Vonne: This is going to be a slightly longer chapter. I definitely wanted to fit a lot into this chapter as it seems we are soon coming to a close... however, there are still things that need to be covered, so definitely stay with me. It is obvious that this is not the end of Draco Malfoy's problems just yet. Nonetheless, as promised, I am going to make my rambling introductions shorter and get to everything else instead. With that being said, then:

Psychic City: Oh look at that, for once we're both kind of on top of our game! Go figure, huh! ;)

Tragic Slytherin: Thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter as well, definitely a bit of a different direction from the previous chapters... you'll see once you finish. I hope you were at a good loss for words. HAH.

Fogell: I'm sorry! I definitely meant for the last chapter to be very sad, but so many people sent me messages informing me how sad they, in fact, were. I hope that that's a good thing, meaning that you've all felt connected with this story one way or another. I definitely hope that you all really enjoy the outcome of this and I promise that I'll make it all worth it. Your comments in reviews make me so happy! Thank you for motivating me, once again!

OanDuress: No problem! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter, despite it being a bit more on the sad side. Draco's definitely not in the best place right now, now is he?

Alice Wednesday: Oh yay! Long reviews are always my favorite to read. Long reviews get longer responses so, if that's your thing, yay! If you don't even read these, still yay! Because I like when my chapters seem really filled, anyway. ;) I was so flattered by your comments. I'm sure I've told you before that I love it when people enjoy reading things that I write. Writing is such an import thing to me, especially because I plan on publishing something in the very distant future when I actually become more productive and begin to write it down. I think you should write a story, I know I'd read it! Anyway, maybe Draco won't end up in the asylum forever... you're going to have to keep reading to find that one out. ;) I liked your theories about how Harry and Ron are going to try and get Draco's release, for sure. Very clever and definitely a possibility. But, like I said, you're going to have to keep guessing. And don't be sorry, I like your theories- it means I've actually accomplished something by keeping you guessing!

Voldyismyfather: Yay! I'm glad that this seems real. Hopefully it does seem at least somewhat realistic- that means I've definitely accomplished my goal. That is actually why it kind of took a while for Hermione and Draco's relationship to develop. Things seeming real is definitely a priority to me!

WeatherWatch: I'm sorry! I didn't meant to wrench your heart out. I only just meant to make you a little bit sad, honest! Hopefully this chapter will make up a little bit for it? Or maybe not, depends on how much hope you have for our Draco, doesn't it? :) HAH, Hermione going gung-ho and busting Draco out, huh? Hmm...

Now, finally chapter twenty-five.

Chapter Twenty-Five:
After the Fall

In all the years that Harry Potter had spent believing that there was something wrong with Draco Malfoy, it wasn't until the moment he had taken his seat in front of him that he was absolutely certain.
However, it took Harry less than a second to see that the boy had been heavily medicated. He spied the blond in his chair, sinking down into himself like a puddle. His unfocused eyes stared at the wall behind his visitor, rather than directly at him, and his face was tinted a bright shade of red, as if he'd had at least the right state of mind to be embarrassed. "Er," Harry asked, pausing in front of the table to consider Malfoy's prediciment, "do you think you're in a right state to have a conversation right now?"

Draco glanced up, looking absolutely miserable. "Potter," he said in a sloppy sort of manner that made his voice crack with unnecessary high pitched tones, "you h-have some authority in this, don't you?" He waited, watching Harry's perplexed expression before motioning down to his bound wrists. "You think you could have talk with the staff for me? T-They err... They make these things too tight." He lifted up his sore hands, wincing as he lifted them up from his lap to show them to Harry.

Harry analyzed Malfoy's wrists. Then he looked at the boy's entire complexion in general. Spit trailed out from the corner of his mouth and dark circles overtook his tired eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days, though Harry strongly doubted that notion; he was certain that the asylum staff prefered their patients to be unconscious, instead. That, or at least overtly medicated. "How much did they give you?" Harry asked, watching Malfoy as if he were about to pass out at any moment.

"Lost count," Draco wetly responded, popping a slight bibble of dripping saliva as he did so.

Harry considered him carefully and he seated himself down with an uneasy notion of sympahty. "I think they might have overdone it," he reassured him.

"... That's good," Draco offerred. Harry lift an eyebrow, confused. However, Draco clarified sadly, "it ...makes e-existing h-here a bit easier, if you catch my drift." Harry's dumbfounded expression doubled. he quickly remembered that Draco was a drunk, and he was surprised to find himself a bit worried for the addict. Perhaps medication was not the best idea for Malfoy, who looked very much like a half-conscious ragdoll. Yet Harry was so consumed in thought that he even jumped when Draco spoke up again. "How's 'Mione?"

Harry inhaled, running a hand through his head of his own greasy black hair. Sighing, he responded morosely, "she's in the same state that she was in with you, I suppose."

As if he had not been certain he had even heard Harry correctly, Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly. He paused for a moment, staring at the door and then finding his focus back at Harry. "... With me?" He asked, uneasy.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking bacl towards the door over his shoulder. "About..." He stopped, noticing the overwhelming saddness that seemed to double within Draco's stature. Harry clarified, "... abut an hour ago."

"I-I s-s-saw Hermione t-today?" Draco asked, locking eyes with Harry intensely. And Harry froze, analyzing Draco's poor posture and his horrified facial expression. Had he not remembered? A chill traveled up Harry's spine as he considered exactly how much medication he had been given, and exactly where he was at the moment. Sure, Draco Malfoy was seated right there in front of him, but it was blatantly obvious that Draco was, in reality, quite far off from the spot. Thus Harry yielded, blinking back at Draco with a sense of entirely new understanding. He really hadn't remembered?

The silence between the two grew on, making Harry all the more nervous. Yet he leaned forward and let his face drain of color. Sure Draco Malfoy had been a complete prat to him at school, but maybe Hermione was right- she usually was anyway. Maybe Malfoy didn't deserve a life in Hobb's, drugged out and drooling all over himself. Maybe Draco really just wanted his redemption. Maybe he was not the horrible person that Harry had known five years ago, and maybe even the thought of his actions had tortured him. Maybe it had drove him to maddness.

And the idea was not completely a farfetched one. Harry had seen counts of Malfoy's conscience before; Draco hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore, hadn't even been able to look him in the eye when they had been captured at the Manor during the months before the War.

"You don't remember?" Harry asked Malfoy out loud and the boy's morose figure flattened.

"Shit," he murmured to himself, his chest sinking. He leaned forward, ready to burry himself in his hands if such an action were even possible to him. Harry noticed Malfoy's eyes well up, his face turning a brighter shade of burgandy. "Shit."

Harry bent his own face forward, peering at Malfoy with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak something of slight comfort, but Malfoy cut him off instantly. Shakily, Draco said back to Harry Potter, "... I d-deserve this." He added, "I k-know I d-do... b-but s-sh... she doesn't."

For the hundredth time that evening, Harry scrutinized Draco's visage. His misery and hurt were obvious, his self-loathing even more so, but Harry felt compelled to want to help him out. He knew that Draco's well being was all that Hermione wanted then... but Harry contemplated the fact that maybe he wanted it for the man, too. "Look," Harry found himself saying, ignoring Malfoy and his obvious misery. By the looks of things, Harry knew that he didn't have all day with Draco, who truly looked as if he were going to pass out at any given moment. "I need to know whatever it is you're experiencing. I've... I've gone through it before, I think. I can help you if you'd just help me out here, okay?" For a moment, Malfoy froze. He lifted an eyebrow up at Harry, stalling slightly. His red face fell and, curious, he titled his head to consider Harry Potter before him. The Boy-Who-Lived breathed out, looking exhausted and fairly tired with the game of simply going back and forth. "Just trust me..."

Draco lifted his bound wrists. Despite the fact that they had been stuck forcefully together, he placed his elbows on the table and stared lifelessly into his open palms. Then he slumped forward, still overtly embarrassed by Harry's presence, and asked meekly, "what do you want to know?"

Harry studied the kid across from him. Never in his life did he think that he would ever feel sorry for Draco Malfoy. Years ago, Harry would have loved to see Malfoy in the exact same position that he had been in right then. Years ago, he would have relished in it. But it was so much more different then. As he brought down his own head and spied at Draco through the tops of his glasses, he felt a slight twinge in his throat when he asked curiously, "does it hurt?"

Malfoy glanced up minutely. A sad smile passed over his lips and he looked as if he were about to burst into tears. Instead, however, he only said out loud, "isn't it obvious?"

"Where?" Harry demanded flatly, his eyes searching Malfoy's torso. He watched the boy as if he had missed something, careful to pry at him, hoping to spot whatever it was that he had perhaps possibly overlooked.

Yet Draco's glossy eyes narrowed, his face paling. He was lost. Not entirely sure as to where Harry was getting at, he looked immensely delirious as he leaned closer towards the table. "What...?"

"Where does it hurt?"

Draco's torso slipped backwards, yet Harry's face had not fell. Behind his spectacles, Harry's face was stoney and determined. He wore the look of someone unbreakable, completely beyond reform. And Malfoy considered for a moment the circumstance. There he was, helpless in front of the boy he had grown up loathing. But Harry Potter was his only hope- without him, he would never breathe in fresh air, would never see Hermione again. Without Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy knew that his existence would be a very grave one. And he knew more than anything that he needed to tell him the truth. Yet he could not place his finger on why it was so difficult for him to spit out. With Harry so intently waiting on his next answer, Draco shifted his gaze and toured the room with his eyes for a fraction of a second. He could feel the overwhelming heat of humiliation creep up on him and, like a child, he wished that he could crawl back to his room at the Manor and hide under the covers. But Draco had done enough running. He'd done enough hiding and enough giving up. Giving in to Harry Potter would not just be good for him, but it would be good for Hermione as well, too.

Still, he returned his focus back to Harry with a slightly perplexed expression. Where had it hurt? Perhaps a better question would have been: where hadn't it hurt? Everything about Draco's body pained him. His head throbbed, his torso ached. He couldn't see straight and he couldn't think clearly. The bitter realization that perhaps it was not the drugs that had been making him feel so ill made his misery triple. Though still, despite the blatant torment that he suffered, he knew that revealing the severity of his illness to Harry was far more important than his pride.

"My head," Malfoy decisively responded, feeling the overpowering sway of nausea the very moment that he'd spoke out loud again. Harry seemed to notice Malfoy's change in expression, as well, and his face dropped with the realization of the boy's current state.

Thus he spoke in a hurry, using his rushed voice to try and hold the attention of the faltering Malfoy. "When you see him," Harry asked, gripping the edge of the table for support. He watched Malfoy sink further in towards the table, bringing his chest closer to his waist as if he intended to hug himself. Malfoy lifted his hands to his hair and seemed to tug on the very roots. Feeling sick, he swallowed a massive lump in the sore pit of his throat. "When you see him," Harry restated forcefully, trying to remain presentably calm for Malfoy's sake, "does your head hurt?"

The bobbing of the blond's skull clarified Harry's inquiry. "And my chest," said the boy, sounding more and more as if he were talking through his sleep. The feel in his heart had begun to take its toll on him and, quite frankly, he was beginning to wonder if he had truly possessed one at all.

Harry blinked, trying to physically rid himself of any distractions. He darted about the dark room wildly with his eyes. "What do you see what you see him, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice breaking. Yet his intent had grown more hastily and his hurry had become blatantly obvious. He seemed to have realized the severity of Malfoy's situation; he spoke firmly as if he really did not have much time to fix his broken soul at all.

But Malfoy's breaths had become more faint and Harry was certain the he could make out several little sobs as they emitted from the boy's, muffled embarrassed into his lap. However, Harry ignored Malfoy's currently hysterical status. The more information that he could collect, the better. And though Draco seemed to be breaking apart between his very eyes, Harry continued on, leaning in towards the table as close as he possibly could manage himself. When he found that he was in ear's distance with Draco, Harry pressed forward, his own face brimming with sweat. "When you have nightmares at night," Harry asked again, "what are you dreaming about?"

Draco could feel the intense effects of the medication finally taking a hold of him. He felt that he could no longer resist. Even from the hazy vision that he saw in the form of a blur in his lap, he had to press his teary eyes shut in order to escape the risk of falling unconscious at the very moment. "S-S-she d-d-dies," he admitted again to Harry, though he had not truly remembered revealing the contents of his nightmares to Hermione only one hour before. "S-She dies and I-I don't help her when I have every chance to..."

His hands shook and he hugged his knees, feeling the sharp twist of his wrists as they remained bound together. "What else?" he heard Harry ask, and he squeezed himself closer as he felt a second bout of horrible tension crush his throbbing temples.

"... A-Albus D-D-Dumbledore," Draco coughed, wincing from the pain that had found its way through his stomach, and Harry froze. His fingers lost their harsh grip on the edge of the table and he found that he could not speak again; instead he could only listen. But Draco had already stared and he'd decided that he really had no intent of turning back. Flushed and writhing with pain, he curled himself deeper into the awful structure that had become almost a ball. He lifted his aching legs to the edge of the chair and nuzzled his face down into his knees, keeping his eyes pressed shut. He had no chance to look up at Harry, even though he had been avoiding it at all costs anyway. Instead, he remained more focus on the darkness behind his bruised eyelids. Like a chipped record, his voice broke with every name he guiltily listed off. "T-Tonks a-and Mad-Eye... P-P-Professor Lupin."

Draco brought his knees up higher, ignoring Harry as he tried to helpfully interject. Rather, he continued on rambling, gaining speed as if spitting out the names would finally soothe his tortured soul- as if he had been hiding them away for far, far too long. "... F-Fred W-Weasley," he mumbled with a choked out little stutter. His hands searched the crown on his head, cradling the back of his blond skull for dear life. He was heavily medicated and miserable. Even if he had wanted to stop crying, he wasn't sure that he could have. But something about the realization of how pathetic he had become had hit him like a ton of bricks. Even despite his fogged up mind and his fucked up head, he knew that he was loosing it.

"Malfoy," Harry tried, awkwardly, but the boy only shook his head, running his sweaty forehead across the sterile white trousers that the asylum staff had given him since day one. He was twenty-something years old and he'd officially gone off the deep end. He'd assisted in the murder of far too many innocent people. Every day of his life, no matter how healthy his brain could become, he would always have to live with the sheer guilt of it all.

As a new sore sob sounded out from Malfoy's throat, he coughed, and blinked out the rest of the tears that stung his beat red eyes. "Fucking D-Dobby..."

"Malfoy, stop," Harry said, after the silence between the two of them had gone on long enough. But Draco remained unmoving. With his head against his knees, he only grabbed on to himself harder, seemingly having drifted off into a place far beyond Harry's reach. "You don't have to..." he finished, trailing off strangely as he lifted his hand to rub at his opposite forearm.

"I do have to!" Malfoy stated, lifting his head for a moment to stare at Harry from behind his knees. He finally let them drop, touching his bare feet to the cold floor and stumbling up from the seat. "I h-have t-to live with that e-everyday of m-my life." He was standing despite himself, his chest rising and falling. A look of pure terror had washed over his tear stained face and he looked perhaps even more ill than he had only several moments ago. "T-They're a-all d-dead b-because of me," he spat, looking more disgusted with his own image. But then his furious face crumbled, and once again he looked as if he could barely contain his own sanity. "I was so stupid!"

Harry faltered. At the age of twenty-three, he had done some much needed growing up over the years since the War. And though he'd still held his grudges, he could see that Draco's current state did not deserve any. Thus he remained still. When years ago he would have taken the chance to throw Malfoy's own words back into his face, he found that he could not quite bring himself to do it. Instead, he shook his head, feeling odd at the extreme onset of sympathy that he felt for his depressed ex-classmate. "It was a crazy time-" he started, but Draco's twisted expression cut him off.

"That's bullshit!" he hissed, looking as if he were about to loose his balance on the floor. "You and Ron didn't loose your bloody minds... H-Hermione didn't."

Harry opened his mouth, but then only slunk downwards, his entire body deflating. It had obvious taken a lot for Malfoy to raise himself from his seat, though he had not expected to see him so heated. "Look," Harry said finally, his voice falsely calm. He couldn't, however, hide the blatant shaking, "trying to change the past is... impossible. You should focus more on the future... perhaps when you can think more clearly."

"I'm crazy, Potter, not bloody naive," Malfoy hissed, and Harry had to give it to him- Draco certainly had a good point.

Harry sighed, running his palm across the front of his own sweaty face timidly. "Either way, Hermione's determined to get you out of here." He stalled, saying carefully, "since you've forgotten, I wanted to tell you that." The harsh look on Malfoy's face melted. Defeated, his shoulders swooped downward and he analyzed the floor under his bare feet, sheepishly. When he looked back up at Harry again, his eyes have reverted back. He held the same watery-eyed grimace that he had carried before. Despite his badly bruised eye, Harry could see that he was beginning to loose himself all over again.

Nonetheless, Harry continued. "She's err... she's really stuck on you."

Draco chewed on his lower lip, processing the information as if it were all very new to him. Really, however, he had been floored whenever he came to think of Hermione and the affections that she had for him. He found it impossible that she'd cared for him as much as she did, found it almost completely and utterly impossible. After all the stress that he had put her through... after all the unneeded and undeserved pain... yet she'd still seemed to care for him. After all this time, she'd kept on coming back.

"Yeah, well," Draco sniffed, blinking out fresh tears from his eyes. He lost the battle and they pooled over, dribbling down his pink cheeks instead. "I dunno know why she is."

For the last time he looked back up at Harry. Though his expression was defeated, his eyes held the look of being grateful, as if silently signaling to Harry that he had appreciated his visit. Though it had not truly helped Malfoy's situation yet, his last comments on Hermione had truly made Malfoy rethink the boy's appearance entirely. And for the first time in twenty-two long years, the two found that they understood each other.

When Harry Potter broke through the front door of Hobb's Institute, Hermione was certain that she could see a slight sparkle in his eye that she had not noticed before. It was a twinkle that she had not seen for several weeks, a gentle glistening that she had to pay close attention to- one that she could have perhaps missed if she had not been paying attention. However, she remained put at the benches outside Hobb's, her brow lifted, and watched him approach as she heard Ron shuffle readily at her side. Though his silence had shown her that he had not noticed it, and for a brief moment Hermione herself had thought that she had gone absolutely crazy. Thus, when Harry's figure grew finally closer, Hermione knew she could not quite contain herself any longer.

But Harry whisked past the two on the bench, his eyes set out along the road that led back into the city, closer even to the Ministry itself. Darting up her things, Hermione piled her bag into his hands and looped the strap responsively around her shoulders. She exchanged lost glances with Ron and picked up her pace whole-heartedly, following Harry at his heels like a small puppy. "Harry..." she started off, feeling slightly faint, "Harry, what's going on?"

Harry's response came quickly, though Hermione was not sure that she had even heard him correctly. He did not seem to notice, however, as he kept his eyes attentively on the road ahead of him, his fingers flying into his pocket to retrieve his wand and hold it by his hips as if ready to release a threat. Hermione's pace had stopped completely. She was barely certain of herself, barely sure that she had been thinking clearly when Harry had announced out loud, "Malfoy's not crazy."

Then Harry seemed to catch on to Hermione's halted pace. He whirled around, glancing over his shoulder for her before finally stopping along with her. His eyes found her through the lens of his glasses, staring at her perplexed face and watching it redden with the set of oncoming tears. "Hermione," Harry said, barely able to contain himself, "we've got to get to the Ministry; Malfoy's not crazy and I can prove it."

"H-He's..." Hermione stammered, almost completely unable to finish her entire sentence. Her fingers clutched her things to her chest and she looked almost severely ill as she stumbled verbally. "He's alright?" A shift in the atmosphere seemed to keep her rooted there and, despite herself, she found that she could not move. Had her head been fuzzy? Had she been dreaming? In the single short hour that Harry Potter had spent in the visitation room with Draco Malfoy, had he really seen something that she had overlooked?

Yet her answer seemed to be clarified by the gentle nod of Harry's head. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to be just as perplexed as Hermione. Still, Harry inched forward, forgetting about the road and the Ministry for a moment. His face softened and he looked almost winded, completely pleased with himself as if he hadn't even believed it either. "I can't believe I had even missed it before," he said, looking gentle as he continued to approach her, extending his hand and taking her shoulders timidly. He nodded to comfort her as he said, "Hermione, Malfoy's going to be okay."

On impact, Hermione's face crumbled. She couldn't hold it in any longer; despite herself, she choked, sobbing uncontrollably until she came in sudden contact with Harry's chest. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around him in a tight embrace, burying her face into him as her shoulders bobbed with every tear. And she felt immense love for him when she felt him extend his arms around her, as well, holding her carefully as if she were about to break. But it did not stop Hermione from squeezing the very life out of him. Instead she pulled him closer, mumbling her gracious thanks into his collarbone before pressing back and staring back into his lovely green eyes.

When Harry looked down on her, he could sense that the large weight had been lifted from off her shoulders. Though her expression was still weary, she appeared lighter and far more trusting. At the corner of the dirt road, Ron seemed all the more lost, however. Shoulders dropping, he rubbed his head and glanced back at the small view of Hobb's in the distance. It looked spooky as dusk began to set in and the sun crept behind the large hills at its posterior. "He's not?" Ron asked finally finding Harry and Hermione again.

"No," Harry shook his head, however he remained looking at Hermione and finally a smile crept onto his face. "I... I don't know how I missed it before, Hermione! I should have seen it and I didn't... I'm sorry."

Hermione blinked, "no," she said, swallowing, "don't be." She then dropped her hands, wiping her face clean with the palms of her hands.

But Harry seemed all the more intent on reaching the Ministry. "Okay," he nodded happily, placing his hand gently under Hermione's chin. "But we've got to get going."

Nonetheless, Hermione's face twisted. "Wait!" she called out and Harry glanced back down at her. She still remained true to the same uneasy expression that he had seen her with beforehand. Nothing on her face seemed convinced. "Harry," she stared, looking at Ron and then back at Harry again, "... how are you certain?"

Harry inhaled, watching the sun sink slowly behind the mountains that stretched out beyond them. However, his hurry to report his findings to the Ministry could wait- Harry could not take any longer of Hermione's miserable expression. "The visions, Hermione," he clarified, regaining his sense of pride. "Malfoy's been seeing Voldemort... he's been talking to him!"

Ron's face twisted, confused, "err... Harry, mate... that sounds a bit, uh, nutty to me."

Though Harry only shook his head, his visage still illuminated by the joy that he felt inside his chest. He would never have to see Hermione so miserable again, and he was just so grateful for his friend. "No," he laughed, pushing his shaggy brown hair from his eyes and fixing it behind his ears, "he's been feeling it, too- he feels it." With that, he motioned to his chest, touching his sternum with the palm of his hand and then gesturing to the crown on his skull. "He's not crazy... he's sick! He's been cursed!"

"Cursed?" Hermione and Ron echoed at the same time, their gaze locked securely within Harry's.

"By Voldemort! By Bellatrix even, possibly." Harry was rambling, his focus still with Hermione's, waiting to finally see her smile. "By everyone in that house!" Red in the face, he couldn't keep himself from smiling, though he couldn't believe how long it had taken for him to figure it out.

"But," Hermione stated, shaking her head back and forth slowly, "they're all dead."

Harry Potter shook his head for the last time, gesturing towards his chest again briefly. "They made a... a mark," he stated, trying to make himself clear. "I heard him... Malfoy said when he dreams, he dreams of death, of all the people that he's killed... the people that he thinks he's helped kill."

"And?" Ron asked, still slightly hazy despite Harry's aim to clarify.

"And," Harry breathed, looking positively gleeful. He couldn't wait for it, couldn't wait to see Hermione's smile again. "And it doesn't matter, Ron. Whatever they did to Draco, its lasted much longer than Voldemort's death. It's different with me," Harry continued, gesturing to his scar, "this isn't a Hrocrux, Hermione, its been imprinted. Whatever happened to Draco at that house, Voldemort cursed Malfoy with the intent of torturing his head for the rest of his life, whether or not the Death Eaters won the War."

Ron remained standing still, his face drained of any color left. He glanced back towards Hobb's, feeling slightly winded when he asked out loud, "but why Malfoy? Why not Goyle or Lucius, even?"

"Dumbledore!" Harry beamed, looking fantastically pleased with himself. He neared towards Hermione again, feeling his cheeks grow hot unwillingly. "Malfoy couldn't kill Albus Dumbledore... and when the Death Eaters captured us, he couldn't even look us in the eye. Whatever happened, one this is certain- Voldemort broke Malfoy. There's no way that he would have let Malfoy get away with such heavy mistakes!"

When he'd finished, he let his chest bob up and down, his eyes scanning Hermione for a long while. Though she looked as if she couldn't believe it; her attention fell to the ground, responsively mulling the dirt below her feet over with every passing minute. But Harry was certain, he had never been more certain about anything since the War had ended. It was something that he could just tell about Draco Malfoy- and he could tell because he knew. He, Harry, had faced the same sort of problems, had overcome the same type of issues. And though Draco had not been one of Voldemort's seven Horcrux's, he certainly had been an easy prey for the Dark Lord during the whole ordeal.

He could see it in Draco Malfoy, could sense it in the boy's sad expression and in his eyes. And though the realization had not come to him until the moment that he'd left Malfoy's visitation room, Harry remained completely certain. "Hermione," Harry whispered over the long bit of silence, "I'm sure about this."

And then finally, Harry saw Hermione glance back up at him. Though her face was stained with tears and her cheeks were tinted an bright shade of pink, she was biting her lower lip and smiling. Through the tears that ran down her face, she still looked absolutely radiant as he trustingly smiled back up at him, a new yet happy sob emitting from her chest again. Then, for the second time, Hermione Granger leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Harry Potter, one of her two very best friends in the entire universe. Adoringly, she buried her face into his chest, her own body filled with the unfamiliar notion that perhaps, finally, there was hope.

Lazarus Patel was sitting at his desk in the dark, squinting at the interior of his office room. He had only just finished organizing his papers and re-stacking his belongings. Thus, despite everything else, his hard day at the office had finally come to a close. Admittedly, Patel could not help but feel a exhausted as he leaned up from his large desk chair and pulled away from the surface of his table top, prepared to end the day.

With a concluding sigh he pulled off his gray business jacket, tossing it over his shoulder and cradling it near his wand, which rest flimsily between his finger tips. Then he scuttled across the carpet, moving away from the horrible work desk that did nothing but remind him that there would always be far more papers to sign tomorrow. Yet he felt slightly pleasure in knowing that he had, at least, finished the current day's work. Finally he could go home and relax...

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Freezing at his spot in the center of his office room, Patel stopped and yield, caught in the midsts of unbuttoning the first silver-blue button of his fancy vest. He was certain that he'd heard it, the loud knocking sound that had rattled his entire room, bouncing off the walls straight into his ear drums. However, he remained stilly quiet, waiting for the response that came far more quickly than he had expected. "Lazarus Patel! Please," said the anxious voice at the other end, "we need to talk to you!"

And so the working man wasted to time. Drawing out his wand, he approached the front door carefully before pulling it open and extending out his wand as a warning sign. However, his arm fell when he noticed the messy-haired boy in glasses, his freckle-faced friend, and Hermione Granger standing in the center of the doorframe.

"I'm very sorry, you lot," Lazarus explained, having already dealt with far too much over the course of the day. Even Gregory Goyle had dropped in, for a third time, in hopes of trying to coax him into simply permitting Draco Malfoy's release from Hobb's Institute. He did not need to be bothered with the situation again, especially when he had made himself perfectly clear, and especially when he had every intent on crawling into bed. "But my office is closed now." His face fell and with a lack of enthusiasm, he said, "I'm going home."

However, Harry Potter stepped out bravely to block his path and Patel noticed something rather prideful about the expression he wore on his face. "It'll only take ten minutes." Lazarus opened his mouth, ready to shove Harry Potter and Ron Weasley out of his way. However, the sight of Hermione standing at their side made him stop to reconsider. Deflating, Lazarus' face melted into a rather defeated frown. He did not say a single word, yet despite himself he stepped backwards. With a quick fling of his tired arm, he gestured the three back into his office and shut the door behind them.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry started, and Patel instant held up his beefy arm to stop him.

"I thought I made myself profoundly clear," he stated wearily, ready to lean back over to the door and whisk it back open with full force.

"You did," Harry continued, his eyes still glistening profoundly, "but you missed something, and so did I."

"Missed-" Lazarus asked, raising an eyebrow, and Harry nodded quickly.

Instead he made his way towards Lazarus, Hermione in the background. Her face was red, but her eyes were gleeful. Despite herself, she seemed to have put all her trust into whatever theory Harry was about to spit out and Patel had almost forgot to look back at Harry again to hear him talk. "He's been cursed. Draco Malfoy isn't crazy." There was an expression of sheer seriousness marked on Harry's face, his demeanor strong and unbreakable. "I can prove it."

Vonne: Hm, it's been a while since I've ended on a high note...