Chapter Text
Harry Potter had been missing since the final battle at Hogwarts. Nearly four years on and no one had seen hide nor hair of him and his friends spoke of him as if they knew he was gone, never to return.
Ron Weasley quickly took up the mantle of Head Auror, his instincts and skill second to none and Hermione Granger was on the fast track to becoming the next Minister for Magic. The two were the most influential power couple of British wizarding society, and despite their successful careers and successful relationship, there was always a twinge of sadness about them, something in their eyes like a lost glimmer of hope.
The wizarding world had reeled about for the first year or so with Harry just gone. He was after all The Saviour. Hermione had made sure the record was straight, she published the story nearly from the beginning of how so many had failed to counter the uprising of Voldemort, how the wizarding world’s prejudices had caused the worst war in their history. She shamed the wizarding society into reform and spearheaded change nearly single handedly.
Ron quickly took over within the Auror’s, his natural leadership coupled with his war-honed skills made him a force to be reckoned with. He excelled and brought order back to the chaos that the department had become.
Slowly the world around them began to heal, even if they could not. A piece of them forever and always gone.
Draco Malfoy, once cleared of any and all charges post-war, something he had Hermione Granger to thank for, had taken up his father’s political mantle. Others were wary of him at first, but he was just as committed to reform as Hermione had been and he made sure his family wealth and standing in the pureblood societies was seen backing Hermione’s policies and Hermione in turn backed his credibility.
Hermione had been adamant that if wizarding society had been comfortable enough letting children fight the war the adults had created they should be just as comfortable letting those same children, now adults themselves, take over and reform the government as they saw fit.
Alongside Draco, several of his classmates took up their familial Wizengamot seats, ready and willing to set into motion Hermione’s policies and changes. Susan Bones had become a fierce litigator and one of the best the Wizengamot had ever seen. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini in addition to taking over their seats had also very quickly taken over the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They had both moved in so many circles that it was to be said that any foreign affairs could be safely conducted and resolved within the span of one night’s well organized dinner party.
Seamus Finnigan took over the Department of Magical Games and Sports, his passion for it rivaled by no one else. While his partner, Dean Thomas happily took over the Department of Magical Transportation.
Padma and Parvati Patil along with Lavender Brown all quietly took over as co-heads of the Department of Mysteries, and were often seen working very closely with Hermione.
Charlie Weasley was brought into spearhead reform within, then ultimately took over the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Justin Finch-Fletchy and Millicent Bullstrode struck an unlikely friendship as Hermione slowly installed them as co-heads of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, their unorthodox methods leading to a success rate never before seen in Ministry history.
Luna Lovegood, after the success of her father’s publication of the Quibbler, had bought out the Daily Prophet and cleaned house. She had been all too happy to merge the two publications and instill a sense of confidence back into wizarding society.
Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, and Terry Boot had all returned to Hogwarts to take up as professors, happy to usher in the next generations of wix.
And then suddenly, it was only ever on the anniversary of the final battle that anyone would hear again the name Harry Potter. He was slowly becoming only a memory, and only four years on.
This is what had bothered Draco Malfoy the most. The wondering of where the hero had gone had stopped, the speculation quickly hushed by all who personally knew him. Draco was unnerved by how little he ever heard Harry’s name, each year it becoming less and less until finally not all save on the anniversary of the war. So much had changed, for the better even, over so little time but it felt lacking in Draco’s opinion. As though the changes to their world were made in pursuit of praise from someone who would never return to give it. It made the small ache in Draco's chest grow year after year.
Upon the fifth anniversary of the final battle of Hogwarts, everyone had returned to their alma mater for the annual remembrance ceremony. A night of quiet drinks and dinner, of heartfelt speeches, and much to Draco’s disdain, the only time anyone dared speak Harry’s name.
Draco, more distraught with each year of this, spent his night quietly drinking in the corner of the Great Hall. His teeth gritted every time he heard someone hesitate upon the mention of Harry’s name, only to quietly move on. Mostly not even daring to whisper it at all.
Draco sighed, then quietly slipped from the Great Hall and wandered off, headed for the Astronomy Tower. As his shoes quietly clicked across the stone floor, Draco let himself be flooded with the memory of Harry Potter. Every moment between them from their first year onward flickered through his mind with each step. The halls echoing in his ears and memories. Each step he climbed upwards within the castle became another instance of Potter’s name on his lips in his memories. Every time he yelled, or whispered, or bemoaned, or spat, or cried the man’s name echoed around him. A lifetime of Harry Potter’s name sat upon his tongue, itching to escape and exist in more than just memory.
When Draco finally found himself stood atop the tower, looking out across the dark and cold grounds, he allowed himself to put voice to his memory.
“Potter.” Draco spoke gently into the night. “Harry fucking Potter.” He spoke a little louder. “His name was Harry Potter.” Draco wanted to sob, but he swallowed back the pain in his heart, stepping around to where the railing opened leaving nothing between him and the edge of the tower, the very spot Dumbledore had fallen from so long ago. And as Draco took tentative step after step closer to the edge he felt his heart settle and his mind quiet. How often he had thought of this very ledge, how often he allowed his mind to picture him falling from the ledge instead. He wondered if the fall would be something peaceful, if his death would be peaceful. Or if in the end he’d be just as scared as he always had been. Draco let the toe of his shoe cross over the ledge, the cold night air stealing the breath from his lungs. He was proverbially and quite literally teetering on the edge.
A small tear rolled down Draco’s cheek. “His name was Harry Potter and he saved my life and I will never forget him.” His declaration sounded more like a promise.
“Draco.” A quiet familiar whisper came from behind him, startling him. Draco felt his foot slip and his body jerk and as if in slow motion, he felt himself falter then fall. Draco closed his eyes, knowing what would come next as he had imagined it so many times before.
Only the fall never came, stopped by a strong arm wrapped around his waist pulling him back into an impossibly cold embrace.
“Draco, what do you think you’re doing?” Draco still refused to open his eyes and look to the one who had a hold of him, to the one whose demanding voice was in his ear. “Look at me.” The voice said with urgency, and the grip tightening around Draco’s midsection. “Draco open your eyes and look at me! What are you doing? You could have fallen to your death!”
“Please.” Draco begged, sagging against the body behind him. Falling to his knees still close to the edge. “Please.” Draco sobbed as the steady presence moved to crouch in front of him. Hands rubbing up and down his shoulders and arms.
When the sobs began to ease and Draco could breathe again, he finally opened his eyes, his vision still blurred through the tears. But without mistake there before him was Harry Potter. Dressed well in all black, with his jet black hair still wild as ever framing his beautiful face and contrasting with those impossibly verdant green eyes. Draco wanted to scream but all he could do was stare into those eyes.
“Potter.” Draco whispered, his voice shaky and rough.
“Malfoy.” Harry responded with a gentle smile spreading across his features.
“Harry Potter. His name was Harry Potter and he saved my life and I refuse to forget him.” Draco felt his body, mind, and soul fracture and he dropped his head into his hands, letting the sobs overtake him once more. Maybe he really had fallen and this was his purgatory. Or rather he was still alone atop the Astronomy Tower, his soul forever haunted by the ghost of Harry Potter. Though he supposed the likeliest scenario was that his sanity had finally abandoned him and the copious amounts of liquor in him had conjured the one thing his mind had wanted to see most.
No matter the circumstance, Draco was sure he was alone. He was sure that Harry was not truly there. That Harry would never truly be there.
Draco laid down on the cold stone ledge and curled around himself, letting the sobs wrack their way through his body. His heart, he realized, was broken. A small piece of it missing, gone away somewhere he cannot reach.