Hello readers:

I am NOT the original author, I commited myself to translate this extremely amazing fanfic from Spanish written by a very talented writer, the way too much imaginative Zafy. I'm doing this because this fanfic is (I may dare to say) the best Spanish DRARRY M-rated story written so far. This incredible & wonderful story has captivated thousand (not kidding) of readers and received thousands (really not kidding) of reviews in all the fanfiction sites it has been published. So let me entertain you, and please be gentle with my translation, I'm from Mexico City, so writing on English isn't my best feature but I'm trying.

HARRY POTTER AND THE POTION MAKER

Original title: Harry Potter y el Fabricante de Pociones (buscalo así en FF si gustas leerlo en español)


Original Author's notes:

Hello everybody!

From the dungeon on my manor, in Lima, Peru, I raise myself with a new fanfic, an idea that I'd though long ago, my second idea for a fanfic actually, but for some reasons I couldn't brought it on paper earlier until this year (2009), so now here it is, please enjoy!

Warnings & Disclaimers (as always):

All characters (as you all know) are JKR's, I only gain the benefit of entertaining myself by writing about them. But what the characters might suffer from now on is on me.

This fanfic is slash, meaning a boyXboy relationship, if you don't like it then don't read it.

Here are gonna be abuses, intolerance, angst, drama, lemmon, death of more than one character, romance, mpreg and some sickly sweet scenes, so…you are warned.

(Warnings for this chapter: intolerance, drama, death)

Very well, now let's read.


HARRY POTTER AND THE POTION MAKER

FIRST BOOK: SUMMER

CHAPTER 1

"THE DOOM OF THE DEATH-EATERS"


'Each war is a destruction of the human spirit'.

(Cada guerra es una destrucción del espíritu humano)

By Henry Miller

July 20th of 1998, prison cells of the British Ministry, built on the dungeons to hold the large quantity of death-eaters waiting for the verdict gained for their participation of Voldemort's attempt to take control of the wizarding community…

His heart was beating too fast, faster than ever, the fear that was drowning him was by far the greatest he had felt in his life. Not even when he was near the Lord, or near his demented aunt Bella he felt this overwhelming panic. And there he was, only eighteen years old, almost about to face a court, knowing beforehand the result of his actions, knowing beforehand he was doomed. His father wouldn't be there to help him, neither Snape, nobody could ever defend him. He felt how his entire body trembled, and his eyes started to ache.

No, don't cry, don't, told himself as he raised one of his arms, heavier because of the chains that anchor them. Lowering slightly his head, his hand finally could wipe off the couple of tears that threatened to escape his eyes.

It's not bad to cry, we do it because we feel, should thank the fact that we could still feel, a voice in his head told him, a voice he hadn't heard in a long time and that missed that day more than ever.

He sighed softly -"Yarik", he said almost without voice, thinking on how it would be different if only they had run away as he asked him, but no, they hadn't do it, and now he was there, on that cold prison cell, just waiting.

He took a breath, expecting that the air that filled his lungs could bring him some kind of relief. He looked around again, as he had done it since he got locked there; the dirty gray walls, those grids taking his freedom away, his Hogwarts robe looking worst than the ones wore by the manor's house elves.

He needed no mirror to know how he looked. He thanked not having one to avoid watching himself, to avoid realizing how much defeated he was: alone, seated in the middle of a filthy cell, counting the days, hours, minutes that remained until someone would enter the door and take him in front of the court… that court who eventually would kill him. He almost could hear their voices rejoicing, damning him to the worst a wizard could receive: a dementor's kiss.

As he had done many times before, he cursed the moment Potter rescued him from that burning room, it would have been better to stay there, letting the flames consumed him, as happened with Crabbe… his friend Crabbe. He couldn't remember the time they meet each other; perhaps all life, that's why he couldn't remember it. Despite the war and everything that had happened, somehow they had changed and moved apart. He was certain that deep down they remained as the same kids playing in the manor while their fathers talked about business and their mothers were drinking tea in the garden. The war had destroyed that, their friendship, their bond… but still he thought that the tears for him were justified, perhaps.

A sudden noise brought him back from his thoughts, in front of him, two aurors were looking at him with a triumph smile.

"Malfoy, the smallest and vile of death-eaters, your hour have come", one of them told him with a mockery tone as the chains that bounded his arms and legs were released.

Draco tried not to let out a sigh of relief now he had been freed of those ties but instead he gave them the best look of hatred he could manage. He stood up and walked toward they air worthy.

"Just look at this kid…", muttered the second auror.

"Hope this one doesn't scream so much as his father when he dies".

Draco felt that information made a deep hole through his heart; his father was through the trial, his father had died. He avoided showing any emotion, while feeling how his legs started shaking. Soon his lungs wouldn't let pass the air, and his heart would keep beating too fast. He raised his head even more and with a dignity he no longer felt, he walked with pretended firm steps. The aurors held him on each arm. The dark corridor from which he had entered some time before, who knows how much time ago, seemed so much frightening. He forced himself to keep walking, to finally face his destiny.

He was forcefully pushed through a bog gate, a new room with better lightning stood in front of him, it had some small chairs around, but he wasn't welcomed to none of them so he remained stood. In front of him was another door, hearing whispers he tried to figure out some talking, but couldn't make it. One of the aurors held a little bottle with a transparent fluid and forced him to drink it, Veritaserum, Draco thought before swallowing the liquid.

"Now you will tell the whole truth…", whispered the auror that made him drink.

"No more lies, nor excuses Malfoy", the second auror said, although that comment took Draco off guard, he didn't let the surprise into his face.

Suddenly the gate opened and the noise from the other room stopped, a red-haired freckled guy, Weasley thought Draco, looked at him for two seconds before indicate the aurors to grab his arms and to pull him into the new room's interiors.

Draco was tied rapidly to a chair, the chains around his arms were too tight, bruising the skin, and another chains crept up to his legs, forcing them near even more to the chair's legs. The blond raised his head and watched a great tribunal before him, everyone wearing maroon robes, surprised that most of them were looking at him with pity, feeling sorry for him.

He composed his gaze, he wouldn't be weak, not now nor never, not even if those were the last minutes of his life, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of letting know that Draco Malfoy looked defeated or frightened.

"Did he drank the Veritaserum?", the red-haired asked to the two aurors, both nodded.

"Speak your name", said a voice from one of the wizards.

Draco felt that the words coming out at their own will without any thinking from him at the process.

"Draco Malfoy".

"Well, Mr. Draco Malfoy, do you understand you are here to be judged for your involvement in Tom Marvolo Riddle's plans, a.k.a. Voldemort?", The sound of random whispering and little jabber filled the accommodation for a few seconds, however the man remained speaking, ignoring them –"For letting pass, on June 1996, some death-eaters into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? For taking part in the planning of ex-headmaster Albus Dumbledore's murder? And because of your participation in the last battle trying to help out death-eaters?", told him the voice of a wizard that Draco recognized as Kingsley's.

"Yes".

"Are you guilty of all the previously mentioned?", Another question from Kingsley.

"Yes".

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, we have witnesses and proves that indicate that your participation in all of this actions were somewhat…coerced for the fact of being death threatened both of your parents and yourself, is this right?"

Draco couldn't help but wonder, had someone testified that? That was impossible, or maybe his father or mother, trying to save him, had confessed…

"Yes, it is", he muttered without even noticing the moment the words left his lips.

"You don't have the dark mark on your arm, why is the reason of this?"

"The Lord marks your arm only if you kill someone under his name, something I was never capable of", Draco was astonished because of his own answers that he couldn't control.

"Did you were somehow tortured by Voldemort to force you to murder someone?"

"Yes, on more than one occasion".

"Then you could never kill someone, despite the torture. What was the reason?"

"I'm not a murderer, I'm not capable of doing so".

A new murmur filled the room, Kingsley raised his hand for silence before continuing talking.

"Were there another punishments after the failed attempts of murdering?"

"Yes".

"What exactly were these punishments?"

"Cruciatus in general, although sometimes he used spells I didn't knew".

"Was there any posterior consequence to this punishments?"

"Yes, I spent some days in bed, due to some of the tortures".

Draco inwardly cursed himself for those responses, but he was already resigned for not having anything he could do about it.

"Dumbledore offered his help to you and your family, before the group of death-eaters interrupted him in the Astronomy Tower, on June 1996; do you wanted to accept the aid?"

"Yes", Draco couldn't help but wonder how it was that they knew what happened in the tower, only him and Dumbledore would know.

"When Harry Potter was captured along with Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley and taken to the Malfoy Manor, you refused to recognize them in front of your parents and your aunt Bellatrix, did you knew it was them?"

"Yes, I knew it from the beginning".

"Why you didn't reveal their identity?"

"If I revealed who they were, the Lord would had come and killed them, the least I wanted was the Lord returning home to continue torturing and humiliating us…"

"During the last battle did you tried to capture Potter in the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes".

"Then what happened?"

"Crabbe…", his throat closed in a known way and he begged to not start crying before them –"Crabbe died and Potter rescued me from the room on fire".

"Why you tried to capture Potter? Did you want to take him to Riddle?"

"It was the only way they would let me go out of the school and leave the battle, I only wanted all to stop and be reunited with my parents, I feared for them".

"After Potter left you in the hallway, after the fire, did you went into the battle?"

"No".

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to participate nor be there, I just wanted to go home, wanted everything to end", Draco noticed how his words sounded a little bit choky, he tried to inhale to calm himself.

"And then what did you do?"

"I tried to get out of the school, to run away, I didn't have my wand nor a way to defend myself and many of the death-eaters that were fighting didn't let me pass…"

"What happened to your survivor classmate Gregory Goyle?"

"He…", Draco tried to remember but he couldn't, after being rescued by Potter he had dragged his friend's body behind one of the demolished columns, soon after he woke up they started to argue about Crabbe's death, and finally they split up, Goyle swearing revenge to Potter and his friends despite they had rescued him from the fire, although Draco knew deep down that Goyle thought the one and only responsible for their friend's death was Draco –"He decided to fight and we split up" it hurt him to say it, it sound like betrayal, but he couldn't help himself from answering. He bowed his head trying to not look at the jury.

"Mr. Malfoy, now tell us the names of the death-eaters you knew, those ones you knew that carried the dark mark and worked on Tom Riddle's behalf", Kingsley asked, while extracting a long parchment from a pile of the same material piled up in a precarious balance on his side and looked at him with plenty of attention.

Draco swallowed before speaking again. He began by mentioning his father, Kingsley answered that he had been judged, then the blond continued with Mr. Crabbe, both Goyle father and son and Mr. Nott, and with everyone he had seen in the manor that were summoned by the dark mark. At every name that he pointed out Kingsley was tagging "judged" or "lost in battle".

When Draco thought of Theron Forsyth, the name of Yarik's father, and Kingsley said "lost in battle", Draco could not help but feel relief in his chest, at least that guy was death, he hadn't been spared. He continued talking during another long time, an endless time he thought, until his mind seemed to be empty, without anything to say anymore.

"Well, I think we have enough", Kingsley said looking satisfied and addressing the other wizards –"I don't see why go further with the interrogation, we got everything we wanted, unless someone would wants to add something…"

There were an awareness whispering in the room and Draco inhaled deeply again, the end was near. He wondered if with his soul getting sucked by the dementor, he finally would be able to rest and stop feeling because his body will turn onto a empty unfeeling shell… after all of this that was kind of appealing, whilst it didn't hurt him everything will be fine. He raised the head and waited the verdict with the most dignified look he could manage.

"Sir Minister", said the voice of a white-haired fat woman on the tribunal –"I just want to tell my Wizengamot fellows that this boy was only a child when he was forced to take part of Voldemort's ranks and, by what I've heard, is more than obvious that, as Potter said, we must not confuse him with Lucius".

Draco couldn't help the surprised grim on his face, what were they talking about? Did Potter went over there, just to speak on his behalf?

"I understand what you are talking about, Irina", said another wizard on the tribunal at the right side of Draco –"but he was capable of choosing already, right?"

"Oh, come on Pierre", answered the first witch to which Draco was now looking more closely –"you know that at the age of sixteen one doesn't has too much options".

"Even more so when your parents may die by your decisions", provided a third wizard, younger than the previous two. Draco followed the conversation that the wizards held at the court turning his face from one side to the other, still without believing or understanding what they were discussing.

"Perhaps the decision that he should had took was to get away from their parents", the wizard under the name of Pierre almost yelled, and Draco couldn't stop himself once he heard those words.

"Abandon my parents?", Draco shouted out pulling the chains that secured his arms trying to stand up –"Who would betray their parents like that?", he felt how the chains cut through his wrists' flesh but didn't care –"If I didn't do it they would die, and I'm not a murderer!"

A much stronger murmur arose from the room while the aurors tried to get Draco to sit properly.

"Silence please!", Kingsley said while knocking the table, bit by bit the other wizards kept silence.

"I am NOT a murderer, nor a TRAITOR", Draco kept yelling, one of the aurors hit him on the stomach and he felt how the air left his chest, he dropped into the chair again while taking mouthfuls of air trying to response.

"See…that's what you want to set free in our streets?", said Pierre standing up and pointing him with one finger –"A man, yes, a man, Irina, 'cause that's what he is, not a boy", he remained speaking and turning to the witch to look at her accusingly –"A man that can't control himself, who reacts this aggressively at the first thing he doesn't like".

"I would react like that too if someone told me to leave my parents and let them to be executed", said the younger wizard also standing up –"And I don't think that hitting the prisoners is allowed", he added visibly upset to the aurors, who took a couple steps away from Draco with an ashamed look.

"That is why the ones that are so young like Bonaccord shouldn't be part of the Wizengamot", Pierre said directly to Kingsley –"they don't have too much experience".

"Oh, don't start Pierre, the boy who defeated Voldemort will turn eighteen just in a few days, I'm not as young as him, although it is quite a compliment coming from you", Bonaccord said with a sarcastic smile towards Pierre.

"Also disrespectful are they…", whispered Pierre with an angry red face, his dark eyes looking turning from Bonaccord to Kingsley like if he was waiting some answer or apology.

"Well, I think it's enough", Kingsley said standing up –"This is turning into a circus". The entire room remained silent, Kingsley gave them an approval glance before sitting down and continuing speaking. "We have heard everything we need to, now we just need to decide, I don't want any other personal opinion".

Draco felt his heart beating with strength again, after all the disputation, the moment of his sentence finally came, nevertheless the conversation remained spinning around on his head, that Potter had talked with them, but about what? Or why? He acknowledged sadly that it was likely for him to be sent to the grave with those questions.

"Giving the nature of this case, we'll opt for a secret voting, so my assistant Percy will levitate the amphora and collect your votes". An approving whispering began while Percy walked to the front with a little cup similar to the one used on the Three Wizards Tournament. "The ones in favor of the young Draco Malfoy's reintegration to the wizarding community, under the laws and dispositions known, must give a positive vote; the ones against it and that wish to condemn Draco Malfoy to life imprisonment on Azkaban for his participation in Riddle's ranks, must give a negative vote".

Draco blinked and almost raised his hand to demand an explanation, there wasn't a dementor's kiss between the options, that was worst than he imagined, he would be doomed to a life imprisonment. He remembered how his father returned from prison, the little chats that he was able to hear hidden from his parents about this matter, about how horrible was the whole experience, and Draco always believed that it was way too better to be death instead of passing time along with dementors and other wizards yelling and asking for death. He swallowed hard at watching the little amphora that was floating from place to place by the 50 wizards that integrate the Wizengamot. The young wizard, the one called Bonaccord give him a warm smile when the first put his vote inside the cup, but Draco was way too nervous to correspond the gesture.

Few seconds passed but Draco felt them like hours, whilst Percy finished his task and then center himself in the room, at the farthest point from Draco, and started counting the votes aloud marking themselves in middle air: Yes, no, yes, yes, no, no, no, yes, yes, yes…

Draco felt his stomach shrinking during the counting, closing his eyes he tried to fade away the buzz in his ears, surely they would consider the whole process as a torture, hearing one by one the votes, the maddening slowness in which Weasley made the votes levitate to place them on the imaginary board on the middle of the court, the far sound of a ticking clock he recently noticed, sighs and sounds from small talks between the Wizengamot members… If he had had the freedom to stand up and scream because of the desperation, the need to know, he would…

It was his life they were talking about, it was his life they were deciding, his life, a life that wouldn't exist any longer, wouldn't have any longer, that did he ever had? Maybe not, always linked to his parents' wishes, friends', society's, to the Dark Lord's and the death-eaters' desires, yes, perhaps, after all it wasn't his life, it was all of them; suddenly loosing it wasn't too disturbing. He opened the eyes just to watch Weasley levitate the last vote to the side with a "yes" above on the board, he tried to count quickly but Weasley was quicker.

"We have twenty-eight 'yes' and twenty-two 'no', Sir Minister".

A great whispering and commotion rised from the tribunal once again, while small pieces of insults like "Death-eater", "slicker", "murderer" arrived into Draco's ears, but he wasn't paying attention and was looking the board without understanding: 28 against 22, that meant…it really meant? It was so good he didn't even dare to think about it.

"Please", yelled Kingsley –"this is unacceptable", the entire accommodation was silent again, Draco wandered his gaze, watching how some of them looked at him with scary hatred, others with expressionless faces, only Bonnacord and the other wizard by his side were openly smiling at him. Draco looked away, feeling lightly embarrassed, while Kingsley continued talking.

"Now that we all have recovered our composure, is your turn, Mr. Draco Malfoy". Draco raised his gaze towards the new Minister, who seemed very important.

"Yes, Sir", he said almost as a whisper, he felt embarrassed from the lack of confidence of his voice, but thought that given the case it would seemed appropriate to look humble in front of those ones looking at him as he were the worst disaster in person.

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Draco shifted himself uncomfortably in the chair, while squeezed his hands. He decided that it was impossible to remaining seated, he was extremely nervous, so he stood up, the two aurors that were flanking him –not the ones that guarded him during his trial− gave him an uneasy glance, but Draco ignored them knowing they couldn't quarrel him just because he stood up from the seat. He raised his head glancing the small clock that was hanging in one of the walls near to the door, it was marking 10:50 AM, in about ten minutes someone would come for him and would take him to his mom's new house.

He unnecessarily smoothed the dark robe that his mother sent him that very morning. At the beginning he was happy he could stopped using the grease, dirty, broken, and even burnt Hogwarts robe, but at the very moment he put on the 'new one' his humor felt completely, not even the pauper Weasley dressed something with such a poor quality. The minister Kingsley himself informed him during the trial that all their wealth, properties, affairs, stocks, and anything his family had owned were expropriated by the Ministry. Until then he believed things couldn't be worst but never thought about the possibility of being gold-less, it was weird, he'd imagined himself death, soul-sucked, or imprisoned for life on Azkaban several times, but never without any money that could provide him another better life. Yesterday back on his cell, he was really frightened, with a gloomy anything-can-happen perspective from now on.

He reached into his pocket for the copy of the commitment he had signed after the judgment, in which laid all the actions prohibited to him as well his new obligations. He must've it with him always in case any law had changed, or to reach him if he needed to know of any information or citation. When he signed it in front of the tribunal, he was so shocked to bother himself to read it, he just scrawled his name in every point he was indicated, and then he only left returning to his cell without any thought, creasing the parchment. He knew the commitment's content more or less, because the minister explained him some important points, but to be honest, his head still was spinning around while he kept nodding as if he was paying attention. He smoothed a little the parchment and started to read:

1. You have the obligation to conclude your studies on the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry

intends to reintegrate you to the society and to fulfill this, you need to be completely qualified as wizard.

2. In case of having no resources to do so (issue #1), the Minister will take care of such expenses.

Draco stopped reading, his stomach was revolving because of the waiting, and those two first commitments were causing him worst discomfort, how they supposed he would go back to a place where everyone would hate him for sure? It'd be worst now he hadn't any money or supporting, he didn't even know if Goyle would be there to help him like before… He took a moment to remember they used to be three and now Crabbe would be no more. It still hurts.

He folded the contract and put it back into his pocket to read it later, when he would be beside his mother, away from that place. He tried to ease his hair, that very morning before dressing, the aurors let him to take a bath on a dirty and almost destroyed shower cabin that only had freezing water, he spent the few moments there death frozen, at least he counted with a small soap and a shabby towel…Not minding his attempt to shower, he remained feeling dirty and uncomfortable, he couldn't wait longer to sink himself into a hot bath tub and leave his body to finally rest, perhaps by a couple days at least.

He looked the clock one more time, 10:59, sighing there it was, finally his departing hour. He remained standing, looking at the door with attention, as if by that he could force the time to go faster.

The door opened and a very young woman in a sky-blue robe gave him an annoyed glance, behind her entered a couple aurors.

"Mr. Malfoy", she said with contempt –"your wand", she added handing him the wand he thought was lost. He almost asked how they get it, but the woman continued speaking imposingly. "The aurors will cast a localization spell and will erase every spell ever performed until this moment".

Draco nodded and handed the wand to the aurors, not without a certain sense of loss, now he had recovered it. One auror whispered a few words and a little silver gleam lighted the wand just a second, the other one waved his wand and emerged a red light, both aurors nodded in agreement and handed it back to Draco. "We'll be waiting for you in thirty days for your revision, as it is stipulated on the commitment".

"Ok", answered Draco while anxiously taking his wand between his hands again, the familiarity and security it provided made him smile.

"You can leave now, there is a portkey waiting outside to take you with your mother", the second auror told him pointing the door that Draco was looking at for the past hour.

"My mother didn't come?", Draco inquired a little bit confused to the woman that was giving her back to him now.

"Poor creature, he needs his mommy!", answered the woman in a mocking tone to one auror that just smiled sardonically before turning to Draco, who was already squeezing his wand stronger trying to control the desire to respond with a barbed comment.

"Behind that door there is a portkey waiting for you, Mr. Malfoy", repeated the woman pronouncing the last two words with much more disdain than before.

Draco sighed, that wasn't much more than a little taste of what would be waiting for him from this moment and he knew it, he hadn't any choice but adapt to this new life or to die trying and he wasn't giving up.

A Malfoy does not give up, he repeated again and again while walking toward the indicated door, with his head up he walked his way as his parents had taught him.

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She was waiting, she was used to wait by now, it was the only thing she could do, the only one. Her usefulness was reduced to nothing this occasion; there was nothing she could do to help her family, to help his son. The dices had been threw, and she was praying, begging that this time the luck would be on her side.

She was the first of the three Malfoy to be judged. She didn't knew by the moment but the newly published 'Daily Prophet' had made a huge party out of them, there was a magical count-down board in it to let the wizarding community know the days left before "The great trial of the Malfoy family", that's how they named it. She really thanked being so isolated to ignore everything they were saying about them, about the bets regarding their verdict, because that would end destroying the little sense remaining on her mind when she was locked on that place. On that horrible place.

The prison cell was completely gray and barely lighted by the rays from a lamp on the hallway. Chains in her wrists and feet tied her to one of the walls with the exact distance to move around the cell, sure, only if she wanted to carry the chains' weight. It was an unfair treatment, it seemed to her, she didn't had her wand which meant it was nothing she could do inside the cell. That was only for the pleasure to watch them humiliated. Having them feeling like the slag that now they represented to the society. And they feel like it.

All that nights without sleeping, waiting, crying in her weakest moments, she always thought of them, constantly praying for them to be fine. Thinking of Draco and how cruel was the destiny for dooming a boy to prison just for following his parents' ideals. Thinking of Lucius and almost resigned knowing that if there were someone who wouldn't escape with life through that situation, it would be her husband. She still remembered the guilty she felt during those last days, when she and Lucius forced Draco to return to the school, when she hadn't been able to talk with him for a last time, loosing the opportunity to amend with her son. She also remembered that explicit moment, during the last battle…

Flashback

Narcissa was retorting her hands and walking from side to side, stopping only when an explosion rumble came from the castle, each one stronger than the last one. Then she just whispered without daring to watch "Don't let it be Draco, not Draco!", before starting to walk again from side to side.

The faded sound from Lucius' steps made her turn quickly, watching her husband walking slowly, dragging one leg slightly, with his robe hanging in pieces and the marks from the last Lord's torture remaining visible. Everyone was forbidden to heal him with magic.

"What did he said?", she demanded grabbing his shabby robe –"Is he going to stop it?"

Lucius denied it with his head, not being able to pronounce any word, the slap he received across his face wasn't hurting him as bad as the pain he felt because of his incapacity to help his son. He just stood there, ashamed.

"It's your fault!", yelled Narcissa –"You filled his head with those ideas, you told him that to obey the Lord was the right thing to do". Narcissa stepped back a couple steps feeling unable to remain near his husband another second.

"I have to bring Snape", murmured Lucius after another explosion was heard and they watched how one of the towers crumbled apart.

"Bring my son back!", Narcissa demanded when Lucius was leaving with tired steps, the man stopped one moment but didn't turn around and barely nodded before getting away completely.

Narcissa followed his track until she lost his sight, she knew Lucius was suffering, she knew he regretted a lot of things, like the last fight he had with Draco, even more of having dragged him to the middle of an endless battle, but she also knew that if Draco didn't return, if Lucius didn't bring him back…she would never forgive him, nor herself, she should have made Draco to escape, she should have helped him to run away with him, but now it was too late…

Flashback End

The radio that, until then, sounded very gently with a honeyed melody and somewhat exasperating, stopped its transmission and Narcissa stepped out of her thoughts getting the volume up, she knew what would happen next, she had heard the news during the past fifteen days, the number of days she had spent outside, the broadcaster informed about the verdicts of the ex-death-eaters…

"As a completely unprecedented and contrary-to-what-everyone-thought decision", the announcer began to report eagerly –"today at 4:35 p.m. the Wizengamot dismissed the session, releasing the son of the very well known death-eaters Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy…"

Narcissa dropped herself onto the wooden chair she had been laying all morning; she knew from the news on the radio, that Draco's trial was that day. She couldn't be near the Ministry and much less visit her son, so she waited sitting on that place she now called home, lacking any other option, as she did when Lucius's trial took place, whilst others were deciding the life of the two men she loved.

"We've been informed of some disturbs on the Ministry's Atrium…", the man's voice said after a moment of silence –"Yes indeed, apparently some wizards and witches dislike the verdict and had decide to show their discontent by blocking the Atrium…", the narrator seemed to repeat what someone else was informing him at the moment, Narcissa clenched her fists, feeling anger against all those people trying to condemn a boy to something so horrible as the prison, his boy. "The aurors are dispersing them, repeating, the manifestation it's being scattered apart, so it is better to not go nearby …", the broadcaster seemed to be wordless by a moment, Narcissa held her breath, she wouldn't be happy until having his son safe at home, hoping this last occurred soon. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I've been informed that the disturbance is over, the minister himself came out asking the gathered people to leave the Atrium and he'll offer a press conference tonight, don't worry, you'll be able to hear each and every important news here at your favorite frequency 'TWR'**. And before ending this transmission let's do a count, it's been a total of thirty-seven high-ranked death-eaters already judged, being Draco Malfoy the second released; the first one was Narcissa Malfoy. There are rumors talking about that it was Harry Potter himself the one that pleaded for both of them before each trial, this apparently because of a life debt, although as always happens with 'the great savior of the wizarding world' we haven't been confirmed. Until now the shortest condemn given by the Wizengamot it's the one bestowed to Gregory Goyle, who according to many witnesses took part of the final battle, although he doesn't have the dark mark and didn't kill anyone, he was condemned to forty years at the new high-security prison of Azkaban. The most severe dictums were, as the wizarding community demanded, death penalty, which has been given to twenty of the thirty-seven judged death-eaters. It's an interesting twist the releasing of Draco Malfoy, though, 'cause everyone thought he would received life imprisonment after his participation on Albus Dumbledore's murder. It seems that the Wizengamot was way too much condescending with him, receiving the same sentence as the low-ranked followers of you-know-who, a number of wizards and witches ascending hundreds. We know that the Malfoy family does not longer count with any of its wealth that characterized and made them so influential, so now we only have to trust the Wizengamot's criteria to be the correct and not one that risks the community by letting out one of the youngest death-eaters, not caring, as I think, if he carries or not the dark mark on his arm, he's a death-ea…", Narcissa decided she had heard enough, his son had been released and that's what mattered, the only think that was important now. It would be better for her to prepare everything for his arrival, she knew that their lives would be tough from now on, but at least she had her son by her side.

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Draco didn't notice how long he had been locked in until the day before, when he read the date 'July 20th, 1998' written inside the commitment, he could swear has spent years, even decades on prison. During the first week he spent on that cell he tried to keep the days but resigned shortly, thinking that it was better to not know, it would prevent desperation.

Now with the commitment inside his pocket and the wand on hand, while approaching to an empty butterbeer bottle –the portkey− to return home with his mother, he suddenly felt all that horrible dark days against his shoulders; more than three months without looking at the real sky, moon or sun, without looking at his parents… He changed his trail of thoughts now he was nearer the more-than-a-normal bottle, he didn't want to think of his parents yet, he didn't know what happened to his dad, only that he was death, but his mother was out, waiting for him somewhere, and that was pleasant enough, for the moment.

"Ten seconds, Malfoy", said the bored voice of an auror behind him.

Draco nodded indifferently, starting his own counting backwards on his mind, his heart was raising and his breathe was unease, he was just at seven when he felt a pressure against the stomach that only got bigger. For a very long time, he seemed, his body was pushed and pulled in every direction, while colors and lights flashed by his eyes changing fast. His ears started to buzz, but suddenly floor was against his feet. He bent a little his legs to prevent from falling, and when he finally kept his balance he opened the eyes, although he couldn't remember when he closed them. He blinked a couple times trying to adjust to the brilliant light that illuminated the whole room. He dropped the bottle/portkey that made a grave annoying noise, although it didn't broke. But Draco only cared about the figure before him, the woman standing in front, who was looking at him in that manner that made his heart warmer and his confidence bigger; the way his mother looked at him.

Narcissa tightened her lips a bit, watching as her son materialized in front of her, by an instant she didn't know what to do, her muscles and extremities were petrified and the only think she was able to do was to simply look at him, looking every bruise, every hair out of place, how skinny he was, his injured hands that held the wand with way too much strength. His gaze, one so similar to Lucius', his eyes and features, he seemed slightly frightened or perhaps surprised.

Their moves were synchronized, both of them taking a couple steps through the room and reencountering into a loving and strong hug, a hug that spoke of pain, of regret, of longing… Draco left himself drown into his mom's warmth and thought that remain like this forever would be splendid, feeling protected inside that place, where he knew nothing bad would happen. He felt his mother's warm tears running through his neck, and for the first time since he was imprisoned, he followed Narcissa and cried along. He was crying because of the happiness of seeing her, for the sorrow of his lost friends, for his father, for the unknown future, he was crying because, after all, he was just an eighteen years old boy that was dragged into a hostile world…he was crying because he didn't know what else to do.

N/A:

*Gregory Goyle: In fact on the 7th book it wasn't explained what happened with Goyle after the fire, the next time Draco is seen is when he is trying to escape in the lobby, but by himself. Goyle wasn't mentioned either during the last moment in the Great Hall, nor when everyone is free from Voldemort, so I'll suppose that he went to fight on Voldemort's favor and that's why Draco (that only cares to escape) split up with him.

**TWE: The wizard radio (from original Spanish version)…not so clever I know.


Author's notes:

Thank you very much to everyone that read this.

Did you like it? Please send me your opinions/complaints/suggestions/questions^ because I gladly will read and answer all of them.

Next chapter:

"CHAPTER 2: AFTER WAR, HARRY'S TALE"

Kisses to everyone.

Zafy (Pao)


Translator's notes:

Well, I really hope I did a decent job translating this, the (^) above is to let you know that I do want to know what do you think, either if you want an answer from me or the original author, 'cause surely I'll let her know about each and everyone of your reviews.

And if someone is interested in taking the job as my beta-reader (Spanish beta-reader was Luni), I'll be extremely happy, I do need one, 'cause as you already read, my English need to be polished. Please let me know if I screw something, like typos, grammar, syntax or any other mistake. And now because this is the first time I'm publishing and I do want to hook you up I will give you another chapter, so go on.

Hononotenshi