Chapter 4
"Draco Malfoy?"
Draco looked up from the book he was considering buying for Harry, and peered at the burly man in well-worn dark blue Aurors robes. "Yes?"
"You're under arrest for the murder of Magda Thomas." The Auror kept his voice cool and professional, but he didn't try disguising the eager glint in his eye. He grabbed Draco's arm and bound his hands tightly behind his back, briskly patting him down and confiscating his wand. He started to drag him from the store, causing Draco to stumble to keep his feet.
"Pardon?" Draco blinked in confusion. "I don't know where you're getting your information, but I've never even met the woman!" Draco fought to keep his calm, scrambling in a highly undignified manner to avoid falling. He was conscious of the gaping and whispering crowd that was gathering to observe his humiliation.
The Auror was clearly revelling in arresting one of the infamously slippery Malfoy's. He subtly yanked on Draco's arm, causing him to stumble again. "Of course you haven't." He sneered. "You may have gotten away with your sick predilections during the war, but we've finally got you." He leaned close and hissed into Draco's ear. "It's a different world now, and this time Harry Potter isn't here for you to bribe into testifying for you!" Draco's reply was lost as the Auror slapped a portkey against his chest, sending him to a Ministry holding cell in a swirl of colour, the eager gossiping of the witnesses ringing in his ears.
Harry stepped back and observed the table settings, then nodded with satisfaction. Spotless glasses, the pale blue and green fabric placemats that Draco had found and decided that Harry simply had to have, he'd even polished the cutlery. Draco would tease him mercilessly when he learned about that.
He glanced around the flat, looking for something out of place that he could tidy, but everything was as spotless as it always was. Harry wondered vaguely if his devotion to cleanliness was becoming obsessive, but decided it didn't really matter.
He returned to his food preparation, tossing the garden salad and checking the timer for the roast chicken. Taking a deep breath to calm the shaking of his hands as he cut the bread, he tried to ignore the anxious fluttering in his stomach. It didn't help.
Draco had shyly asked to be formally introduced as Harry's partner to Ron and Hermione. Harry had been reluctant, but had crumbled at his lover's unrelenting puppy eyes, muttering curses to himself for being so easily manipulated.
It wasn't that he didn't want to tell his friends; it was that he didn't want to deal with the furtive glances loaded with silent communication between Ron and Hermione, or the barely bitten back insults from Draco, or the inevitably stilted conversation and pregnant silences. But Draco had asked so sweetly, and Harry had been unable to find a logical reason to deny him, especially since they had been officially together for four months. Harry rubbed his eyes. Life was much simpler before Draco had found him.
The tingle of the wards let him know that someone had arrived. Walking to the door, Harry checked though the peephole before opening it. He already knew who it was, but old habits die hard, and he still hadn't lost some of the paranoia earned during the war. He wondered absently why he'd been comfortable enough to let Draco in without a check the first day he'd come back.
"Hey guys, come in," he greeted his friends, and stepped aside so the tall redheaded man and his petite brunette wife could enter. He took their cloaks and hung them up, avoiding their amused expressions at his fussing. He knew he was being ridiculous, but they understood his quirks when he felt stressed. Gesturing them towards the kitchen, he poured them some wine.
"You've been very secretive about your new lover," Hermione grinned. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."
Harry blushed and mumbled.
Hermione reached out and gently grasped his sweating hand. "Relax, Harry. You know we love you, and I'm sure we'll love her too."
He bit his lip and stared at their joined hands. "Um, it's a he, actually."
Ron grinned smugly and turned to Hermione, holding out his hand. "Pay up!" He pouted when she rolled her eyes and ignored him in favour of her wine.
Harry coughed to regain their attention. "Also, you know him. I know it might seem strange, but please believe me, he's very different now. And he makes me happy. I mean really happy. I know it's going to be awkward and difficult, but it would really mean a lot to me if you could all get along."
His friends frowned at him in confusion, and Harry wished desperately that he could regain his usual calm and confident manner. He felt like a teenager introducing his date to his parents.
"Mate, please tell me it isn't who I think it is." Ron placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and leaned down slightly to force eye contact.
Harry winced and fidgeted. "Er," he mumbled eloquently.
"Mate?" Ron was pleading now, and Harry squirmed.
Taking a deep breath, Harry blurted it out. "It's Draco Malfoy." He closed his eyes and braced for the shouting to begin.
Silence.
He cracked an eye open, to see Ron looking unusually solemn, and Hermione with her eyes wide and her hand lightly covering her mouth.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered.
Harry cleared his throat and stepped away slightly. Turning his head, he tucked his chin defensively, crossing his arms. "I know that you probably don't understand, but he really is different now." He knew he was repeating himself, but he couldn't stop. "He makes me happy. It's been so long since I felt anything approaching what I feel with him. He – he makes me feel alive again. Less afraid of being found. And he doesn't try to make me into something I'm not; he sees me for me, and he likes what he sees. He even likes the martial arts I do, and doesn't think my job beneath me." He shot a quick glance at Hermione and caught her guilty wince. "He accepts me, just as I am. I – I haven't said it to him yet, but I'm pretty sure I love him." Harry shrugged helplessly. "I want to be with him long term. Enough that I might even consider going back one day if he asked me too." His voice was shaking, and he knew he was getting slightly hysterical, but he didn't think he could control himself any better at that point in time.
Ron stepped towards him, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder again. "Um, mate, I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but I don't think Malfoy will be joining us tonight."
Harry looked up at him, suspicious.
Ron cleared his throat again and glanced helplessly at Hermione, before turning back to him. "He was arrested this morning."
"What? What for?" Harry felt himself paling and flushing in turns, so rapidly that he was slightly concerned he may faint at some point in the near future.
"Murder." Ron looked pained, but didn't try to soften the blow.
Dropping into his seat, Harry stared blankly for a few moments in shock. Murder? He closed his eyes, and watched as images of Draco flashed behind his lids. Blonde hair flashing and glinting in the sunlight. Pale skin flushed and expression hungry as he watched Harry work. Grey eyes shining and lips curling with laughter as they shared a picnic on the living room floor because it had rained and ruined their plans for the afternoon. Whispered prayers to unheeding gods as he came apart in Harry's arms.
No. It wasn't possible.
Harry opened his eyes, all traces of his previous anxiety gone. His green eyes were hard and his spine stiff. His magic crackled around him in an aura only just outside the visible spectrum. "Tell me everything."
Draco sat in the interrogation room, and tried to ignore the pain in his back and legs from the hard wooden chair. His hands were bound behind his back still, and the ache in his shoulders was becoming unbearable. Not that he would complain, of course. The Aurors had shown a positive delight in his discomfort, and he was quite unwilling to give them further ammunition.
He quietly observed the Auror opposite him. Auror Alex Mathieson was around forty, tall, painfully thin, and with a wispy blonde beard that hung in limp waves to his waist. Draco privately thought that the man would look better clean shaven, since his hair growth was so sparse it could barely be called a beard in the first place. It looked like he had stuck random threads to his chin.
"Mr Malfoy, you must understand how much trouble you are in." Mathieson leaned forward, hands clasped on the table between them. "You claim to have never met Miss Thomas, but you were seen entering and exiting her home on a regular basis for the past month by several witnesses." He gently opened his hands in a beseeching manner, inviting Draco to explain. He wore an earnest expression, and his body language invited confidences and confessions.
It was a tactic that had undoubtedly worked for him many times, but unfortunately for him, Draco was a master of such manipulations himself. He sat perfectly still, and kept his voice the same calm monotone he had been using for the past several hours. He couldn't tell exactly what time it was since there were no clocks or windows, but he estimated that it was late enough that Harry would know he was missing now. Maybe Weasley and Granger had told him what had happened. He vaguely recalled Harry mentioning that Weasley was an Auror. "It wasn't me. I didn't know her, and even if I did, I can't think of any reason why I would be visiting her."
"And yet you were seen leaving her home the night she was murdered." Mathieson's voice was soft, coaxing.
"I've already told you, I was with my boyfriend that night."
Mathieson leaned back in his chair, dropping the conciliatory air. "Ah yes, this mysterious boyfriend. The one that you refuse to name, even though he could provide you with an alibi."
Draco ruthlessly supressed the urge to glare, and kept his face neutral. "I've already explained that I'm under a vow that prevents me from giving you details about him."
"And why is that, I wonder?" Bored tones now, as he examined his fingernails.
"He's intensely private."
"Yes, I suppose imaginary people would be," Mathieson mused.
Draco hung onto his calm façade by the narrowest of margins. He knew very well what Mathieson's game was, and he refused to lose control and let the bastard win; especially since that would only make him look guiltier. Taking slow breaths, he kept his gaze locked onto the watery grey eyes opposite him, and maintained his silence. They had been at this for hours, and exhaustion was beginning to wear at him. They had presented him with the 'evidence', and Draco had to admit that it was a compelling argument for his guilt. Without being able to provide an alibi, there was no way that Draco could prove his innocence. Taking Veritaserum might have solved the issue, except that one poorly (or deliberately) worded question could lead to a violation of his vow and evoke the consequential loss of his magic.
He didn't delude himself that Harry would give up his self-imposed exile to swoop in dramatically and save him. He'd made it very clear that under no circumstances would he ever return, even for Draco. Even if Weasley and Granger had told him Draco's current predicament, he wouldn't come into the centre of Wizarding Britain just to release Draco from the vow; but unless he did, Draco was going to spend the next decade or more in Azkaban. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to sob.
Please Harry, please come for me…
