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Draco was in his sixth year at hogwarts. A lot had happened in the earlier years, but the most unusual thing that happened was that Draco found himself in an unlikely relationship with the last person he’d ever think of dating: Harry Potter himself. After his crazy aunt killed Harry’s godfather in cold blood the previous year, Draco felt the strange urge to apologize to him personally. He knew how unbearable Bellatrix could be, and to kill her own family was nothing out of the ordinary for her, but Draco saw how Harry backed down from fights. He saw how Harry withdrew entirely, even from his own friends, making him more lonely than he’d ever felt in his life.
So when Draco finally did decide to talk to Harry sometime in the first half of term, very unceremoniously dragging him into an empty classroom, Harry was surprised to find comfort in hearing his worst enemy struggling to find the words to apologize on his aunt’s behalf. And Harry was so empty, so numb, that he hadn’t felt anything in weeks, maybe even months. He needed to feel something, anything at all. His numbness had extended past just emotional and to his physical body as well, so he didn’t feel anything when he reached out for Draco’s shoulders. He didn’t feel it when he leaned in and pressed his lips against the other’s. Only when he drew away did feeling come back and he felt it all; shame, guilt, fear. Embarrassment because, oh god, he had just kissed his sworn enemy and now surely he would hex him to pieces or run off to tell everyone that he was a creep who had just kissed him in an abandoned class without warning.
Draco, however, did neither of these things. He stood and stared for a moment, struck with utter confusion as to why Harry would kiss him. And why he enjoyed it. And why…he wanted to do it again. But he didn’t kiss him back; he just sort of stared, not quite sure of where to put his hands or where exactly to look.
And for the next couple of weeks that awkwardness persisted. During double potions they avoided eye contact as they worked on the project Snape had assigned the two of them. Care of magical creatures was easy to manage as they both stood at opposite ends of the field while Hagrid tried to wrangle whatever monster he brought for the day. At their separate tables in the Great Hall they avoided eye contact with each other, focusing on their own plates and nothing else.
Each of their friends asked them why the other seemed to be avoiding them so much, and if maybe that was a good sign. Hermione was especially happy because this meant she’d never have to be stuck in the middle of those two fighting ever again.
But by Christmas, they had met up again and both had been through so much in just those first few months at school that they disregarded the insults thrown between the two over the years. Of course once classes started back up again they had to keep them a secret because if anyone found out that Draco “Son of Death Eater” Lucius Malfoy was secretly dating Harry “The Chosen One” James Potter, all hell would break loose.
The two would sit in their newfound place of respite, the room of requirement, and waste their free time in that space between class and dinner when no one would miss them. Talking, kissing, studying, and Draco’s favorite, gossiping. In private, Harry loved to tease Draco about all their old conversations, quoting his lines about telling his father things and calling him a tattler. Draco’s denial of this caused frequent play fights that would often end with their wands out, casting harmless spells at each other from across the room. Harry once hit him with a tickling spell, causing Draco to fall into a fit of uncontrollable laughing for minutes on end, shouting “I hate you” over and over until it subsided.
Soon though, they got into their first big fight since getting together. It was bound to happen seeing as Harry wanted to tell his closest friends about their relationship and Draco wouldn’t have it. It escalated and they had a yelling match in the room of requirement. Neither would back down, both too stubborn to admit defeat and too stubborn to find a compromise. It felt like they had gone back to their old ways, spitting petty insults at each other again. In the heat of the moment Draco screamed “I hate you” as loudly and as harshly as he could, thoroughly stunning Harry into silence because he knew this time he meant it.
They glossed over the fight like it was nothing, neither apologizing for their actions and not addressing the issue again, silently deciding to keep their relationship private until they graduated. Neither Harry nor Draco was happy with the outcome, but they barely saw each other as it was and it seemed appropriate to use their private meetings for happier things, especially since they spent all their time in the public keeping up appearances by arguing.
Eventually there came a day when Harry had had enough. He confronted Draco head on and told him he couldn’t handle dating someone if he had to hide it from everyone. Secretly, Draco was relieved; he knew that worse things were to come and ending things with Harry now was likely the best thing to do. But something inside him prevented him from saying the words. Instead he told Harry he could let everyone know for all he cared, and a part of him really did mean it. Of course Harry would never do that, but Ron and Hermione were let in on the secret soon after that conversation.
But what Harry didn’t know was that over the past summer something happened to Draco, something he had been anticipating for a while but was too afraid to admit was happening. Throughout sixth year, Draco didn’t only carry the burden of a secret relationship, he also carried a new mark, the mark, on the inside of his left forearm that burned against the sleeve of his robes when he walked, and a task given to him by the Dark Lord himself. And on top of that, he had all these eyes on him: his parents’, his friends’, the professors’, and now his boyfriend’s.
Harry knew something was off with Draco the past several weeks, but he never could have guessed exactly what. He didn’t want to believe his eyes when he had seen him exiting the Hog’s Head Inn, a scary building at the end of Hogsmeade, looking quite suspicious. And he definitely didn’t want to believe it when Katie Bell and Ron were injured in an unknown wizard’s attempts to harm Professor Dumbledore. But he had to believe it all when he caught Draco in the room of requirement with a vanishing cabinet.
Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and forced his sleeve back, revealing the Dark Mark, the symbol of an official Death Eater. He wanted to pretend he’d never seen it, but Draco pushed him back so hard he fell. Harry broke up with him on the spot. He could tolerate dating the son of a suspected Death Eater, somehow, but he couldn’t date someone that was confirmed to be one right in front of his eyes. Draco yelled that he didn’t understand, that he was forced, and that he had to do this. He was right, Harry didn’t understand in the slightest, because he would choose death any day over betraying those he cared about. Draco stormed off to the dungeons, but not before muttering a pathetic “I hate you” over his shoulder as he left. But it didn’t sting as much as it should have.
Harry and Draco went back to how they were before, but their friend groups could see how much worse it was now. Ron and Hermione didn’t know how to help because they would’ve done the same in Harry’s place. None of Draco’s friends understood the situation, but they enjoyed the new sense of vengeance around Draco’s edges that fueled his every move.
The next few years went by only as one could expect, each boy fulfilling the role laid out for them as best as they knew how. Harry was carrying out Dumbledore’s wishes to defeat Voldemort, even after watching him die by Snape’s hand, all thanks to none other than Draco. Meanwhile, Draco was forced to do the Dark Lord’s bidding; he set out on various tasks that he would complete as sort of a trial period, not fully gaining His trust after failing to kill the Headmaster by himself. The two followed their own paths, living lives in which each saw very little of the other, and it was probably for the best.
Around the time that Harry and Draco would have graduated, instead of announcing their relationship status, which they had originally hoped to carry out on this day, they instead were standing at opposite ends of the war, staring each other down; Harry with disappointment in his eyes, Draco with fear and resentment in his. Harry was armed with his own wand after having lost it at Malfoy Manor several months before, a time which seemed an eternity ago; his repossession of his wand was of course due to Draco saving it for him all this time and tossing it to him at the last second. So when both sides started firing curses at each other, Harry just happened to make his miss Draco and his parents as they fled the scene. Harry supposed the Malfoys were always cowards, but in this instance it seemed almost brave in nature to leave, to defy Voldemort by refusing to participate in the war. Almost.
Sometime after it all ended, Draco found himself stumbling along the debris ridden path to the front of the castle. He didn’t quite know what he was searching for, or why, but he knew if he came back he’d find it. Or rather him.
And there he was, standing with the Elder Wand in hand on the bridge before the grand archway, peering over the chasm below. Harry looked up when he heard the shifting of rubble, face immediately falling when he saw that familiar tuft of platinum blonde hair. He was too exhausted from the battle to even think about speaking to Draco, yet he didn’t move from his spot as the other approached cautiously.
“Don’t think you throwing me my wand fixes everything,” Harry snapped as soon as he was within earshot.
“I know it doesn’t,” Draco said meekly. “I only wanted to see if you were still…here.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh I’m alive, Draco, only I don’t very much feel like I am.”
Draco felt his stomach turn. He sat on a large piece of concrete a few paces away from Harry and looked down at his hands.
“I’ve lost a lot of people, you know,” said Harry.
“I know,” Draco replied. Not knowing what else to do he simply glanced up at Harry before returning his gaze to his hands, idly playing with his wand.
“You just left!” Harry yelled. “You left and you didn’t help, and people died because of it. My people!”
“I know,” Draco whispered.
“Oh you know, do you?”
Harry turned to face Draco straight on and took a step towards him. “You disgust me. Is that really all you can say? After everything you’ve done?”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said, tears stinging his eyes.
“No, you don’t get to cry. I’m the one who should be crying right now, but I’m not. Do you know why?”
Draco swallowed and wiped his tears, remaining silent. Harry moved a little closer, standing right next to Draco now.
“It wasn’t a rhetorical question. Do you know why, Draco?”
“No,” Draco said shakily. “I don’t, Harry.”
“Because I have to be the strong one. I have to be brave all of the time. I don’t get to run, I don’t get to hide, and I certainly don’t get to cry about it when it’s all over. I don’t get the luxury to be a bloody coward, so you should count your blessings and be grateful that I don’t kill you right now.”
“I didn’t have a choice, Harry.”
“Everyone has a choice and you made yours when you got that stupid mark.”
“I was scared,” Draco cried. “He would have killed me if I denied Him.”
“Then you should have died,” Harry said coldly.
Draco looked up, wide eyed and horrified. He saw that Harry’s eyes were also swimming with tears and his fists were clenched around his wand.
“I’m sorry,” Draco tried again, standing now.
“You’re too late for ‘sorry,’ love. ‘Sorry’ would have worked on me in sixth year, but it won’t work now.”
“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” Draco said, staring deeply into Harry’s watery eyes.
Harry sighed and shook his head. “You never mean for things to happen, and yet they still do, don’t they?”
A few tears fell and he quickly dried them before speaking again.
“I hate you, Malfoy.”
It was a simple statement, but effective; different from all the times it was said before and Draco knew he deserved every bit of the venom that came from Harry’s mouth as he said it. Harry turned his back to him and crossed his arms.
“Go, before I do something I’ll regret.”
Draco opened his mouth to say something more, but immediately closed it when he realized there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t fix this. So he walked to the edge of the school grounds and apparated away as suddenly as he had arrived.
As soon as he was gone, Harry broke down sobbing. He sat, head in his knees, letting the fabric of his clothes soak up his tears. In a sudden rush of anger he snapped the Elder Wand in two and threw both pieces off opposite ends of the bridge. Despite what he had said to Draco, he didn’t hate him. Well, part of him did. But the other part, the larger part, still cared for him as much as he always had. What he hated more was how he could still feel so strongly for someone who had caused him so much pain. He hated that he had to avoid looking at him so he wouldn’t be so quick to forgive. He hated that through all his anger was a spot of tenderness and pity for Draco that he knew he shouldn’t have.
But Harry wouldn’t want to accept his feelings toward Draco and would push them so far down into himself that he would forget. And Draco would never learn how Harry truly felt that day. They would go back to avoiding eye contact and a purely last name basis. At work they’d steer clear of each other’s departments; at King’s Cross they’d tell their kids to avoid one another; and on the last day of school their kids would run up to them happily, but they wouldn’t give so much as a nod to each other— each fully becoming a stranger in the other’s eyes.