The corridor was silent, cold, and surprisingly vacant. On an ordinary day every corridor in the ministry was full of wizards bustling from one office to another, creating a sort of controlled chaos that was normal for those who worked there. Hurrying footsteps and the low indistinct mumble of hundreds of people going about their day to day lives usually echoed along the walls, but there was none of that today. The only sounds now were the slight swishing of paper airplanes that regularly flew above, delivering news to different sections of the vast building.
Harry was sitting, awkwardly, in a straight back wooden chair outside the Minister's office door. He shifted uncomfortably as his back began to ache, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. While the stretch felt nice on his stiff joints, the scars on his back flared to life as his skin pulled taunt. Wincing, he lifted his gaze to the airplanes flying above, trying to catch any sounds coming from behind the closed oak door.
He had been allowed a little over a week of recovery before Dumbledore had returned to the Hospital Wing, aggravation evident on his creased face. The Ministry was now demanding he come in and deliver his testimony on the events that took place over a span of three months. The Headmaster had been successful at keeping them at bay for almost ten days, but they would not be denied any longer.
Walking had been the most difficult part of their journey. Harry could feel every injury with each step he took, like a vibration that reverberated over his entire body. A few times the Headmaster had offered a steading arm, but Harry had refused curtly. He'd made it, out of breath and more than a little shaky, to Dumbledore's office where the flue network had been restored. Upon entry to the room, his eyes had been drawn to the glistening sword laying upon a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk. His hopes faded a little at the thought of stealing it. It seemed an impossible task given it's current location.
When they had arrived at the Minister's office, Harry was surprised to see a man with long red hair, like a lion's mane, waiting for them. The confusion must have shown on his face because Dumbledore was quick to introduce them. If he were honest, Harry would admit that a slight relief accompanied the news of Fudge's dismissal. He could only hope that this Scrimgeour was a better fit. However, given that he was made to wait, alone in the corridor, he had his doubts.
They had shaken hands, Scrimgeour's grip a little to tight for Harry's liking, and then he had asked him to wait in one of the wooden chairs while he discussed something with Dumbledore in private. Dumbledore had been hesitant. He had protested, stating that Harry would be better off if he didn't leave his sight. The Minister was adamant though. In the end, Harry had been left with the promise that their conversation would only last a minute. That had been nearly half an hour ago.
Impatience forced a sigh from the boy's lips. He fiddled absent mindedly with a lose thread on the seam of his trousers, begging for the door to open. He was not looking forward to recounting the story again, especially to a stranger, but the sooner it was over the sooner he could return to his comfy bed in the Hospital Wing. The anesthetic potion he had taken before leaving was beginning to fade and every shift caused an agonizing twinge.
A movement beside him caught his attention as someone sat down in the chair next to his. Refraining from looking, he leaned back, careful not to brush his back against the wood, and busied himself with watching the paper airplanes again. If there was one thing he wasn't in the mood for, it was making small conversation with someone he didn't know.
Long, pale fingers reached out to grip his thigh directly above the knee, the rough denim on his jeans rubbing against his raw skin. Panic consumed him, holding him in place tighter than any curse ever could, as a voice whispered in his ear. "Potter! What a coincidence meeting you here." The smell of peppermint invaded his nostrils and hot air brushed his cool cheeks bringing back memories of burning skin and gut wrenching screams. He didn't have to look to know who was holding him, as he was all to familiar with those long fingers touching his flesh.
Lucius Malfoy gave a small laugh as Harry's chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Harry started to turn and look at the man, but the grip tightened threateningly on his leg. "We've missed you these last few weeks, Potter," he said silkely, moving his hand up a few inches on Harry's thigh, fingers tracing along lightly . A shudder ran down his spine. "Things just aren't the same without you."
Sickness washed over Harry and he fought off the urge to retch. What was Malfoy doing at the Ministry? Wasn't he a known Death Eater? Confusion swirled through his foggy mind, and he shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts but the only thing he could focus on was the tightening of the man's hand.
Sucking his teeth, annoyance overtook his fears. "I could scream" he said, sounding braver than he felt. "Dumbledore's just inside the door."
Lips curling into a cruel smirk, brushed Harry's temple causing him to swallow a lump that formed in his throat. "Dumbledore's your savior again then? You surprise me, Potter." His hand moved upwards to rest where Harry's hip and leg met. Stomach lurching, Harry let his head drop back to rest on the wall, hands clenched tightly on his knees. His heart hammered frantically against his ribs, fighting for escape. "I thought you would still be upset that he abandoned you to the mercy of your enemy. However, I assume he made all sorts of excuses." Lucius's voice was low and drawn out; savouring the effect they had as goose flesh erupted across the boy's skin.
" He didn't have…"Harry's rebuttal fell flat as Lucius's fingers dug into his leg. Instinctively, the boy clasped his hand over his assaulter's. "Get your bloody hands off me, Malfoy." The words seethed through gritted teeth, no more than a whisper.
"Come now, Harry. I thought you would like to pick up where we left off." The slender hand pushed past his, coming to rest inches from his groin.
Bolting from his seat, Harry positioned himself along the opposite wall, his chair clattering loudly to the floor. The sound was thunderous amongst the silence that surrounded them. He regretted the sudden movement instantly. Vision swimming, he doubled over coughing violently as the pain gagged him. The world around him slowed then faded as blood pounded in his ears, deafening him to any other sounds. This would explain why he didn't hear Lucius's approach.
A hand came to rest on his back, patting him in a considerate way. "Now now, Potter. Calm down before you hurt yourself." The next pat came down hard against the half healed scars covering his back. He gave a yelp like a dog being kicked and sagged against the wall for support.
A sharp tug on his shoulder accompanied by a shadow shielding his body, told him that Dumbledore had heard the commotion and was now positioned between him and Malfoy senior. Harry allowed himself to slump to the floor, the cool stones dampering the fire covering his skin. Leaning back against the wall, he took several deep breaths to slow his pounding heart. The voices around him became clearer as his pulse regulated, and he could hear the furry radiating from Dumbledore's words.
"…shouldn't be here. You are well aware of my stance on allowing him back into the Ministry at all and yet you go as far as to schedule a meeting the same day as Harry's?"
"We have discussed this extensively, Albus. There is no evidence of Lucius involvement…"
"No evidence?" The outrage dripped from Dumbledore's question. "Minister even Fudge wasn't this oblivious. Harry has given all the evidence you could desire."
"Headmaster," Lucius interrupted, his voice smooth and innocent. "I have been nothing but cooperative with all of the Ministry's searches and interrogations. All of which, I might add, have produced no shred of guilt."
Harry's head snapped up at this. Was he saying that the ministry had searched his manor and found nothing? Had they searched the cellar that he had been tortured in for months? Lucius's gaze connected with his briefly and Harry could see he was enjoying this.
"We both know how well you are at bending the truth, Lucius. I dare say your contributions to the ministry are having the desired effect." Albus's piercing blue eyes were locked on Lucius's smug face as he raised a knowing eyebrow.
Before Lucius could deny any wrong doing, the Minister stepped in. "Albus this is neither the time nor place to have this discussion. Now, if you and Harry would step into my office we…"
Dumbledore held up a hand, a look of pure aggravation on his face. "Minister, let me stop you there." Reaching down, he grasped Harry's arm gently, and helped him unsteadily to his feet. "I will not allow Harry to remain in a place that is unsafe. It is apparent now that you have a price..."
"Oh come now, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour interjected with a roll of his dark eyes.
Dumbledore merely shook his head, white hair swaying softly. "If you still wish to hear Harry's account of what happened, though it seems you have already written it off, you may do so at Hogwarts." With this the Headmaster half lead, half dragged Harry out of the corridor. Protests followed as they walked off, but no one made to stop them.
It wasn't until they were back in the Headmaster's office and Dumbledore was helping Harry gently into a cushioned seat that they spoke again. An exasperated sigh escaped Dumbledore's tight pressed lips as he slumped into the chair behind his desk. Using his good hand, he rubbed his temples before looking back at Harry as if he had forgotten he was there. "I must apologize again, Harry. If I had know Lucius would be..."
"You knew that the ministry had cleared him?" Harry asked in a condemning tone. His eyebrows came together as his temper rose. "You knew and you didn't feel the need to warn me?"
Dumbledore eyed Harry over his half-moon glasses, an unreadable look on his face. "Lucius unfortunately has numerous strings he can pull inside the ministry. His half believable alibi paired with an outrageous donation was apparently enough to relieve him of all charges." Taking a quill from the ink well at the corner of his desk, Dumbledore scratched a note on a small slip of parchment. Without a single word, Fawkes fluttered down to retrieve it and quickly disappeared out the open window.
"That wasn't my question," Harry said, slightly galled by the evasion. He pulled himself up slightly, a grimace pulling his face taunt with pain.
"Sir," Dumbledore corrected, his voice strong but quiet. "Harry you have every right to be upset with me, but at some point you must realize we're both fighting for the same thing." He paused here, letting the words sink in. Seeing that Harry was on the verge of protest, he pressed on quickly."Perhaps if you understood why I have been so cautious with you this last year you could see where my plans went astray. I think it's best I shared with you my thoughts on this connection between yourself and Voldemort."
A twinge of curiosity not his own, crept into the back of Harry's mind. This was what Voldemort was after. Harry shook his head, trying to block out the presence that threatened to hear every secret Dumbledore was about to divulge. However, he was only rewarded a small since of satisfaction at his lack of Occlumency skills. "I don't want to hear it right now," he answered firmly as annoyance swept over him.
Dumbledore's blue eyes surveyed him. "If you would just allow me to…"
"I said no!" With that Harry was on his feet, the thought of pain forgotten. He stormed across the office and tugged against the locked brass handle. He pulled, kicked, and slammed his fists violently against the door, unsure what he was hopping to accomplish. Spinning, he locked eyes with those piercing blue irises. "Let me out."
"You will here what I have to say, Harry," was the calm reply.
Anxiety mixed with the outside emotions swirling inside Harry's head, and he closed his eyes tightly against the confusion. He couldn't allow Voldemort to hear Dumbledore's speculations, not after all he had went through to protect the prophecy. Not after what it had cost him.
"There's nothing you can do to stop me, Harry. You might as well have a seat and listen to the old man." The voice in the back of his mind sent ice through his veins. Clutching his hands to his ears, the boy felt hot tears prickle the inside of his eyes. "I can't. I just…" Whether his words were meant for Voldemort or Dumbledore he wasn't sure, but they poured out of him uncontrollably. His voice cracked as he slumped back against the door. Streaks of tears were gathering at the tip of his nose, sending silent drops onto the stones below.
Dumbledore was beside him in an instant, leading him blindly back to his chair. Dropping into it, Harry fell forward, face burying into his shaking hands. Had he been shaking before? Sobs caught in his chest as he fought against the raging anger trying fervently to lash out of him. He wanted nothing more than to die right there; let his mind tear itself apart until he felt no emotions at all.
Without warning the anger was gone, leaving him drained and aching. Dumbledore's hand was resting lightly on his shoulder, but he didn't speak. Blinking away the tears, Harry looked up to see concern etched across his wrinkled face, though it seemed to be masking something else he couldn't quite grasp. He didn't dare look away.
It was a long minute before he spoke again. "Okay, Harry. Let's get you back to the hospital wing."