Lady Malfoy and The Boy Who Scarred Her

Art by the amazing @spaz141

The Apparation out of Malfoy Manor was rough with all six people being carried at once, and one was not by choice. Harry's head was spinning, and he fell on all fours to prevent the contents of his stomach from becoming external.

It was a surprisingly sunny day for late March on the southern coast of England. The clouds were few and it was far brighter than the dismal manor they were just in. A steady rhythm of waves crashed behind Harry, each one marking the long passage of time as his head slowly stopped feeling like a crushed tomato. A flock of seagulls, interrupted by their sudden appearance, were making their protests known as they flew away.

The spinning soon came to a stop, and Harry looked around to see the results of their escape. Luna and Dean were running down the beach to the new escapees. Luna was first, who started to take care of Dobby. His left ear was severed, the tip nowhere in sight, and Luna was doing her best to stop the bleeding without her wand. Dean had had made it to Ron, who currently had his right arm deep inside Hermione's handbag, looking for whatever dittany she had left to heal the wounds that Bellatrix had left on her in an attempt to scar her with that vile word. Griphook was making his way up towards Mr. Ollivander, carrying the Sword of Gryffindor and looking very tired. Two pairs of newly-wed eyes were busy in the small cottage just up the beach in the dunes, hurriedly making preparations for their new visitors.

Then Harry saw his recent hostage and charged before thinking, tackling Dracaena to the ground.

Standing above her, Harry shoved the tip of Dracaena's now-former wand into the bottom of her chin. Dracaena, laying on the sandy ground, was losing her internal fight to stop her oncoming panic attack. She was hoping that this would have gone better, but the time and place of their reunion was not up to either of them.

"WHY?!?" Harry yelled, breaking the relative silence of the beach. He was a wild man, his hair at his neck, his clothes filthy and ragged from months of being on the run, and his eyes bulging out. Harry’s face showed the internal torment he had pushed down for almost a year now: rage, despair, fear, confusion, and pain all took their turns in rapid succession, never lasting long enough to get a foothold.

"L-l-let me-" Dracaena stammered out, each syllable pressing her jaw again the tip of the wand. The Lady Malfoy was a mess. She laid there on the beach in her scorched dress, completely at Harry’s mercy as he fought with himself above her. Her cheeks were rivers of mascara. This sight was far too familiar to Harry for his liking.

"NO! STOP TALKING!" Harry yelled again. His face has settled on rage, and Dracaena had felt it. She tried instead to place her hand on his knee to calm him down, but Harry smacked her hand away.

"STOP! WHY? WHY DIDN'T YOU DO IT?!" Harry screamed in her face as despair took center stage, desperate for an answer that he both wanted and didn’t want to hear.

"Do what?" Dracaena had enough control over herself to meekly whisper her response, her heart beating rapidly due to multiple reasons, all of them coming from Harry.

"KILL ME!" Harry had a wild look in his eyes as Dracaena lay there under him. Confusion had taken control of Harry, which was sure to pass as soon as the next emotion came along.

"Ha-" Dracaena tried to respond before getting cut off by the wand going deeper into the soft underside of her chin. Fear took its turn now.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT, D- MALFOY!" Harry had slipped, and Dracaena could see the pleading behind Harry’s serpentine eyes. Her Harry was in there, desperate for her to reach him but unwilling to come out just yet.

"Harry, please," Hermione called from the side, the dittany doing its work well enough for her to stand with only a small amount of pain, along with the help of both Ron and Dean holding her up from each side.

Harry whipped his wand around and pointed it at Hermione. "STAY OUT OF THIS!"

Ron instantly pointed his newly acquire wand at Harry. The old friends stared at each other while their women were frozen with fear. Harry, heavily breathing and letting rage take its turn, would have shortly cast some kind of jinx or hex or worse at his oldest friend if Hermione did not move first.

She gently placed her hands on Ron's wand arm and slowly pulled it down, whispering in Ron's ear to let it go. Harry held his wand, pointed directly at Ron’s head, for two breaths more before slowly lowering his wand as well. The two men stared at each other until Hermione had a twinge of pain run through her, a leftover of the Cruciatus Curse so recently used on her. Ron turned directly to her and, with Dean's help, walked Hermione up the beach to the cottage, following behind Luna who was already walking through the door with Dobby.

Harry's attention fell back to Dracaena, beneath him. She had a hand on Harry's knee, which Harry did not want to consciously feel until he saw it. A part of him wanted to hit it off again, but another let it stay.

"Why?" Harry's voice was hoarse and still filled with rage, but he was not yelling any more. Confusion was driving now.

"Because, Ha-" Dracaena stopped in the middle of the word, evaluating Harry's response. Harry’s shoulders tensed, but he did not yell or pull away. She began again: "Because Harry, I forgive you."

The words hit Harry harder than any spell ever had or could.

"No. No no no no no. NO. You can't. YOU CAN'T!" Harry was backing up from Dracaena, off of her and stumbling slightly in the deep sand as he recoiled from her statement. Fear and rage pulled confusion off the throne and split it for themselves.

Dracaena slowly, carefully, sat up. Despite her messy hair, the dress with a spell burn in the side, and running mascara, she was still a Malfoy and instinct demanded that she sit like one.

"Yes, Harry. I forgive you."

Harry's eyes were not on hers, but the side of her stomach showing through the dress. He was taking in every inch of the jagged scar on her side that he could see, which was to him far more important that the bottom tip of the Dark Mark sticking out of her left sleeve. The scar, large and irregular and slightly off color to the rest of her skin, was nothing like the fine lines that he left upon her.

"No. How? You can't. You can't." Harry was talking quieter. If there were any onlookers, they would have thought him insane. Dracaena could not tell if he was talking to her or to himself.

Harry looked at Dracaena, avoiding her eyes and continuing to stare at what he did to her. The woman sitting on the beach before him changed in his mind every time he blinked.

The scared girl in the Forbidden Forest with the lantern.

The terrified girl standing before Dumbledore, tears running down her face as she came to kill him.

The overjoyed girl waking up in the Chamber of Secrets, finding out who her hero was.

The heartbroken girl laying in the bathroom, bleeding out by his hand.

The beautiful girl he danced with at the Yule Ball as all eyes were upon them but neither of them cared.

The enraptured girl he saw as he opened his eyes in the gazebo, the first sparks of their love burning as brightly as the brazier beside them.

Harry couldn't take it any more and he screamed, throwing the wand towards the cottage. A deep, guttural, primal scream escaped from Harry’s lips as his hatred and his pain and his guilt, building up for so long, came roaring to the surface, fighting against the cooling breeze that came from Dracaena's soul.

Dracaena sat there, patiently, waiting for Harry.

Harry looked at her and shook his head, saying "No" quietly to himself over and over again. His breathing became erratic, going from short and shallow to heavy and laborious. His eyes widened as he looked around for an escape but also never able to move with his feet turning to stone. His hands shook and eventually he could take no more of it. Harry marched off towards a large rock in the dunes and collapsed in front of it. Curling up into a ball with his forehead resting on his arms, he sat there and continued to tell himself "No."

Dracaena sat there, waiting. After some time, she began to crawl along the beach towards her Harry. It was unladylike, but she did not waste any more time being away from him.

Harry would tell her to stop and to go away.

Dracaena would stop and sit.

She repeated this, over and over again, crossing the dozen or so yards between them until she was sitting in front of Harry, hands in her lap.

Harry's muffled voice had stopped saying "No" by this point, and he was quiet. Dracaena continued to sit there.

"Why didn't you get revenge? Why didn't you identify me back there? Why didn’t you kill me?" Harry was quiet, desperate to hear another lie so that he could continue to hate as he had. Hatred made sense. Hatred was logical. Hatred was right, he was convinced of it. There was no other possibility, at least none that wouldn’t destroy him. Harry did not want to think about that.

"I already told you. I forgive you." Dracaena was quiet, her voice barely above the sound of the wind and the waves.

"Why?" Harry's breathing was more regular, but he was still lost in his mind as he lived both his worst nightmare and greatest dream.

"I remember you coming to the Hospital Wing. I could hear you even whilst in a coma. I could hear you plead and beg for forgiveness, that you didn't know what that spell would do, that you were sorry for breaking your promise," Dracaena's measured, calm voice was slowly working as a rock for Harry, grounding him back into reality he did not want but desperately needed. "I didn't want to forgive you, not at first," Harry tensed up and Dracaena's hands shot up halfway to his, but she stopped herself and put them back down. "It took a long time. A very long time. Longer than I’d like to admit. I had gotten myself in so deep with my choices that I felt trapped by them. I was trapped by them. I didn't have a way out, not without you."

Harry's arms loosen slightly. Not much, but enough for his knees to loosely rest inside his elbows. Dracaena took note and continued.

"I wanted to hate you. I was told to hate you. I thought it was right to hate you," Harry started to retreat back into his self-built fortress, but Dracaena continued. "but I was wrong."

"You should." Harry's quiet voice once again spoke.

"No, I shouldn't." Dracaena replied, trying to convince Harry that she meant it.

"Look at you." Dracaena could feel that Harry's eyes were fixed on her exposed scars as he spoke. "I'm... I'm just like him. I promised to protect you and I'm just like him. I used a spell made for enemies without knowing what it did and just look at what happened. I'm... I'm..." Harry's voice trailed off, unable to accept what he's saying.

"Did you mean it back then? When you sat for hours at my bedside?" Dracaena’s voice was small, hoping to find the one small hole in Harry's wall.

"Yes" The distance voice of Harry eventually replied.

"Then you're not like him."

Harry was silent afterwards, as was Dracaena. Minutes passed in silence. Harry eventually let go of one of his hands, letting it loose between the two of them. An invitation, a prayer, a hope.

Dracaena saw his hand move and waited briefly. She raised her hand and took Harry's, gently squeezing it three times like she used to. Harry, slowly yet strongly, replied with the same.

Harry slowly raised his head, looking at Dracaena in her eyes for the first time in a very long time. Dracaena weakly smiled back, then began to move to Harry. She crawled between Harry's upright legs, laying her head down on to his chest. Harry's arms were by his side until Dracaena pulled them both up, silently instructing Harry put them around her. Harry's hand brushed against her exposed scar and he pulled back until Dracaena caught his hand. She gently placed her hand over his, pressing his rough hand against her scar. His hand was tense and resisted, but Dracaena did not stop. Harry’s hand relaxed, little by little, resting on the scar in the place where he used to hold her.

Dracaena’s ear was on Harry’s chest. Listening and feeling how fast it beat made her both happy and sad. After his hand finally began to rest on her side, she turned her head and kissed his heart, then turned back and laid her head as it was. Harry’s heartbeat slowed gently, falling in time to the rhythm of the waves and steadying out to match Dracaena’s.

The lovers sat there as the waves crashed and the seagulls cawed. Harry and Dracaena made up for their lost time in silence. No more words needed to be said, at least not right now. Dracaena’s mind went empty as she laid on Harry’s chest, the first time in several years. No schemes, no plans, no pressure from the outside world. She was where she belongs. Harry’s mind was blank. The guilt he carried was not as heavy any more now that Dracaena carried it with him. Horcruxes, Voldemort, the war: it was all far away and not worth thinking about as he did the one thing he now knew he could do once again.

Minutes turned to hours and daylight started to dwindle. A breeze came through, and Dracaena shivered.

“Let’s go inside,” Harry said softly.

“Not yet. I don’t want to leave you yet,” Dracaena turned her head to face Harry, desperate for five more minutes.

Harry’s old grin came across his face, a grin Dracaena had come to love. “I never said you had to.”

In one smooth motion, Harry stood up with Dracaena in his arms, carrying her as his princess. Dracaena wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and Harry walked them to the cottage. Nine pairs of eyes, most human and some not, watched as the Boy Who Lived and a Death Eater walked up the beach and entered the small dwelling.

No one uttered a single one of the words of protest they had on their minds as Harry brought Dracaena into the cottage. Looking at how Harry and Dracaena stared at each other, they all knew that those words would never be heard again by the couple. Bill showed Harry the two rooms that Fleur prepared for them, but Harry entered one and did not come out until morning.

Harry placed Dracaena gently down onto the bed and joined her. Neither had the time or energy to change into something more comfortable than the clothes they were wearing. After a day such as this, they both fell asleep shortly. Harry’s arm was wrapped around Dracaena’s midsection, holding her close and making special care to hold her scars. As they both drifted off to sleep, Harry kissed the back of Dracaena’s neck and whispered.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”