THE CROOKED HEART

"Necessity never made a good bargain." – Benjamin Franklin

Chapter Six: Interrogating The Dead

Harry stood back by the door as Hermione lowered the lifeless form onto the kitchen table. She waved her hands in front of the face. A face Harry thought he knew well. She clicked her fingers and there was no reaction. "He's still out of it. You might've been a bit enthusiastic with the stunning spell, Harry."

Harry did not answer her. He remained by the door, the shadows covering most of his form. He felt very surreal. The idea of Draco Malfoy in his aunt and uncle's house, comatose and possibly not as unpleasant as everybody thought, was very surreal.

"We should bind him or something," Ron said, a crease in his brow and his hands on his hips in thought. "I reckon I'd try and make a run for it if I were him." Ron scrunched up his face. "Thank Merlin I'm not."

Harry watched his best friend hover over Malfoy. Ron would be the least co-operative about what Harry was going to do. Harry was changing Lucius' plan and Ron wasn't going to like what that meant. Either would Hermione, but her habit of over rationalising would overcome her hatred … and maybe even her hurt.

"Good idea," said Hermione. She pulled out her wand and flicked it about. Coils of thin, red rope began wrapping themselves tightly around the unconscious boy's wrists, waist and ankles. He wasn't going anywhere.

Harry noticed how slim the boy was. Slimmer than Harry ever remembered. When they were younger Harry had been shorter than Malfoy, but he'd also been heavier. He would be the same height as Malfoy now. And significantly heavier.

"Get his wand, Ron." Hermione stood back surveying her work.

Hermione would've tried to talk Harry out of it if he'd told her his plan. And Harry's faith in his forthcoming actions was not entirely fixed. He would've been easily persuaded.

Ron grumbled and pulled the buttons of the boy's robes apart, searching for the wand. The buttons popped out but Ron didn't seem to care. "Here it is. And there's something in the pocket as well." Ron yanked and there was the sound of silk ripping. "What's that?"

Hermione shrugged as Ron threw the wand to Harry and handed her a gold ornament. "I'm not sure what it is," she said. "We better hold on to it."

She tucked the ornament away and stepped further away from the table. There was silence for a few seconds, but for the sound of their heavy breathing. Harry took a moment to let the last hour's events settle in.

They had run out of Malfoy Manor at a sprint, Hermione keeping an unconscious, hovering Draco Malfoy in the air. They had not worried about hiding themselves with the Invisibility Cloak, and just tried to make a run for it through the cellar and on to the underground passage that lead into a small cave whose entrance was at the beach of Brighton. It was the route that Lucius had told Harry about.

They had met trouble. Before they'd reached the end of the property they'd been stopped by a tall, blonde headed woman who'd popped out of nowhere. Harry was sure they'd been caught and the whole thing was over. The woman had not appeared evil; but all the same, the look in her grey eyes indicated a great power. The woman, however, took one look at Harry, and then had disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared. It had been extremely strange. Rather than wonder at whom that had been and risk being caught again, they'd continued their escape.

Once they'd reached the end of the cave, they'd met more trouble. The beach was surrounded by muggles and there were teenagers at the mouth of the cave, torturing a washed-up jellyfish.

They could've stunned them, but it would've attracted Ministry attention – magic on muggles always did. Hermione had levitated Malfoy into Harry's arms. "Just pretend we were drinking or something. He passed out. Look tired but happy."

Harry had shifted Malfoy's weight uncomfortably in his arms. "Whatever, let's just be quick about it. He's not as light as he looks."

"I don't like this …" Ron had said for about the fiftieth time since going into Malfoy Manor.

They'd walked as casually as they could out of the cave. The young muggles had turned to them. They'd continued walking, not making eye contact.

"Did 'e fall or sumfink?" asked a buck-toothed, male youth who had had "Chick Magnet" written across his t-shirt. He motioned to Malfoy. Harry hadn't met his eye; he watched his footing over the wet rock face instead.

Hermione snorted. "Too many Cruisers," she'd said in a very gauche accent.

The muggles then visually relaxed. A few laughed. "Better be careful," another boy with piercings all over his face said. "The Pigs patrol this beach."

"Pigs!" Ron had questioned, loudly.

"Yeah," said Hermione, jumping in quickly. "Is nofink sacred, eh?"

They'd laughed again.

"Well," said Hermione as they'd moved off the rocks, "have a good one!"

A couple of them waved good bye, and the others turned back to the jellyfish. Once out of the sand and out of sight, Hermione had hit Ron hard on his arm.

"You idiot!"

"Well how was I to know muggles use farm animals to patrol beaches?" Ron had said indignantly. Harry couldn't help laughing at that as he re-levitated Malfoy out of his arms.

"They don't actually use pigs!" Hermione had said, her frustration evident. "That's just a nasty word some people use for police officers." Hermione shook her head in disbelief as Ron's ears went bright red. "Seriously Ron, how do you get by everyday?"

"Will you shut-up?" said Ron embarrassedly. "How was I to know?"

Harry, having sensed a rather large fight brewing, had quickly interrupted. "Are we apparating out of here or what?"

"Oh," said Hermione, distracted. "We can't, what about him?" She'd gestured to Malfoy.

"I can take him," said Harry.

Hermione had looked dubious. "Side-a-long apparition-"

"I've done it before Hermione, in much more stressful situation."

"Oh." Hermione must have understood what Harry was referring to as she had not questioned him further. They had apparated to the Dursley's kitchen without another word, and now, here they were.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked, looking down at a bounded Malfoy.

Harry pulled out his own wand. "We question him," he said, businesslike. He pointed his wand at Malfoy and as soon as the white light hit his chest, the boy's eyes sprang open instantly.

Harry stepped out of the light again and watched Malfoy intensely. He looked about frantically, struggling in his binds. "Who's there, what is this?" he said, in a very uncharacteristically small voice. He looked severely malnourished and had large, black bags under his eyes. He did not look like the young man that had played a crucial role in Dumbledore's death. He looked lost.

Hermione and Ron walked backwards, obviously worried. Harry waited a moment as Malfoy continued to struggle in his binds, then he stepped forward into Malfoy's eye line.

"Hello Malfoy. Remember me?" Malfoy's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as grey met green. His head fell back on the table with a thud. "We need to have a talk."

THE CHOSEN ONE IS SIGHTED!

Harry Potter, our Chosen One, the only one believed to have the power to stop the Dark Lord has been sighted at Azkaban Prison! What was first believed to have been an accident, when the wards surrounding the prison came down, is now believed to have been a direct result of Potter breaking into the great fortress. How he managed this, the warden of Azkaban refuses to divulge, claiming the secrets of Azkaban that keep the occupants on the island, are only secrets "as long as people don't open their pie-holes and start blabbing to the entire nation about it." Story continued, page 2.

Narcissa Malfoy watched Severus Snape lower the Daily Prophet, his face a mask of worry.

"Do you think that has anything to do with it, Severus?" Narcissa wringed her hands on her wet handkerchief. Wet with her own tears.

"I cannot know for sure," said Severus.

Narcissa dropped her head, a new onslaught of tears rained down her face. "This is all my fault."

"It is not," said Fiona, firmly. "He may not have been kidnapped, he may have just left. And even if he was kidnapped, do you really think it would be Harry Potter's doing?" Fiona's face was full of incredulity. "You are jumping to all the wrong conclusions."

"I agree," said Severus, solemnly. "We should not panic. It hasn't even been a full day."

"Then where is he!" Narcissa shrieked. She slammed her fist onto the rickety table in Severus' dusty kitchen. On discovering her son was not in Malfoy Manor, Narcissa had immediately left her home for Severus Snape's – hoping to find answers, if not Draco himself.

"Perhaps he has attempted to visit his father? On a whim. It is Lucius' birthday, after all," suggested Fiona.

Severus looked thoughtful at this. "Yes, perhaps."

Narcissa jumped out of her chair. "Then let's go to the Ministry. Right now."

Severus nodded his head. "You and Fiona may go."

Narcissa looked down at Severus pleadingly, "Will you not come also?"

"I will never make it into the Ministry. You are going to need all Fiona's influence just to get through."

"Is there another way to Azkaban, other than the Ministry Floo Network?" Narcissa asked.

"There is no other way to get to Azkaban, unless you know the way. I do not. Nor do I know anyone that does," Severus replied.

"Very well." Fiona said, standing up and joining her sister-in-law. "We better get going then. The Ministry will close the fireplace to Azkaban soon."

"Do not worry too much Narcissa," said Severus, taking her hand. "Draco will be fine."

Her was face scrunched up in pain and she said meekly, "I hope you're right, Severus."

"I'm not saying anything, Weasel, until you untie me." Malfoy looked stubbornly down after ignoring another onslaught of questions from Ron and Hermione. Malfoy had quickly regained his composure after his initial shock. It almost seemed to Harry, as though Malfoy was glad it was them. Obviously Malfoy feared from within the Death Eaters. Perhaps he had more enemies than Harry thought.

Harry had said nothing since showing his face to Malfoy at the beginning, and had returned to his place by the door. He was thinking very intently. This was a rather delicate situation and Hermione and Ron weren't doing so great, thus far.

"It's not going to happen, Ferret Face," said Ron, looking highly pent-up. It was getting worse by the second; they were all resorting back to the way they were at Hogwarts. That couldn't happen if Harry's plan was to work.

"Obviously," drawled Malfoy looking a little weary, "the mathematics of this situation are just too much for your rodent mind. I'll save you the trouble. There are three of you," said Malfoy, very slowly as though he was talking to someone with down-syndrome, "and just one of me. My chances aren't great. Not to mention the fact that Hero has my wand." Malfoy's face hardened. "Dost thou comprehend?"

Ron looked ready to explode.

"Do it," said Harry quietly, from the shadows.

"What!" shrieked Ron, indignantly.

"Hermione, get rid of the restraints." She made to argue but Harry silenced her with a look. She let out a frustrated sigh and then waved her wand. The coils instantly shrunk away, but she kept her wand on Malfoy all the same.

Malfoy sat up gingerly and shook his head. "Well, now that first rule of negotiations has been established," said Malfoy cracking his neck, "it's time for the second rule."

"You don't make the rules here, Malfoy-" Hermione began.

"Au contraire," interrupted Malfoy. "I have the information."

Hermione snorted rudely. "You are so ignorant. Do you honestly think-"

"Hush!" Harry snapped. Hermione looked at him wide-eyed, clearly offended. Harry didn't mean to upset her, but if they gave away the game too quickly, Harry feared he could not profit from this best.

"See, Granger," Malfoy said, with his familiar smirk. "My rules. Second rule: I won't speak to you, Weasel, or you, Mudblood. You want to know what I know," said Malfoy, looking directly at Harry, "you can ask me. Not your little sidekicks."

Ron's face had gone completely red in anger and Hermione was trying to hold him back. "How … dare … you … call … her … that!"

"Fine." Harry walked to Ron and grabbed him by the arm and helped Hermione haul him out of the kitchen.

"I'll take care of this," he said quietly to them. "Just trust me."

Hermione and Ron both looked daggers at Harry. "I'm sorry," he said feebly. He closed the kitchen door.

He took a deep breath and looked to Malfoy - who now had a big smirk on his face - intently in the eye. "Any more rules, Malfoy?"

"Yes, one more." He slid off the table and pulled up a chair, again shaking his head wearily. "For every question you ask me, I get to ask you one."

This again, Harry thought. Like father like son. "Whatever," Harry muttered.

"Excellent," said Malfoy. "Since you've been so very co-operative. I'll let you go first."

Harry pulled out a chair opposite Malfoy. "When we took you out of the Manor," Harry began, deciding to ask easy questions to start with. "A woman came upon us. Who was she?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows mockingly. "A woman? That's all I've got to go on? I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little more specific, being that I'm not clairvoyant and all."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose she was like you … a Malfoy. She had long blonde hair, grey eyes, she was pretty slim and tall, she looked fairly young, she-"

"Fiona." Malfoy said, without emotion.

"Who is she?"

"My father's sister." Malfoy crossed his arms. "It must have taken a bit out of you fighting her off."

Now Harry raised his eyebrows. "She let us go. We thought she was going to fight us, then she saw who it was, and just … left." Harry shrugged his shoulders.

Malfoy's face went completely blank, a good sign that he was currently experiencing many emotions. He looked away for a moment, then turned back to Harry. "Right. Well, my turn, why did you choose me to question? Out of all the Dark Lord's servants."

Harry considered his answer. He wanted to be as truthful as possible without giving anything away. He sighed. "I didn't bring you here to question you. I just decided to when you assumed that's what we wanted," said Harry.

Malfoy's face looked a little shocked. "Then why did you bring me here?"

"It's not your turn Malfoy. My second question is, why did you want to kill Dumbledore?"

Malfoy's face went ashen. "Did you bring me here to kill me? For revenge?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

"I don't want to answer." He crossed his arms, his face full of suspicion. Harry saw in that moment as Malfoy's façade dropped, what his weakness had become under Voldemort's tutelage … fear. All Harry had to do was invoke it, and Malfoy would comply. Harry pushed from his mind what Malfoy would have gone through to get to that position. There was more at stake that just him and this old enemy.

"Then I don't want to answer yours, in which case, our questioning is over and Hermione can tie you back up again." Harry turned to call for Hermione.

"No don't …" Malfoy said, in a voice that sounded faintly like a plea. Harry turned to him, trying to decipher his companion. He could see Malfoy's fear turn to frustration. "Christ Potter, fuck you! Fine. The answer is; I wanted to kill him because the Dark Lord wanted me to kill him and if I didn't, he'd kill me and my family. That's why!" Malfoy was rattled. He began to rant nervously. "It was me dead or him dead and excuse me for not wanting to die! Or to be the reason my parents died."

Harry looked away. "Okay then," said Harry. "What's your question?"

"Did you bring me here to kill me?" he asked quickly.

"No, I did not." Harry remained calm as Malfoy began to fidget nervously. He was mentally unstable. One minute his usual self-absorbed-in-control self, the next … obviously broken.

"Well are you going to kill me?" Malfoy asked, wringing his hands and bouncing his knee.

"Not your turn Malfoy," replied Harry. "Do you want to be a Death Eater?"

Malfoy snorted nervously. "What kind of question is that?"

"Answer it," said Harry, shortly.

Malfoy tapped his fingers nervously on his chin. Harry couldn't help but be thankful for Malfoy's mentally worn state. It didn't seem to be occurring to Malfoy to lie. "Yes, I wanted to be a Death Eater."

Harry sighed patiently. "Yes, you wanted to. But what about now?"

"Now ... ?" Malfoy instantly stopped moving, his face was clearly lost in a memory. "I want to fly."

"Fly?" Harry asked quietly. What the hell is wrong with him? thought Harry.

Malfoy's face suddenly changed, he became animated. Harry recognized the look. It was how he'd spoken to his friends at Hogwarts. "In fifth year, when Dumbledore had gone missing and stuff, Theodore and Vincent and Greg and I, we snuck out one night," Malfoy was wide-eyed and he had a small smile on his face. He wasn't just mentally worn out, he was delusional. "We wanted to go flying, all of us. But Theo doesn't have a broom. So Greg said, "Let's try and steal Potter's!" and we went down to the dungeon and we saw the dwarves that were guarding it," Harry frowned, he loved that broom. "We showed them our Inquisitorial Squad badges and Theo did some fast talking and we got it!" Malfoy leant forward with a welcoming expression on his face. Malfoy had never spoken to him in such a friendly way before. He was finding Malfoy's smile infectious. So much so, that he almost forgot that Malfoy was telling him a story about a bunch of Slytherins desecrating his beloved Firebolt.

"So anyway," Malfoy continued. "We snuck out to the Quidditch Pitch, and we had the best luck. We ran into no one, not even that stupid cat! So we gave the Firebolt to Theo and he tried to get on it, but it bucked him right off." Harry couldn't help but feel pleased about that. "So he tried again, and again and again. And it kicked him off every time, each time he gets bucked a little further than before. So finally, he gave up. We thought it was probably because he wasn't gripping it right or something. I mean, Theo had only flied a couple of times and the Firebolt's a pretty specialized broom. So he swapped brooms with Greg." Harry couldn't help but groan at the thought of the massive Goyle atop his broom. "Greg's been flying all his life. He isn't very fast or anything, but he has better technique than anyone I've met. But that fucking broom bucked him off as well." Malfoy started laughing. "It was so funny. I mean, Greg's fairly huge," Harry thought that was an understatement, "and to see him flying off it over and over again. So Greg gives the broom to Vincent," Harry groaned again, "and the same thing happened, equally as funny. Until finally the others were like, "Draco, you'll have to try" and can I just say that I've never been so scared of flying in my life," Malfoy laughed again. "I mean, I bruise really easily. But anyway, I take the broom and I lace myself with as many padding spells as I can, and easy as you like the broom let me on." Malfoy smiled at Harry like he was a friend. "It was the best! I loved that broom. I didn't even have to move it most of the time, it was just … so smooth. And we flew for hours. All over the lake and the forest. We didn't talk about anything. We just flew. That broom was my freedom." Malfoy looked away; the cheer left his face and was replaced with a kind of bittersweetness. "That was the best night. Afterwards, the others wanted to destroy the Firebolt, but I couldn't do it. The others didn't understand." Malfoy looked at Harry carefully. "That was the first time I admitted to being jealous of something you had, that I wanted."

Harry didn't know what to say. He felt like he should be angry, but he wanted to help Malfoy. Getting angry at him wouldn't help.

"I wish I could fly that broom one more time before …" Malfoy trailed away softly.

"Before what?" Harry asked.

"Before I die."

Harry stiffened. "I'm not going to kill you."

"I know," Malfoy said quietly.

"Then who is?"

Malfoy let out a small laugh. He looked very weak. Harry understood. He was going to kill himself.

"When did you last eat, Malfoy?" Harry asked suspiciously, eyeing Malfoy carefully.

"I went to breakfast," he replied. "But I couldn't eat. It would've reversed everything."

"You're starving yourself," Harry said quietly. Harry shook his head in shock, "Hermione!" he shouted.

Hermione instantly stormed in with her wand out, Ron followed. "What's he doing?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, standing up. "He's delusional. He hasn't eaten or, I imagine, drunk anything. He's trying to kill himself," Harry said, his disbelief evident.

With the other two present, Malfoy regained some of his normalcy. "What do you care if I die?"

"Make him something to eat; I'll get him a drink." Harry pushed Hermione to the fridge.

"We can't make him eat," Ron said darkly.

Malfoy nodded his head in agreement. "No, you can't."

"We can't make him eat," said Harry. "But we can give him a reason to live."

Draco shook his head wearily. He kept trying to focus his mind, but it wouldn't. Old memories kept popping into his head. And Potter kept asking him questions while the Mudlbood bustled around in the kitchen. It was tiring him out.

"Do you want to know why we brought you here?" Potter asked, not unkindly. Draco was thankful for that. He decided Potter wasn't too bad when he didn't have an annoyed crease in his forehead.

"We brought you here," Potter said, "because Lucius asked me to."

Draco looked up at that. Surely it was lie? "You're lying." Draco listened to the words come out of his mouth. It seemed to echo in his head. "You brought me here to get information about the Dark Lord."

"No, that's not why," said Harry. "Lucius wants you safe. He wants you to live."

"Why does he want that?" Draco asked. He looked intently at Potter. The piercing green of his eyes kept him focused.

"Because you're his son."

Draco shook his head again, like trying to shake a cat out of a tree. "What did you do to me, Potter? I wasn't this tired before."

"I think … when I stunned you, it wore your body out. You're crashing quickly."

"It would be you, wouldn't it? It's always you."

"I'm sorry," said Potter. "I want you to live."

Draco let out a weary laugh and flopped his head back. "Now I definitely don't want to."

"What about your father?" The Mudblood put something on the table next to him. A sandwich and orange juice.

"What about him?" Malfoy asked. Looking away from the food.

"He's giving up everything to save you. And you would repay him like this," Potter said in disapproval. "Do you want to hurt him?"

No, Draco thought. Not him. I don't want to hurt him.

"Live. Don't be a casualty of this war."

Draco felt a tear drop from his eye and fall down his cheek. "I will be anyway."

"No, you won't," Potter said fiercely. "I will protect you."

Draco looked into Potter's eyes, trying to find the lie. It wasn't there. Draco wanted to live. But he didn't want pain. Could Potter give him life without pain?

Draco looked down at the sandwich. Tomato and cheese. He didn't like cheese unless it was melted. He told Granger so. Potter smiled and she took the sandwich away and pulled a frying pan out.

The next hour was nothing but a blur to Draco. He would not remember most of it later. He would not remember how long it took him to drink his juice or eat his sandwich. He vaguely remembered Potter telling the other two they had to leave this house they were in. Where his aunt and uncle lived. Where Potter was brought up. Muggles were coming soon.

He only remembered being hoisted into the hall by Potter, and aptly fainting when he recognized the house. When he realized the woman he'd killed, was Harry Potter's aunt.

"Is he asleep?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Harry closing the door that separated the bedroom from the rest of the hotel room. "He'll be out of it for a while. He'll need to eat and drink again when he wakes up."

Hermione nodded her head. "What do you think happened to him? Why did he want to kill himself?"

Harry shook his head. "I guess it all just became too much for him."

"He killed someone." Ron sat atop the kitchen bench, Malfoy's golden statue in one hand, James' diary in the other. He didn't look either of them in the eye. "The guilt's killing him."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked.

"I just do … it's a feeling," Ron looked up from the diary. "He was probably there, in your neighborhood, Harry. He probably killed one of those muggles."

Harry shook his in disagreement, confidently. "You're wrong. He wouldn't kill someone. I know him."

"Do you?" Ron asked, skeptically. He'd been very quiet since they'd booked into the hotel. "When are we taking him to his father?"

Harry looked away and slouched into the sofa. "We're not."

"What?" Hermione cracked her neck as she twisted to look at him. Ron did not look surprised.

"If we take him back to Lucius," said Harry, "he'll just go back to the way he was. We can help him. Help him be better. And he can help us in turn."

Ron shook his head.

"Please Ron; I need you to back me up on this. I need your support," Harry pleaded.

"I'm just going to say one thing and one thing only. And then I'm finished with it and you'll have my support." Ron sighed and looked at Harry with scrutiny. "Malfoy is more than we can handle. There are years and years of hatred, ignorance and arrogance in him. I don't think he's as bad as his father, but he's still capable of some pretty shocking things. And this will end badly. You can't save him, Harry. Wolves have white fur as well as lambs. So just be careful."

Harry looked at his friend. He heeded the warning. But he would not act on it. And Ron and Hermione both knew he wouldn't.

Ron sighed and then slid off the kitchen bench. "I think Malfoy's statue is a horcrux."

"What!" Hermione spluttered for a second time. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I wanted to be sure," said Ron. He handed the statue to Harry and the diary to Hermione.

"Gryffindor's horse …" said Harry quietly. He ran his fingers along the smooth statue, stopping at the thick mane.

"That's my theory," said Ron.

"How did Malfoy get it?" Hermione asked.

"We'll have to ask him when he wakes up," said Harry.

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione expectantly. "So are we going to do it? It should work the same as the Cup, right?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

Harry stood next to Ron and pulled out his wand. He placed the statue on the coffee table opposite Hermione. "You're up first, Hermione."

Hermione gave a small smile. "Wish me luck …"

... to be continued.

Author's Note: I realize this chapter is beyond late. I'm sorry about that and be assured I have a good excuse. But I don't really want to talk about it. I'm saving it for when I'm old enough and wealthy enough to afford a psychoanalyst.

Thank you to my darling beta, Kristin (a.k.a. AbundantFear).

rainingslash