Previously: "Davis Herring, this is the Aurors! You are under arrest for illegal use of wandlight, defacing of property, and the traumatisation of the mental welfare of a child. If you come quietly, this will be easier for all of us."
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The brother looks up from the fire in alarm, but Davis is quicker. He bolts up out of his seat, takes a precursory look around the room, notes the three entrances that are covered by Aurors, and dashes for the side door. A somewhat sickening crunch is heard as he collides headlong with the door. He pulls his wand out of his pocket and starts waving it furiously — yet there's a calm to his motions; they're fast but purposeful.
Waters makes a quick gesture with his hand.
Davis attempts to twist the handle and curses when it doesn't work. He jumps a mile in the air when a smooth voice in his ear murmurs, "Somehow, I don't think that's going to work out for you."
He whirls around with a start, just in time to see Draco materialise. His eyes morph from startled calculation to abrupt fury as his eyes flicker over Draco's features. He snarls.
"What are you doing with the Aurors, Malfoy?"
Draco has heard his last name spat out like an obscenity. He's heard it dragged through the mud, heard it equated with filth, abused, tarnished. But never once has he ever heard it spat out with that much venom, as though Herring despises him down to his very soul, all because of the name he carries.
It hurts. As much as he tries not to let it, it hurts. He's spent his whole life being proud of his name, being proud of where he comes from, and to have his roots so reviled isn't an easy thing.
But he tucks the hurt away into some isolated corner of his mind and he adjusts his grip on his wand. What is he doing her? He's making things right, making amends. Making a difference. Merlin, it's sentimental but it's true.
It isn't what he says, though, because he's never admit to something so Hufflepuff.
"I'm taking you down."
He smirks, knowing that his features are something close to intimidating when he smirks. He takes a quick step to the side when he fires off his first spell — a stunner — both to avoid a spell Herring may fire and to give the people behind him a clear shot. Herring block's Draco's stunner, but he can't block all seven of the spells that come rapid-fire after it. A Stunner and a disarming spell both make it through and Herring is on the ground, wand in Draco's hand, snatched out of the air by Seeker's reflexes.
Just like that, it's over. Elladora Moody had covered the brother who now had ropes around his wrists, which, really, explained the seven spells rather than eight. Wateres wraps ropes around Davis' wrists.
Somehow, Draco had expected… more. He'd expected wandfights and a challenge, not a smirk and one spell each.
Waters puts a hand and his shoulder and says softly, "They can't all be thrillers, Draco."
"I know that," he says simply.
Waters laughs slightly. "Yeah. You know it logically. You'll learn it truly later."
Draco lets out a huff of breath that is almost a laugh. "Probably."
They take the brothers back to the station, where both of the other groups sign off and return to their own cases — Moody, Finnigan, and Thomas to a case about a woman who was convinced her necklace, a family heirloom, had been stolen, and Matthews, Longbottom, and Zumberg to one about a fight that had broken out in the middle of Diagon Alley.
This leaves Waters, Draco, and Harry to interrogate the brothers. They start with Davis.
Draco and Harry are only half a step behind Waters as they enter the interrogation room. He twirls the chair around and sits on it backwards, gripping the back. Draco leans on the wall on the left of the door, and Harry mimics him on the right.
"Listen, Davis," Waters says in a low tone, but there's a vicious sneer across Herring's face and he hasn't moved his gaze from Draco.
"What's he doing here?"
Waters slaps a hand on the table, drawing Herring's gaze to him. "I'm talking here," he says firmly. "He's here because this is his case, and he has every right to be, and you have no say in the matter, so ignore him."
Herring's gaze shifts back to Draco. "I'm not saying a word with him here." He snarls.
Waters looks at Draco, and Draco inclines his head just a fraction. Waters nods and jerks his head. Without a word, Draco slips out the door. He leans against the wall outside, sucking in a deep breath through his nose.
He remembers Waters saying that a good team was about balance, that it was good that he and Harry are so different. He didn't know at the time that it would be an inspirational phrase, but in a way it is, because he finds himself involuntarily clinging to it.
He knew from the beginning that becoming an Auror with his past wasn't going to be easy. He hadn't imagined this, though: being actually excluded from a pivotal point in the case, just because of who he is. Who he isn't.
Draco refuses to be ashamed of his heritage. He refuses to be ashamed of where he comes from. He is ashamed of the things he's done, the things his family has done, but he is not ashamed of his lineage. Being Pureblood didn't make them choose the things they did.
He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and sighs. He's really sick of shame.
The door clicks as it opens and shuts.
"Hey." Harry's voice is soft.
Draco merely nods in return, then he looks up and raises an eyebrow in question. Harry shrugs. "He didn't need me. Minute you left, Herring started singing like a canary." He laughs slightly. "There's irony in that somewhere."
"Still could've learned from it," Draco comments, ignoring Harry's terrible attempt at a pun.
Harry's lips twist up into a wry smile. "I made a decision." He walks around Draco and leans against the wall next to him.
Draco knows that Harry wants him to ask, so he doesn't. They slouch in silence, staring at the wall opposite. After a moment, Harry says, "Why don't they understand?" His voice is small.
Draco looks at him. "Understand what?"
Harry blows out a breath, and then says, "Understand that they're just perpetuating the cycle. Understand that bigotry in protest of bigotry is still bigotry. Understand that all prejudice does is create hatred." He says all of this to the wall, his face genuinely perplexed.
Draco turns his head forward again. "It's a defence mechanism, I suppose. People prejudge because they have to, because it's how they decide who's trustworthy and who to steer clear of. Some people just… take it too far."
Draco can feel Harry glance at him. "I wish… I wish people would just take a moment and get to know someone before deciding what their life is like."
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
A sigh. Harry's gaze shifts back to the wall. "I wasn't talking about me, Draco — even though it's true. I was talking about you. I'm not stupid, you know, and I'm not deaf. I hear what they say about you. They say you aren't fit to be an Auror, aren't fit for anything but Azkaban. They say you hoodwinked me into testifying for you." He shakes his head, staring at the floor. "It makes me absolutely furious. If they would just bother to look, they'd see you're trying!" His voice has risen, and his hands are balled into fists. He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep, measured breath. He lets it out slowly, and then pulls in another. Slowly, his hands relax. "Sorry," he murmurs in an almost-whisper. "Sorry."
Draco doesn't say anything. He's still trying to digest that. Harry is angry, not because of the affront to himself, but because of the affront to Draco. Angry because of the disrespect and disdain Draco himself is entirely accustomed to by now.
After a moment, Harry speaks again. "It makes me furious that people are so proud of how they themselves have improved since when they were kids, but they refuse to believe that the people they hate could have grown up too." His voice is soft this time, his tone carefully under control, but the undertone of rage is still evident. "It's hypocritical."
Eventually, Draco has gathered himself enough to speak, but even he is slightly surprised when what pops out of his mouth is, "Why do you care what they say about me anyway?"
He glances at Harry and Harry looks at him and for the first time in this entire conversation their eyes meet. Harry takes a breath and then says, "Because you matter to me." He holds Draco's eyes for another instant and then his gaze shifts back to his feet.
Draco isn't really sure what to say to that.