Everyone is waiting, Harry thought to himself. I need to go in. With a deep sigh, Harry walked through the doorway, pausing long enough for the charms to recognize him. He walked from the doors to his seat at the head of the table, whispered conversations he passed stopping. Harry stood behind his seat, his eyes roaming the empty chairs around the table, misting over with clouded emotion.
He sat. "I call this meeting to order."
No others moved or spoke, so Harry continued. "Voldemort is dead. The Dementors are dead. Our people are in charge of Azkaban and it's prisoners. We have saved our world, the world of Muggles, the worlds of dwarves, giants, elves. The world is safe for the first time in 28 years. It is also…empty. Our victory is devoid of joy. Only those in this room can feel how much our triumph has cost. We have lost many people close to us. Four years ago, three hundred people sat around this table. One by one, they have been taken from us, leaving us thirty. We are the victors, yet no joy, no hope sparkles from our eyes. And yet, we have been chosen to continue, to rebuild the world. One of our own, Arthur Weasley, has been appointed the new Minister of Magic. The new Minister has filled a chair at this table from the beginning of our battle. It is…gratifying to see that the post now has a man who can properly discharge its duties. Minister Weasley has come here with a purpose, which I invite him to share, once I offer him our deepest condolences on his losses."
"Thank you, Harry, and fellow Order members. The support you have shown me…has been amazing and I appreciate it greatly." Arthur cleared his throat and gathered his mind before continuing on with official business.
"The Ministry has decided to present the Order of Merlin, First Class, to all of us, living and dead. If we wish, there shall be a proper ceremony, with some of the Muggle leaders in attendance as well."
"What says the Order?" Harry asked.
"It would be wrong to celebrate," Minerva McGonagall.
"It would be wrong to accept," said Cho Chang.
A phoenix flew in from nowhere, settling on Harry's shoulder and squawking in his ear. Harry was reminded of Professor Dumbledore and something the professor had once told him.
"I think we should accept," Harry interrupted. "No ceremony."
"Why?" Seamus Finnegan asked respectfully.
"We did earn them. And they might provide some relief eventually."
"Is that the consensus of the Order, then?" Arthur asked.
No one answered, so Harry did. "It is."
Arthur nodded and brought up his second point.
"We are not yet through with sentencing, Order members. Our next trial promises some controversy and the Ministry recommends it's audience be limited to those of the Order only."
"Who awaits the justice of the Order?" Harry asked.
"Draco Malfoy."
With this pronouncement, the room burst into speech. Fawkes squawked again in Harry's ear, bringing the man's attention to a newly arrived rolled parchment on the table in front of him. Harry immediately probed the parchment for curses or hexes but felt only the mark of Dumbledore's magic. Harry unrolled the parchment, read it, and lost all sense of reality.
Dear Harry, the letter read.
If Fawkes has delivered this letter to you, then I am no longer living. I hope I have died to buy the Order time and lived long enough to teach you everything I could. If the Order has not yet announced it, I leave to you all of my belongings, positions, and lemon drops. When Hogwarts reopens – for it shall – I wish you to accept the position of Headmaster, if the thought does not upset you.
There was one other thing I wished to tell you, and that is regarding Draco Malfoy. From his earliest days at Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy has been working for our side, as one of the Order's own Unmentionables. Much like Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy entered Voldemort's inner circle as a spy. He passed on vital information to our side many times. I urge the use of Veritaserum on young Mr. Malfoy, and for a truth charm to be used on this letter.
Harry, I know you were never close friends with Mr. Malfoy, but I know that you will do what is right. Remember that things are very rarely what they seem. I am very proud of you, Harry, as I know your parents are. I can only guess at the nature of things you have undergone, for which you shall always have my thanks. You have exceeded all of our hopes for you.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore,
Hogwarts Headmaster.
When Harry refocused on the world, he heard the rest of the table hotly debating the wisdom of a limited trial for a Malfoy, of all people.
"He was a Death Eater! One of Voldemort's inner guardians! Everyone has the right to hear what he has to say."
"Do we want them to?"
"His parents are both dead – killed by our side. What do we expect him to say?"
"Minister Weasley?" Harry said. "May I speak with Mr. Malfoy individually?"
"Might I ask why?" McGonagall questioned.
"I would prefer not to say just yet, professor."
Arthur looked around the table, but saw only nods.
"Of course, Harry."
The rest of the meeting went by slowly for Harry. As soon as it was done, Harry apparated to Ministry headquarters. People paused as he passed by them and resumed work and quiet conversations when he was gone, noting how much deeper the circles under Harry's eyes had become, had much longer the worry lines on his face were, the invisible pressure riding on his shoulders.
Harry had taken much upon himself during the war for such a young wizard. It was true, Harry was quite powerful, and the acknowledged leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but some still felt that, despite everything he had gone through, he was too young for such responsibilities. The first year of the war against Voldemort killed some Harry's best Gryffindor friends and Harry-watchers said the young man had never recovered. Harry's best friend, Ron, died the second year, along with Ron's new bride, the Muggle-born genius Hermione. The third year of the war lost the most people, several major battles claiming upwards of 100 people each. The year after was better in terms of losses, but one death early in the year gave the Order a major setback. During a duel with Voldemort, Headmaster Dumbledore fell victim to the third of the Unforgivable Curses. With such losses and Harry's full potential still not reached, the Order made Harry its leader and, in the fifth year of the war, he met Voldemort alone and banished the evil wizard to the lowest reaches of Hell. Months were spent picking off the most recalcitrant Death Eaters and charming the memories of traumatized Muggles.
Harry had lost so many of his closest friends in the war, losses that had etched their way into his soul. No one had seen Harry smile in literally years, not even when Voldemort was finally defeated. The halls of Hogwarts hadn't heard Harry's ringing laughter since he graduated and very few still living knew what the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes looked like without a haunted plea for someone to wake him up from the nightmare.
Everyone knew this, knew without understanding what Harry had lost, given up, or grown into. It was with this in mind that they stood in silent homage to his burden. Harry knew, but refused to acknowledge the awe people looked at him with – how was he special? Many people had lost family, friends, everything in the war. Including,Harry thought, the person I'm going to see. Draco Malfoy.
Draco sat in his cell, as he had done for months now, nothing to do except feel the magical boundaries pulsating around him. He knew the binding spells placed on his cell were some of the most powerful in existence – they gave off the slight metallic smell of magic barely held in place he still hadn't gotten used to. If Draco closed his eyes, he could almost feel the signatures of each individual's addition to the spells. He sought out one identity, the strongest imprint out of the seven contributors. In Draco's mind, he could see the shimmering gold wire-web, weaving in and out of Dumbledore's purple Defensive magic, Weasley's green Muggle magic, McGonagall's red Transfiguration magic, Snape's black Potion magic, Black's white Ward magic, and Moody's blue Charm magic. And yet, they were only held together by Harry's golden magic, one that combined and surpassed all of the others'. Draco once found that if gently reached out to the gold thread, the image of its creator came unbidden to his mind. My love. The only thing that can keep my sanity.
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AN: Yes, this is a post-war fic, H/D slash. Thanks for the reviews thus far. You guys are awesome!
To answer questions: The soul-bond is a Veela thing, and Harry doesn't know about it yet. Don't worry, he will.