with his elbow.

Draco laughs lowly, stirring his spoon in the porridge as he shakes his head.
“Nothing.” He says, lifting his spoon towards his lips. “Just glad to be here I guess.”

Harry laughs, nodding his head in agreement as he takes a bite. Draco turns his head away as he smiles to himself, wondering what the hell has gotten into him.