Fran's story archive - Leaving
Another old story which I am archiving here. This one was written in February 2002 and originally posted on the Guns and Handcuff forum on FictionAlley Park.
Title: Leaving
Rating: PG
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Leaving
I went to see PS/SS again this afternoon and ended up watching all the H/D moments. I think this is the first time I’ve seen it since writing Resolution and it is weird seeing things from a future H/D point of view. One thing I noticed is that after Harry is sorted, he joins the Gryffindor table on the side, which means his back is to Draco. By the time the meal is served he has changed sides and spends the rest of the film facing him. Or maybe he just wanted to sit next to Hermione.
On the drive home, the following ficlet sort of sprung up. What if Harry and Draco never made friends? What if they spent those seven years always hating each other? Not exactly a Valentine fic, but the best I could do. It’s a bit longer than I expected -- hope that is okay.
-----------------------------
“So, to all who will be returning in September, enjoy your summer holidays and return refreshed and ready for study. To our gallant 7th years who will be leaving us, congratulations on having the best exam results for many, many years. Go out into the world and make us proud of you.”
Albus Dumbledore remained standing as the applause rang though the Great Hall. It slowly subsided and he continued. “Now, off you go to your House parties. Remember what time the Hogwarts Express goes in the morning and make sure you aren’t late.”
The sound of hundreds of chairs scrapping back filled the Hall, the noise quickly drowned out by the growing hubbub of chatter. Near the huge entrance doors, the 7th year students hung back, waiting for the mass of people to clear. Thirty-eight scared children had come to Hogwarts and of that group twenty-four had lasted the full seven years. Most had already said their goodbyes, arranging to try and meet again in three years, when they reached their 21st birthdays.
Draco Malfoy watched the small group backslap and hug each other. He stepped closer, but deliberately hung back on the periphery. Most of the dropouts had come from Slytherin, not returning after the 4th year Triwizard debacle, and he had spent the remaining years on his own, on the fringes of classes and groups. So was he used to it? The answer was probably 'no', but he dealt with it in his normal way, closing himself off from those around him and getting on with studies as best he could.
The group began to thin out as people made their way out of the Hall, and Draco quietly strolled after them, deliberately ignoring the group of Gryffindors surrounding Harry Potter, whose laugh cut through the sound of talking. Draco’s head shot up at the sound, briefly meeting Harry’s eyes, before he pushed his way through the crowd.
“Malfoy.”
Draco stopped at the voice, deeper now as Harry had grown, but still with the quiet sense of authority it had always had. He didn’t speak, but stood quietly, eyebrow raised, waiting for Harry to speak. The Gryffindor stepped out of security circle of his friends and stopped before the Slytherin.
“Harry, come on.”
Both looked over at Ron Weasley who was attempting to drag Harry away to the Gryffindor party. “In a minute, Ron. You all go on. I’ll met you there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go on.” The four people Harry had shared a dorm with for the past seven years finally took the hint and left, each casting a quick look over their shoulders as if to make sure their friend was okay.
Now alone, the two boys eyed each other suspiciously, and then Harry finally spoke. “I just wanted to say goodbye and ... good luck.”
“You want to wish me luck?” Draco gave a hard smile. “That’s rich, coming from you, Potter. Since when did you care what happened to me?”
“We’ve spent seven years fighting, can’t we at least be civil now? This one last time?”
“Okay. Goodbye and good luck.” Draco turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked down at the hand as though it was a nasty irritant.
“What are you going to do?” Harry asked.
“Do?”
“Now you’re leaving here? What are your plans?”
“Why would I want to discuss that with you?”
Harry took a deep breath and released the other boy’s arm. He held the hand out towards Draco. “Because you need to discuss it with someone.”
Draco looked from the hand to the green eyes. He was immediately transported back to that first day seven years before when he had held out a hand to Harry. The gesture hadn’t been accepted and that one incident had led to a battle which had continued throughout their years together. Adversary, opponent, rival, enemy. All words that had been used to describe what had gone between them from Day One. Why should he make a move now, when it was all too late?
Minutes ticked by and neither moved, locked in some strange tableau, then Draco finally broke the stillness. “What the hell,” he shrugged and took the proffered hand, long pale fingers curling around the slightly larger tanned hand.
He had never touched Harry in all the years they had known each other. Oh, they had occasionally had body contact, during a Quidditch match for example, but he had never held him as he was doing now. And the sensation was electric. The warmth made his own flesh tingle and he felt like it was the most important thing he had ever done in his life. They could have been friends, the grip told him, but now it was all too late. Everything was too late. His life had been mapped out and it would follow its course whatever Harry said.
Harry felt it too, felt the firm strength of the grip, the sensation of warmth spreading from the touch. “You don’t need to go to him.” His voice was a whisper, directly solely at Draco and no one else. “You don’t need to be one of his followers. You’re worth more than that.”
Draco tried to pull away, but Harry’s grip tightened. “You have no right to tell me what to do.” His words were a hiss of anger, but even as he spoke, he ceased struggling, content to bask in the safety of this new touch. “If I decide to become one of his followers then I will. I will make my own decisions and believe me, they're no worse or better than the ones you'll make.”
“I just want you to know there are other options.”
“Why do you care what I do?”
“I care about everyone.”
“But you’re not having this conversation with them are you? You are having it with me. Why are you trying to convince me when we’ve spent years doing the best we could to ruin things for each other?”
“I...” Harry used his free hand to brush his hair from off his face and then met the grey gaze. “Because despite everything I do care what happens to you. I want you to be safe and I don’t want to end up fighting you for real. Draco, I don’t want to see you die because of him.”
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but wasn’t sure what to say. Harry hardly ever used his given name and then only as an insult and it threw him a little. This time when he pulled away, Harry offered no resistance and Draco quickly folded his arms, still able to feel the heat of Harry’s hand on his fingers. “It won’t come to that.”
“It will if you go to him. I’m going to stop him.” Draco gave a laugh, and then saw the serious expression on Harry’s face. “He is not going to destroy everything again. I owe it to my parents and to all the other people he’s killed.”
“I will do what I have to.”
“Okay. But at least think about it, Draco. Don’t tie yourself to him without knowing what else you could do.” Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded sheet of parchment. “I’m going to be in London for a while. If you want to talk, come and see me. No strings attached, just to talk. If you need help, then there is a place for you.” Draco’s arms remained folded and he didn’t take the offered paper. Instead, Harry pushed it into the crook of his arm. “Just don’t waste everything you could be for him.”
Draco released his arms and the crumpled parchment fluttered to the ground. “I don’t need your help, I don’t need your charity.”
“It isn’t either of those things.”
“This is a pointless discussion. Go and join your Gryffindor friends before they decide I might have hexed you to oblivion and come to rescue you.”
The two studied each other, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Harry shrugged. “The offer stands, Draco. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Now that is something you can never accuse me of.”
With that, the two moved apart and each went their separate ways.
_~_
Draco stood in the shadow of the great staircase for several minutes, waiting for everyone to finally leave the Hall. Quietly, he made his way back inside and began searching the floor. The crumbled ball of parchment had been kicked under a table, and he scrambled down on his knees to retrieve it.
Sitting back on his heels, he carefully straightened the parchment between his fingers. The familiar scrawl of Harry’s writing covered one side and on the other was a neat little map of how to find the address. He looked at it for a long time, kneeling quietly on the floor. He didn’t understand why Harry had done this, but the Gryffindor had cared enough to prepared this before hand. Cared enough to make this effort.
He looked down at the hand that Harry had held and wondered for a long time about choices.
Then, finally getting to his feet, Draco tucked the parchment away and headed back to his rooms.
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10th February 2002
Title: Leaving
Rating: PG
---------------------------------
Leaving
I went to see PS/SS again this afternoon and ended up watching all the H/D moments. I think this is the first time I’ve seen it since writing Resolution and it is weird seeing things from a future H/D point of view. One thing I noticed is that after Harry is sorted, he joins the Gryffindor table on the side, which means his back is to Draco. By the time the meal is served he has changed sides and spends the rest of the film facing him. Or maybe he just wanted to sit next to Hermione.
On the drive home, the following ficlet sort of sprung up. What if Harry and Draco never made friends? What if they spent those seven years always hating each other? Not exactly a Valentine fic, but the best I could do. It’s a bit longer than I expected -- hope that is okay.
-----------------------------
“So, to all who will be returning in September, enjoy your summer holidays and return refreshed and ready for study. To our gallant 7th years who will be leaving us, congratulations on having the best exam results for many, many years. Go out into the world and make us proud of you.”
Albus Dumbledore remained standing as the applause rang though the Great Hall. It slowly subsided and he continued. “Now, off you go to your House parties. Remember what time the Hogwarts Express goes in the morning and make sure you aren’t late.”
The sound of hundreds of chairs scrapping back filled the Hall, the noise quickly drowned out by the growing hubbub of chatter. Near the huge entrance doors, the 7th year students hung back, waiting for the mass of people to clear. Thirty-eight scared children had come to Hogwarts and of that group twenty-four had lasted the full seven years. Most had already said their goodbyes, arranging to try and meet again in three years, when they reached their 21st birthdays.
Draco Malfoy watched the small group backslap and hug each other. He stepped closer, but deliberately hung back on the periphery. Most of the dropouts had come from Slytherin, not returning after the 4th year Triwizard debacle, and he had spent the remaining years on his own, on the fringes of classes and groups. So was he used to it? The answer was probably 'no', but he dealt with it in his normal way, closing himself off from those around him and getting on with studies as best he could.
The group began to thin out as people made their way out of the Hall, and Draco quietly strolled after them, deliberately ignoring the group of Gryffindors surrounding Harry Potter, whose laugh cut through the sound of talking. Draco’s head shot up at the sound, briefly meeting Harry’s eyes, before he pushed his way through the crowd.
“Malfoy.”
Draco stopped at the voice, deeper now as Harry had grown, but still with the quiet sense of authority it had always had. He didn’t speak, but stood quietly, eyebrow raised, waiting for Harry to speak. The Gryffindor stepped out of security circle of his friends and stopped before the Slytherin.
“Harry, come on.”
Both looked over at Ron Weasley who was attempting to drag Harry away to the Gryffindor party. “In a minute, Ron. You all go on. I’ll met you there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go on.” The four people Harry had shared a dorm with for the past seven years finally took the hint and left, each casting a quick look over their shoulders as if to make sure their friend was okay.
Now alone, the two boys eyed each other suspiciously, and then Harry finally spoke. “I just wanted to say goodbye and ... good luck.”
“You want to wish me luck?” Draco gave a hard smile. “That’s rich, coming from you, Potter. Since when did you care what happened to me?”
“We’ve spent seven years fighting, can’t we at least be civil now? This one last time?”
“Okay. Goodbye and good luck.” Draco turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked down at the hand as though it was a nasty irritant.
“What are you going to do?” Harry asked.
“Do?”
“Now you’re leaving here? What are your plans?”
“Why would I want to discuss that with you?”
Harry took a deep breath and released the other boy’s arm. He held the hand out towards Draco. “Because you need to discuss it with someone.”
Draco looked from the hand to the green eyes. He was immediately transported back to that first day seven years before when he had held out a hand to Harry. The gesture hadn’t been accepted and that one incident had led to a battle which had continued throughout their years together. Adversary, opponent, rival, enemy. All words that had been used to describe what had gone between them from Day One. Why should he make a move now, when it was all too late?
Minutes ticked by and neither moved, locked in some strange tableau, then Draco finally broke the stillness. “What the hell,” he shrugged and took the proffered hand, long pale fingers curling around the slightly larger tanned hand.
He had never touched Harry in all the years they had known each other. Oh, they had occasionally had body contact, during a Quidditch match for example, but he had never held him as he was doing now. And the sensation was electric. The warmth made his own flesh tingle and he felt like it was the most important thing he had ever done in his life. They could have been friends, the grip told him, but now it was all too late. Everything was too late. His life had been mapped out and it would follow its course whatever Harry said.
Harry felt it too, felt the firm strength of the grip, the sensation of warmth spreading from the touch. “You don’t need to go to him.” His voice was a whisper, directly solely at Draco and no one else. “You don’t need to be one of his followers. You’re worth more than that.”
Draco tried to pull away, but Harry’s grip tightened. “You have no right to tell me what to do.” His words were a hiss of anger, but even as he spoke, he ceased struggling, content to bask in the safety of this new touch. “If I decide to become one of his followers then I will. I will make my own decisions and believe me, they're no worse or better than the ones you'll make.”
“I just want you to know there are other options.”
“Why do you care what I do?”
“I care about everyone.”
“But you’re not having this conversation with them are you? You are having it with me. Why are you trying to convince me when we’ve spent years doing the best we could to ruin things for each other?”
“I...” Harry used his free hand to brush his hair from off his face and then met the grey gaze. “Because despite everything I do care what happens to you. I want you to be safe and I don’t want to end up fighting you for real. Draco, I don’t want to see you die because of him.”
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but wasn’t sure what to say. Harry hardly ever used his given name and then only as an insult and it threw him a little. This time when he pulled away, Harry offered no resistance and Draco quickly folded his arms, still able to feel the heat of Harry’s hand on his fingers. “It won’t come to that.”
“It will if you go to him. I’m going to stop him.” Draco gave a laugh, and then saw the serious expression on Harry’s face. “He is not going to destroy everything again. I owe it to my parents and to all the other people he’s killed.”
“I will do what I have to.”
“Okay. But at least think about it, Draco. Don’t tie yourself to him without knowing what else you could do.” Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded sheet of parchment. “I’m going to be in London for a while. If you want to talk, come and see me. No strings attached, just to talk. If you need help, then there is a place for you.” Draco’s arms remained folded and he didn’t take the offered paper. Instead, Harry pushed it into the crook of his arm. “Just don’t waste everything you could be for him.”
Draco released his arms and the crumpled parchment fluttered to the ground. “I don’t need your help, I don’t need your charity.”
“It isn’t either of those things.”
“This is a pointless discussion. Go and join your Gryffindor friends before they decide I might have hexed you to oblivion and come to rescue you.”
The two studied each other, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Harry shrugged. “The offer stands, Draco. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Now that is something you can never accuse me of.”
With that, the two moved apart and each went their separate ways.
_~_
Draco stood in the shadow of the great staircase for several minutes, waiting for everyone to finally leave the Hall. Quietly, he made his way back inside and began searching the floor. The crumbled ball of parchment had been kicked under a table, and he scrambled down on his knees to retrieve it.
Sitting back on his heels, he carefully straightened the parchment between his fingers. The familiar scrawl of Harry’s writing covered one side and on the other was a neat little map of how to find the address. He looked at it for a long time, kneeling quietly on the floor. He didn’t understand why Harry had done this, but the Gryffindor had cared enough to prepared this before hand. Cared enough to make this effort.
He looked down at the hand that Harry had held and wondered for a long time about choices.
Then, finally getting to his feet, Draco tucked the parchment away and headed back to his rooms.
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10th February 2002