35. Pray for the wicked [Friday, February 25th 2005]

The attic was dimly lit by a silver light that Draco mistook for moonshine at first. Then he realised that there weren't any windows and the light was coming from a stone basin that was placed on a small pillar in the middle of the room.

He went over there slowly, closely followed by Harry, who may have been expecting him to turn tail and make a run for it.

"A Pensieve." Draco's voice sounded hollow even to him. "I don't think I want to see."

Harry's eyes were gluing him to the spot. "Come on. You only saw half of it. The part where I try to justify what I did."

"I tried to Crucio you." Draco couldn't meet his eyes any longer, so he studied the runes around the Pensieve instead. He'd taken Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, but Draco had a hard time concentration on them now.

"I know. Believe me, I've thought about it a lot over the years."

Before Draco could protest again, Harry placed his hands at opposite sides of the Pensieve. The surface swirled and then cleared to reveal a memory.

Slughorn's Christmas party, and Draco had just been caught by Filch on his way to the Room of Requirement. Harry was watching the action unfold, eyes trained on Draco. His eyebrows were knit together, like he was trying to figure Draco out. Merlin, had he really looked that sickly? He didn't have time to think about it, because then Pensieve-Harry followed them – him and Snape – to eavesdrop.

Draco turned to face Harry, raising an eyebrow. Harry just shrugged unapologetically and looked back into the Pensieve, which was currently changing memories.

Pensieve-Harry was watching him – in class (eyeing him from head to toe over the top of his book), in the corridors (barely listening to Granger and Weasley, who were practically dragging him along), in the Great Hall (picking at his food without once looking down at his plate). What was more – he seemed to have been stalking him. Pensieve-Harry checked his Map and then went running.

"Oh, yeah, no," the real Harry muttered, waving at the Pensieve to change the memory again. "That wasn't important, just forget that part."

Pensieve-Harry reappeared in a bathroom. It wasn't that memory yet – he was in the company of Weasley and Moaning Myrtle, who told them about a boy who came there to cry his eyes out because he felt lonely and forsaken.

Draco closed his eyes in shame, and when he opened them again, it was time – Draco stood at the sink, crying in despair, telling Myrtle about how he would be killed if his plan failed. Draco's heart clenched painfully at the memory. Pensieve-Harry seemed to have similar feelings. He certainly wasn't basking in Draco's misery.

Draco was afraid he'd have to watch himself attack Harry again, but the Pensieve skipped right over it.

The tower. Draco recognised the silvery veil of Harry's Invisibility Cloak and closed his eyes again. He didn't want to watch it again, the culmination of his shame. He didn't want to know that Harry had witnessed it.

Harry bumped his shoulder lightly. His voice was very gentle. "You didn't do it. You never could've done it."

Draco just shook his head. He felt Harry wave his hand at the Pensieve before it could get to the really miserable part.

There was a heavy thud, and Draco's eyes flew open. Pensieve-Harry had fallen to his knees in a bathroom, clutching his head in apparent agony. The Pensieve swirled violently, flickered and then showed a terrified Draco standing over Rowle with his wand pointed down at him, the Dark Lord right beside him. Draco recognised that one in an instant because he still dreamt about it regularly.

"How?" he breathed.

Merlin, no. Draco wanted to forget that had ever happened. He didn't want Harry to know. The scar on his arm itched horribly, and Draco rubbed at it with the knuckles of his right hand.

"Doesn't matter."

Draco thought Harry was going to ruffle his hair, but then he touched his scar instead. He didn't seem to want to explain.

The next memory was definitely one Harry had been there for, even if he hadn't looked like himself at the time. He had been overgrown and underfed, his clothes tattered and dirty, face completely swollen.

Draco had recognised him in an instant. And still he watched himself beat around the bush as if he hadn't, not even fully acknowledging Granger and Weasley, even though their faces weren't disfigured at all.

Harry skipped over the next part, lips tightly pressed together, and only watched briefly as his past self snatched the wands from Pensieve-Draco's grip. "Too easy," he muttered.

Draco wasn't sure if this was still about showing Draco or about convincing himself.

The next memory came as a total surprise, as neither Harry nor Draco were in it. It showed Snape and Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office instead.

"The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed," Snape said morosely. "This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price."

"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," said Dumbledore.

The contents of the Pensieve swirled once and then settled on Snape and Dumbledore in his office again, though it seemed to be another night.

"I thought … all these years … that we were protecting him for her." Snape paused to gather himself. "For Lily."

So, this wasn't about Draco anymore, but Harry. Draco wondered why Harry was showing him this.

Dumbledore's eyes were closed, as if to shut himself away from the accusation in Snape's voice. It seemed that he himself didn't like what he was going to say.

"We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength. Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth: Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort."

Draco and Harry looked at each other, a kind of understanding passing between them.

They were two sides of the same coin – on opposite sides of the war, but both used by men who were more powerful, more calculating than them. Both of them had been set on a path to die on, and somehow still managed to live.

"This is the last one," Harry said tonelessly as the scene vanished.

The surface of the Pensieve neither reformed nor turned into its misty form, but went black instead.

"The boy … Is he dead?"

A cold shiver ran down Draco's back, and he grabbed Harry's wrist without thinking about it. It was icy, almost deadly cold, but Draco held onto it where it was resting against the Pensieve.

"You." There was a bang and Draco heard the unmistakeable sound of his mother shrieking in pain. He certainly knew what that sounded like. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

There was silence for a few seconds, then: "Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" It was barely a whisper.

"Yes." Harry's voice.

"He is dead!"

Harry let go of the Pensieve as the cheers started, and the surface turned silver and smooth again. Draco didn't let go of his hand.

"Figures that you would have a Pensieve," Draco muttered, unable to voice the million other thoughts that were racing through his head.

"It was Dumbledore's," Harry said thoughtfully, tracing one of the runes.

"Dumbledore left you his Pensieve?"

"Not exactly …" Harry was biting his lip and avoiding his eyes.

"You stole it?" Draco was aware that he sounded way too excited and definitely not appalled enough. Merlin, anything to keep from thinking about the things he had seen in the last ten minutes.

"There are some pretty dangerous memories in there! I couldn't just leave them."

Draco's eyes flitted over to the Pensieve automatically.

"I showed you parts of them," Harry said with a warning undertone. "I'm not going to show you any more. Knowing too much about this stuff is usually a sure-fire way to get yourself killed. I don't especially want you to get murdered."

Now Draco did let go of him and took a step back. "Why not? I did horrible things." There wasn't much emotion in his voice, or else he wouldn't have been able to talk at all.

"Draco …" Harry said his name softly, but then he took a deep breath and continued in much more tense voice. "I made them keep Snape's portrait at Hogwarts, and he was at least partially responsible for my parents' death. He took out his bitterness on literal children. He outed Remus purely out of spite. He wouldn't have cared if the dementors had gotten Sirius even if he was innocent. If I can find it in me to do that for him, I sure as hell can for you. I'm not saying that all of what you did was justified, but I know not all of it was done of your free will. And you've done so many good things since the war."

Draco didn't know where to look, what to say. He wanted to be forgiven so badly, to be told that there was hope for him, but he didn't know if it was possible. But then Harry took his hand and Draco looked into his eyes after all, and found nothing but sincerity there. He felt some of the tension leave his body and gave Harry a very weak smile.

"Let's get some sleep. I don't want to see you at Mungo's tomorrow because you dozed off on your broom."

He climbed down the stairs without looking back at the Pensieve. Harry was right behind him and closed the trapdoor with a hissed command. It was a relief to be away from that place, and even more so knowing that there was an unbreakable barrier between himself and the memories.

Draco had no desire to discuss what they had seen. That look had been enough for him.

Harry seemed to think so too, because he didn't address what had happened but grabbed Draco around the middle instead. Then he carried him into the bedroom, practically throwing him onto the bed.

"Just in case you're still planning to bail on me," he said with a grin.

Draco kicked off his trousers and opened his arms. Harry snuggled up to him and then killed all the lights with a wave of his hand, safe for the golden orb on his bedside table.

If he thought he would get out of it that easily, Harry was sorely mistaken.

"So what, are you gonna tell me now? What I said at the party that ticked you off."

Harry groaned and tightened his arms around Draco. "It's really stupid."

"Yes, I'm aware."

Harry pinched his side. Then he angled his head downwards, so Draco couldn't see his face anymore. "Alright ... God, it's really stupid. Fuck. Okay ... So …" A deep breath. "I was annoyed about the thing with my grandparents."

Well, this certainly wasn't what Draco had expected. He chose his next words carefully. "So … you were afraid people would know we're seeing each other because I know about your family? Don't worry; everybody knows what happened to them. They were very well known."

Harry breathed out heavily and looked up at him after all. There was defiance in his eyes. "I didn't. Nobody ever told me how they died. There are all these people who know all about my family and they just – they just always assume I know too. And I just don't! I don't know shit. Slughorn never even told me that he knew my grandparents. And then he turns around and uses them to impress random people."

Now it was Draco's turn to pinch Harry. "Did you just call me random?"

"I'm calling myself random, you bloody moron! He didn't know it was me he was telling all that stuff. I could be working for Witch Weekly for all he knows."

"That's fair. So why did you tell Ginny that you weren't upset because of Slughorn?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. I was just angry. Guess I did expect something like that from him. Didn't expect you to bring them up."

Draco mulled it over for a few seconds. Then he said, carefully, "Would you like me to tell you about them? I know about all the ancient families, not just the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just call them that. 'Sacred', my arse." Harry rearranged his head upon Draco's chest before he continued, "What I want is for you to pretend the party never happened."

"Fine," Draco said, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead.

Draco had almost drifted off to sleep when he had a sudden epiphany. He poked Harry's shoulders urgently.

"I told you I saw the snakes move."

Harry growled sleepily. "Yeah, I know. Shut up."

"You're so extra, with your secret lair and all." Draco kissed the top of his head, even if it undermined his own point. "So, what else was I secretly right about?"

Harry shut him up with a kiss, and that was almost as nice as being right.