Harry walked up to where Malfoy was standing looking at the Whomping Willow and waited for the other boy to acknowledge his presence.
"I'm not exactly on your side," his Slytherin companion said eventually. "I just don't want to be one of them."
"There is no in-between," Harry said, "not in this war."
They lapsed into silence again. Finally Malfoy turned to look at him. His expression was the most open Harry had ever seen it. Malfoy appeared confused, much younger than he usually did, and not at all the evil bastard Harry had come to think he was.
"I know," Malfoy said, voice dropping as if the subject required it, "that's why I went to Dumbledore. They're all pawns, you know, every last one of them. The great Death Eaters; they're as much slaves as they want to make the Muggles and yet they can't see it."
Malfoy lapsed into silence again, eyes on the ground, face thoughtful. Harry did not want to push him so he waited. It had to have been hard to let go of the hatred of six years and he did not want to scare his companion away. Suddenly Malfoy laughed; it was a sad little sound.
"I idolised my father you know," he said, and looked into Harry's face.
The boy's grey eyes were so sad and Harry's mind informed him that it was not fair, no one as young as them should have that look in their eyes. The thing was he had seen it before, he saw it every day when he looked in the mirror.
"The great Lucius Malfoy," Malfoy said derisively, "the man everyone is afraid of, only he's terrified of Him as well. He's as pathetic as the rest of them. I saw him this summer, Voldemort himself. My beloved father arrived at the manor in the middle of the night and took me with him to one of their meetings."
Harry was surprised, he knew something must have happened to make the other boy reconsider his allegiances, but meeting Voldemort had not been at the top of his suspicions. Meeting the Dark Lord changed people, but in Harry's experience usually to dead or obedient lackeys. That Malfoy had come away neither of those, was a credit to his character.
"They're like some secret school society," Malfoy cotinued; "only you don't just get thrown out if you break the rules. My father wanted me to meet the great man himself, and do you know what I saw? A madman, a complete lunatic who really doesn't care who he gets killed, and they all worship him like he's some kind of god."
The laugh came out of Harry unbidden, but he couldn't help it. Malfoy glared at him for his trouble.
"What's so bloody funny, Potter?" Malfoy asked, voice going cold.
The glare that went along with the words might have worried him once, but now he knew what was behind it.
"Sorry," Harry apologised, still not sure where the laugh had come from, "but if you'd asked I could have told you that. Did your father ever tell you why Voldemort wants me dead?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"It's all to do with a prophecy," he said, his tone surprisingly light, "and if he hadn't tried to kill me when I was a baby it would have been irrelevant. It's all absurd, almost as ridiculous as being famous because you didn't die."
Malfoy continued to glare at him for a few moments and then the edge of his mouth actually twitched into a partial smile.
"You have a very twisted sense of humour, Potter," Malfoy said eventually, "I never noticed before."
"If you'd met my relatives you'd understand why," Harry said with a wry grin.
They looked at each other for a while; green eyes into grey and then Malfoy blinked and glanced away.
YOU ARE READING
Gold Tinted Spectacles (Hecatemus Book #1)
Fanfiction(Drarry) Harry Potter is about to enter his seventh year, and things are not quite what he expected. He is no longer the angry boy who watched his world fall apart at the end of his fifth year, but neither has he completely found his place yet. He i...
