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The books were safe, through the harsh words and the even harsher contact Harry learnt. He was good at that, learning. Head down, eyes forward, never an unnecessary word, learning. Maybe if he learnt more, he could learn how to not be a disappointment.
Alas, 12 years later, many exams later, Harry was still a disappointment. Nothing special, no friends, just Harry and his books.
The battle had been going on for days now, spells fired left right and centre, Harry’s potion knowledge being used to the max to heal all the allies, or well anyone who asked for them, he wanted to help, not be useless for once. A flyaway spell must’ve hit the wall nearby as it began to crack, the cracks growing more and more as the wall began to buckle, Harry made a run for it. As much as he knew no one would miss him, he didn’t exactly want to die either, if it happened, well that would just be a happy accident.
Rushing up to the ground floor, out the dungeons as the dust cloud chased him, Harry shot more spells than he ever had before out of class, many a Portego and the occasional Stupefy, but nothing more. He ran outside the hall, watching as more parts of the castle fell, support beams collapsing, wall caving in, even the many cracks across the floors concerned him. Harry dragged many students out of the wreckage, trying to be useful, he knew he wasn’t but it was easy to pretend he could be. Reaching the courtyard, Harry realised how useless he truly was, so many of his classmates were fighting Death Eaters, and here he was haling some of them, and his classmates. Harry pretended not to see the littering of dead bodies both allied and opposing, most spelled to death, but some torn apart.
Harry spotted Longbottom, the golden child of their year, survived more encounters with You-know-who than anyone else. Harry could admit he was a little bit jealous of him, he could prove he wasn’t useless at every moment, yet Harry was stuck with exams and in class practice. It was no secret to anyone that Longbottom and his friends Granger and Weasley snuck out and faced danger more than a 17-year-old should. Harry could see many spell being fired, the light reflecting off his glasses in ways that made him squint. He tried to be useful, tried to help, anything he could do to not feel useless.
There! He spotted an unoccupied Death Eater shooting a green curse, the killing curse, straight at Longbottom’s back, while he was distracted. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, he could he his heartbeat in his ears, with barely any thought, Harry ran behind Neville, colliding with his back as the curse hit, the acidic green of the curse hitting his shoulder as he got behind Longbottom. Collapsing to the ground as the burning feeling of the curse spread across his shoulder along his chest. Everything still felt slow. Harry swore the killing curse was meant to kill instantly, but he guesses there was no one who survived the effects of one to document it. The burning continued to spread, it felt like his body was going up in flames as everything began to blur, voices started sounding fuzzy, like he was underwater, or Dudley had punched him in the face again as an ear-piercing ring began to play.
As his vision began to darken around the edges, flashes of a life that definitely wasn’t his began to flash behind his eyes, Harry, it was definitely him, those accursed green eyes and rats nest of a hair couldn’t have been anyone else, yet he had the scar he was accustomed to seeing proudly displayed on Longbottom’s forehead on his, holding a wand, fighting back-to-back with Weasley and Granger. A slow smile grew on Harry’s face in his last moments, as his eyes drifted shut as the last of his senses died away. The last thing he heard was one scream, as he let everything fade.
***
Harry was dead.
***
The battle ended, Longbottom vanquishing the Dark Lord, the very person Draco was sworn to, he felt the way the mark forcefully left his skin, the snake slithering off his arm, it wasn’t painful, not really, just weird, it felt slimy and uncomfortable. Draco looked at his wrist like it wasn’t his, perfectly unmarred like there wasn’t just a dark brand on it, it looked innocent. Everyone began to count their dead, many dead among the ranks he was forced to play this war in. But one dead on the other side that made his heart stop. He recognised those thick rimmed round glasses that had unhealthy amounts of tape holding them together. The rat’s nest of a hair and the scarred face. Harry Pottter. The only person who didn’t look at Slytherin like dirt. A gentle friendship was slowly being formed between the Slytherins of his year and Harry… Dare Draco say he was growing fond of the boy. But now he was dead. Limp. Pale. Draco couldn’t tear his eyes off of the body. No visible wounds, clearly a killing curse. Draco swore to find whoever was responsible and make them pay.
It was weeks after the war at this point, weeks after Harry died and the Slytherins hadn’t perked up at all, everyone else bounced back, aware people had died, how couldn’t they, McGonagall organised a funeral for all the fallen where everyone was present for the memorial to be placed, once the crowds dispersed, Draco fell to his knees, searching the plaque for Harry’s name. Finding it, Draco relaxed, they hadn’t forgotten him. The funeral for all those on the plaque was general, not personalised, where all the bodies were buried in the Hogwarts ground, in one grave, it pained Draco, seeing the boy he cared for more than anyone could understand.
Back in the Slytherin 7th year dorm, they had all gathered, none of them ready to head to the library where they normally would be, studying or doing homework, because none of them were ready to face the library knowing Harry wouldn’t be there to see them, be there to offer small bits of help through passed notes or whispered words, Draco never got to hear the boy speak aloud, always quiet, it was always worst in the first months of the school year, whenever Harry was forced to return home. In mourning, all the Slytherin’s threw themselves head first into studying, knowing it was what Harry would have wanted. Draco knew through the short note passed conversations that Harry believed he shouldn’t be missed, and his death shouldn’t ruin anything.
It was their NEWTS result day, all the Slytherin’s gathered in a circle, all thanking the ghost of Harry who they’d all felt through their exams, some said it felt like a hug, other said it was like recalling that one word that was stuck on their tongue, Draco understood it in a way that was different, it was home for him, to him it felt like a warm fireplace and a bright smile. But as they all opened their results, many tears were shared, many sharing small remarks, “Harry helped me pass my Ancient Runes,” Pansy murmured wetly before Blaise managed to get her in a deep hug, before long they were all in a group hug, all crying as they realised how much Harry helped them over the years, and now he wasn’t here to celebrate results day with them.