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After the death of Dumbledore, Harry’s thoughts about Malfoy had gone from violently curious about his status as a Death Eater, to worried for what this meant for the boy. Harry had been there for Dumbledore’s death. Stuck to the obscured underside of the astronomy tower, he had seen Malfoy’s fear, his sickness. He had seen the shadowed figures of Bellatrix and the surrounding Death Eaters leaching off of his lighter nature with ease, their claws ripping into him just as Sectumsempra had. A lamb surrounded by wolves, he was. And even more, he had seen him lower his wand. To Harry, this was all he needed to know of where Malfoy stood in terms of “light” or “dark”. But he also knew that without help—without a push from someone—that Malfoy was desperately alone. A coward he was and he shall stay, he would never willingly leave his position without the help of others. So at the Ministry, high off of adrenaline and misplaced trust, Harry seized his one and only chance.
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Lowkey abandoned, I’m so sorry. I may come back to this one day <\3

