Chapter 8: Stay
It's a crisp, cold afternoon and one figure can be seen sitting alone in the sunlight, a green scarf tightly bound around his neck. It's much too cold to be sitting by the lake, but it's one of the few spots he has refuge from the glares and skirting eyes. Draco's shoulders are hunched over and his head is bent low as he reads the front page of the Daily Prophet.
STUDENT FOUND DEAD AT HOGWARTS
Authorities are confirming that Blaise Zabini, age 18, was discovered dead on Sunday Nov. 1st at approximately 2am. He was discovered by none other than Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, who was on trial this past June for aiding and abetting in murder.
"And found innocent", he adds bitterly.
His father is currently on trial for illegal use of the unforgivables, involvement as a Death Eater, treason, espionage and murder.
Draco nearly chokes on his coffee. Treason? That charge was definitely new. He didn't know there was any evidence that his father was actively plotting the downfall of the Ministry. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, but quickly becomes unnerved by the fact that the other charges do not faze him. Perhaps because they're all likely true.
Although post mortem reports have specified that the cause of death is an unintentional fall, and that homicide seems most improbable, many students fear that is not the case: "I find it suspicious that [Draco] Malfoy was in the Forbidden Forest to begin with, especially with Harry [Potter], who's quite vulnerable right now - " Donald Greenwood said to us in an exclusive interview. Greenberg, who is a witness in the Lucius Malfoy trials, happens to be a close friend of Harry Potter. "I think people forget how dangerous [Draco] Malfoy is, he was a Death Eater after all..."
Draco can't read anymore of this filth. He crumbles up the Daily Prophet aggressively and throws it away without looking.
"Ow," Potter utters in surprise, as the ball of lies bounce off his face.
"Sorry," Draco says without meaning. "Didn't see you."
"S'Okay. Can I sit?"
"You sure you want to risk being alone with me? I'm dangerous after all," Draco asks with icy sarcasm.
Potter sits down next to him wordlessly, tightening his red scarf around his neck before he wraps his arms around his knees and hugs them in close to him. The dark circles under his eyes tell Draco he hasn't been sleeping well since he last saw him, and Draco understand that all too well. Potter turns towards him and in a gentle voice says, "I'm sorry about Blaise."
Draco clenches his jaw tightly as he nods once, stiffly. He stares straight ahead of him and avoids looking at Potter, fighting the burning sensation in his eyes. He's glad that Potter can't see his expression because he's sure he looks pathetic. Worse than being accused of murder is the fact that no one cares that he and Blaise were once friends. He still can't comprehend how only moments ago, he was alive. Yes, they weren't speaking, but that was by choice, and now he'll never have a chance to change that. Potter understands this. He's the only one who acknowledges Draco's regret, and for that he feels … grateful.
"About that night ..." he continues with evident discomfort, distracting Draco's thoughts. "I'm sorry I kind of lost it."
"Don't be," Draco says stiffly. He was hoping they would never speak of it. It was all too confusing to him to really care about right now. "Forget it."
"You have to understand, that's never happened before. I never lose control like that." Draco lifts one eyebrow skeptically, but doesn't say a word. Seeming to have felt his disbelief, Potter hastily clarifies, "I know I'm not the best example of control, but I've never lost it in the face of danger. How else could I have survived all these years?"
Draco shrugs. "Then what happened?"
"I don't know. I was in a sort of trance. When I saw the unicorn, like really saw it, I forgot I was blind. Then it was gone and the truth of that fact just really - hit me hard. I feel -I felt - that I would never see again." Potter huddles his knees in closer to himself, looking small. "I've been pretending this doesn't bother me, that I'll be fine like I always am, but what if this is it? What if I'm blind for the rest of my life?" He casts his face down, tucking his chin into his scarf.
The urge to say or do something to make Potter feel better momentarily makes him forget his own pain. But who is he fooling? Draco has such little practice in that art of comforting. He sighs as he edges closer to the Gryffindor, letting his right shoulder brush against his left. Draco doesn't have any words of kindness to offer, all he has is his honesty. "I don't know if you'll ever see again… But even if that's the case you'll still be you, Harry-bloody-Potter." He's pleased to see his lips twitch in amusement. "Who knows? Maybe a little stronger for it." It should perplex Draco that Potter is confiding in him and even more so that he wants to comfort him, but it doesn't. Something has shifted between them without him noticing.
"Stronger for it? I'd rather be happy," he says a way that is meant to sound casual, but it doesn't fool either of them.
"Happiness is overrated," Draco responds dryly.
"How would you know?" Potter smirks briefly, knowing full well that Draco doesn't know, but then the implication of his words sink in and make him wince, as if the thought of Draco not knowing happiness hurts him.
"I just know you would never be satisfied with mere happiness." Hs smirks back. "You're too concerned being other things, likebeing good. I always felt like happiness was beneath you."
He's glad to see that he's finally managed to make him smile, be it a small, unsure one. "Yeah, fuck being happy. You and I, we're above that - better than the rest."
"Well, speak for yourself. Everyone's convinced I'm less than scum." Draco mimics Potter's stance, wrapping his arms around his legs and tucking them in close as he looks absently into the lake. Maybe they're right.
It's now Potter's turn to bump his shoulder against Draco's playfully. "Everyone thinks a lot of things."
And what do you think? The question is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds himself back. He doesn't care what Potter thinks. Or maybe he's afraid to find out. Draco searches for something to say to distract his thoughts. "When you, erm… found Blaise, why were you touching his face?"
He sees Potter shift uncomfortably. "I heard that some blind people can recognize a face by touching it, like their hands can see. In my panic, I guess... I thought it would work."
"What did you … see?"
"Nothing. I've never done that before so it wouldn't have work. But I think there's some merit to it. There's this one quill I always use because it spills less than the others. I always manage to pick it out."
"I wouldn't be able to tell," Draco drawls. "Your hands are always covered in ink. It's damned disgraceful." He surprises himself when he snatches Potter's right hand. The gesture vividly reminds him of the last time he did that. Ignoring the swelling sensation in his chest, he turns his hand over, analyzing it against the harsh light of the day. "Ahah! I count exactly five inkblots. Five, Potter." His thumb runs over one dark splotch, and he's pleased to learn how rough and warm the skin is.
Potter nervously laughs and snatches his hand back. "How do I know you're telling the truth? I think you're a comfortable liar."
"Why thank you. I suppose you'll just have to trust me."
"Pfff. Like that'll ever happen." This sounds like sarcasm, which Draco is glad for. Then Potter does something strange, he lifts his hand to his nose and sniffs. "I see you have a point though."
"Is this another power of yours? Ability to smell disgrace?"
He likes the way Potter's face changes when he breaks out in genuine laughter. "More like an ability to smell absolutely anything. Ever since I became blind."
Draco absently wonders if he has a distinctive smell, but a realization dawns on him, distracting him. "I've noticed something about you!" he says. "You've never used that word before - blind. Now you can't stop saying it."
"Really?" Potter asks. "I don't think so. Would have been impossible to not say it."
"No, it's true!" Draco says with enthusiasm, glad to know something about Potter that no one else does. "Maybe you're finally accepting the fact that you're not invincible. I think you should try the Legere spell. It might work now."
"Meh…" Potter whines in a lazy manner.
"Potter, indolence doesn't suit you. Here, I have spare ink and parchment." He begins to rummage his pockets, too damn excited for his own good.
"Maybe another time, Draco." Draco sharply turns his head towards him, his eyes wide with astonishment. He looks for any signs of unease or embarrassment on his face, but it seems Potter hasn't noticed what he's just said. "That's just another thing I don't want to deal with right now," Potter continues absently, staring emptily into the lake. Draco tilts his head and continues to stare at Potter in slight horror. Are we on first name basis?
"Harry!" A voice calls out a few meters away.
Both Draco and Potter turn their heads towards the voice. "Damn," Draco mumbles, "your entourage found you."
"Who's with Ron?" Potter asks beside him, beginning to stand up.
"Only Granger and the girl Weasley," Draco bitterly says as he stands up himself, dusting his coat off.
"You mean my girlfriend?" Potter dryly asks, failing at keeping his lips from twitching. "Ginny."
"Is that what they call her?"
Potter doesn't have the time to retort because his friends have reached him, slightly out of breath and for some unknown reason, evidently upset.
"We've been looking everywhere for you -" Granger begins, her eyes scanning between him and Potter uneasily. Draco crosses his arms and icily glares at her.
"Why, is something wrong?" Potter asks nervously.
The girl Weasley shrieks, "Why are you with him?"
She points her finger accusingly at Draco, and he can't help but smirk cruelly. "Well, aren't you a black hole of need? Are you jealous that your Boy Wonder prefers to spend time with me?" He pointedly avoids looking at Potter, directing his words at her.
Weaslette takes an aggressive step towards him. "Shut up before I make you, Malfoy."
"Ginny, please!" Potter steps in between them, and he throws an impatient expression at Draco, "Try to be civil, Malfoy." Something hot and ugly pierces Draco's chest when Potter turns his attention away from him and places his hands on her shoulders without hesitation. "Why are you so upset?" he asks her, ignoring him completely.
"You don't know, do you?" she asks in a low voice.
"Know what?" Potter asks apprehensively.
"They found something else, about Blaise," Granger interjects. Draco leans forward, knowing that whatever she has to say won't be any good. "There's saying it wasn't an accident." She glances at Draco nervously, and Draco becomes acutely aware of how uncomfortable they all look, with Granger's cautious stance, Weasley's aggressive posture and his sister's overbearing protectiveness. With deep resentment, he understands their distress plainly. They think he did it.
"And …" She has the grace to look away from Draco. "They are suggesting that he was killed by a Death Eater."
"That's not possible! They said there were no signs of struggle." Potter says the words with conviction, but something in his expression looks like uncertainty, making Draco go cold.
"A spell that kills by accidental death was used. The Death Eater was trying to cover his tracks."
"How can they even know any of that?" Draco snaps at her.
Granger looks at him again, unsure if she should answer him or not. Before Granger can make up her mind, he finds himself face to face with Ginny Weasley again, her wild hair framing her spiteful face. "It seems you royally fucked up. Not only is there hard evidence that you killed him, but there's a witness!"
"What are you on about?" he asks slowly, caught between disbelief and rage.
"Everyone knows you killed Zabini. Did you think he was Harry? Is that it?" Draco's hand flexes for his wand and from the corner of his eye he sees her brother do the same.
"Ginny, stop!" Potter objects, pulling her away from him. "Don't be crazy. I was with Malfoy the entire time."
"You were with him the entire time?" she asks him, not expecting a confirmation.
Potter opens his mouth to respond, but his features become clouded with doubt. Draco knows they had been apart for some time, only because he was too busy looking for Potter. Potter unconsciously turns towards Draco with a puzzled expression, giving his thoughts away. He think I did it. Draco buries his clenched fists into his crossed arms to keep himself from hitting him. He swallows the bitter taste of betrayal, feeling like a fool for trusting Potter.
"See? He's dangerous, Harry!" she whispers urgently to him. Potter shakes his head but doesn't say anything.
"He's manipulating you and you're too blind to see it."
Draco doesn't have willpower to refrain from rolling his eyes. "For fuck's sake - I don't need this."
He begins to turn away from them, sick to his stomach, sick of fucking Potter, but Potter's voice stops him in his tracks, "wait." The two Weasleys are holding him back with a mix of tender and aggressive protectiveness. Only Granger is standing to the side, looking perplexed.
"What now?" he snaps defensively.
Potter is on the verge of saying something but he is holding back. Stay. I know you didn't do it. I'll come with you. Draco would welcome any of these responses, but all he hears is, "nothing."
Harry's annoyed.
Everyone's treating Malfoy like some sort of murderer intent on killing him. Ginny insists that she walk Harry to every class, meal and study session, while Ron won't pause to take a breath between his accusations and perpetual paranoia. Quite frankly, he's getting sick and tired of it all.
"How can you be so sure that he did it?" Harry asks Ron, trying to keep his frustration at bay. It's a late school night in the Gryffindor Common Room and his patience is starting to wane thin.
"Will it help if I list all the reasons? One. A Death Eater did it and he's a Death Eater!" Ron replies in exasperation.
"Was…" Harry says in a bored voice.
"Two. He was there when it happened!"
"So was I!"
"THREE-" Ron says loudly over Harry, "he and Zabini had a row. They stopped talking. Maybe they had a disagreement about what Malfoy is planning to do."
Harry runs his hand impatiently through his hair. "All during sixth year I was convinced Malfoy was up to something and you two didn't believe me. And now that I'm sure he's changed, you insist that he's trying to kill me!"
"I don't insist that," Hermione says quietly. Both Harry and Ron momentarily stop talking. Hermione had been strangely quiet during their heated discussions, and Harry took that to mean that she was siding with Ron. "It doesn't make any sense. If Malfoy really did want to kill Harry, I'm sure he wouldn't do it in a way that would make him look guilty."
"But he used that spell -" Ron begins to say.
"Malfoy would go out of his way to ensure that he's not connected to Harry's death. He would have made it look like someone else is covering their tracks, shifted the blame away from him. Also, Malfoy would make sure to never be alone with Harry, or at least to never be seen together. But you two don't seem to care much about that," she says the last part a little pointedly.
Harry doesn't understand why he's blushing, but quickly dismisses it. "Exactly. Malfoy isn't interested in anyone being killed."
"I can't vouch for that." Harry can hear a smile in her voice. "But what really is getting to me are the reports on Zabini. They just don't make any sense."
"They said a Death Eater did it." Ron says again, "What are the chances of another Death Eater being in that area at the same time? It has to be Malfoy."
"At first I thought the same thing… but…" she seems to be choosing her words with care. "As far as I could tell, the imprints from the Death Marks and the wands were the only ways the Ministry could be certain that a Death Eater had committed a given crime. After Voldemort died, all the Death Marks vanished. So the only way they can assume that a Death Eater killed Zabini is if a Death Eater's wand was used."
"Okay, so…" Harry tries to clarify. "Since the Marks don't exist anymore, it's harder to prove that a Death Eater did it. How could they link a Death Eater's wand to a crime?" Harry asks.
"It leaves a magical residue in the scene, kind of like a fingerprint. And Voldemort had a very unique print."
"Fine, the Dark Marks are out of the question, but not the wands," Ron confirms.
"Yes, a wand that was used by a Death Eater when Voldemort was still alive may still leave some residue."
"But Malfoy doesn't even use the same wand anymore!" Harry say triumphantly, remembering how he had taken his wand from Malfoy Manor and used it to defeat Voldemort. He briefly wonders what the Ministry did with Malfoy's wand.
"That's right. So this leaves us with two options. Either the Ministry is telling the truth, therefore Malfoy couldn't have done it because he couldn't leave any Death Eater residue. This means that another Death Eater was at Hogwarts that night, or at least a Death Eater's wand was used. Or the Ministry isn't telling the truth and anyone could be a suspect, even Malfoy. So my question to you is, who do you mistrust more? Malfoy or the Ministry?"
"I don't know," Ron admits begrudgingly. "I don't trust either of them."
Harry's face breaks out into a wide grin, "Hermione, I could kiss your logic!" But it dawns on Harry that he does have an answer to Hermione's question. Without realizing it, his mistrust for Malfoy had disappeared. Normally Malfoy would be the last person he could trust, but that definitely wasn't the case anymore. And if he's learned anything it's that placing any trust in the Ministry is foolhardy. "Why would they leak false information?" he wonders out loud.
"Who knows," Hermione stifles a yawn. "They could be trying to cover something up, or trying to pin it on someone. Maybe it's for the simple fact that it's the easiest solution. It's what people want to hear."
"People do want a suspect, even if it's the same answer as always," Ron muses. "But even if the Ministry lied, that doesn't make Malfoy innocent."
"But it definitely doesn't make him guilty," Hermione adds with finality. "I'm off to bed. I'll see you two tomorrow."
"I'll come with you, I forgot … something in your dorm," Ron stammers. "Night, Harry." He hears Hermione giggle.
He chuckles and leans back contentedly. He should be off to bed himself, but he promised Ginny he would wait for her to finish her Astronomy lesson. Yawning vigorously, he settles into his armchair and closes his eyes.
When he opens them he can see again, but the colours are faded with a brush of grey. Looking about him, he can make out high ceilings covered with ostentatious paintings of angels and demons. Several candles are lit across a long hall, but all he feels is the frigid cold. He wraps his cloak tighter around himself and begins to walk to the other side of the hall. To his dismay he realizes that he's walking barefoot on black marble, so cold and dark it could be mistaken for an abyss of nothing. He walks on a little faster, the air stinging his lungs as he breathes in.
The end of the hallway forks into two passageways. On his right, a flight of ascending stairs turn sharply to the floor above him. On his left, he sees descending stairs winding quickly into darkness. Shivering, he begins to turn to his right, a little sick of darkness, but a voice from far away stops him. He's not sure if he even heard it, but if he did it came from the left. He stares into the darkness at the end of the stairs, an uneasiness settling within him.
Without understanding why, he knows he has to go left, down the stairs. The tug in his heart tells him there's something waiting for him there. As he begins to descend the darkness begins to pull him in, willing him to go further. He tries to hold onto any source of light, but he finds himself completely submerged in darkness and unable to see. Cautiously, he takes one step after another, holding onto the wall beside him for support.
Quite suddenly, his foot hits a flat surface in front of him. He stumbles from the shock of not being able to go any further. With outstretched hands, he begins to feel the cold wall in front of him, trying to find a way out. He sighs in relief when his hand finds a doorknob.
Beyond the door is a large, richly furnished room. Paintings are hung up along the walls and comfortable plush chairs are situated about. The side of the wall closest to him is entirely covered in shelves of books. There's an empty fireplace with a writing desk mere feet away. The room almost fools him, almost feels cozy, until his attention drifts to the very back of the room that's casts in shadows. He can make out a small cell with black bars. Inside it there's a child whose hair is as fair as the sun. He's curled over, visibly trembling, and he has his face buried into his knees. Harry rushes towards the cell and tries to open the cell door, but it's locked.
"Hey," he calls out. "Are you hurt?" The boy doesn't move or answer, so Harry quickly looks around the room for a key but he sees nothing. Maybe someone left a wand here. He walks quickly to the desk, opening the small drawers, but they're all empty. Looking a little more closely, he notices that the library is covered in cobwebs and that there are pieces of scattered parchment covered in dust. He picks one up, blowing away the dusty surface, but the words on the page don't make any sense to him. What catches his eye is a silver and green coat of arms, adorned with abstract snakes and dragons. He traces the silver 'M' in the center of it, and realizes with dread where he is and who is in that cell. Turning his attention back to the boy, he steps towards him quickly and crouches down low. He must be no older than six. "Draco," he says, "can you hear me?"
Between the bars is a broken boy, his hair as fair as the sun. He lifts his silver eyes in astonishment, his gaze devoid of any recognition. "Who are you?"
"It's me…" Harry begins to say, a chill running down his spine. "Harry."
"I don't know you," he says with suspicion, not quite looking at Harry. His small hands tightly clench into fists. "Go away."
"Are you - can you see me?" Harry whispers, afraid to know the answer. The boy doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to; his blank stare says it all. Harry feels the beginning of a cold rage burning inside of him as he grips the metal bars. "I'll get you out. You just have to get up."
The boy shakes his head, his eyes widening in fear. "I have to get out by myself."
"No one has to know I helped. I promise." He outstretches his right arm between the bars, trying his best to reach Draco. "Come on, give me your hand."
"Promise?" his voice wavers in such a way that breaks Harry's heart.
"I do." A flicker of hope passes over his features as he blindly reaches out to take Harry's hand. Harry can now make out a thin, gold chain around Draco's neck, something dangling from it. At last, Harry grasps his cold fingers and begins to pull him closer to him. "What's that around your neck? I'll just take it off -" he abruptly stops when Draco cries out in pain, his small frame twisting horribly as his nails dig into Harry's hand. "Draco!" He tries to pull him close enough to get the chain off of him, but his violent screams and thrashing only intensify. In his convulsion, his hand slips out of Harry's. Harry violently shakes the bars as he watches him being tortured. "DRACO!"
He feels someone shake his shoulders roughly and when he opens his eyes he's blind again. "Harry, wake up!" The memory of Draco's pain is so fresh it hurts to move. He gets up, a terrible sensation weighing on his chest. "You said - Draco." Ginny says with a mixture of concern and resentment.
"I er… have to go." He begins to get up to find him, but Ginny pushes him back onto the sofa swiftly.
"Stay."
"I can't."
"This is about Malfoy." It's not even a question.
"Yes! So what?" he snaps, tired of this conversation.
"Harry," she seems to be choosing her words carefully, "I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm asking you to stay."
"I really have to go." He's wasting time!
"Then go," she says frigidly, "but don't expect me to wait for you."
"Ginny, I'm sorry," he mutters, not bothering to fully comprehend her meaning. He makes sure he has his wand as he rushes out of the Common Room, letting the painful tugging in his chest lead the way.
