Some Kind of Miracle

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

- T.S. Eliot

Chapter 2: An Encounter

Having no other choice, Harry eventually returned to the Leaky Cauldron. When he walked in, he immediately located Ginny sitting placidly at one of the tables at the back of the pub and made his way over to her. For several minutes after he sat down, neither of them said anything to the other. Harry had no intention of telling Ginny where he had been or what he had done, and she, in turn, did not ask.

After a while, Harry ventured to say awkwardly, "Ginny..."

She looked up. Her eyes were a dull, washed out shade of brown. "I'm sorry, Harry. But you were hurting and I had to do something."

Harry looked away. He couldn't tell her it was okay; it wasn't. Instead, he mumbled, "Did we... y'know... last night...?"

"Yes," she replied unabashedly. Sighing, she added, "It was my fault. I shouldn't have slipped the potion into your drink. I'm so sorry, Harry. I wasn't thinking straight; you were in an awful condition, and all I could focus on was making you feel better. I know this probably doesn't mean anything to you, but if it's any consolation, I won't hold you to anything. We don't have to do it again, I promise."

Harry flinched. "Right," he said awkwardly.

Harry didn't know what else to say, so he merely stared at the faded rings in the wooden surface of the table, at a complete loss for words. What could he say, anyway? "About last night... Sorry, I don't remember any of it, but that's your fault for slipping that Forgetfulness Potion into my drink, so let's pretend it never happened." As inadequate as Harry was when it came to romance, even he knew better than to say something so frank.

When he felt Ginny lay her hand on his arm, he looked up. She was watching him with concern in her eyes. "You know you have to go back to Hogwarts on Sunday, right?" she said.

Harry's mind flashed back to the trial. Malfoy would be at Hogwarts too.

"Yeah," he said listlessly. "Yeah, I know."

Ginny nodded approvingly. "Good. I was worried I would have to drag you along with me. McGonagall is right... it's what Dumbledore would have wanted."

"Dumbledore would have wanted all of us to be happy and alive right now," said Harry, his anger roused by the mention of his former mentor. "Dumbledore would have wanted your mum and dad and Neville and - and Seamus and everyone else to be sitting here with us right now, not lying dead under some mound of dirt. Not everything can end up the way Dumbledore would have wanted it to!"

Ginny sighed wearily. "I know, Harry, I know. Those things can't be changed, though. This can."

Harry shook his head incredulously. "Ginny, how can you be so calm about this? What are we going to do now? We have nowhere left to go! The Burrow and Grimmauld Place are gone, and we sure as hell can't sit here at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of our lives."

Ginny's eyes were sparkling with what looked suspiciously like tears now, but her voice was steady when she said, "We have each other. We have Ron and Hermione. We have Hogwarts. Don't you see, Harry? We won. We're lucky we came out of the war with everything we do have, and you need to realise that."

Harry clenched his fists under the table. She doesn't understand anything, he thought furiously. She has no idea what it's like to live through each day feeling like you've lost a part of yourself.

Out loud, he took a deep, shuddering breath and said as calmly as he could manage, "About Ron and Hermione... Where are they?"

"They're with the Order right now," Ginny said quietly. She seemed frazzled by the effort of trying to talk sense into Harry.

Harry frowned. "You mean they just left us here?"

"You were ill, Harry," said Ginny firmly, immediately picking up on Harry's indignation. "The Order needed their help in sorting some things out, and they decided that you needed rest, so they left me to take care of you."

Angrily, Harry stood up. "I'm perfectly fine! Where are they right now? I'll go help them!"

Ginny glared at him and grabbed his wrist. "No, you won't. You're going to sit down and stop torturing yourself about the war. For Merlin's sake, Harry, you were unconscious for three days after it ended! And in case you don't remember, after you finally woke up, you nearly killed yourself - twice."

Harry scowled. "The first time was an accident," he said sullenly. "I didn't mean to walk into the middle of the street. I just wasn't paying attention."

"Oh, that's comforting," said Ginny sarcastically. "At least I know now that you only intended to die once!"

Deciding that it would be pointless to explain to Ginny that the second time had only been a test to see if he was as insubstantial as he had felt (and still felt, to some extent, although he had to grudgingly admit that he was feeling significantly more stable than he had been feeling a week ago), Harry switched the topic. "D'you... d'you suppose Malfoy will be there? And all the Slytherins?"

Ginny looked relieved by the change of subject. "I expect the ones who didn't run to You-Know-Who will come back. They have no choice but to. But... I don't know about the Death Eaters."

"There weren't many of them," Harry pointed out.

"Malfoy was one."

Harry felt a mysterious flash of annoyance. "I know."

"He's probably been caught by now," said Ginny absently. She was staring at the busy bar, her eyes unfocused. "His dad was a big Death Eater; they'll know of his connections."

"He was."

"Hmm?"

"He was caught already," Harry repeated in a louder voice. "I saw... I mean, I read it. In the Daily Prophet. He had his trial today."

"Oh," said Ginny, not looking interested at all. There was a glimmer of sadness in her eyes, and for a moment, Harry felt guilty for snapping at her. It wasn't her fault, everything that had happened to him. But, unfortunately for her, she was the only one he could take his anger out on at the moment.

"Let's go." Harry stood up abruptly, his hands in his pockets.

"Where?" asked Ginny, looking surprised but following suit nonetheless.

Harry shrugged. "Somewhere. I don't want to be around all these people."

They exited the pub through the back, ignoring the curious looks that followed them out.

"We need to buy our school books, so... Diagon Alley?" Ginny suggested as they shut the door behind them. She looked at Harry. "By the way, Harry, where are your robes? You ought to purchase a set if you lost them; it's cold outside."

"I'm sure people will fall over their feet to give the Boy Who Lived their robes once they realise he's in need of a set."

"Very funny," said Ginny humourlessly.

When they walked through the archway, Harry was not surprised to find that Diagon Alley bore signs of the recent war. It had, after all, been one of the first places Voldemort's followers had attacked. Now, scores of witches and wizards were working together to rebuild the shops that had crumbled to the ground. Harry's mouth twisted into a sour smile at this display of teamwork. Of course, those people smiling and laughing while they helped repair windows and restore doors were all just happy to see the fighting end. They thought that with cooperation, they could restore everything that had been lost during those last few months.

Not everything, he thought bitterly as he and Ginny began walking down the bustling street. They can't fix everything.

"Let's go get you robes, then we can start shopping for our school materials," Ginny offered as they passed a group of young children carrying ice cream cones and chattering excitedly. "Ron and Hermione said they're coming back tomorrow, so they can buy their things then."

"I haven't got any money," said Harry bluntly. He looked around him morosely. Heads were already beginning to turn in their direction.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. Gringotts is still standing."

Taking a firm hold of Harry's arm, Ginny tugged him along towards the tall, snowy-white wizarding bank. Throughout the war, it had been the one place Voldemort couldn't destroy; this was, according to rumour, due to the impenetrable protective spells that had been cast around it centuries ago.

When Harry and Ginny passed through the gleaming bronze front doors and into the entrance chamber, the two security goblins standing on guard there bowed deeply before opening the silver doors that led into the main hall. Harry remembered all the times he had been here with Hagrid and the Weasleys, and his throat tightened.

Once inside, Harry and Ginny made their way over to the counter. They got in line behind a tall, stern-looking witch and waited until a free goblin was available.

"We're here to withdraw money from Harry Potter's vault," said Ginny loudly once they were motioned up.

"Key?" growled the goblin.

Ginny looked questioningly at Harry. "Harry -?"

Harry blushed. "I, er, don't have it with me," he mumbled.

In truth, he didn't even know where the key was. Other than his wand and a few scraps of clothing, the only possessions from the pre-war days he had kept with him were his father's Invisibility Cloak, the Marauder's Map (not because he had thought he would need it, but because it was one of the few relics of his parents' days he owned), and his broomstick.

The goblin peered at Harry over his pince-nez in a very McGonagall-like manner, and then said, "Harry Potter, yes?"

"Yes," said Harry uncomfortably.

"If you would hold out your hand, sir..."

Bemused, Harry did so. The goblin leaned over the countertop and studied Harry's palm closely. Then, without a word, he bent down behind the counter and began fumbling around for something. When he straightened up again, there was a tiny silver key clutched in his gnarled hand.

"Your key, sir," said the goblin, presenting the key to Harry.

"Er -"

"It's the replica the bank keeps," Ginny explained. "Go on, take it."

Harry reluctantly reached out and took the key. "Thanks," he said awkwardly.

"Anything for you, madam?" said the goblin, turning his piercing gaze to Ginny.

"Yes, hold on..." Ginny reached into the pockets of the robe she wore and searched around. Finally, she extracted a golden key the same size as Harry's and placed it on the countertop. "Here you are."

The goblin picked it up and examined it before handing it back to Ginny. "Very well. Kongar will take you to your vaults. Kongar!"

The goblin named Kongar appeared almost instantly. "Follow me," he grunted to Harry and Ginny.

As they trailed after Kongar, Harry looked around surreptitiously. The visitors to the bank were all staring at him curiously. Up until this moment, Harry could have cared less about his rumpled appearance, but now he couldn't help feeling somewhat self-conscious.

They reached one of the doors leading off the hall. Kongar opened it and followed Harry and Ginny inside, whistling as he did so. On cue, a small cart sped into sight and screeched to a halt in front of them. They clambered into it and, with a loud rumble, hurtled off into the labyrinth of stone caverns.

---

When Harry and Ginny emerged from the underground vaults, both somewhat shaken by the heart-stopping cart rides that had taken them there and back, the main chamber of Gringotts was busier than ever. Harry and Ginny were jostled around by distracted witches and wizards as they tried to make their way to the exit.

"You'd think they'd have better things to do than hang around waiting to withdraw money," Ginny grumbled as she ducked to avoid a large handbag that had materialized out of nowhere.

Harry, however, paid no attention to Ginny's complaints because at that instant, his gaze fell on the person he had least expected to see: Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy was standing by the counter next to - and Harry had to blink several times to convince himself of this - McGonagall, staring listlessly into space as she dealt with a goblin. Harry noted with some surprise that he looked considerably better than he had earlier that morning. He'd washed and slicked back his hair, and exchanged his rags for a modest set of grey robes. Even the worst of the cuts and bruises on his face had been healed. Harry would never have guessed just from looking at Malfoy at that moment that he was a former Death Eater, condemned to receive the Dementor's Kiss in nine months' time.

"Harry?"

"Hold on," said Harry tersely, holding out a hand. He had stopped in his tracks to stare at Malfoy.

Ginny stopped as well. "Harry, what are you -?"

She never finished her sentence, for she had followed Harry's gaze to Malfoy. Her eyes narrowed. "What's he doing here?" she asked callously.

Harry started at the coldness in Ginny's voice. For a moment, he wondered what had elicited her sudden anger. Then he remembered that Malfoy had been there the night her parents were killed. Of course. How could he have forgotten?

"Let's -" he started to say.

The rest of the sentence died on Harry's lips, however, when Malfoy's gaze unexpectedly shifted over to him. The moment their eyes met, he drew in a sharp breath.

Despite the distance between them, Harry could see the hatred in Malfoy's spiteful grey eyes. A chill ran down Harry's spine. For a long moment, the two stayed locked in their heated but wordless exchange, neither willing to be the first to look away. Harry was aware of his own heart pounding furiously in his ribcage, drowning out the sound of the people around him, trapping him in a world where only he, Malfoy, and their loathing for one another existed. It was as though they had been brought back to that night, when their eyes had met and Malfoy had looked away almost instantly, except this time he didn't look away.

Finally, Harry was pulled out of his reverie by Ginny's insistent tugging on his arm. Dazed, he blinked and turned to her.

"Let's go," she said quietly.

It was more of an order than a suggestion, so Harry obediently followed Ginny towards the main doors, only faintly conscious of his sudden heavy breathing. Even after they walked out into the bright afternoon sunlight, he still couldn't shake off the sensation of Malfoy's eyes boring into his own.

There had been something frightening, something almost inhuman in those glittering grey orbs. It was not, as Harry had initially thought, the revulsion he had seen there that bothered him the most. What truly disturbed Harry about that fleeting moment when time and space had stopped around him and Malfoy was the fear: the fear that had lain hidden, but not completely so, beneath that cold, grey cover of abhorrence.

---

Draco watched with narrowed eyes as Potter and Weasley left the bank together. Even when they disappeared, his gaze lingered for several minutes on the silver doors through which they had walked out.

What the hell was Potter playing it? Three hours after the end of the trial, Draco still couldn't figure it out. It had been Potter, after all, who'd saved him from receiving the Dementor's Kiss immediately. But why?

Bitter fury bubbled up within Draco as a disturbing possibility occurred to him. Could Potter have done it to mock him? Had he chosen to delay Draco's death because he knew how agonising, how unbearable, it would be for Draco to wake up every morning for the next nine months, knowing he was one day closer to his death? And then there was the fact that he was now indebted to Potter, which was ten times as humiliating as anything else.

Draco gritted his teeth. Every time someone passing by glanced at him, he longed to lash out and hurt them, for he saw dislike, disgust, and, worst of all, derision in their eyes. They knew. They all knew who he was, but they could laugh at him because they were no longer scared. They had the upper hand now. It was, in a word, humiliating.

Draco trembled with suppressed rage. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back at the Ministry, preferably surrounded by Dementors. That way, he could be left alone to nurture his despair. Numb. That was what he wanted to be. He wanted to be like ice, so cold that he wouldn't have to feel at all.

But now he was here, and he was going back to Hogwarts, and he had been given a second chance at life. It was like some sick, twisted blessing. You have nine months to do what you've never had the chance to do, but none of it really matters, since you're dead after that, anyway.

"Come along, Mr Malfoy." McGonagall's sharp voice rudely pulled Draco from his thoughts. "You'll need a wand before we begin shopping for your other school materials."

My wand. Oh yes, they snapped it, Draco remembered faintly.

Without a word, he followed McGonagall out of the bank. Once on the white marble steps, she handed him the large bag of coins they had extracted from Draco's vault.

"Take this, and mind you don't run off anywhere or lose it," she said sternly.

"I don't need you to come with me," Draco snapped. "I can buy my own things."

McGonagall frowned severely at him. "And be seen by Ministry workers, wandering around on your own? I'm afraid I can't let that happen."

Draco scowled. "Doesn't the headmistress have anything better to do than escort a juvenile delinquent around?" he muttered.

She smiled grimly at him as they approached Ollivander's, which had reopened just a day ago. "Not unless you can provide a valid reason as to why I should let a convicted Death Eater run rampant about Diagon Alley."

Draco clenched his fists, but said no more.

---

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry jumped. "Yeah," he said, hastily putting down the book he had been staring absently at for the past five minutes.

"Are you sure?" asked Ginny, bending over to peer at title of the book Harry had been looking at. "I never knew you were into 101 Ways to Catch a Garden Gnome."

"Secret passion of mine," said Harry dully, turning around. "Are we ready to go?"

Ginny sighed. "Is it really okay for me to take your money like this?" She looked embarrassed. "I really would use my own, but we didn't have much left..."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry quickly. "I don't even know what to do with all the money I have... especially with the decrease in Christmas presents I'll be buying this year..."

Ginny was silent for a moment, and Harry knew she was struggling to control her exasperation. Finally, she said quietly, "I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Don't bother," Harry replied, shrugging. "Where are we going now?"

"Wherever you want to go. We're done shopping."

"Let's go back to the Leaky Cauldron then," said Harry, relieved that he would no longer have to endure the agony of being stared at from every direction.

"Okay," said Ginny doubtfully. She handed a bag full of books to Harry. "Here, these are yours."

"Thanks," Harry muttered as they left Flourish and Blotts.

Harry reached down and took Ginny's hand in his own as they began making their way down the street. She looked up at him in surprise, and he in turn gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sorry for being a nuisance," he said softly.

She smiled. "You're not, Harry. I know you've gone through a lot. I just want to help you."

As they passed Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Harry hesitated. For some reason, he felt strangely compelled to go into the shop again.

"What is it?" Ginny asked curiously, stopping and looking over her shoulder at Harry.

"Is it all right if I take a look around again?" Harry asked sheepishly, gesturing at the window display. "I know we've already stopped by, but I think maybe I ought to buy a cloak."

"You didn't buy one earlier?" said Ginny, looking surprised.

Harry shook his head.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. Pointing at the shop across the street, she asked, "Do you mind if I drop by Florean's? It's been a while since I saw him."

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be right out. Meet me back here when you're done."

Leaving Ginny on the sidewalk, Harry turned and entered the store. Inside, a lively tune was playing and several clusters of shoppers were chatting casually as they waited to be measured by the store assistants.

Harry got in line, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Realising that it would be a while before they got to him, he guiltily considered going back and getting Ginny. Before he could make a decision, however, he was distracted by something else: the sound of McGonagall's voice coming up from behind him.

"...very irresponsible of you!" she was saying, her voice tight with anger. "If I hadn't already gone to the trouble of freeing you from the Ministry so that you could go to Hogwarts, rest assured that you certainly would not be returning this year!

Unable to stop himself, Harry turned. "Hello, Professor McGonagall," he said, not altogether surprised to see that she was accompanied by Malfoy.

"Why, Mr Potter!" said McGonagall, stopping in her tracks as if the last person she had expected to see there was Harry. "What are you doing here?"

"Buying a cloak for the school term," Harry explained. "I'm here with Ginny Weasley." He shot a furtive look at Malfoy, but the other boy was looking determinedly in the opposite direction.

McGonagall's gaze softened noticeably. "Where is she right now?"

"She's waiting for me outside," said Harry. He cleared his throat. "Er, Professor, about..."

"Thank you very much," said McGonagall, picking up on what Harry was trying to say. "I hadn't seen you there this morning, but I appreciate your intervention very much."

"Yeah," said Harry, slightly embarrassed now. He looked at Draco again. "So... er... is he taking the train with us on Sunday?"

"He most certainly will be," said McGonagall. "I've arranged for Nymphadora Tonks to escort him there and watch over him during the course of the train ride."

Harry blinked, slightly taken aback. He hadn't seen Tonks in the week since the end of the war. "How is she?" he asked.

"Delighted, of course, that Mr Lupin is alive and in one piece," said McGonagall, a hint of amusement in her voice despite the sniff of disapproval she gave. Harry knew she had never quite been able to accept Tonks' effusive personality.

Harry cracked a smile. "I'm glad they're both all right," he said truthfully. Then he frowned, for his brain had just processed the full extent of McGonagall's earlier words. "Wait... you said she's going to be taking Malfoy all the way to Hogwarts?"

"That's right. The Ministry would go spare if they were to find out we let a Death Eater ride the Hogwarts Express alone."

"I can do it," said Harry automatically. "I'll take him there."

McGonagall looked surprised. "Are you sure, Mr Potter? You needn't do it if you don't want to; after all, Mr Malfoy is already obliged to you for your interference at the trial this morning."

At this point in the conversation, Malfoy finally spoke up. "I'm still here," he snarled.

Both Harry and McGonagall turned to look at him. He was glaring at Harry, and Harry couldn't help staring back, equally defiant but still somewhat put off. There they were again. Those eyes - fear and loathing frozen into two chips of ice.

"Mr Malfoy!" McGonagall exclaimed, oblivious to the death glares her two students were sending each other. "Calm yourself at once. First you run off without my permission, and now this!"

"You ran off?" said Harry, addressing Malfoy. "Where did you go?"

"Why, to the Apothecary of all places," said McGonagall, responding for her charge. "And when I found him, he had already purchased half the store!" She clucked her tongue. "Well, I've got a few questions for Meredith, so if you two would wait here..."

"Potions, huh?" said Harry quietly once McGonagall was gone, raising an eyebrow coldly at Malfoy. "Still trying to smarm up to Slughorn?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Unlike you, I don't need to smarm up to anyone to get what I want, Potter." He spat Harry's name out as if it were something supremely filthy and repulsive.

"Looks like a bit of brownnosing would have done you some good at the trial this morning," Harry retorted.

"I'd rather die than beg," Malfoy hissed.

Harry stepped back, shocked by the underlying honesty he sensed beneath Malfoy's words. He sounded as if he were actually serious.

"You don't mean that, right?" Harry asked warily.

"What's it to you if I do?" said Malfoy bitterly. "Either way, you and your bloody valour already took care of it."

Harry exhaled loudly. He didn't know what to make of Malfoy's sudden and unprecedented self-pity, so he turned back around. Thankfully, by now one of the sales witches was free, so he walked over to her, leaving Malfoy behind.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the sales witch next to Harry was also free. Thus, when he looked around, he found that he had not successfully escaped Malfoy after all.

As Harry watched the witch helping Malfoy drape a long black robe around him and begin pinning it to the right length, he was reminded of the day seven years ago when he and Malfoy had met each other for the very first time in this very store. Apparently the same thought had jumped into Malfoy's mind, for when he looked over at Harry, his eyes widened slightly.

Harry sighed as the witch helping him asked him what sort of fabric he wanted. What sort of fabric did he want? To be honest, he didn't care.

"Sorry, I don't think I need a cloak after all," he said to the store assistant, hopping off the stool. "Thanks for your time, ma'am."

He walked away without looking back at Malfoy. There'll be plenty of time to glare at him when we're back at Hogwarts together, he reasoned.

As Harry made his way out of the store, he looked around for McGonagall. She was standing at the counter, talking rapidly to Madam Malkin.

"Professor?" he said, walking over to her.

McGonagall turned around. "Yes, Potter?"

"D'you still want me to stick with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express on Sunday?"

McGonagall looked thoughtful. After a minute or so, she nodded. "If you have no objections..."

Harry shrugged. In truth, he didn't really care either way. He would have liked to spend the time talking with Ron and Hermione, but he also felt a sense of responsibility for Malfoy's actions. After all, Harry had been the one who freed Malfoy, and it was up to him to follow through with what he had done, mistake or not. Malfoy will be entertaining at least, he thought dully.

"Very well. I will inform Nymphadora that she has been discharged of the task. If you would please, Potter, meet Mr Malfoy at the entrance to Platform 9 ¾ at ten thirty on Sunday morning. I will wait there with him until your arrival."

"Right. See you," said Harry. Waving good-bye to the headmistress, he left her and exited the store.

Ginny was waiting for him outside. She smiled gratefully when he walked up to her. "That was quicker than I expected."

Harry smiled back at her in a forced sort of way. "Yeah, I decided not to get the cloak after all. I s'pose I could order one by owl post if I end up needing one at school. Anyway, let's go back."

Taking Ginny's hand, he began leading her down the street to the archway connecting the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. As he recapped his encounter with McGonagall (purposely leaving out the part about Malfoy), he couldn't help glancing once more over his shoulder at Madam Malkin's.

In a bizarre way, Harry felt that his encounter with Malfoy wouldn't be the last of its kind. Indeed, as the small apparel store disappeared into the distance, he found himself thinking, I guess this is a new beginning for both of us.