Happy Endings

I'm actually working on something else at the moment, but it's becoming quite a bit longer than I originally anticipated, and this image won't leave me alone. So, a quickie while I try to work on the other one.

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Draco loved the castle of Hogwarts, no matter how much he publically pretended otherwise. He loved the sprawling towers and enchanted stair cases, and hidden doors and rooms and everything about it was one big adventure after another. He didn't need life threatening mad-men after him to make his time at Hogwarts exciting, the castle provided everything he'd ever need in that respect.

He loved it when everyone was abed except the ghosts, and probably Harry Potter, because it felt like he was the only one in the whole universe. The castle was his, to do with as he liked, and there was no one to tell him to go somewhere or do something he didn't want to.

His habit of exploring had started in second year, and now, after the war, they'd all returned regardless of their age to complete their schooling. He was eighteen, and back in the seventh year he'd never taken. The houses had all but disbanded, but he tended to think of people as their old houses, anyway. Potter would be a Gryffindork for the rest of his life, and he'd never forget the Hufflepoofs. The Ravenclaws were respectable, and of course, he'd never abandon his own House.

The only problem with this new policy was that people in third year could be anywhere from thirteen to fifteen, depending on how talented they were magically, and how much they'd learned. The war had taken it's toll on everyone, and people he'd been so used to seeing were gone, like Hannah Abbot and Dean Thomas from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Crabbe and Goyle had fled the country with their families, and he was expecting to never see them again. The other side of that coin was that people from all ages and walks of life had returned to their schooling, and an extra 'year' had been added for the more advanced adults who were returning. That in mind, Draco was always on the look out for the nineteen through twenty four year olds who were veterans of the war, and thought themselves invincible, and the younger kids beneath them. He was interrupted out of his musing by a muffled thump, and some soft whispers, and checked the muggle watch he'd adopted. Two twenty four in the morning. Who in their right mind would be awake and in this part of the castle at this time? Besides Draco himself, of course.

Quietly, he hid himself behind a statue, and peered around the corner to see what was up. One of the older guys from 'eighth' year had pressed a smaller boy up against the wall. He wasn't that much smaller, though, and Draco wondered why he didnt' hex the perpetrator. A wand lying close to the statue revealed evidence of a tussle before Draco had arrived. Using his quick wits, he pieced together what had happened. One or both of them had arrived down here for whatever reason, followed by the other. A quick fight, wands lost on one side at least, and then this.

"You're mine, Potter," the larger boy hissed, and Draco blinked. Potter as in Harry Potter?!

"Get the fuck off of me, Richards!" The angry tone was all to familiar to Draco, and he wondered what the hell was happening. Potter the Poof, maybe? No, he didn't seem to be with this Richards kid willingly.

Richards pinned Potter's body to the wall with his own, and leaned down, kissing him. Potter squirmed against him, trying to push him away. When he succeeded, Potter went for his wand, but was tripped by Richards, who covered his body with his own again, pinning his hands to the floor. From this position, Potter had less leverage, while Richards had all the control.

"Get off of me you bastard!!" Potter hissed, angling his legs for a knee to the groin. Richards blocked it, and kissed him again. Draco paused, wondering if he should interfere. As he watched, Potter managed to pull away slightly, and was rewarded with a cuff to the head that left him reeling. While he recovered, Richards used the distraction to wiggle his hand into Potter's pants. "This is for my parents!" he whispered, and Draco watched Potter pull himself together enough to realize that he was in serious and immediate danger. Having killed the Dark Lord and more than a few of his followers, Draco's own father included, Draco was expecting something heroic from him. Maybe Harry would push him off at the last second and hex him into a ball-point pen, laughing all the while. Maybe he'd simply stun him wandlessly and escape back to his common room to boast about the daring escape.

What Draco was not expecting was a sudden surrender. All at once, Potter's body went limp and his head fell off to one side. "I'm sorry about your family, Richards, but it wasn't my fault!" Richards did something with his hand that caused Potter's face to contort in pain and his breath hissed out through clenched teeth.

"Don't give me that shit, Potty," Richards sneered. "You were right there! You're the fucking savior, you save people, you don't fucking watch them die!" Draco pieced together a bit more of the story. He'd been in America for most of the war - after his father's death, he'd defected from the Death Eaters and escaped with his mother. Afterwards, he'd heard rumours that the Death Eaters were no more, and that Voldemort lay dying on the battlefield, Potter's foot on his chest triumphantly - he'd later learned that Potter wasn't so much standing on the body of the former Dark lord, so much as had collapsed upon him in exhaustion and grief at losing his girlfriend.

Apparantly, Richards and Potter had fought alongside eachother during the battle, and both had watched Richards' family die. Richards blamed Potter, and was now taking his revenge in the only way his small brain could comprehend.

Draco still wasn't sure whether or not to leave them at it, or to interfere, when he was decided by Richards hitting Potter again and yanking his pants down, preparing to .. to..

Two tears slid down Potter's face as he realized it, too, and Draco didn't think, only reacted. Never in his seven and half year acquaintence with Potter had he ever seen him cry - he'd heard rumours about Cedric at the Tri-Wizard tournament, but he hadn't seen that, so it didn't count - and he was damned if he was going to let it be someone other than himself who brought those tears to his face.

"Sectumsempra!" He bellowed, and Richards flew from Potter's body spouting blood. It really wasn't a pretty spell, and it wasn't any nicer to watch than to experience. He healed enough of it that Richards wouldn't die, but remember that Draco Malfoy was not a nice enemy to have.

When he turned around, Potter was still laying on the floor, half undressed and trembling. "Potter?" he asked, kneeling beside him. The black-haired youth barely seemed to have heard him. Shit, he's in shock, Draco realized, and righted his clothes. "Come on, Potter, pull yourself together, he's gone." Viridian eyes slid over to Draco's face, and he saw no recognition there, only relief. Well, he did look quite a bit different. His hair had been dyed brown in America, and the roots were showing now, but he still didn't seem like himself. It was long, too, and unless he pulled it off his face, you couldn't really see the resemblance to the Draco Malfoy of sixth year, which was the last time Potter'd seen him. Still, after the scene he'd just witnessed, he was still surprised when Potter lunged at him, wrapping his arms around Draco's slightly larger body and clinging like a drowning man to salvation.

"Thank you," he whispered, and Draco awkwardly put his arms around him, patting his back comfortingly. A split second later, he felt wetness soaking into his shirt, and realized that Potter wasn't just trembling, but was shaking them both with body-wracking sobs. Pulling him back, he shook him gently. "Hey, pull yourself together! Nothing happened, you're alright!" He made a visible effort to control himself, and met Draco's eyes.

"You're right," he said. "It's not the fi.." he trailed off as the expected recognition finally formed. Draco realized the position they were in - himself kneeling in the dirt and dust on the ground, clinging to Potter who was practically in his lap - and was surprised a moment later when he found his arms empty and Potter curled up against the wall.

"You," he said accusingly. "Going to go laugh about this with all your Slytherin buddies, are you? Saviour of the World is a bloody coward, bet you'll be making jokes about this until I die." His hateful words couldn't conceal the fact that he was still shaken by what had almost transpired, and Draco sighed.

"I'm not going to tell anyone." His voice was honest, and he spread his hands, in an effort to look less intimidating. "I swear. It'll never go past me, and I doubt that prick will be saying much of anything to anyone about it, if he knows what's good for him."

Potter seemed to have stopped listening, and Draco pushed his wand towards him, standing and dusting himself off. "Look, it's late. Get to bed." He almost offered to walk him to Gryffindor Tower, and then realized as the words were gathering in his mouth that he'd be refused - his company wasn't much more preferable than that of Richards.

Collecting his cloak and making sure he still had everything, he started to walk away. He didn't hear a second set of footsteps, and paused. Nothing, not even the slow rustling of cloth. Turning, he Lumos'd his wand, and saw Potter sitting right where he'd left him, still crying into his sleeves. Maybe Richards had gotten more damage in than he'd thought at first.

Sliding his wand into the wrist brace he wore for that purpose, he gathered Potter's things for him, and tugged him to his feet, letting the smaller boy lean on him. "Come on, we're going to see Pomfrey," he said, and finally, the tears slid to a stop.

"Thank you..." Draco felt the smile twisting his face a little softer than his usual smirk. This helping people thing kinda felt good.

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Just a little one shot, for that scene I couldn't rid myself of. I've got a better/longer fic in the works at the moment, and it should be done within the next week if you're interested. I was listening to All American Rejects while writing this, and Happy Endings was playing, so thats what it was named XD

Thanks for reading!

Omi/YB