Author: Etherea.

Rating: T – PG-13 (Slight Sexual connotations and Foul Language; nothing unbearable.)

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

Author Note: Thanks so, so much to Enchant for Beta-ing this chapter after my many whims and changes. You're the best, Sweet!

Another Author Note: Sorry for the lateness, everybody, and thanks so much for your reviews! This chapter proved to be nearly impossible to write; what with Book 6 coming out and the consequent blow to my heart (I remain hopeful, though!) On this note, I want to warn you all that, from now on, this story is even more AU than it could possibly have been. ED has had a year on the making, and it has been thought out this way since then, so hopefully you guys will be tolerant about this: Ethereal Desire won't change to fit the new cannon, but will continue to evolve within its own universe. With that said, I would also like to dedicate this chapter to "the Greatest Wizard of the Age" and to the "Half-Blood Prince". No matter what JK says or plans, they were both my favorites (besides my two beautiful boy toys, of course) and they will always be.

Draco: Harry, you realize our relationship is now cannon, love? You're now officially obsessed with me! Ether thinks it's just wonderful! ºAdopts innocent look and bats eyelashes at his boyfriendº

Harry: ºScowlsº Don't get too happy, you brat! It was just a plot device from JK. ºBlinks repeatedlyº And I'm not obsessed with him! ºGlares at Etherea, who is now trying to look as inconspicuous as she can, typing slash scenes at her computer. She fails miserably and starts chuckling at Harry's affronted expressionº

Harry: Ether! Stop that! Stop encouraging him!

Etherea: What? I'm not doing anything! ºPoutsº And he's right, you know. Now I can write as many slash fics as I want; what with you being obsessed with Draco and all... ºWinks at Draco, who winks back -smiling devilishly- without paying much attention to his boyfriend's outrageº

Harry: I. Am. Not. Obsessed. With. Draco! ºHisses, glaring at the two friends laughing in his faceº

Draco: ºSighs as if resignedº Yes, love; whatever you say. Just remind me that next time you start screaming my name, begging me to keep doing that thing with my tongue you love all over your...

Harry: Draco!

Draco: I rest my case. ºSmirks smuglyº

Etherea: Boys... ºShakes her head, amused, and resumes her writingº

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Ethereal Desire

Chapter Four

Saved By the Old Coot

Harry Potter never imagined he would ever be so glad to see the acidic man that was Severus Snape. This was certainly one day full of surprises.

Disappointment: that was the main emotion Harry was feeling right at the moment. Dra… Malfoy, Harry realised, hadn't changed one bit. He was the same arrogant, hideous bastard he had known for most of his life; worse yet, the same man who hated him for no given reason, or at least that's what Harry thought. Three years. It had been three years since the last time they had laid eyes on each other, but somehow it felt longer than that. Still, why hadn't Malfoy gotten over that stupid enmity between them? For Merlin's beard, they were supposed to be adults now, not eleven-years-old pranksters. They didn't lead antagonist crowds anymore. They were no longer captains of rival teams. They didn't have the weight of others' expectations on their backs any longer. Moreover, the war and its horrors were in the past, and even though the scars were still there, Harry would have thought all these years would have helped heal the wounds. Isn't that what Time is for, anyway? Doesn't it make you older, stronger, wiser?

Harry snorted to himself at his thought. Wiser. Now, that was one thing he was definitely not being at the moment.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that he had wasted so much "time" thinking that his days were numbered that he found most things irrelevant nowadays. When you're merely a boy and you wake up every morning thinking that you could be facing the last day of your life, your priorities are bound to change. You start giving significance to things that truly matter, not trivial issues like school rumours, the next Quidditch match, or trying to outwit the stupid git that is your school nemesis every time you cross each other's path in the corridors. Maybe Malfoy just viewed things differently. Maybe he was just the type of person who could hold a grudge for a decade; literally. Nevertheless, even when Harry didn't understand what was going on in Malfoy's mind, the murderous glare and the wand tip currently pressed against his chest were sending a clear message: Draco still loathed him, and with a vengeance.

Yes, he felt like quite the idiot at the moment. Here he was, trying his best to stop himself from jumping on the undeniably beautiful man in front of him, whilst it was rather obvious the Slytherin only felt tempted to slit his throat and dump his lifeless body in the Forbidden Forest. Figures it could only happen to him: to feel so incredibly attracted to the one man in the whole world who simply couldn't stand him. But what else could he have expected? What was it he wanted anyway? Would he have preferred to have Malfoy reciprocating whatever it was Harry was feeling towards him? Wouldn't that just make his life even more complicated? Wasn't it just not worth it? There were other things, important things, in Harry's life now. Things that truly mattered: his fiancé, for instance; the family that had taken him as one of their own; his career; his future... Hell! Hadn't he made a promise to himself just last night; that he wouldn't permit his stupid thoughts and dreams to take those things away from him? Well, Malfoy, and whatever Harry was feeling for him, were amongst the "Don't Even Think about It" list; right on top, actually.

However, Harry was trying desperately to forget the fact that he was still pinned against the tiled wall of a bathroom by his -armed- childhood archenemy and that he hadn't lifted a finger to remedy that, just as he was trying with all his might to forget that he didn't mind at all, that he didn't feel one bit threatened, that he was actually enjoying it; that Ginny, his career, and his future were the last things that mattered to him right now, and that it was all because of Draco's bottomless grey eyes, and Draco's tempting cerise lips, and Draco's firm, assertive touch all over him, and… well, just Draco in his entirety. He had nearly forgotten that he was not alone with the Slytherin anymore when a sound came from somewhere next to him and it brought him back to his senses, or what was left of them anyway.

Severus Snape stood by the now closed door of the bathroom; his onyx eyes appearing as mere slits of black and his thin mouth set in a jagged line of gritted teeth. There were a few dots of perspiration on his brow and over his upper lip, and his breathing was somewhat ragged, which betrayed the fact that he had run all the way there. The deadly glare didn't seem to have any recipient in particular, for it kept darting to each one of the two young men standing not five meters from the tip of his readied wand. Draco, to his merit, appeared quite blasé; his hold on the Gryffindor not loosening one inch; although he did seem a bit annoyed by the interruption.

"Draco, I said step back," the Potions Master said in a low, warning voice. "You don't want me to make you do as I say."

Draco's eyes remained locked with the emerald gaze in front of him, not turning to address his godfather. "This is none of your concern, Severus. Potter and I are merely solving a disagreement." His voice was cold and unwavering, and he pushed closer against the Gryffindor - if that was even possible- to convey his point, his face set in his trademark scowl.

"Draco…" the Potions Master warned once more; his wand clutched tightly and steady in his hand.

"As I already said, Severus, don't bother yourself. You may leave us now." Draco's tone turned patronizing, and his godfather didn't seem to like the affront one bit.

"Step back, I said!" the Potions Master bellowed, and with it, a pale blue ray dashed from his wand, hitting Draco's with astounding aim and sending the wooden stick crashing against the wall. It fell onto the floor with a resounding clatter. The blonde's eyes widened with both surprise and anger. He released his hold on Harry with a harsh push and turned swiftly towards his godfather, visibly fuming.

Harry's shock at his former professor's actions made him ignore the intense bolt of pain he felt when his head made hard contact with the wall. If anything, he would have expected the obscure wizard to join his godson in the impromptu party. Not that he minded his sudden appearance, actually; even though he loathed admitting it, he doubted his self-control would have lasted much longer, and acting on his most basic –albeit completely unwelcome, honestly!- instincts would have surely warranted nothing short of Avada Kedavra from the incensed Slytherin; although it would have been absolutely worth it if at least it meant he had had one chance to taste those succulent, cherry lips of his…

Oh, bloody Hell! That's it! I've lost it, he growled to himself as he let himself slide onto the floor against the wall, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Malfoy's face was contorted with rage as he lashed out at his godfather, who merely looked at him with a devious, knowing smirk on his face. "Since when did you start defending this git? He hexed me, goddamn it! I won't let him get away with it!" That particular word caused the emerald-eyed wizard to react. He jumped up from his spot on the floor, looking as miffed as he could manage.

"I did nothing of the sort!" he retorted heatedly. "What is the matter with you, Malfoy? Did you spend too much time in the Mediterranean sun? You are surely hallucinating!" Draco turned once again to the Gryffindor and Harry could have sworn there was smoke coming out of his ears; the blond seemed ready to knock him out with his bare hands. Severus Snape's pitch-black eyes darted from one wizard to the other, perplexed, before he spoke again.

"Stop it, both of you!" he spat, this time placing himself between the two raving wizards. His feral glare rested on the Gryffindor. "Potter, leave now before I regret saving that piteously wasted skull of yours," he said in that condescending, caustic tone he seemed to reserve especially for the raven-haired hero. Of course, even though the obscure wizard had given Harry the chance for the quiet exit he knew he should have been wishing for the moment he saw Draco Malfoy broken and vulnerable on the bathroom floor, Harry couldn't bring himself to leave, and not only because it meant he would be doing the Potions Master's bidding; he was quite intrigued, now. What had Draco been talking about? Hexed him? Harry knew he had to get to the bottom of it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Snape, but I'm afraid that won't be possible," Harry said firmly, accentuating Severus' last name so the git would remember he was not his student anymore, and also because he was plain sick of the Potions Master's condescending attitude towards him. "As the Auror in charge of this case's investigations, I'm in charge of Mr. Malfoy's vigilance as well. You must understand that due to present circumstances I just can't allow him free reign. It would hardly be very professional of me," he added with a satisfied smile that could very well have been a smirk when he noticed Snape's darkening features. "Also, Mr. Malfoy here just attacked my person, a Ministry Officer. That alone is enough reason to put him behind bars," Harry finished matter-of-factly, trying to suppress his laughter. The look on Malfoy's face was enough for him to keep up the charade, Harry realized with a wave of satisfaction. The blond was totally livid; his otherwise impassive, patrician features were set in a contorted scowl of indignation, and the slight pink of his tanned complexion didn't hide the angered tinge on his cheeks and neck. Not mentioning, of course, that he kept opening and closing his mouth in complete outrage, seemingly lost for words; which was probably a first for the young Malfoy.

He looked absolutely ravishing.

"You... you..." Draco seethed as he glared poisoned daggers at the Gryffindor.

"I what, Malfoy?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest; a cheeky smile on his face. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you." Harry realized in that exact moment, when Draco's upper lip started quivering in his overruling wrath, how much he had missed this game of theirs; how much he had missed... well, yes; Draco Malfoy.

The blond was about to retort –and quite caustically for that matter- when Snape stepped in. "Pardon my godson's actions, Potter. You must understand that Mr. Malfoy is under a lot of... stress," he said, for once sidestepping his disgust for the wizard in favour of some –rather necessary- diplomacy and trying to silence his godson's undoubtedly immaterial comments with a quick glare in his direction. "I completely understand your distrust, but I assure you, your extra precautions won't be necessary. I hold myself responsible for any unwanted situation should there be any, which I highly doubt. Now, if you'll excuse us," the Potions Master took a step forward towards Harry, his face set in a hard scowl and his wand pointing at the door, "but I need to discuss some matters with my godson. Surely a defendant is allowed some privacy with his counsellor?"

Harry didn't appreciate the dark wizard's intimidating tactics one bit, so he stood straighter, facing the now too-close-for-his-comfort Potions Master confidently.

"You're quite right, Mr. Snape, but your godson just accused me of hexing him. He's claiming a serious offence; the fact that I'm an Auror only makes it even more serious, and I simply refuse to leave until he explains the grounds on which he is basing his accusations."

"How typical of you," the blond spat viciously all of the sudden, ignoring his godfather's poisonous glare, "to use your position as leverage. Is that how you get everything you want, Potter? Using the pitiful slack of power and fame you have to sidestep your responsibilities and the accountability of your actions?"

Now, that was low, Harry thought as his anger flared. No, that was rich coming from the same lad who led the Inquisitorial Squad in fifth year! Did Malfoy just hint he was a despot? When, for Merlin's beard, had he abused his position for his own gain? Never! Not once, not ever! How could he say something like that? How... how... how dared he?

"You will take that back, Malfoy," Harry said lowly as his wand also appeared from his robe pocket and was held firmly in front of him. The blond just smirked maliciously.

"Did I just hit a nerve, Potter? You know what they say: If the cap fits..." Draco's sentence and whatever retort Harry was planning to make were cut short by Severus' roar.

"Enough is enough! Draco, do shut up!" he said, directing his godson with a petrifying look that nearly smacked him backwards before turning to a somewhat gobsmacked Harry Potter. "And you better lower that wand and get out of this bathroom this instant, Potter, or I'll be more than pleased to file a complaint on your unwarranted behaviour to your Head of Department!" Snape's black eyes weighed down on him, but he stood his ground firmly.

"You can file all the complaints you want, Snape. For all I know, I was just doing my job when Malfoy attacked me for no given reason, and not only that, but he also made unfounded allegations against me," he seethed.

"Then remind me when it was appointed to you to follow my charge and invade his privacy. If I'm not mistaken, that's called harassment," the Potions Master said lowly; his voice in the subzero spectrum and his face set in a knowing smirk.

Harry blinked repeatedly, feeling his bravado deflate like a pinched balloon as cold lightning ran across his stomach.

Surely Snape wouldn't say he had come looking for Draco without orders? Surely he wouldn't expose him like that?

Damn the bastard!

"Well, Potter?" Severus prompted, and noticing the hesitation in Harry's eyes he was unable to suppress a wide, twisted smile of triumph. That'd teach the insolent fool not to cross him.

"You have five minutes," Harry finally said, seething, after a short, defiant silence before pocketing his wand and walking straight-backed to the door. He waited until Snape removed the locking and silencing charms he had placed, and then opened it slowly, mindful of the group of reporters standing outside. The sight of the fevered flashes and the assault of questions made his stomach do an unpleasant turn. As he stepped carefully outside and heard some of the journalists' comments –which were all along the lines of 'Draco Malfoy and the Boy-Who-Lived: locked together in a bathroom', he closed the door swiftly behind him and started down the crowded hallway, not smiling at the cameras and not responding to the devious questions, but wondering how the hell he was going to explain all of this to Ginny once she read the evening paper.

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"What in Hades' name was that all about? Why did you take it out on me?"

Draco lashed at his godfather the moment he saw the door closing behind Harry Potter. Severus was busy placing new charms, and by the look on his face he was not... pleased. He turned to his godson after he had finished; wand stored and arms crossed.

"You nearly attacked Harry Potter, who was unarmed, whilst in the middle of judicial procedures. I thought you were a clever man." Draco gave his godfather his most infamous scowl.

"So I can't even defend myself, now? He was the one who did something wrong!" he yelled, outraged.

"I don't see why you would have fallen for it," Severus drawled. "Like I said, I thought you were a clever man."

"If I nearly hexed him –thanks to you- it's because he did it first! He cursed me somehow! I don't know exactly what hex he used; it was... well, is some sort of emotion-mixer, but I'm sure I can figure it out. I could go to St. Mungo's and have the personnel do some tests, confirm it. I won't let Harry Potter get away with this! He's done enough, and I'm fucking tired of him always screwing up my life! I don't give a damn if he is the bloody saviour of the Wizarding World! I'll make him pay for this! I will..."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Severus cut in, his onyx eyes narrowed. "If there's any curse inflicted upon you it is the curse of voluntary stupidity, apparently," the older wizard sneered. He leaned casually against the sink counter. "What is it you say you felt?"

The blond merely looked at him, his face set in an astonished grimace.

"I don't think that's any of your business, if you are so reluctant to believe me," Draco said at last, crossing his arms in a dignified manner and leaning against the same wall he had Potter cornered against moments ago. Severus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and sigh in irritation.

"I'm not saying that I don't believe you. I just want to know what could have possibly happened to make you think you were hexed," he said between clenched teeth. Draco looked uncertain for a second, but relented to his own curiosity. He didn't understand what had happened to him, so maybe the two-faced bastard he had for a godfather could enlighten him.

Oh, yes. If he had been mad at Severus Snape before, now he was furious!

"I... really don't know," he started; cantankerous and not minding that he was showing his full annoyance. "I just... looked at him and suddenly I started feeling all of these... emotions or something, and then I had these visions..."

"Visions?" his godfather asked, appearing to be quite intrigued. "What did you see?"

"Well," the blond blushed and nearly lowered his gaze. "I don't know. They were like visions, but they weren't real. I mean, I surely don't think I'll ever be as fucked-up in the head enough to kiss Potter!" Severus stared at him with unreadable eyes, which made him feel somewhat uneasy. Draco couldn't help but hate his godfather's enigmatic nature sometimes; not when he knew that it was something related to him which was shrouded in mystery.

"What about those emotions you mentioned?" Severus asked. It seemed his irritation had abated somewhat. Draco wanted to punch the wall. What was it with all these questions? Hadn't he made it all clear already?

"I don't know!" he said, exasperated. "I just started feeling this… sadness; it was complete misery! I felt like I had been hurt. Emotionally hurt. And when I was having those... visions, I felt... well, I felt everything, as if I was really experiencing them," he finished lamely, put out by his sudden lack of eloquence.

"And you're absolutely, positively sure it happened the instant you saw Harry Potter?" Severus asked; that strange, pensive expression still plastered on his pale face.

"Have you been listening to me! I told you, it was Harry Potter! Why else would I be having visions of him, of all people? He was the one who hexed me!"

Draco was completely taken aback when he stopped his rambling to notice that his godfather had started chuckling. Chuckling, for Salazar's beard!

"Are you mocking me?" Draco hissed, fists closed at his sides, mercury eyes narrowed into mere slits, and blond locks falling over his face. Severus looked at his godson's 'intimidating' pose and merely shook his head, looking for all he was worth as if he was having a great time at his godson's expense. Draco was about to snap something very offensive, no doubt, when his godfather rose a hand for silence.

"Why would Harry Potter hex you, Draco?" The blond seethed.

"Because he hates me? Because he has always hated me? Why would I know, anyway? How can I know what's going on in that twisted, scarred head of his!" The moment those words left his lips, he suddenly remembered noticing that Potter didn't have a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead anymore… but that was highly irrelevant. Severus chuckled softly once more.

"And apparently, you are not using that pretty head of yours," he said with a patronizing smile.

Draco stared at him, mouth agape, as if he had just been hit.

Of all the cheek in the world!

"And now you're calling me thick?" he snapped; his frozen eyes locked with those of his godfather.

"I never said you were, nor have I ever thought so, but I might start believing otherwise for you're certainly acting as thick as you could possibly be," Severus retorted superciliously. "You're not putting matters in perspective; you're not looking from the right angles. I thought that was one of your finer traits?" he added with a raised eyebrow.

What the hell was he talking about!

"I'm not completely sure I understand what you're saying, Severus. My hypotheses are confirmed: Senility has finally caught up with you," Draco said icily. His godfather laughed, ignoring the cheeky remark, which only aggravated Draco even more. If there was one thing he hated the most in the whole world, it was being treated like a helpless, foolish child, and somehow his godfather had the annoying tendency to do just that whenever he could.

"No, Draco. It's you who isn't acting sensibly, but I guess it's understandable," he said, and Draco noticed a spark of amusement shining in his black eyes. It puzzled Draco no end.

"You'll see it in its due time; when you're ready to face the truth." He moved towards the door under Draco's perplexed glare and started removing the charms without another word.

"What truth?" the blond asked between grit teeth, mostly out of habit, as a strange, tickling sensation in his stomach started spreading up his spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Severus looked at him, smirking.

"The truth you've been waiting for all this time, Draco. The truth that will change your life forever... if it hasn't already," he said cryptically, his pale face now stern.

Severus was about to say something else, but seemed to changed his mind. Instead, he adopted his trademark snarling expression and said in a disgusted tone, "I will take care of those damn reporters. You wait here a moment until I signal the way is cleared." With that, he opened the door and stepped outside; a sudden burst of flashes and movement greeting him just as he closed the door behind him.

Draco found himself alone in the bathroom, feeling claustrophobic all of the sudden. Cold dread running freely through him, he stared in disbelief at the closed door, for once utterly quiet.

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Ron Weasley glared at his best friend and soon-to-be brother in law as the raven-haired wizard finally took his seat next to him after his rather unorthodox intervention at the witness box. The hearing had resumed ten minutes ago, but not without incidents. Apart from the sudden disappearance of the young Auror after Malfoy's supposed indisposition and subsequent break in the procedures –which apparently the emerald-eyed wizard didn't care to clarify as of yet- Harry had come back to the courtroom quite dishevelled and in a foul mood. He had just sat there, looking pensive and irritated, not answering any of Ron's questions about his whereabouts. Then, the obnoxious defendant had finally showed up, accompanied by his equally irritating godfather, and Ron noticed that Harry didn't seem to be able to do anything other than stare at his annoying person the whole time. The blond, for his part, appeared almost, if not completely, upset about something, and Ron had caught him stealing furtive glances at his best mate, looking for all he was worth as if he was... constipated. Yes, that would be the word.

Next, once the hearing had started again, strange comments started raining down from the media box; stuff about a 'mid-hearing bathroom rendezvous' in between Harry's and Malfoy's names that certainly didn't do shite to alleviate Ron's discomfort. To top it all off, Harry finished his intervention by acting very rudely towards Luton -who was practically royalty in the Department- stating that 'the Auror Force had found nothing against Malfoy', that that was all the git (that would be, the prosecutor himself) needed to know, and that if he was allowed to state his personal opinion, the whole hearing was a complete fiasco. With that, Harry had left the witness box without waiting for a dismissal -signalling the end of the witnesses' declarations- and Ron had practically dreaded that his best friend would give the one-fingered salute to the cameras just to wrap it all up. Thank Merlin that didn't cross the Golden Boy's mind; it would have certainly made a statement, alright. Still, to say that Ron, Seamus, and Angelina were completely outraged was the understatement of the year.

"Are you happy now, mate?" Ron said between clenched teeth, his freckles practically invisible in his anger. Harry merely scowled at him and resumed his –supposedly inconspicuous- staring at Malfoy, who now seemed even more constipated than before, in Ron's opinion. Or maybe that's just the way the git always looked; to him, at least.

"What the hell was all that about, Potter?" Angelina hissed. "Do you realise you just made a fool of yourself; of the whole department for that matter!" Harry turned to look at her, his scowl deepening.

"If saying the truth translates into acting like a fool, then by all means, I am proud to be one. I'm sick and tired of Luton twisting this whole thing to his advantage, and I'm sick and tired of you guys siding with that prick," he said firmly, his whispers turning louder with each word. Angelina narrowed her dark eyes at him.

"That is insubordination, Potter! And Luton is merely doing his job!"

"No, he's not!" Harry spat. "He's playing with an innocent man's life, tricking everybody into thinking what he wants them to think, and I don't plan to just sit back and let him do it if I have any say in the matter!"

By now, some of the attendees and journalists sitting around the Auror group were turning to listen at the commotion taking place next to them. Ron looked up and saw Malfoy staring at Harry, and couldn't help but feel his anger flare even more.

"It was that git, wasn't it?" he snapped lowly; his face contorted with rage and his whispers hoarse as the need for subtlety forbade him to yell like he wanted to. "Malfoy hexed you into this! He placed you under Imperio to make you defend him! He's using you!"

"What!" This time Harry did yell, eliciting a tidal wave of murmurs and exclamations all over the courtroom and interrupting the quiet debating taking place at the presidium. Soon enough the rusty "Order!"s started once again, and the sounds of gavel hitting wood were completely overtaken by the buzz and fuzz going on inside the tribunal. Harry, to his merit, didn't pay one ounce of attention to it all, but he did lower his voice. "What the fuck are you talking about? He did not! Does somebody have to be under Imperio to do the right thing? Are you saying that the fact that I'm vouching for justice means that I've been hexed? Even if Draco had tried to place me under Imperio, did you forget I can fight it off as easily as I can perform a Wronsky Feint?" Harry spat, noticing just a bit too late that he had said Malfoy's given name out loud, not to mention the look of utter astonishment on his best friend's face...

He blanched as realisation dawned.

Oh, Gods! Could it be? Could it all be just a spell or a curse or something? Had Malfoy hexed him somehow, and that whole act the blond had pulled in the bathroom was just a trick, a trap to get him to help Malfoy out of this mess?

Had he been tricked into another of Malfoy's games?

"Order! Order! Order!" the old wizard at the presidium roared, looking like he was on the verge of having cardiac arrest. "I'll say this one more time, and it will be the last: this is a tribunal, not a Quidditch match! Another interruption and I'll call for a mistrial. Is that understood?" the Wizengamot warlock said firmly, and his stern expression conveyed that he really wasn't expecting a response. By some strange miracle of the Providence, silence reigned once again; although muffled whispering could still be heard from the media box.

"Now, before I lose the little bit of patience I have left, I call for the defendant to the box for his declaration," the wizard said hastily. Malfoy appeared to have been expecting this moment. His face set once again in an impassive mask, he exchanged a few words with his godfather, stood up gracefully from his chair, and walked towards the witness box, confident and poised as the Malfoy he was, and not letting show an ounce of the inner turmoil eating at his insides.

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Draco stood up in front of the guard, and subjected himself to the oath and the golden wand procedure. Once the guard was done, he took his seat at the box, but he could still feel the wary eye of the officer on him, which annoyed Draco to no end. What did the moron think he'd do? Jump out of the box, blast a hole through the wall, escape out of a fully-guarded building, and actually make it to the next apparition spot unscathed? Bloody git.

It was a strange feeling, being –for once- the focal point of every pair of eyes in a room where Harry Potter was also present. Draco felt the little hairs standing at the back of his neck, and decided that he didn't like the attention, not only because every face in the room appeared to have been sculpted into a nasty glare or a disgusted grimace; there was his godfather at the defendant box, staring at him as if expecting he'd do something stupid, and there was... Potter; Potter and that annoying, worried expression plastered on his face. If the git thought Draco would thank him for that little performance of his five minutes ago, he was completely mistaken. Although, Draco did thoroughly enjoy the Pig's face when Harry called him a git!

Wait a second... Did I just say...? Did I just called Potter 'Harry' and not drop dead in the process?

And there it was again, the cold dread and mortification his own thoughts elicited, and the memory of his godfather's words echoing in his mind: "The truth you've been waiting for all this time..."

Truth. The word that had had so many different meanings throughout his life; the one word he feared with all his being. Draco had learned in his short existence that the truth is not always one and the same; it's variable and customizable, according to people's needs. And there are many types of truths: half truths, shadow-truths, apparent-truths, and truths that just… are; the 'ethereal' truths, as he called them; the truths you can't prove, refute, or understand; the ones that just exist because it's intrinsically mandatory, like the air; you can't deny them or you'd be denying yourself.

Those were the truths Draco had never known.

His life as a pureblood wizard, as the Malfoy Heir, had been an apparent-truth. He had thought it real, solid and unshakable, until one trivial turn of Fate revealed it for what it truly was: a well-constructed lie. His work as a spy, on the other hand, could be deemed as a half truth: even with all the 'good' he had supposedly done, his actions had lacked conviction, had lacked the purpose of a truly felt ideal; he had done it all for the wrong reasons -maybe he even hadn't had any reasons at all- so he could not call himself a 'true' hero, even when others might think otherwise, should they know 'the truth'. Shadow-truths had been a part of his life since he was a child, as he had been trained to conceal his real thoughts and emotions under carefully-crafted facades, showing the world only what he wanted them to see: a shadow of himself; an illusion that was too perfect to be false, conceived to confuse and dissuade, to keep others at bay; to lie, to cheat, to take advantage of every situation. Shadow-truths were the tricky ones, but he had mastered the art, as every Malfoy was supposed to.

And then, there was 'the truth' of his life; a truth so delicate, so fragile, Draco sometimes wondered if it was true at all; if somehow he hadn't lost his mind with so much hoping, with so much wishing it was real. He had a Soul Mate; someone who completed him in every aspect, someone who was meant for him and him alone… or at least, that was what Animus Salutor was supposed to mean. He didn't know why it had happened to him of all people, or what he had done to deserve it. Yes. Years and years of cold, objective reasoning always seemed to get in the way, and even when he knew the 'irrefutable facts', he was sometimes adamant to accept the 'truth'; because, let's face it, it is damn-right scary believing in such a subtle thing as Love.

And it was precisely that, Love, the truth 'he'd been waiting for all this time'. The 'ethereal truth' of his life; the one truth that was unchangeable, unavoidable, and undeniable; the only thing he had ever wanted in his world of shadow-truths and half-lies; that something real, precious; that something that would give his life some meaning, true meaning. The truth that had become the greatest wish of his heart. But he had to admit, he was scared of that truth; scared he would be inadequate, scared he wasn't worthy, scared it would turn out to be just another lie like so many things in his life… so he refused to call it an ethereal truth as of yet. For the moment, it was just his… ethereal desire.

Still, was he closer to that truth than he realised?

"Mr. Luton, you may start your questioning."

Draco was brought back to reality, and the next thing he knew, the repulsive man –baptized as 'the Pig' in his head- was now right in front of him; his chubby arm placed in the balustrade and his greasy face scowling at him. It was in times like these when Draco seriously reconsidered the fact that he was gay.

"Mr. Malfoy, so we are face to face at last," the Pig ventured with a grotesque smile that showed his yellow teeth in all of their… disgrace. The blond merely scowled, disgusted, and Luton's smile widened in a mocking sort of way. "Even when our dearest Saviour, Mr. Harry Potter, has so vehemently told us that his team at the Auror Department couldn't find any evidence against you, there are a few matters we'd like for you to clarify for us." He paused for effect, leaning against the box. "Will you please tell us of your activities during the war?" he said hastily, taking Draco a bit by surprise. He hadn't thought the man would jump to the climax so fast!

"What about them?" he retorted haughtily, trying to gain some time to adjust his mind-frame and rethink his strategy. Luton nearly laughed.

"What about them, he asks!" he guffawed to the audience, and people would have laughed with him if it hadn't been for the look on the Wizengamot wizard's face and the suddenly raised gavel in his hand. "How about, what were they, exactly?" the Pig actually purred, and Draco was suddenly scared he'd choke on his own vomit.

"I was a regular student at Hogwarts School during that time, so you may say that my 'activities' were of the academic type," he responded easily, gesturing casually with his hands. The Pig narrowed his eyes at the blonde's cheek.

"So, are you trying to convince us that you were just a 'regular' student in a world at war, that you never participated in any of it by any means whatsoever, even when your whole family was involved with the Dark Side?" he asked lowly.

"Not everyone in my family was involved with the Dark Side, Mr. Luton," Draco retorted smartly, "but other than that, yes, I believe I am."

It was too much. The audience exploded in whispers. "Order!" the warlock yelled, but he didn't use the gavel, nor he called for a mistrial. Draco loved the outraged expression on the Pig's face, but his satisfaction was half-felt as he started getting a strange itch on his face, as if dozens of tiny ants were running over his nose and cheeks, but he suppressed the urge to scratch; it would be completely undignified of him to do so in front of people.

Luton breathed in a couple of times before he continued. "Ok, Mr. Malfoy, let's change the line of questioning. What about your three-years vacation in Greece? You were living in the region of Macedonia, weren't you? To be more specific, in a Muggle area called 'Naousa'. Why would you live amongst Muggles, when there is such a large magical community just in the outskirts of Athens?" he asked, hissing, and looking intently at Draco.

"My mother's grandmother, Saldivia Rosier, owned a small vineyard in the area, which my mother inherited. The property had remained abandoned for several years, and she thought it would be a nice idea if I went there and re-established it. She wanted me to live on my own, to learn to be independent, so to speak. It wasn't as if we had the same luxuries and riches anymore, and as I knew it would be quite hard for me to make a proper living here in England due to my surname, I accepted," Draco said a little too harshly, mostly irritated at the now impossible-to-ignore itching on his face, and trying hard not to relent to the scratching urges.

"So you're saying you were not actually running away?" Luton said flatly, his eyes weighing on Draco.

"Why would I? It's not like I had something to hide! So what if I lived three years in a Muggle area? It's not like we're not always surrounded by Muggles anyway!" he spat, ignoring the outrage in the courtroom. Oh, that awful itch! Draco was sure his hands must be shaking under the table! Gods! Was he having an allergic reaction or something? Worse yet, was it Potter's hex doing it? He chanced a look at the aforementioned idiot, and the git was shaking his head at him, as if incredulous, his eyes as wide as saucers. Draco merely narrowed his eyes at him with contempt. What the fuck was that all about? Oh! Bloody itch!

Would he look incredibly plebeian if he scratched his nose... just a little bit?

"Ok. You were not running away, but we have proofs that you didn't use magic during all those years. Was it so we couldn't trace you; so we couldn't know where you were?" Luton asked in his feminine tone, the signs of a satisfied smile appearing at the corners of his lips as he watched the defendant carefully. Draco looked at Luton sharply, his brow gleaming with perspiration.

"I just fancied a sabbatical from the Wizarding World," he hissed. The itching was almost unbearable, and his thoughts were starting to mingle together in his desperation. Every pore on his face felt as if it was alive, tickling and churning and demanding attention. He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to do it. He just...

"Oh, bloody Hell!" Draco suddenly yelled, and his hands were all over his flushed face in a flash, scratching and scraping to make that horrible sensation go away. He scratched and scratched until it hurt, until he was sure he'd drawn blood, but at least the itch was gone. Relieved and breathing deeply with satisfaction, he finally looked up to the courtroom.

The first thing he noticed was Luton's triumphant, flamboyant smile. That annoyed him. The second thing he noticed was the deadly silence, and the astonished faces in front of him. That confused him. The third thing he noticed was Severus' scowl and his hand pressed against his face in a 'I-knew-this-would-happen' pose. That irritated him. The fourth thing he noticed –and he didn't care to wonder why he had looked in that direction in the first place- was the look of utter horror and disappointment on Potter's face. That... scared him. And the last thing he noticed was the guards standing right beside him, wands out and apparently ready to apprehend him. That did it!

"What the..." He didn't finish his sentence.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are under arrest for lying under oath in a judicial procedure. You will be held in Azkaban Prison for interrogation under Veritaserum until your sentence is decided according to our findings," the Wizengamot wizard said in a slow, despondent voice.

What? He didn't lie! Well, not much anyway! Not about what mattered! What was going on? What..?

"No! Wait a minute! I didn't lie!" Draco said, hating his own voice for sounding so shaky. As if on cue, Luton appeared from nowhere and held a mirror to his face, and Draco saw with complete bewilderment that the word 'Perjurer' was written all over his countenance with countless red blisters.

Oh. The itch.

The golden wand with the funny blue light.

Draco didn't have time to react to this awful realisation: In an instant, the guards grabbed him forcibly by the arms, and he winced as he felt rough fingers digging into his skin. The courtroom was in total chaos; there were shouts, people rushing around, and flashes coming from all directions, blinding him. Suddenly, he had Ronald Weasley's face in front of him.

"Don't you dare put your filthy hands on me!" Draco snapped, but to no avail: the redhead just smirked viciously at him as he rummaged in his robe pockets and took his wand away. Then, the Weasel grabbed him by the collar of his robe and dragged him out of the box with the help of the guards as Draco twisted and turned to free himself, only achieving worse treatment with his actions.

Next thing, Harry Potter was standing in front of him; his face set in a blank, unforgiving mask as he started casting a binding charm on Draco's wrists. Draco couldn't remember seeing that cold expression on Potter's face before, even when he had always been the recipient of many a glare and insult from the Golden Boy. He didn't know why, but seeing that disappointed look terrified him. He knew he had to do something, but wasn't sure what.

"Potter…" he ventured, but the Auror just ignored him. Draco felt his heart do a summersault. Potter had defended him, had called the Pig a git to his face for him, risking an admonition from his superiors, to say the least. Now, he probably thought he had done everything in vain; he probably thought that Draco was just like his father! Oh, no, no, no! I'm not a bloody criminal! "Potter, I'm not…" he said, his voice breaking and fraught, and for a second, those emerald eyes locked with his at the same time as he felt a cold weight on his wrists. Potter looked away and stepped back. Somehow, what truly made Draco flinch were not the shackles tying his arms together, but the flicker of hurt that flashed almost imperceptibly across his childhood enemy's face.

Draco felt dread rising, and he started kicking and trashing even more. "I am not a Death Eater!" he tried to say, but nothing came out of his mouth. Somebody had placed a Silencing Charm on him, and he looked to his right to see Ralph Luton smirking at him and waving his wand playfully in one hand. "You don't want to say anything you'd regret later," he said, mockingly, and Draco glared at him with all the hatred he felt. Bloody Bastard! Sweet Athena, what was he going to do? Why didn't he just tell the stupid truth? Stupid, stupid, stupid! He didn't want to go to Azkaban! He wasn't his father! He wasn't, goddamn it!

In all the havoc of journalists, attendees, guards, and Aurors, he couldn't find Severus. He was being dragged through the centre aisle -no doubt towards the side door he had used when he had first come into the courtroom- and his desperation rose considerably when he saw a Dementor standing by the open door. Hadn't those awful things been banned or something?

This isn't happening. This isn't happening!

Draco was starting to really panic; he was making it very hard for his captors to handle him. He would not go down easily, for Salazar's prick! In that moment, he cursed his father for paving this road for him. He cursed his mother for sending him away, for dying on him. He cursed the Wizarding World for stigmatizing him. And he cursed Harry Potter, just for good measure: for having always bested him, for destroying the life he knew, for… what, exactly?

He was starting to find some other relatives and inconsequential people to curse inside his head as the guards pushed him brusquely towards the side hallway leading to the special door where the Dementor –and Luton, he noticed with alarm- were waiting for him, when the main doors of the Wizengamot tribunal burst open. A ruffle of gold and red flew across the ceiling in his direction, just as a melodious trill resounded inside the courtroom, overpowering the pandemonium beneath. Draco felt a sudden weight on his shoulder, and he looked up to see that what was perched there, wings spread and never faltering in its singing, was a large, beautiful phoenix.

"Release that young man this instant," someone bellowed. Draco turned sharply towards the voice.

Standing in the doorway, star-splashed purple robes billowing in an invisible breeze and twinkling blue eyes powerful and stern, was Albus Dumbledore.

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TBC…