The Final Battle

Harry held his wand to Draco's chest. He could do it. He could kill him.

His eyes met Draco's, which were cold as if resigned to his fate. He could feel seven years of hate burning between them. "Do it" his brain told him. "Just say those words. Just kill him here, in front of Hogwarts. He would do it to you."

He would, Harry knew it. Draco wouldn't pause like this, wouldn't ponder over his actions. If Draco was in his situation, he wouldn't hang around like this.

But Harry was different. The realisation of this hit him and he felt himself shivering in the cold December night.

"I can't do it." The thought made him feel defeated. "I will only ever murder one person. Voldemort."

Harry pulled his wand back, and put into the pocket of his robes. Draco looked up at him, bewildered, at why Harry appeared to have spared his life.

"What are you doing, Potter?" he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Lost your bottle, have you?"

"No," said Harry, wearily "But you are not worth going to Azkaban for. I am not like you Malfoy. You would kill. But I do not because I work for Dumbledore."

Draco laughed slowly. "Dumbledore's dead, Potter. Did you not realise that? Our side has won."

"It's not wise," replied Harry, "To antagonise someone who can so easily finish your life. So I wouldn't try it, if I were you."

"You've put your wand away..."

"And I can so easily get my wand out again. So shut up if you want to live."

Draco said nothing. Harry continued. "We will not win by killing one boy. The loss of you will not damage our enemies much."

"I am the Dark Lord's most trusted servant. He needs me. I am important to the Death Eaters, I am!"

"Quiet," said Harry. "Don't fool yourself. Just because your father is, or should I say was, a Death Eater, doesn't mean you have any greater importance. You are nothing. I will come across greater enemies than you."

"Do you want to me to curse you Potter?"

"Get lost Malfoy," said Harry with annoyance. "If I ever see you again, then I can't say what I will do to you. But you are reprieved today."

Draco scrambled to his feet, Harry watching him as he did so. He stood face to face with Harry and eyed him with great dislike. "This means nothing Potter," he spat. "Nothing has changed. I am still your enemy."

"You wouldn't be anything else to me," said Harry angrily, despite the calmness he was forcing himself to project. "You owe me, Malfoy. Wizard's debt and all that. I spared your life." He took a step closer to his hated enemy. "And you will repay the debt you owe me, whatever it is. It's old magic, you see."

Draco scowled but evidently could find no reply to what Harry said. If he didn't know what the implications of a wizard debt were, then he didn't show it.

"Go away, Malfoy. If you want to save your precious life."

"This isn't the end, Potter," said Draco and then he turned on his heel and walked away, though Harry could detect haste in his steps.

Harry watched him go. Draco was right on one thing. This most definitely was not the end...