Restart

If I could have done it all again, I’d have chosen you. 

Harry slammed the portrait closed as he stormed off, blood boiling from anger as tears stung at the edges of his eyes. 

Incompetent. 

Harry sucked in a breath as he started to speed up down the hall, taking a corner hard as he heard the portrait of the eight-year dorms opened again and calls of his name. 

All your bloody fault! 

He didn’t mean to- he didn’t do anything- he didn’t ever want to be protected and he didn’t ask people to die for him but they did and they just kept dying and dying and leaving him to pick up the shreds.

Sirius’s sad eyes as he fell through the viel, unsaid promises and apologies swimming in the silver orbs- Remus delicately handing him chocolate and telling him stores of his mother’s wrath after another attempt at the patronus and a flash to him laying still on a sheet next to Tonks. Their baby wailing in his arms as tears overflowed his face. 

Snape murmuring “Look at me” as Harry understood he just wanted to see his mothers, Lily’s, eyes before he died. An unspoken sorrow overflowing the normally blank face as the horrors of war caught up to the professor. Dumbledore falling back from the Astronomy Tower, Fred dying on the couch at the burrow- 

Death after death- 

Why, oh fucking why, is it always his family? Is it him? Was Ron right? He was destroying his family- his fathers death when he didn’t alert the teachers fast enough of his dream, Cedric, the list bordering on endless as he walked through rows and rows of students he had taught from DA and knew, laughed and smiled with.

And now, he’s loosing the last of his family as Hermione yells about his incompetence, nagging and suffocating him for all the gory details, half-truths, secrets- everything he’s never told anyone and pushing and pushing . And Ron looking at him like he’s a stranger, yelling over and over in his head that it was all his fau- 

His foot didn’t line up with the stairs as they moved, and not paying attention, didn’t catch the railing before he started falling down down down. 

The wind rushed past him as his tears finally left his eyes, glinting softly in the dying torch lights flying past him. The air turning colder and he started reaching the lower levels at an alarming rate, flumbing for the wand that’s not there as he felt helplessness take over his being at he past the final stair case and wondering how much it would hurt, wondering if he could go back and fix all his mistakes that lead to this po-

The air left him as his back landed comfortably, the opposite of what he was expecting- and instead of looking for why, he felt the reality crash down on him as sobs finally left his throat, burning and hurting in a way it hasn’t since he was a small boy in that stupid cupb-

A light touch to his shoulder made him jolt, and he suddenly felt queasy as his back finally hit the cold floor a cushioning charm-?  

Turning on his side and dry heaving, he barely heard the worried mutter of his name as he wondered what could they possibly want but to blackmail him with his state of being, ranting how they found the poor little golden boy loosing his head, falling off stairs-

“-er? -otte- Potter!” A rough shove caused him to finally take in a breath in his panic. 

His vision was murky, as he tried to figure out who was calling to him. It was a familiar voice, but with his ears roaring with the sound of his heart beat and lungs barely filling themselves, least of all quietly, he could barely make it out. 

Cold, cold hands settled at the base of his neck, grounding him. Soft murmurings of numbers, tapping of a cool finger on his nape. He took the silent command and tried to match his breathing to the pleasant, if not somewhat stilted, counting. 

As his heart calm and the roaring coming to a dull beat, he was able to focus a bit more on the voice talking to him. 

“-otter? Potter? Are you with me now? Do I need to get you to Pomfry? Bollocks- Potter, talk to me- what happened?” 

Harry squinted at the person sitting in front of him, making out certain features as his mind starting focusing again. 

Malfoy. 

He flinched, slightly, but rasped out a meek demand. “Glasses.” 

Malfoy paused for a moment before shuffling to the side and whispering a soft Reparo , to fix, he assumed, his once broken glasses. 

The chilled lenses were pressed into his left hand and he quickly shoved them onto his face. The hallway coming in a sharp focus in seconds as he really took a look at Malfoy, his roommate for the year for house unity or whatever McGonagall said, and saw the paleness to his pointed face. 

Malfoy frowned, “You quite through with staring, Potter?” 

Harry blinked, “Er- sorry.” 

Sniffling a bit, he rubbed the sleeve of his robe over his face to try and get most of his obvious breakdown off. 

“Great- now tell me, Potter, what the hell were you doing that caused you to fall past nearly every staircase before nearing getting yourself killed?” Malfoy bit, standing up and straightening out his light gray jumper and soft dark-brown trousers. 

Harry scrambled to stand, albeit shakily, on his feet. “Just a…an argument, I suppose.”

Malfoy raised a perfectly shaped brow, “Weaselby and Granger, I assume?” 

With a rough laugh, Harry leaned against the nearest wall for support. Malfoy hesitated for a moment on the fringes on his vision before standing against the wall across from him. 

“Yea, they- uhm, we-“ Harry attempted to the others contempt. Malfoy clicked his tongue. 

“Yes, I’ve heard the uprisings you three have in the common room. Golden Trio losing its shine?” Malfoy snipped. 

Harry couldn’t really tell him off for the comment either. His two best friends having been arguing with him and ignoring him a lot since the second week of eighth year. 

Malfoy took it as the confirmation it was. “Those two have been oftly rude to you and others, lately. It’s strange, seeing as you three held strong until…” 

“The war.” Harry bit out, bitterness lacing his tone. 

The blond shuffled slightly. “Yeah, the war.” Malfoy echoed, ineloquently. 

Silence raged between them for the next few minutes. Shuffling and sniffling heard from them both respectfully until Harry broke the silence. “Thanks, er, for breaking my fall.” 

Malfoy sniffed, raising his chin. “Gratitude accepted.” The blond fiddled with his sleeve for a moment before looking at one of the shifting stair cases. 

“We should be getting back.” Malfoy hedged, Harry nodded numbly, glancing at the stairs that would take him all-too-soon back to his friends. 

Another moment of silence, an intake of stuttered breath, hesitance perhaps, before Malfoy implored softly, “Or a fly on the pitch, maybe? I heard there should be a meteor shower tonight.” 

They weren’t on friend terms really, but they’ve studied and playing seeker games together before since Christmas Holidays when Malfoy didn’t return to the mansion, and Harry not going back to the burrow from the tension thrumming the air between him and the Weasley family. 

Harry gives Malfoy a faint smile, “That sounds nice.” 

The pitch was thick with the after-rain shower smell, muck sticking to their shoes as they mounted their brooms. Malfoy grinned. 

“Race you above the clouds, Potter.” He called loudly, eyes burning with challenge. 

Harry grinned back, “I’ll win.” 

Malfoy raised a perfected trimmed brow, “Is that fear I’m hearing? You scared, Potter?” 

He laughed, “You wish.” 

Freedom. 

A feeling, an emotion, an action all packed in one. The rush of adrenaline and wind, fingers numbing in the cold as he raised the speed to counter Malfoy. 

Breathless laughter as it’s ripped from his mouth. 

Flying. 

It was so freeing . 

He could leave all his problems on the ground- crumbling family, loneliness, lack of control, doubt - and just focus on the air whipping his robes around loudly and Malfoy’s taunts. 

Harry weaved through a particularly thick cloud that was left over from the thunder storm, robes dampening as the warming charm he put on his robes thrummed to life sharply. 

He couldn’t care less that Hermione only argues with him now, Ron looking at him with contempt, Molly unable to meet his eye, Teddy crying out for his parents- 

He just wanted to chase the high of flying, the one thing that’s never let him down intentionally. 

They both break through the clouds at the same time, swooping over them as the sky is clear as day above them. Stars shinning as thin streaks of blues, grays, and blacks painted the sky. The meteors passing by in quick blurrs. 

“I beat you, Potter- Pay up!” Malfoy shouted good-naturedly, face calm in a way Harry hasn’t seen before. 

He laughed, “No way, Malfoy, I definitely won.” 

The other boy clicked his tongue, pursing his lips. “Tie, then.” 

Harry raised a brow, mocking Malfoy’s snootiness. “Oh, how dreadful, reallly, your Gryffindor terms will never get you anywhere.” He drawled. 

Malfoy scrunched his nose, guiding his broom next to Harry’s before giving him a flick to the side of the head. 

It was weird, being this content with Malfoy up over the clouds. But maybe it was from all his pent up emotions bursting in front of the boy, or something else entirely, but he was fine with how it was playing out. 

Harry rubbed the side of his face, “That’s uncalled for, you prick.” 

Malfoy hummed, looking anywhere but him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

He rolled his eyes in response, getting comfortable on his broom as he watched meteors streak through the sky. 

A comfortable silence settled over them as they stared up at the night sky, and Harry bit his lip in thought. Coming to the conclusion he didn’t want their new type of banter to end, or at least their conversation. 

“Say, Malfoy, there’s this muggle thing where you wish upon a shooting star, and they say in a meteor shower any one of them could be one. If you had to think….what would you wish for?” Harry prodded gently, glancing at the blond next to him. 

Malfoy breathed out slowly, a contemplative look on his face. 

As they both drifted into a silence, Harry thought about what he would want. Thoughts drifting to all his sacrifices, the consequences, the pay outs of both, and in the end, Harry couldn’t really think anything he had now was worth it all. From gaining it to losing it, leaving him back at square one in his cupboard under the stairs. 

“I think…I- happiness, I suppose. After the…war, my family was torn apart, and while I learn potions for my mastery I’m going for… I think I want to find something that will make me happy.” Malfoy glanced at him, face sad but imploring, “You, Potter?” 

Harry sucked in a breath, staring down at the handle of his broom. There was so many wishes he had. He wished people who were dead weren’t, for the family that took him in not isolate him, for his best friends to not treat him like a stranger. And again, he thinks about his life and wonder what he could really wish for, now. 

“It’s…less of a wish, I guess, and more of a passing fancy, really. But…” Harry turned his head towards Malfoy, taking in the sight of the boy and the feeling of sadness that overwhelmed him for a moment. He could’ve known him sooner, been friends with him, had he taken the boys hand. Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out as they have. Maybe he would’ve had something after the war that wasn’t in shambles. 

“If I could begin again with my memories now, that I would have chosen you.” Harry whispered, heart hurting as he thought through his answer. Harry felt a tingle in his arms, hands vibrating with energy, but he passed it off as nerves.

He had loved the Weasleys dearly and would always, but they were…drifting, making him anxious and lonely. And really, he has nothing more then the scraps of his memories, and maybe wishing for a different life could be better then the one he ended up with. 

Malfoy sniffed and Harry startled, looking at steel gray eyes that were shinning slightly. “Do you mean it?” 

Harry smiles sadly, if he could go back and become Draco’s friend, maybe the death eaters wouldn’t have ever gotten into the school, Snape might still be here if he didn’t have to kill Dumbledore, and he wouldn’t have to face the reality of the life he wanted as a child crumbled around him. Maybe things could have been different, a good different. 

Harry holds out his hand to Mal- Draco, and gives a genuine but shy smile. “I’m Harry Potter, nice to meet you- er…” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but sat up properly with a faint smile on his face. He took Harry’s hand. 

He felt a tug on his navel and a zap of energy interlocking their hands, and everything blurred for a moment. 

Harry felt out of place, feeling smaller and achy, but the feeling of peace and calm washing over him with anxious happiness mixed in snapped him back to the present. 

Standing in front of him wasn’t the Draco he knew, but a younger version of Draco Malfoy, hair slicked back and a slight sneer but genuine eyes as his pale hand shook Harry’s. 

“Draco Malfoy, pleasure to meet you, Potter.”