Tw: mention of suicide & grooming & self-harm, period typical homophobia
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine Making the green one red. - Macbeth
[Saturday 4th October]
Ron wedges themselves between Harry and Hermione on the long benches in the Great Hall. The sun barely had the chance to ascend over the horizon before Umbridge called all the students and staff for an 'emergency assembly'.
There are whispered rumours about one of the professors being found dead, but Ron didn't believe it for one second until the assembly was called, and still now they aren't fully convinced.
"I'm devastated to bring you this news," Umbridge announces, standing at the podium solemnly. "Professor Slughorn was found in the courtyard this morning by one of the students. I'm afraid he is no longer with us."
The excited chattering fades into subdued shock. Ron shares a confused look with Harry. Professor Slughorn, dead?
"It appears that he took his own life the previous night," says Umbridge. "He'd been dead for hours when he was found in the morning."
Remus folds his arms, frowning deeply. Slughorn was his teacher as well as his colleague. He didn't know Slughorn was so depressed, but then again, he didn't know much about him at all.
On the opposite end of the table, Snape sits with a stony expression, his lip curling at all the devastated faces. If only they knew what their beloved Professor Slughorn was really like.
"It seems to be clear what happened," Umbridge continues. "But if anyone has any information about this, please talk to me or any of the staff and it will be dealt with accordingly. Some people from the Ministry will be coming in a few days to clear up all the legal proceedings. There will be a funeral held next Sunday for Professor Slughorn. Attendance is not mandatory, but I hope to see all of you there."
Umbridge glances down at the paper and starts reading in a less sincere tone. "And if anyone needs to talk about how they feel regarding this situation, Professor Trelawney has offered to talk to any students who want to at lunchtimes in her room."
Trelawney smiles from the staff table.
"There will be no more potions lessons until further notice for all students who were being taught by Professor Slughorn," says Umbridge. "They will resume in a few weeks once we find a suitable replacement. For now, stay in your Common rooms during those lessons. School will continue as usual on Monday for everyone else."
Umbridge steps down from the podium and a panicked chattering breaks out throughout the hall.
"I don't believe this," says Hermione.
"We had him for potions two days ago and he seemed fine," Ron says, slightly dazed. "And the whole time he was planning this?"
"What a way to go," Seamus mutters. "Quite dramatic, like, jumping down for everyone to find him."
"It's a sad way to go," says Luna, gazing towards the empty place on the staff bench where Slughorn usually sits.
"At least we don't have potions for a few weeks," Dean comments, prompting disgruntled mutterings. Only Seamus seems in the least bit amused.
"Dean," Harry says. "He died yesterday, have a bit of respect."
Snape leaves with the students as they file out of the hall. He has no time for listening to the staff discussing how heart-breaking it is that Slughorn is dead, or that he was taken before his time, or what a kind and thoughtful man he was. He heads back to his classroom where Draco is still asleep in the archives room.
A few uneventful hours later, he hears a knock at the door.
"Come in," Snape calls.
"Hi Severus," says Remus, popping his head around the door.
"Hello Remus. Take a seat."
He comes in and sits down.
"It's a terrible business, isn't it?" he sighs.
Snape doesn't comment.
"I came to ask about last night," says Remus, ignoring Snape's silence.
"Oh, don't worry about that," Snape says quickly. "It was nothing."
"Really?" he says. "Because with the way you ran off I assumed it was something serious."
"No, everything is fine."
Snape's abrupt replies aren't exactly out of character, so Remus shrugs it off.
"Alright, I just came to check," he says. "I should be off now, I've got a practice Quidditch game to supervise."
"Wait," says Snape, as Remus gets up to leave.
"Are you upset about all of this?"
"About Horace?" asks Remus.
"Yes."
Remus throws his palms to the ceiling. "One of the last remaining people from my childhood has just killed themselves, Severus, so yeah, I think I'm going to be a tad upset even if we haven't been dancing around holding hands for the last few years."
Snape looks down. "Right, sorry. Stupid question."
"Yeah," says Remus, walking towards the door in indignation.
"I'll be at the Quidditch match on Friday if you'd like to join me," he says a tone softer as he turns back.
Snape raises his eyebrows. He forgot holding a grudge isn't Remus' style. "All right," he says.
"Great," says Remus. "Oh, by the way, I meant to ask you." He leans on the doorframe. "Why haven't you been coming to meals for the last week? You're not hiding in that staff room again, are you?"
"No, I'm not," says Snape. "I'd rather eat in here, that's all."
"Okay," Remus says, surprisingly not pressing him further. "I'll see you at the match, then."
"See you then."
[The next day]
The thick curtains in Snape's bedroom block the morning light from hitting Draco's face as he wakes up around 9 am. The second he realises he's awake, he knows it's going to be an awful day.
He lies on Snape's sofa at the foot of his bed, buried under a blanket. Snape insisted he stay somewhere warmer than the archives room, which was getting close to sub-zero temperatures due to the faulty heating. Snape is gone, Draco doesn't know where, so he's left all alone in his room.
Today, he feels a heavy burden weighing down on him. A real, soul-numbing, crushing, painful burden. It makes it hard to move, to think, to do anything but listen to Slughorn's voice reverberate around his head.
Slughorn took his last breath two days ago. When will the fear of a dead man begin to ease?
His brain flips between the shock of being faced with Slughorn for one last time in such a horrifyingly violent way and the guilt of knowing that he is now a murderer. All he sees when he closes his eyes is Slughorn's dead body on Snape's classroom floor.
Today, he doesn't get up. He doesn't even move from the sofa.
By the time Snape comes to check up on him at lunchtime, the left side of his body that he's been lying on is completely numb. Still, he can't bring himself to move.
"Draco?" Snape says quietly. He couldn't stop worrying all morning after leaving Draco asleep on his sofa. It's probably wrong to keep him cooped up here but the archives room was becoming uninhabitable.
"Mhm," Draco grunts from under the covers.
"Do you want to come for lunch?" Snape asks.
Draco can't find an ounce of energy to put into speaking, or to even begin to form another grunt.
He's used all his fight up.
"I'll bring you something when I go down," Snape says after a moment. He can't tell if Draco is half asleep or in an incredibly bad mood. Either way, he sits in the large armchair nearby and opens a book. At least Draco gives him an excuse not to sit and listen to the drivel of the other professors at lunchtime.
The company of Snape isn't a comfort, in fact at this moment in time, Draco feels like nothing will ever comfort him again. If only he had the energy to get up and throw himself out the window.
Snape returns half an hour later, having gone down to the kitchens to grab leftovers.
"There's a few sandwiches and bits next to the sofa," says Snape, checking his watch. "I've got to supervise some second years on a trip to Hogsmeade, unfortunately," He pulls a face to himself. "I'll be back about five."
Silent tears drip down Draco's cheeks as he hears the door click shut. He couldn't even dredge up the energy to say thank you. Snape must think him the most ungrateful useless idiot he's met.
When Snape returns in the evening, the plate of food is untouched, and Draco lies unmoved.
"Draco, are you alright?" he sighs, sitting back in the armchair.
"No," Draco manages to say. He feels marginally more energised after napping on and off throughout the day, enough to mutter a few words at a time.
"You've got to eat something," says Snape. "If you don't like any of that, I can get you something else."
Draco doesn't know how to paraphrase how little energy he has at this exact point in time. The utter exhaustion and soul-numbing sadness entrenching him is ineffable.
"I can't."
"Why don't you have a nap?" Snape suggests, "and see if you feel any better."
He takes Draco's silence as agreement.
It works, to an extent. Later, Draco sits up and starts shovelling the beef sandwiches down, struck with an urge of hunger. Snape watches, relieved he's broken from his catatonic state.
"Do you want any more?" he asks once Draco finishes them all in under a minute. "The kitchens have plenty left over."
"No, thank you," says Draco.
"Do you feel a bit better?"
"A bit," he says, the emotion drained from his voice as he lays back down, this time without the covers over his head. "I haven't felt this bad for a long time."
Snape gives a sympathetic nod.
Draco recalls the spring and June before last, the endless days, numbness, nothing to live for. Ending every single day on the verge of death for months. No one to talk to, no one caring about him, nothing whatsoever giving him joy.
Nothing specific was going wrong in his life, Draco reflects: no Slughorn, no being a Death Eater, no blood on his hands. But nothing was going right either.
"I think it's catching up with me," Draco utters, more to himself than anything.
Hiding in the archives room for days, finding Slughorn's diary, realising what Slughorn's been doing to him in his sleep for a month, killing Slughorn in cold blood, dragging his body up the Astronomy tower, the silence as Snape kicked it off the edge.
Admitting the whole truth out loud to Snape. Admitting the truth to himself.
"It's going to be okay," says Snape. "I know it seems bad now-"
"It does seem bad," Draco says flatly. "I've murdered my teacher."
"It wasn't murder," says Snape. "It was self-defence."
"I looked someone in the eyes and killed them," Draco says. "Then staged it as an accident."
"Yes," says Snape. "And it's okay. You're not a bad person."
"Everyone in the school is mourning their teacher and their colleague and their friend and it's my fault."
Snape can't hold the emotion out of his voice any longer. "Draco, you knew what he was really like, and I can assure you if anyone knew what a monster he was, they wouldn't be mourning. They'd be thanking God. And killing him wasn't even a bad thing, it was completely justified if you ask me."
Draco stares up at the ceiling. He doesn't believe him, not one bit.
The next day, Snape watches Draco's eyes sunken with misery as he slowly chews on the apple gummy worms he gave him. Draco can't taste the sour kick of the sweets. His clothes are crumpled and a layer of oiliness clings to his unwashed skin. His matted hair falls over his face, hiding bloodshot eyes.
"I've got a full day of teaching," says Snape, picking up his robe from the door hook. "I'll come back up at lunch. Are you going to be alright here? You won't get bored?"
"I'll be fine," Draco says emotionlessly. He's too drained to put tone behind his words.
Snape heads downstairs. He goes past his classroom and left to Slughorn's room before the first lesson begins. It's been two days since he rolled his body off the Astronomy tower, and it's been two days of putting off going back to Slughorn's room. He can't put it off for any longer; he needs to retrieve the Marauder's map from Slughorn's table as well as his diary before people start poking around.
Snape rounds the corner, then stops. Two people stand in front of Slughorn's door, a man and a woman, neither of which he recognises.
"Can I help you?" says the woman, noticing Snape standing behind them.
"Who are you?" Snape asks.
"I'm Ms. Alis Sai from the Ministry of Magic," she says. "And this is Dorian Olwen." Dorian gives a short nod.
"We're doing some routine checks following the death of Mr. Slughorn," says Sai. "You probably know Ms. Creres from the head of the Justice Department."
Snape nods. He was never a fan of Creres.
"We're working with her at the moment," Sai continues. "Ms. Umbridge personally saw to it. You can't go into his room for the moment if that's where you were going. It's a crime scene."
"No, no," says Snape. "I was just passing."
"And who are you?" asks Dorian, poising his quill on a small gold notebook.
Snape hesitates but thinks it would be more suspicious if he refused to answer. "Severus Snape," he says.
He sees Dorian scribble something down, then realises Sai is watching him. He turns on his heel and walks back to his classroom for first period, cursing himself for leaving it too late.
At the start of lunch, Snape takes a detour to Draco's bedroom to retrieve some clothes for him. He's been wearing the same crumpled grey button-down with small roses embroidered into the sleeves for days now. He rifles through the wardrobe, not having a clue what Draco prefers to wear, and ends up grabbing a few jumpers and shirts. He heads back to his room with the clothes and a small bag of food he sneaked from the kitchens.
"Hello," says Snape as he enters his room. Draco is wrapped in the blanket and staring down at a book- a good sign.
"I brought you some food. You missed breakfast."
"Thanks," says Draco, taking the bag. He unwraps one of the wrappers and bites into the hard biscuit.
"I brought some clothes from your room over," Snape says, laying them down on the sofa's arm. "I didn't want to intrude but I thought you'd want to change."
"No," says Draco suddenly.
Snape raises his eyebrows in question.
"I need to wear this."
"Why?" asks Snape. He doesn't get a verbal response, but Draco shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. His heart sinks at the idea that pops into his head. "Is this to do with Slughorn?" he gently prompts.
Draco takes a deep breath, holding his head in his hands, and nods.
"It's alright," Snape says. "He's gone now, Draco. Forever. You don't need to do this anymore, no one is going to be upset or angry if you change. I don't care what you wear as long as you're comfortable."
"He said I look pretty in this," Draco whispers. "He didn't like anything else. He said I have to wear this."
Snape stands for a moment in utter disgust. "What the hell was wrong with him?" he mutters furiously. "Look, that was- he shouldn't have said that, but he can't control you anymore. He's gone now. He's dead. He can't do anything to you ever again."
Draco stares at the clothes. "But I want to wear it," he says, clutching the arms of his shirt, still feeling Slughorn's hands tracing across the flowers. "I think something's gone really fucking wrong in my brain," he says with an empty laugh. "Because I want to wear it. Why the hell would I want to wear it? What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing, nothing is wrong with you," Snape says. "There's a rational psychological explanation and it's due to Slughorn altering your perception of safety. You have been living in survival mode alongside him for months and you wanted to appease him by wearing whatever he wanted you to." He grimaces at the thought. "Because you wanted to avoid him lashing out. It was your brain's way of keeping you safe, and it still is."
"He wasn't going to lash out, though," Draco says. "He was being nice to me, he wasn't going to hurt me. I knew he wasn't going to hurt me."
"He was hurting you for months and months, your brain can't just get over that," Snape says. "It's a typical trauma response- you feel trapped with the danger even when the danger is removed."
Draco sighs and Snape realises that he perhaps doesn't want a logical explanation: he just wants someone to talk to.
"Sorry. I won't lecture you any more."
It's another minute before Draco opens his mouth again, and when he does, it comes out sounding far more sure of himself than before.
"I could've done more."
"What do you mean?" Snape says when Draco doesn't elaborate.
"I could've done more to stop him."
"No, you-"
"I could've stopped him," Draco repeats firmly. "And I didn't. I let him do this to me. I stayed after class and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I sat with him every night and let him drug me. Maybe he was right, maybe he was-"
"Draco," Snape says as silent tears start rolling down Draco's cheeks. "It was not up to you to stop this. It was not your fault. Nothing you could've done would've stopped him."
"I could've told my parents," Draco says, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. "I should've told you. Then he would be in prison instead of dead."
"It wasn't as simple as just telling someone."
"It was, it really was," Draco says desperately. "You know what I think, Professor Snape?"
Snape glances anxiously at him, fixated on him with wide eyes. "What's that?"
"I think he was right, when, um." He bites his lip and looks down. "He said I wanted- he, ugh, sorry, I can't speak."
"It's alright. Take your time."
"Okay, well, he said that I was in denial and I wanted this and that I probably masturbate to the thought of us two together and all I want is male attention and that this is what I'm into and I need to stop lying to myself and I think he's right," Draco finishes with half sobs. "I think he was right," he croaks out. "He was right because why else would I agree to kiss him and, why, and why would- why would I agree to kiss him? Why would I offer to wear what he wants? Without prompt, why would I do that?"
Snape gets up and sits next to Draco on the sofa and he cries, and cries, and cries, until all his tears are used up and the energy is drained from him.
"It's alright, it's okay," Snape soothes, gingerly patting his shoulder ever so often, then stops once he sees it makes him flinch away. "None of this is your fault, Draco. He forced you into this, even if it seemed like you had a choice. You did not want or ask for any of it."
"Sorry," sniffs Draco. "I'm just- I don't know what's wrong with me. And you've probably got better things to be doing than sitting here watching me break down for the fourth fucking time this week."
"I can assure you I have nothing better to do than being here right now," says Snape. "I want to make sure you're all right."
"I don't think I am all right, Professor."
"No, I can see that," Snape says quietly. "Look, why don't I make us some tea?"
"No, thank you," says Draco, wiping the dried-up tears away for the last time. "I'm going to go back to sleep. If that's okay."
"Yeah, yes, whatever you want," Snape nods.
Snape gets off the sofa so Draco can lie back down. He glances at the clothes he slung over the sofa's arm, but Draco doesn't look at them. He just lies down in his black shirt with roses on, pulls the blanket over his head, and closes his eyes.
"What on earth is going on?" McGonagall bursts into Snape's room with Ulysses at her feet.
Draco opens his eyes to Snape and McGonagall facing each other at the door. He's slowly been accumulating more energy throughout the evening by lying awake, eyes closed on the sofa.
"You have some explaining to do, Severus," she says furiously. "He's not been in lessons for a week, so I thought he'd be in the San, but when I went to check it turns out they have no record of him being there recently."
"He was in here," Snape says in response to her questioning glare.
"You've been hiding him in here?" she says. "Do you understand how inappropriate this is, on more counts than one?"
"It's not his fault," says Draco, watching Snape struggle to come up with an explanation.
"You have nothing to say, young man," says McGonagall. "Get up, you're going back to your room."
"But-"
"Don't argue with me, Malfoy," she snaps, holding up a finger. "You'd better be thinking of a good reason as to why you've allowed a student to miss a week of school in the meantime, Severus. You're on thin ice."
McGonagall ushers Draco out of the room and marches him to his own bedroom.
"Why have you been staying with Snape?" she asks as they pace down the corridor. "What's he been doing?"
"He's not been doing anything."
"Why were you there then?"
"He was making sure I was okay," Draco says slowly, making sure to be careful with his words. "I've been feeling under the weather."
McGonagall purses her lips. "I don't know what you've said to convince him to let you miss school, but you're not getting away with it anymore. You need to get on top of your work, not avoid it. I will be informing your parents about this. You'd better be thinking about getting your grades up otherwise you're going to be in some serious trouble."
Draco trudges behind McGonagall silently. He knows his grades are in the gutter, and he knows he's not going to find the motivation to fix that anytime soon, but they're hardly his priority at this moment in time.
Going up the tight spiral stairs to his room sends punching dread through Draco. The rancid smell of whatever drink Slughorn coerced down his throat every night knocks the breath out of him as he opens the door.
"You'll be in all lessons and at meals starting tomorrow," McGonagall says, disregarding Draco's frozen features. "You're not to go near Professor Snape outside of lessons from tomorrow until I get to the bottom of this. It's hours past curfew, get some sleep."
She shuts the door on Draco and returns to Snape's room.
Snape paces around his bedroom. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Draco is still without a doubt his main concern, but this isn't looking too good for him either. Even so, he trusts Draco to invent a reasonable scenario as to why he's been staying in his room.
McGonagall re-enters his bedroom ten minutes later without Draco.
"What's going on, Severus?" McGonagall asks sternly. "Malfoy said he's been under the weather, but I don't see why that should mean he comes up here. You know professors' rooms are off-limits to all students. It's extremely unsuitable for him to be up here at all, never mind for a whole week."
"He hasn't been here for a week," Snape says. "He was in my classroom before, but the place was getting too cold."
"Why has he been spending time alone with you in the first place I think is the main concern here."
Snape rubs his temples, considering how to place this. "He's been ill," he starts.
"Then he should be in the San."
"Not ill like that."
McGonagall crosses her arms at Snape's hesitation. "Meaning?"
"He needed some time off, alright?" Snape snaps. "He's in a bad way and the San wasn't going to help. I wanted to give him a bit of time off school to get himself together. I understand it was a misjudgment but I was just trying to help."
"So what's the issue? He's depressed?"
Snape nods at McGonagall's scornful remark.
"I suggest the next time he's too 'depressed' to be in lessons you either report it to the San or directly to me and we can deal with it," she says. "No more of this looking after him yourself nonsense. He's not your son."
The words hit Snape like a slap in the face. He purses his lips and remains silent.
McGonagall gives him a long, hard look.
"I'm keeping an eye on you, Severus," she eventually says. "This better not happen again."
"It won't," says Snape.
"Good. Ms. Creres from the Ministry's Justice Department is here, so watch yourself. Another whiff of anything like this and they'll be trouble." With that, she strides out.
Snape releases a long exhale. The thought of Draco being forced back into his room enters his mind a moment later, a place which he doubts has good memories for him. McGonagall won't be policing the corridors, he hopes. Just to be safe, he leaves it ten minutes before setting off to Draco's room.
Draco stays hunched in the corner of his bedroom, wedged between the bookcase and the bed. The lone candle burning on the desk barely illuminates the room, the corners fading into soulless pitch black.
Good.
He can't bear to look at the sofa Slughorn sat with him on. He pinches his nose to block out the nauseating smell. He can't bear to lie in the bed he was unknowingly taken advantage of in.
He's surprised at himself for dealing with it so well. The drops falling from his eyes and trembling hands don't register themselves as he glides away into semi-consciousness.
The door swings open an undetermined length of time later. A bullet of fear ricochets through Draco even after the room lights up and Snape is standing there, not Slughorn. Of course it's not Slughorn. Slughorn is dead.
Draco doesn't conceive Snape's soothing words as he pulls him up, because he's not there, not really.
He's sat on the sofa with Slughorn talking about his day; he's downing another glass of amber liquid; he's lying in bed feeling Slughorn's knees against the back of his thighs; he's waking up in the morning with a burning in the back of his throat; he's screaming a death wish with his wand pointed at a monster, staring into its eyes as all the life drains from it; he's feeling guilt tear him up for ending the life of the man who ruined his.
Draco hiccups out a loud sob which brings him back to his surroundings. Snape has an arm around his shoulder, guiding him back to his room.
"It's okay," Snape mutters every few seconds as they continue walking down the empty hallways.
"I don't want to go back," Draco says, wiping snot and tears off his face with his sleeve. "Don't make me go back." His head hurts and his feet feel like lead.
Snape relaxes slightly: it's the first sign of Draco being aware of his surroundings from when he found him curled in the corner of his room, sobbing.
"You don't have to go back," says Snape softly. "We're going to my room now, okay?"
"Ok," snivels Draco.
They arrive without issue another minute later and Draco curls up back on the sofa. He pulls the blanket around him, his pathetic sobs eventually easing into silence.
[Tuesday 7th October]
Draco sits in transfiguration, staring at the clock behind Professor McGonagall. 15:43. Seventeen minutes until the end of school and until he can flop down on Snape's sofa and go to sleep. He's not usually an anxious person but sitting in lessons and interacting with students and teachers suddenly feels too much.
It's been one day. Six lessons. Two meals in the hall. McGonagall hasn't taken her eye off him. He clings onto the feeling of Snape's blanket almost suffocating him as he wavers between sleep and awake until the bell rings.
"Class dismissed," McGonagall shouts. Draco waits to see if it's safe to sneak off to Snape's room, but McGonagall is already striding out of the hall without a second glance.
She hastens across the courtyard and up to her old transfiguration classroom where she and Umbridge decided would be an appropriate place for the three from the Ministry's Justice Department to work. It's a large circular room with ceiling-high bookcases stretching along the outskirts, light glaring through the vast windows to the left.
Around the oval table in the centre of the room are three people hunched over masses of paperwork.
"Good afternoon," says McGonagall, entering the secluded room.
Margo Creres stands to greet her. "Good afternoon, Minerva," she says with a firm smile.
"How is everything going?" asks McGonagall. "Have you almost finished?"
"I'm afraid there's a problem," Creres says seriously.
McGonagall frowns and glances over to the other two people who appear equally as grave. The Ministry was only supposed to be here for a day or two to clear up legal proceedings to do with Slughorn's death.
"What problem?"
"We're going to have to investigate this case further," says Creres. She looks over to the woman at the table.
"I'm Alis Sai," the woman smiles briefly. "I've discovered some evidence that points to Mr. Slughorn mistreating one of the students at Hogwarts. It could be circumstantial, of course, but we have to pursue it as a line of inquiry."
"What evidence?" McGonagall asks.
"Thank you, Alis," Creres nods. "I'm afraid we can't disclose any further information. We'd like permission to look into this case further. For the past two days we've been focussed on purely legislative work but now we'd like to open up a full investigation into his life, seeing as he died under inconclusive circumstances."
"Inconclusive circumstances?" says McGonagall indignantly. "He was found dead by a twelve-year-old girl at the bottom of a tower, how much more conclusive do you want?"
"In light of new evidence, we're going to launch a small investigation," Creres says calmly. "It may lead to nothing. We don't plan on questioning the student implicated unless further evidence points to anything other than a suicide. Mr. Slughorn's personal situation did hint to a suicidal person so it's simply a lead we need to follow up."
"He didn't seem suicidal at all," says McGonagall. "He had a steady job, he was well-liked and he was always perfectly cheerful."
"Dorian has all the legal resources available to the school at the moment," says Creres, signalling to the red-haired man with a quill perched in his hand. "Until the investigation is closed, I'm afraid I can't go into any more detail."
"All right," McGonagall says uncertainly.
"This shouldn't take more than a week at most," says Creres. "Will that be permissible?"
"Yes," says McGonagall. "That should be fine. I'll pass the message onto Dolores."
"That's already been taken care of," Creres says.
"Oh. I see." McGonagall nods slowly, looking back to Sai and Dorian who are busy writing. "I'll let you get on, then."
"One more thing," says Creres. "Would it be possible to show us up to the Astronomy tower?"
"Yes," she says. "Do you want to go now?"
"Yes, please."
"Come with me."
McGonagall takes the three investigators up to the Astronomy tower. It's another long walk and they slow considerably as they take the strenuous stairs up to the highest point in the school.
"That's where we assume he jumped from," McGonagall says once they reach the top. She points to the railings.
Dorian peers over the edge and scribbles something down into his notepad.
"Thank you, Minerva," says Creres. "We'll take it from here."
McGonagall nods. "Let me know if you need anything else."
The clicking of her boots descending down the stairs fades out and Creres turns sharply to Sai.
"Did you notice it?" she says.
Sai takes her eyes off the remarkable view. "Yes."
"What's this about?" asks Dorian.
Sai and Creres exchange a look.
"There were tiny smearings of blood on the stairs," says Sai. "His body was found with no injuries at the scene of death. If Mr. Slughorn had committed suicide by jumping from those railings, there would be no blood."
"We need to speak to Dolores." Creres snaps her notebook shut. "This is now a murder inquiry."
Ron sinks into one of the chairs outside a room they've never set foot in somewhere in the east wing of Hogwarts. Professor Binns directed him here at the end of their History of Magic lesson, saying someone wanted to talk to him. They swing their legs back and forth, staring around for a clock.
At least things are going better than they were this time last year. Things should be going back to normal with Draco soon, they've indefinitely given up self-harm, their grades are up, and they feel somewhat settled with their body.
He's found a dress style that suits his own desires and conforms mildly to society's standards: mainly oversized patterned sweaters and baggy brown jeans. Wearing the bows Draco got him in their own time provides a necessary boost of confidence that gets him through most days.
Finally, the door swings open. An unfamiliar face pokes his head out into the corridor: red short hair and clutching a golden notebook, the young man signals Ron inside with a wave of his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Ronald. I'm Ms. Sai from the Ministry's Justice Department working under Ms. Creres." Sai holds out her hand in greeting to Ron. "This is Dorian Olwen."
"Hiya," says Ron, shaking her hand and fidgeting in the chair provided.
It lies behind a looming desk, which Sai sits at, her black hair pinched back in a tight bun. Dorian stands at the side, his quill poised to paper. The professionalism takes Ron aback, and they start thinking of which laws they could've recently broken then forgotten about.
"Am I in trouble?" he asks.
"We have a few questions we'd like you to answer," Sai says smoothly. "Starting with your connection to Draco Malfoy."
Ron's body tenses up. They can't have found out, surely not.
"I understand you've been at school with him since your first year at Hogwarts."
"Yeah," says Ron. He steadies himself with a few breaths. There's no way the Ministry could've found out about him and Draco. The only person who knows is Snape, and surely he wouldn't betray them? They shuffle in their clothes self-consciously. Was his jumper too feminine, their baggy trousers a giveaway, too obvious that his slim boots are women's?
He recalls Draco wheezing at them questioning how gay they appear. You're literally the gayest cunt I've ever met. If Draco was sitting here, he wouldn't be taking any shit from them, that's for sure.
"How has your relationship with him been like since then?" Sai asks.
"Uh, what relationship? We're not in a relationship," Ron says, aware of himself already becoming flustered and no doubt blushing profusely.
"Relationship as in your relation to him," Sai clarifies. "Not a romantic or sexual relationship."
"Oh," Ron says. They shrug, trying to play it cool. "Not good, I guess. We don't really talk. He's mean to my friends, so we tend to steer clear."
"Which friends?"
"All of them, but mainly Harry and Hermione," says Ron. A question he can answer, although he grows more anxious as Dorian scribbles something down into his notebook.
"We have a written accusation of you and Mr. Malfoy being sexually involved," says Sai. "Would you like to comment on that?"
"A written accusation?" Ron asks, this time not exaggerating their indignant curiosity.
"Yes," Sai says. "A commentary of someone's speculates on you and Mr. Malfoy having had a sexual relationship for a substantial period of time. It could be pure fiction, of course, but we do have to explore allegations like this."
"It's lying," says Ron, tapping their leg up and down. Who the hell has been writing about him and Draco? Could it be Snape after all?
Sai notes down something on her sheet. "So you deny all accusations of having any form of relationship with Mr. Malfoy, sexual or otherwise?"
"Yes," says Ron. He takes his chances on Sai not having already delved too deep into their personal life and finds himself challenging her narrowed eyes with, "I'm not gay, I have a girlfriend. Your 'source' doesn't know what it's talking about."
"Her full name, please?" Sai asks with raised eyebrows.
"Um, Hermione Granger," says Ron, already regretting it. They watch both Dorian and Sai scribble something down in their notebooks.
Sai nods and puts her pen down. "That will be all, thank you, Mr. Weasely."
Ron squirms at the formal and overwhelmingly male term of address.
"I'd like to remind you that although being homosexual is no longer illegal itself, acting on such desires under the age of twenty-one is illegal and punishable by a prison sentence," Sai says.
"I know," says Ron.
Sai smiles disingenuously. "Dorian will see you out."
"Wait, who's this source?" Ron asks as Dorian gets to his feet. "Can I sue them for defamation or something?"
Sai sighs sympathetically. "I'm satisfied with your response, Mr. Weasely," she says. "I'll ask Mr. Malfoy the same questions and as long as I'm equally as convinced then the accusation won't leave this room and it will be completely disregarded."
"Okay, good," Ron mutters. "See you later then." He groans silently at himself as they get up to leave. "Well, I won't see you later. Goodbye. Thank you? Yeah."
Sai stays perfectly still as Ron stumbles out of the door.
"See you later," she says softly.
Ron heads down to the courtyard. Annoyingly, waiting for the interview took out a big chunk of their lunchtime, but more annoyingly is the accusation pinned to him. They cringe as they recall their flustered answers.
This mysterious source is what troubles him the most- it surely has to be Snape, who else could it be? They have to talk to Draco before Sai gets a chance to. Draco is far more convincing than them anyway, Ron decides as he runs outside, and would likely deal with it in a much smoother manner than the mess he just produced.
Ron dodges Harry and Hermione's usual section of the courtyard and heads straight out to the path between Hogwarts and the forest surrounding it where the Slytherins stay at lunch and breaktimes. He spots Draco amid his usual crowd of Slytherins, staring to one side with a vacant look, not really talking to any of them. Ron steels himself with a breath then approaches the crowd. It has to be now.
As much as he trusts Draco to display his usual arrogant determination with the people from the Ministry, leaving him to go into the interview blind could be disastrous.
"Oi," Ron shouts, adrenaline giving them a much-needed confidence boost. The gathering of half a dozen turns at the sudden noise.
"Get lost, Ron," someone shouts.
This instantly grabs Draco's attention, and he turns to see Ron staring directly at him. He barges his way through Daphne and Goyle to the front.
"What do you want, Weasely?"
Ron's stomach clenches at all the attention on him. There's no backing out now. "Expelliarmus."
Draco's wand flies out of his hand and towards Ron, dropping in the mud at their feet. They pick it up and shove it into their back pocket.
"Give that back," snarls Draco. "Or you'll regret it." He makes eye contact with Ron, silently asking what could provoke an outburst like this, and holding back a smile because of how un-Ron this is.
"Come and get it," Ron says.
Draco smirks combined with an eye roll as if to say 'are we really doing this?'.
"You're pushing it, Weasely."
Ron's eyebrows flit up in response and he bolts down the path and towards the forest. Draco doesn't wait a single second before sprinting after them.
They race down to a sheltered clearing, Draco checking behind him several times to ensure no one is following them. The wind rustles through both their hairs as Draco catches up to Ron out of view of the school and they run side by side, panting breathlessly, rosy cheeks from the autumn air.
"Stop," Ron breathes, gulping in air as he leans over, red in the face.
Draco smiles with the exhilaration of the chase, also bending over to catch his breath.
"Fuck me, that was unexpected," he says, leaning in to kiss Ron.
Ron reciprocates it for a short second before pushing him away, still out of breath. "You're going to kill me one day I swear," they say. "We can't do it here, someone'll see."
"Like who? A tree?"
Ron gives him a look. "I need to tell you something serious."
"What, so serious that you had to make a public mockery of me?" he grins.
"Yes, shut up, I needed to improvise."
"It was kind of hot. You should shit-talk me more often."
"Draco, this is serious."
Draco tries to sober up, taking his hand off the side of Ron's neck. "Yeah, go on then. What's happened?"
"I think Snape told the Ministry about us," says Ron.
"What?"
"Some people from the Ministry just interviewed me and they were asking about us."
This dramatically changes Draco's mood. "About us?"
"Yeah, they said they had a 'written source' saying we're in a sexual relationship," says Ron. "I mean what the fuck is that all about? The only person who knows about us is Snape, right? So it must be-"
"No, it wasn't Professor Snape," Draco says, now deadly serious. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A written source. Sexual relationship. This can only mean one thing: they've found and read Slughorn's diary.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," says Draco. "What did you say?"
"I completely denied it. I said it was lying," says Ron. "Although I don't think I was doing a good job at convincing them, so I told them I wasn't gay and Hermione is my girlfriend. They said that they're going to interview you about it too, and if they're happy with our responses then they're gonna say the source was bullshit. I just needed to warn you that someone's onto us and about this interview thing."
Draco goes incredibly quiet. From skim reading through Slughorn's diary last Friday, he already saw that he and Ron were mentioned, a lot. Their relationship bothered Slughorn monumentally.
The implications from the discovery of Slughorn's diary run deeper than their relationship. The abuse. All of it. Documented. Every single day, every single event, all the reasoning behind it. The lengths Slughorn was willing to go to get what he wanted. The Ministry knows about it all. That's one hell of a motive for murder.
"Draco?"
"Why the hell did you bring me out here?" Draco finds himself saying.
Ron is taken aback by his tone. "To warn you?"
"Do you know how suspicious this is going to look if they found out we ran off into the fucking forest together?"
Ron swallows. He wasn't expecting this reception from Draco, but he's right. This won't look good.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't think it through," they say.
"Why did you say that you're with Hermione?" Draco, sounding genuinely irritated. "Do you know how easy that is to check? They're not going to believe a fucking word you said now."
Ron's face scrunches up in anxious guilt. "I don't know why I said that, I panicked."
Draco sighs, sudden regret hitting him. "God, sorry," he sighs, placing his hands on Ron's shoulders. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just stressed. This whole thing is stressing me out."
"Sorry, I know I wasn't thinking rationally-"
"Honestly, Ron," says Draco. "You did fine."
"Ok," Ron nods and flops forward onto him. Draco wraps his arms around him without hesitation.
"I'm so fucking scared, Draco," Ron whispers, their voice muffled by the fabric of his jumper.
Draco rests a hand on the back of their head. "They won't find out about us, okay?" he says. "I can convince them, and if they need any more convincing, I can get my father to put pressure on them to drop it."
"What will he think about this?" Ron says.
"My dad?"
"Yeah."
"He'll side with me," says Draco. "I'll tell him that the Ministry is harassing me with far-fetched allegations and he'll make them drop it." A shiver runs down his spine; this situation feels familiar, and look how last time turned out.
"Are you sure?"
"Ron, listen to me," Draco says. "You're going to be fine. The Ministry will drop this, I promise." It's not a promise he can keep, but he'd do anything to give Ron peace of mind.
"Have I fucked things up by saying I'm seeing Hermione?" Ron asks, biting their lip nervously.
They pull away from the hug, and Draco cups the side of his face with one hand.
"No, you haven't," he says. "Just tell Hermione that they were accusing you of, I don't know. You can probably get away with telling her the truth to be honest. Say one of my mates told the Ministry that we were a thing to piss me off and that you panicked and said she's your girlfriend. She'll understand."
"Okay," says Ron, his nerves easing slightly. At least one of them seems to know what he's doing.
They exchange a few kisses, and Draco's hands slide down their back and he snatches the wand from their pocket. "I'll be taking that," he says. "I'd better get back before anyone starts getting suspicious."
"What are you going to say to the people from the Ministry?" Ron asks nervously as Draco starts wading back through the thick undergrowth.
"I'll tell them I want my legal guardian and a lawyer present," Draco calls over his shoulder. "Technically, they questioned you illegally. You could've refused. They can't question minors one on one if they refuse."
Ron watches him go, giving it a few minutes before they also return to Hogwarts. Draco's confidence has settled most of their worries. He will sort this out. Draco always knows what to do.