If…

Chapter Three

Disclaimer: not mine

Notes: more random inspiration.

If…

Chapter Three

…

He sat still for several seconds, trying desperately not to yell in anger and frustration. Try as he might, Harry couldn't deny that talking to Draco was oddly satisfying. Out of everyone he knew, Draco was probably the only one who didn't expect anything from him.

He quelled irrational worries and closed his eyes briefly, feeling an entirely unwelcome headache coming on.

Harry again glanced over at Ron (who was still on the floor and sleeping – Harry felt a rush of unreasonable jealousy – fitfully) and slowly pulled out a few sheets of parchment, freezing when they rustled a little, then shutting the lamp off and sitting perfectly still and silent when Ron turned in his sleep to face towards him. Ron snorted and he winced. Ron nestled back into his covers. Harry waited several seconds before starting to pull the sheets out again.

He didn't know why he didn't want Ron to know, but in his mind he could hear Draco's voice whisper, "It's Starting To Burn…" and he knew somewhere inside of him that he wouldn't tell.

Instead he started on a few letters. He would, he decided, send one letter to the ministry, one to Remus and one to Dumbledore. Shaking his head, he suddenly realized in a surge of guilt, pain and rage that Dumbledore wouldn't get the letter, because Dumbledore was dead. McGonagall, then.

To Whom It May Concern:

I, Harry Potter, recently received news of what has become of Draco Malfoy; thought missing and presumed dead for lack of sight for more than a month, thought to a be a Death Eater or be in the hands of the Death Eater. I am absolutely sure that it is Draco Malfoy.

He is being held prisoner in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. He has been injured and I did not get a chance to speak to him for very long, but I am sure he is in danger and must be taken from the possession of the Death Eaters.

Harry paused, wondering what to say next. He skimmed it over, and, satisfied that it sounded professional enough, decided to add a tiny white lie to smooth things over at the ministry, where he planned to send the letter.

In the short time in which I spoke to him, I determined that he is, in fact, willing to join the Light Side for the good of humanity and the Wizarding World. He would place himself in jeopardy for our cause. Apparently he has realized that joining the Dark Side isn't in his best interests. I have spoken to the Weasleys and they would be happy to have him here, but security reasons may force him to stay with Remus Lupin in Grimmauld Place, a safe zone for the Light, or even in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, if found necessary.

He has asked me not to contact you (The Ministry) in the interest of his own life (he would probably be killed if you raided) but I have defied his wishes by writing you this letter. I hope you will keep the bloodshed to a minimum. I suspect there are other innocents in the manor, and their lives are as important as ours.

Please consider this closely.

Regards,

Harry Potter.

He reread the letter, decided it was adequate, copied it twice and quietly asked Hedwig to take one to McGonagall, one to Remus and the last to the ministry. Apologizing for the length of the trips, he assured her that it was absolutely necessary, and that she would get a good meal and a long rest when she returned.

Thanking her, he opened the window and saw her off.

…

Pain. It dominates your world, clouding your vision. It is all you can think about. Pain, pain, pain. You blink. Pain. You whisper. Pain. You try to flex your stomach and curl up in agony. As soon as you move, it stuns you, shooting through you, darkening your vision. Your eyes prickle. You sip the water but the cool liquid does nothing to relieve you. You gather your strength and reach your arm out for your pen. They will be back soon, you write, and hope that he hasn't left. He will save your world, but for now, just you.

…

Movement in the corner of Harry's eye. Words whispering across the sheet of paper.

They will be back soon.

What happened?

You don't want to know.

Are you okay?

I'm fine. Just a little banged up, just a little weak from blood loss, you know…no, really. I'm fine. I can't move without pain, but at least I can move at all. Most of the time people go into vegetative states, where their bodies are limp and they're totally unresponsive and they have to be dragged away. I could walk. I think he would have been impressed if he didn't hate me so goddamned much.

But you are okay.

Why the sudden concern, Potter? You've never cared before.

Well, I'm sorry for fearing for your life, Malfoy. Ever consider that I really care?

No, not really. I'd be flattered, but it's you we're talking about. Your hero complex makes you care for everyone. I'm just another person for you to save.

That's not true.

Harry could see Draco's eye roll.

Spare me your idiocy, Potter. Denying it doesn't change the fact that it's true. Am I correct in asking you sent a letter to the ministry?

How did you know?

It's in your nature to never do anything other people tell you to do or – in this case – not to do. You probably also sent letters to Lupin and McGonagall, right?

Yeah. I'm waiting for responses. And…I hope it's okay, but I kind of told them that you're willing to join the Light Side. You're awfully perceptive.

Know thine enemy, I suppose. It's all right; I'll just find some excuse. That's what I'm good at. Although, I probably know more about you than your friends do.

Really?

Presumably. Do they know that your favorite colors are dark red and Slytherin green?

Probably not. They think I like Gryffindor red best.

For your best friends, they're astonishingly slow. Especially since Granger's supposed to be the smartest in the school.

Last time I checked, she was the – hold on, I've got a letter. Funny, I thought it'd take her longer than that…

Harry opened it quickly, skimming the letter and allowing a disbelieving grin to cross his face. Perhaps the new Minister had decided that his opinion was worth paying attention to. And perhaps, although it was a long shot, he wouldn't turn out to be all that bad after all.

What does it say?

I'll copy it for you.

Harry,

Thank you for your letter. I've given instructions to everyone in the entire ministry to send anything from you directly to me. We've decided to value your opinion a bit more than Fudge did, and after looking over our evidence in the Draco Malfoy case, we came to the conclusion that your story is very plausible, especially with the story of Dumbledore's recent and much-regretted death.

Although curious about your means of communication, we've decided not to ask any questions, as mail is easily intercepted, until we get to your current residence, The Burrow. I can tell from your letter that you hadn't actually notified the Weasleys, as it's four in the morning and you wouldn't wake them up over something like this. I know Molly would be fine with having Draco, but somehow I don't think the other Weasleys would be very happy if he showed up. For his sake, I'd rather send him to Grimmauld Place. Hogwarts is too large and too accessible.

I'll see you in a few minutes.

Yours affectionately,

Rufus Scrimgeour

Ah, the universal we.

They do use that a lot, don't they?

So they do. Perhaps you should go wake the Weasleys and let them know what's happening before there's a knock on the door and they suddenly find out that you've been sending unauthorized letters to the ministry and conversing with a Death Eater they despise on a sheet of obviously charmed paper that arrived by black owl. It would do you all better if they knew the facts. Especially that I'm 'good'.

Is that concern I detect, Malfoy?

Only for myself.

Always with the image, eh? You know, you're not all that bad when you're not trying to be an absolute bastard.

Shush, you! You'll ruin my image. What if they want to read this? Anyways, all I'm concerned about right now is self-preservation. All the ministry wants is the secrets under my hat. Belt. Whichever you prefer.

Right, well, I'm off, then. Don't write anything, because I wont see it. This will be folded in my pocket, okay?

Draco?

You told me not to write anything.

You're supposed to write, 'okay.' And then not write anything.

Sincerest apologies, Potter, it appears your simplistic mindset hasn't settled in a dull fog over my brain yet.

RIGHT, well, I'm off then. Don't write anything, because I wont see it. This will be folded in my pocket, OKAY?

Okay.

Good.

Harry folded the paper and slipped it in his pocket. He kicked Ron on the way out, said, "Get up, Ron," and after waiting for him to get up, left the room to wake up the others.

…

Ah hah! This is actually going somewhere! I was worried about getting Draco out too quickly, but this was a nice in-between transfer chapter. You may have noticed that Harry's not too torn-up about Dumbledore's death, and neither is anyone else (namely Draco and the minister), but I've been trying to get this through. Harry's seventeen. He's not a little boy anymore. He's legally an adult in the Wizarding World.

He's also been through enough crap to learn to block it out. He's not wasting time mourning and feeling sorry for himself. He's using what precious time he has left to fill his life with the things he didn't get at the Dursleys. As for Draco and Rufus (whose character I'm changing because I think he's smarter than Fudge and not every minister for magic has to be an absolute idiot, as J.K. Rowling seems to think), Draco's pretty shaken up but it's not in his nature to show things like that (as shown in chapter one, angst number one), and Rufus is trying to be a good, unselfish minister who's not a total idiot and so he's not burdening himself with grief. He's being what I like to call 'coolly professional.'

Hope you liked, my darlings! This is my current love! My quickest updates yet! And apologies for current lack of Misunderstanding Trilogy. I'm still stuck.

If there are any errors let me know. I was typing fast and I make them all too much. It's like the faster you type the better, but worse at the same time. Ugggh, I hate life.