Coming to Terms

Coming to Terms
Chapter One

*

Tremors of fear washed through his body. His arms thrashed around, a pathetic attempt at protecting himself. It was no use. The icy hand plunged into his chest. Slowly it wrapped its brittle fingers around his pumping heart. He couldn’t pull away; the pain was too great. There was nothing he could do, so he stopped struggling… and forfeited his life. This was how it was meant to be.

*

Hermione looked up at Harry’s face and then up at the sky. ‘What a beautiful day,’ she thought and then asked, “Worse than usual?”

He nodded. His chest felt heavy as he looked down at the grave. He was having trouble breathing

“What did the muggle psychiatrist have to say?”

“Same as the wizard one. They don’t know a bloody thing. Maybe there is nothing wrong with me. All along we thought it was some Dark Wizard playing with my mind, maybe it’s just my guilt.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I used to believe that, now I’m not so sure. Maybe I blocked out what really happened that night. Maybe the dreams are the truth, and not the lies I have made for myself to believe.”

“Draco was there with you. He saw the same thing.”

“Or maybe he’s just covering for me,” Harry said, and his green eyes starring intently at the ground. The dark circles under his eyes seem more pronounced than usual. He had lost a lot of weight from his already slim build.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” she asked. Harry shrugged in a reply.

“Maybe you should talk to him. Patch things up between you two,” Hermione suggested.

“Natural born enemies. We can never be friends.”

“That’s not what thought before Ron died. Perhaps you are blaming yourself. Although I don’t think there was anything you could have done to save him.”

The wind surged past them, ruffling Harry’s black hair. Even now, Hermione found herself attracted to him. It was hard not to, but she knew they would only ever just be friends. His heart belonged to someone else, if he chose to admit it or not. Perhaps, in some dark corner of her mind, she saw Harry as a replacement for Ron. It wasn’t something she’d ever admit to herself though.

Harry turned away.

“Talk to him. Please. Humor me if you must.”

“What makes you think he’d even be willing to talk to me.”

“For heavens sake Harry! You never know until you try.”

“Herm… I just don’t know. It’s a part of me that’s never truly healed. I just feel so sick inside. I have this set of memories about the night of his death, and then at the same time I keep having dreams about that night… And I don’t know which is real. I wake up in the middle of the night, crying. Screaming for a mother that was never there in the first place. Ron was like a brother to me. After that first year at Hogwarts I found a family with his family. The Boy That Lived saved himself, and yet somehow conveniently let his best friend die. And if isn’t my fault, why do I feel so responsible?”

A sharp pain crossed his cheek, and an angry look of pain flashed over Hermione’s face. She’d slapped him.

“Listen here Potter,” she called him Potter! This was bad; “I’ve been here for you in every way I know how. I think you sometimes forget that I too lost my best friend. Bloody hell, he was my boyfriend. I’m tired of you second-guessing yourself. You can’t save everybody. Ron would understand that. It was not your fault and you need to stop saying it is. Now if you don’t get you act together and at least talk to Draco about that night, there will be hell to pay.”

Harry blinked. That was the first time he’d seen that side of her for a long time.

“Now I’m going to owl Draco as soon as I get home tonight, and if you haven’t at least made some kind of effort to talk to him, I’m sending him to your flat. And don’t test me.”

“Herm…”

“What?” she snapped.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her forehead, “I love you.”

“Oh Harry,” she said and returned the hug with a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you. Every time I see you… you just seem to waste away more. I already lost one of my best friends, I don’t want to lose the other.”

“You won’t,” Harry promised. Yet deep within him, he hoped he would be able to keep that promise.

*

“What do you want Potter?”

“Hello to you too, Draco,” Harry said taking a seat across from Draco’s desk. It was hard to believe he was working for the Ministry of Magic, yet here he was. Mr. Malfoy, head of the Department of Magical Catastrophes.

“Well, what do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Obviously,” he said sharply and rolled his eyes. He seemed more bitter now than he had been while in school, if it was possible.

“I was wondering if you could join me for dinner. My treat, of course.”

Draco raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “What game are you playing at? I do remember you telling me that you never wanted to see me again. What’s wrong? Need a good shag?”

“This isn’t about that,” Harry said, blushing.

“Pity. What do you want?”

“To talk about some things. So will you meet me for dinner or not?”

“There’s that wonderful Italian place down the street…” he smiled. It was one of those rare smiles, one that wasn’t faked.

“Thank you. How about you meet me there about seven?”

“On one condition.”

“What do you want Malfoy?”

“You’ll see,” he smirked.

“I don’t have a choice do I?”

“Nope.”

Harry sighed, “Alright. Seven then.”

“Seven. See you then Harry,” Draco said with a wink. Harry got up and walked to the door to his office, his hand on the knob. He paused for a moment, almost if he had something else to say. Yet he must have changed his mind, for he left without another word.

With a sweep of the arm Draco cleared his desk. A glass picture frame shattered as it made contact with the floor.

“Damn him,” he said as he looked at the seat Harry had just been sitting in. An odd sensation of regret went though him. What happened? It had been almost a year since Harry had talked to him. He might not have ever been able to admit it to himself, but he missed Harry.

Draco picked up the picture fame, and looked at the photo. No damage, thank god. It was of him and Harry, just before graduation. Their arms were slung across each other’s shoulders, and they we smiling, ear to ear.

One tear dropped onto the desk. Draco bit his lip. Things hadn’t gone how he had wanted them. Yet now, Harry had walked back into his life. This was a new beginning.

Now it was just a matter of killing time until dinner. Draco laughed at himself.

*

Harry walked into the library, the Albus Dumbledore Memorial Library to be exact. It had been built after his death. Voldemort had joined him not long after. Perhaps Dumbledore’s sacrifice had been worth it. The wizarding world was able to rebuild. The Dark Lord had taken so many people before their time. Harry secretly wished he was getting what he deserved somewhere.

Hermione sat behind a large oak desk, reading. The dim light allowed shadows to fall across her face, adding a little mystery into her eyes. Harry saw her laugh as she turned the page.

“Miss Granger? I need some help on finding a book that I was in love with when I was younger,” Harry said, startling her.

She looked up and realized it was Harry, and laughed, “Let me guess… Quidditch Through the Ages?”

“That’s the one. I was sure I had kept the Hogwart’s Library copy, but a friend of mine must have returned it without telling me.”

“It was probably the same witch that kept you out of so much trouble.”

Harry laughed, “I think you’re right. I came by to apologize about this morning. It was a bad night. No sleep does odd things to a person’s mind.”

“I still think you should talk to Malfoy. The sooner you realize that these dreams aren’t real, the better,” she said. It was times like these that she sounded like Professor McGonagall.

“I paid a visit to him at work.”

“Oh?”

“Dinner at seven.”

Hermione smiled, “Good. I think it would do you some good if you and Draco started talking again.”

“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.

“I just think that there is a lot that you two never got to work out. I think maybe once those issues are talked about that you might be able to sleep better. I wasn’t implying anything more than that. Honestly Harry,” she said and marked her place and set aside her book.

“Maybe,” he said dully.

“Can I ask you something, and have you not over react about it?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“Do you promise not to over react or not?”

“I promise, now what is it?”

“How do you feel about Draco?”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Sorry, forget I asked,” she said quickly.

“Of all the things to ask. I can’t believe you Herm!”

“Just forget it.”

“Why did you ask? Do you think I do?”

“You did before. I think it was just the circumstances that broke you up.”

“There was nothing there to break up,” he replied.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“Do you realize every time I say his name you smile, and your eyes glaze over?”

Harry’s jaw dropped again in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he said softly.

Hermione nodded and grinned.

“Okay, lets say I do still fancy him. What does it have to do with anything? And I’m not saying I do or not, this is just for reason’s sake.”

“I think you need to talk to him. Who knows it might solve some problems.”

“For some reason I really doubt that,” Harry said with a sigh.

“Do I know you or what?”

“I never admitted to anything.”

“You don’t need to. Your face says it all.”

*

“Reservations for Potter?”

“Yes, follow me.”

The restaurant was nice, quiet. A soft melody played in the background. Candlelight lit the room. The table was slightly secluded, tucked in the back. Draco wasn’t there. It didn’t surprise Harry. He draped his sports jacket over the back of his chair. It was one of the few muggle outfits he owned.

His fingers found his temples, and he messaged them, trying to fight back a headache. Harry was having more and more of them these days, and nothing worked to stop them, neither magic or muggle medicine.

“Evening Harry,” Draco said walking up to the table. He rose as Draco took a seat across from him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just a headache,” Harry replied.

“I know this charm that works per-”

“It won’t work. Trust me,” he replied.

Draco only nodded and picked up the menu. Harry wanted to say something to break the silence, but the words didn’t come. The candle between them flickered. He found himself starring at Draco’s face. He hadn’t really changed since school. His features seemed more adult, yet he still retained those boyish good looks he’d been blessed with.

The waitress walked up to the table, “Good evening gentle men. What can I get you tonight?”

“I’ll try the baked ziti,” Draco said and handed her his menu.

“Pasta with the house sauce.”

She smiled at Draco, “And what to drink?”

He looked over at Harry, “Brandy for the both of us.”

“I’ll be back in a little bit then,” she said with an unmistakable blush, and went on to another table.

“Looks like the waitress likes you,” Harry laughed.

Draco smirked, “Too bad for her.”

Harry smirked, “I was actually wondering if you’d ever developed an interest in girls.”

“I find some of them extremely attractive. That was never the problem, I just happen to be interested in someone else at the moment,” he said locking eyes with Harry.

He swallowed, feeling guilty, “Oh.”

“So what did you bring me here for?”

“Herm’s advice.”

“Oh? And what does Doctor Granger have to say these days?”

“You know what today is…”

“Of course. I’m not completely cold blooded. In fact I was surprised to see you show up in my office today of all days,” Draco said.

“I’ve been having nightmares about that night. I’m second-guessing my memories. Maybe my dreams are the true memories, and I’ve just blocked them out. You were there. What happened?”

“This is probably the last thing I expected you to be asking me about. I-” The waitress was back, she set down their drinks and left without a word. Harry lifted his glass, and downed the alcohol in one drink. He winced as it burned going down.

Draco was worried, “You don’t want to drag yourself through this again. Bloody hell, I wouldn’t lie about it. Your story matches mine.

“Where you with me the whole time?” Harry demanded.

“No, but enough to know you didn’t kill him. I saw Vol… The Dark Lord kill him.”

“Was I with you then?”

“No, but its not bloody likely I’d mistake you for the Dark Lord,” Draco snapped. Why was Harry doing this to himself? Was this the real reason he’d left?

He shook his head and flagged the waitress as she walked past. Harry raised his empty drink.

“Do you think its wise to get shitty tonight?”

“Tonight is as good as any other day… Tell me what you remember.”

“I don’t even want to remember,” he said as the waitress set another brandy in front of Harry.

“Humor me, please.”

“I will if you slow it down this time,” Draco snapped as Harry lifted his drink.

He shrugged and took a big gulp.

“At least wait until after dinner. We can go back to my place. Last thing I need to do is worry about you stumbling over Muggle London drunk.”

“Now that I can do,” he said and finished off his drink. Draco merely shook his head in disgust.

To be continued.