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White Roses	By : Lena18 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, and I hold no legal claim over Harry Potter or any associated characters. This piece of fan fiction is merely for my own amusement, and possibly others. No profit is being made, and no copyright fringe is intended.

Rating: M for later chapters.

Author�s Note: This story popped into my head early this morning, and so I had to start it right away. It�s about the aftermath of the war, and how the characters got where they are. It�s a bit different then my other writing, more with the serious, less with the funny (be warned!) This chapter is very short, but I expect the others to be longer.

Chapter 1 � One Cold Morning
Present Day. May 17, 2008.
It was a cold morning, and Harry was wishing that he had brought jacket. He shivered, and dared another look into the crowd of faces gathered in front of him. The faces of friends, colleagues, and, as most of them were, complete strangers. He just wished that they weren�t all staring back at him. He turned to McGonagall, who sat beside him sternly. She caught his gaze and rewarded him with a quick smile before returning to her own thoughts. Harry went back to staring at his hands, tracing the creases of his palm nervously as he waited with the rest of the individuals on stage for the crowd to settle. It had been over a week since there had been any blood on those hands, but Harry still felt dirty. He�d taken countless baths and showers, and had performed Scourgify more times than he could count. Ron had found him late one night, scrubbing furiously at raw skin with rubbing alcohol. Despite his best efforts, he still had the sneaking suspicion that somehow that blood continued to lurk on his skin. Or worse, the blood had seeped into his very pores, poisoning him slowly and silently from the inside out. This time the cold had very little to do with the shivers that wracked his body.
On the other side of Harry sat the newly appointed Minister of Magic, a man by the name of Bromius Fawcett. Harry had only had the chance to speak to him briefly before today, but he seemed like a nice enough fellow. Traditionally, the Minister tended to be a little bit older, but when Fawcett had accepted the job it was at a time when the position wasn�t exactly a desired one. The unfortunate ends of the past three Ministers had been enough to scare away most of the possible contenders.
Rufus Scrimgeour had been first. As the new Minister did his very best to keep up appearances, he neglected to tend to some rather pressing issues. Unfortunately, by the time the direness of the Dementor situation was realized it was too late. But Scrimgeour had refused to admit defeat and simply allow the creatures to return to their Master. A noble attitude, but in the end a foolish one. He cost the Ministry heaps of gold and countless resources, not to mention priceless time. In the end, it cost Rufus Scrimgeour his soul. The former Minister of Magic now resided in St. Mungo�s, where his empty eyes follow the movements of the nurses that inhabit its corridors. Shortly after the Dementor�s Kiss was performed on Scrimgeour, the Dementors broke free of Azkaban, releasing Voldemort�s most faithful followers.
The chaos that followed Scrimgeour�s removal from office prevented a proper election. Therefore, the ministry assigned the position to the Junior Assistant to the Minister, none other than Percy Weasley, who was to preside temporarily until such a time when an election could be held. Percy�s role as Minister of Magic was only to assure the public of ministry stability, and was expected to be brief. Indeed, it was brief � Percy was murdered by Death Eaters seventeen hours after he was sworn in.
After Percy�s murder, Kingsley Shacklebolt was offered the position of Minister. He had been doing some outstanding field work and had managed to impress the right people with his forward-thinking and �meet them head on� approach. He was never officially elected, but he commanded the public�s support and respect with ease.
Professor McGonagall had stepped in as Headmistress of Hogwarts after Dumbledore�s death, only to have the school shut down midway through Harry�s last year of schooling. In such dangerous times, families preferred to keep each other close. This was how Harry had come to live with the Weasleys, who had taken him in as one of their own.
Shacklebolt led the wizarding world to war, and he led them to victory. On the eve of Voldemort�s defeat Harry fought beside him with pride. At the pivotal moment in the battle, Shacklebolt sacrificed himself for Harry, throwing himself in front of the boy and absorbing the full force of the Dark Lord�s attack. In that second, Voldemort let down his guard, allowing Harry to assume the final blow, thereby destroying the last Horcrux that lay deep within the essence of the man that was once Tom Riddle.
�All right, is everyone ready?� Fawcett asked, turning to the men and women assembled on the stage for affirmation. Harry shook himself mentally, and began to fidget again anxiously. He didn�t want to be here. Fawcett stood up smoothly, and approached the podium with confidence. Performing Sonorus, in order to be heard by the massive crowd assembled before them, the new Minister of Magic began to speak.
�We are here today to celebrate the end of a war that has plagued our hearts and our minds for the past four years. The defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a great triumph for all of humankind, both wizards and muggles alike. Now is a time to reform and rebuild, and I hope that we will all be able to unite in our beliefs and actions to do so.� The Minister paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. �As we mourn for those who are no longer with us, we must remember what they gave their lives for. Our generation has made sacrifices so that future generations will not have to. In making these sacrifices, they have given us the greatest gift possible, and that is a world of peace. A world in which parents can raise their children without fear. A world in which��
Harry was trying to listen, but he was too distracted by his own thoughts. This wasn�t unusual; as of late Harry�s attention hadn�t been an easy thing to grasp. He was afraid to let it settle in one place, lest he find himself dwelling on one of the many memories he was trying to erase from his head. Harry summoned up enough courage to once again look out into the sea of people that sat, row on row, still listening intently to Fawcett as he continued with his speech. Harry pulled out his own speech, and began to look over it again for the 52nd time in the past hour. It had been neatly copied out by Hermione the night before onto a fresh, crisp piece of parchment that he had promptly crumpled up and shoved into his pocket. She had spent hours helping him write it, but now that he was looking at the words in front of him they seemed wrong somehow. He couldn�t imagine himself standing up there and delivering this speech. It was too�clean. Too perfect. The prettiness of the words in front of him didn�t do justice to the ugliness of the war behind him.
�Mr. Potter?� Harry looked up to find that the Minister was watching him expectantly. Burning a fierce red, he again shoved the piece of parchment into his pocket, and stood up cautiously beside the other man.
�It is therefore my honour and privilege to present to you the Order of Merlin, First Class.� Barius announced, handing Harry the golden badge, and shaking his hand warmly. The applause was deafening, and the camera flashes were blinding. As soon as Harry stepped in front of the podium however, the stadium became dead silent. Harry cleared his throat.
�I just wanted to say-� Harry began.
�Mr. Potter?� Fawcett interrupted. �I�m sorry, but your voice?�
Harry�s face heated up once more as he performed the Sonorus charm so that the audience could hear him. He began again.
�I-� Harry stopped. He looked down at the crumpled parchment in front of him, then back out at the faces in front of him. He saw Hermione and the Weasleys in the front row, all smiling up at him encouragingly. Again, Harry tried to speak. But his throat had closed up and his mind had gone numb. He stood there, looking out at the thousands of people that had come here today. He wondered how many of them had lost a friend, a cousin, a sister, a parent, or a brother. How many were still grieving, like he was. Percy, Padma, Neville�the list went on and on. Deaths he had discovered at breakfast when the Daily Prophet owl swooped in, clutching the rolled up newspaper in its beak. Deaths that he had choked on, along with eggs and bacon that he had stopped tasting. Deaths that he felt responsible for. Harry began to shake. The faces were all blurring together, and Harry felt as though the stadium were spinning, round and round and-
He stopped suddenly as his eyes locked onto another�s. Harry took a deep breath, and focused on drawing strength from those eyes. The world slowly came back into focus. Reassured, Harry broke the glance as he put away the piece of parchment again. He stood a little straighter. And when he spoke, it was with both pride and defeat, and his quiet voice echoed throughout the stadium.
�It�s over.�
The audience sat expectantly, waiting. Seconds passed, and no one spoke. When it appeared as though that was all that was forthcoming, Molly Weasley stood up proudly, and began to clap. Eventually, one after another, the rest of them followed, until the stadium was filled with a thundering applause. Harry looked out again at the people in front of him, but this time his eyes fell immediately on one person, and one person alone.
Draco Malfoy sat among the crowd, not in the front with the Weasleys, but inconspicuously between a large woman wearing polka dots and a gentleman with a rather large boil on his face. Malfoy met Harry�s gaze evenly, and they simply stared back at one another. The former Slytherin nodded approvingly, and Harry smiled, returning the sentiment.

The war was over.

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A/N: I was originally intending to leave this as a one-shot, but a spark of inspiration has come to me to continue it. However, the spark might need a bit of encouragement, so I�d love to hear from you! Please let me know what you think, reviews make my day!
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White Roses