Thanks to 13 eleMENTAL 31 and InsaneOrange for awesome beta skills!
"He asked for you," Joseph said, looking at Draco with purpose. "I want you to keep him talking. Get anything you can out of him. He may not be coherent. He gets lost in his mind. Try to keep him moving in one steady train of thought."
"Okay," Draco said, unsure if he was qualified to do this. "Are you coming in?" He hoped the answer was yes.
"Lily is. He wanted to see both of you," Joseph answered. He opened the door and let Draco in. Lily was already inside, sitting on the bed beside Harry.
Harry acknowledged Draco, motioning him towards the chair that he had pulled up closer to the bed. Draco sat down, fidgeting. Harry stared at Draco without inhibition. "I didn't really need you here," he said. Draco frowned in confusion. "But I figured… might as well." Lily nodded in encouragement. Harry touched his scar. "I need to tell someone before I died, you know? I thought just telling Lily would be enough. But maybe you should hear it too. It's about Narcissa Malfoy."
Draco let out a loud breath of air, sitting back. "What?" he asked.
"That night in the Forbidden Forest… Voldemort tried to kill me. He couldn't. But he didn't know that. I pretended to be dead," Harry said, chuckling lightly. "Who knew it would be so easy? He asked Narcissa to check if I was still breathing. I was. But when she found that out, all she asked was, 'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?' I remember it so well… She was so scared. And last time I checked, you were alive, so I said yes.
"She told everyone that I was dead."
Lily was pale while Draco couldn't breathe. "What are you saying?" he stammered.
"She saved my life. She saved your life. I needed to tell you," Harry said nonchalantly. "Where is she right now?"
"Azkaban…"
"Now she won't be," Harry smiled. "I always wondered why I couldn't die. I know now. I forgot to do something. This. I was supposed to tell everyone about Narcissa. She never used Unforgivable Curses and she didn't kill anyone. Why is she in there?"
Lily shook out of her daze. "Are you sure, Harry?"
"Quite sure, actually," Harry said, looking distant. "Hagrid was there. But I don't think he would remember. He was crying all over everything." He laughed again, thinking back. "I just want Draco to have his mother back. Even if I can't, he can, right?"
Draco couldn't breathe. He stumbled off of the chair and rushed out of the room. He needed air. He fell to his knees in the corridor, hyperventilating. Horror washed over him. He had made himself hate his parents for years. He had hated them to the point of forgetting what they looked like. They were the reason he was looked upon with revulsion. They were the reason he had a permanent reminder of the Dark Lord on his arm. They were the reason for his tears and pain. They had left him alone in the world. He had been alone for so long. He had thought that all his parents held for him was loathing and anger. Not love. He couldn't remember what his mother looked like.
And now Harry was telling him that Narcissa had been trying to save him that night. He was frantic, clutching his head as he tried to remember what she looked like. What did she feel like? How did he not notice her protection? What had she sounded like? He couldn't remember because he had made himself forget.
"What's wrong?"
Draco jerked at the words, looking at Harry's concerned eyes. He glanced away, hiding his face in his hands. He heard people gathering around them and he tried to pull himself together. He couldn't. Not with Harry's words in his mind. 'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?' The woman whom he had vowed to hate had said those words. She had risked her life to try and find him. "I don't remember her," he whispered.
Harry blinked at the man. "Is that all?" he asked, smiling faintly. "That's okay. You'll see her soon enough. Um… She had lots of blond hair. And she was quite tall. She always looked mean though. I don't know what her smile looks like." He paused, scratching his ear absently. "Can she smile?"
Draco chuckled miserably, wiping his tears. "I don't know. I guess," he said.
"Maybe when you see her again, she'll smile…"
Draco looked up at Harry. "Yeah," he said hoarsely.
"You don't have to visit me anymore," Harry said, patting Draco's head as though he were talking to a child. "I already told you everything. You've been so patient with me. Stop scowling so much. It'll get stuck," he laughed happily. "Goodbye." He got up and walked back into his room.
"Wait," Draco stuttered. The door eased shut. Draco clenched his teeth, biting back his sobs. He felt arms lifting him up and leading him to a chair in the corridor. He blinked back his tears, noticing the crowd of hospital staff around him. He needed to get out of here before he went insane like Harry. He got up unsteadily and pushed past the crowd. He needed to think. He needed to start fresh.
"Even after we gave you explicit instructions, you let Malfoy near Harry?" Ron asked, his voice dangerously low.
"Harry spoke again," Joseph said quickly.
"I don't fucking care if he spoke again. You let Malfoy near him again," Ron said with finality.
"But we found out why–"
"I am tired of your excuses," Ron spat out. "You are supposed to keep him safe! You are supposed to take care of him! And all you're doing is putting that bastard and Harry in the same room so you can see all bloody hell break loose!"
"Ron," Hermione warned, placing a calm hand on his.
"Harry spoke because he wanted to tell us about Narcissa Malfoy," Joseph said loudly.
Ron frowned. "About who?"
"Draco's mother. Harry wanted to tell us about what happened that night in the forest. Narcissa lied to You-Know-Who to save Draco's life. She saved Harry's life. He wanted us to know. That's why he spoke. Do you understand?"
Ron looked at Hermione in puzzlement. Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry. What?" she asked.
"There is to be a retrial in Narcissa Malfoy's case. Lily is the primary witness since Harry won't be able to testify."
Ron massaged his temple. "Why can't he testify?" he asked tiredly.
Joseph shifted uncomfortably. "He… he has lost all progress we had made with Draco. He won't speak."
Harry had his chin on his knees and his arms wrapped around his bent legs. He was staring at the wall again, lost in his mind. Hermione hid her face against Ron, trying not to cry. Ron closed his eyes, looking away.
"It's like the past three years didn't happen," Lily explained. "He doesn't respond to prompts, doesn't try to interact with me, and isn't interested in anything I have to say."
"Is it because… because Malfoy's not visiting anymore?" Ron asked.
"We can't force him to come any longer. Not with the trials and all," Lily said, looking at Harry. "I can't be sure why he has regressed."
"What did he say?" Hermione asked jerkily.
Lily sighed. "He said… he said he needed us to know. He needed to tell us what had happened so that Draco… so that Draco could have his mother back."
Ron and Hermione kept silent, watching their best friend.
"You know what's going to happen now, right?" Lily asked nervously. "The press is going to want to get a hold of him. They are going to want to interview him. They are going to want to see him."
"Like hell they will," Ron muttered.
Breathe.
In.
Let it out.
In.
Exhale.
Harry turned in bed, between sleep and wakefulness. Breathe.
Take it in.
Hold.
Hold.
Hold.
Harry felt the urge in his chest and he exhaled forcefully before gulping in more air.
Hold. Count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, six–
Gasp.
Harry bunched his covers against his chest, curling his knees to his chest.
Breathe.
In.
Hold.
His limbs felt weak and heavy. Hold. His head was swimming with white noise. Hold. His body bucked. Hold. His eyes shot open.
He coughed and gasped.
Breathe in.
Hold. Count. One, two, three, four, five…
His vision flickered and he closed his eyes from exhaustion. This was such an effort. Breathing was too hard. Not breathing was too hard. He relaxed into his aching body. He convulsed and lost count. He started over.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven–
Gasp.
Breathe.
In.
Hold.
Lily found Harry in bed, curled towards the wall. She almost walked by. Then she caught the twitching. She burst into the room and rolled Harry around. "Harry, wake up," she said urgently. He was paling and wheezing. "Can't you breathe?" she asked, sounding the emergency alarm.
Hold.
Put everything on hold.
Harry was done with everything.
He coughed and gasped. Breathe in.
Hold.
Harry couldn't remember how to count any longer. He couldn't understand anything. He was being pushed and pulled. His body wasn't cooperating with his mind. Not hold. Stop. His body fell limp at the thought.
Not hold.
Don't hold. Don't count.
Just stop.
Harry's chest burst, sending waves of pain into his limbs. He felt spells tugging at him, trying to open his airway. He wasn't going to let go without a fight. He tightened his diaphragm and sealed his nasal cavity by constricting his throat. His fingers grappled the sheets. Harry refused studiously, fighting against his dying body with his stubborn mind.
Fighting.
This is the wrong fight.
Count. One, two, three, four…
Harry couldn't feel anything. He couldn't feel the pain or the torture of his lungs.
But this is the wrong fight.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine…
A sharp jolt on his chest caused him to inhale sharply and get the air caught in his dry throat. He coughed, trying to drag in more air than he was letting out. He retched, panting.
Breathe.
In.
Let it out.
Don't fight. Don't fight anyone. Don't fight yourself. Breathe. Don't stop. Breathe.
In lieu of recently uncovered evidence, Narcissa Malfoy will be placed under house arrest for the rest of the term, pending reevaluation.
Draco waited outside Wizengamot, plagued by reporters and flashes of bulbs. He was dressed in his best suit. He fingered his wand in his pocket, keeping a watchful eye on the crowd that was gathered around the stairs.
The release of Narcissa Malfoy had caused uproars and chaos. If she was being released then what of the rest of Voldemort's Army? Are they to be released eventually? What of Harry Potter? What evidence was used to help exempt Narcissa from her charges?
The large doors opened to reveal four Azkaban guards and a thin blonde amidst them. Draco's heart lurched painfully. Narcissa blinked and frowned, shading her eyes from the sun. She looked deathly pale and gaunt. Her clothes hung from thin limbs and her straight locks of hair were tied into a haphazard ponytail. Her steps were no longer sure. Her gaze was no longer strong.
Draco moved towards her, the sounds around him falling away. Her blue eyes moved to Draco, almost flickering away. But recognition struck and she froze, her expression betraying her fright. Her hands clasped together and her legs locked up. Draco shook his head, smiling wanly. He walked up to her and hugged her close. "Hi," he whispered.
Narcissa broke down in her son's arms, her knees giving way. He held her up, feeling her heart against his. "Draco?" she murmured hoarsely.
"It's me," Draco said.
She pulled away from Draco and held his face in her trembling hands. She kissed his cheeks, happy tears running down her face. "I love you so much, Draco," she said softly, gazing into her son's steady eyes. She used his strength to pull herself to her full height. "I'm sorry for everything. I love you so much," she murmured, embracing him.
"I love you," Draco breathed, his heart soaring. He felt tears in his eyes, spilling as he buried his face against his mother's shoulder. "Don't ever leave me again, okay?"
"I won't. I won't ever do that."
Joseph sat next to Harry, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I have something to ask you, Harry," he said. "I know you can't answer me. I know you won't answer me. But I just need to ask it." Harry stared at the white, drowning in it. "It's something Draco told me. And something you told me too, I suppose. You said that you couldn't die because you still needed to tell the world about Narcissa. You wanted us to know the truth before you died."
Joseph ran an absent hand over his white hair, thoughtful as he spoke. "Draco asked me how I knew you wanted to live like this. He asked how I knew that you didn't want to be dead. I think… I think I've figured it out now."
Harry closed his eyes.
"Right now, you think you're dead, don't you? Draco was right. You don't want to live like this. By being away from everything and everyone, you're dead... I'm right, aren't I?"
Harry didn't answer.
Draco sat in bed, resting his back on the bedpost. Narcissa was asleep. She had been sleeping for almost the entire day. She was under house arrest, which meant that there were charms placed around the mansion to stop her from leaving. She had on a magical marker that the Aurors were able to track. Their Floo was dismantled. There was no Apparition allowed in the manor.
Draco had a sneaking suspicion that Narcissa won't want to leave her feathery pillow for the next ten years anyway.
He crawled towards her and lay down, wrapping a hesitant arm around her. She turned over at this, causing Draco to jerk and pull his arm back. She opened her eyes and smiled. She hugged her son close, kissing his soft hair. He closed his eyes, a matching smile on his lips. They drifted off to sleep.
"It doesn't look good," Joseph concluded.
Ron and Hermione were more than concerned after Joseph had explained Harry's condition. "What's going to happen?" Hermione asked.
"We have to keep a close watch on him. He never used to be like this. He is almost suicidal now. I am not sure if he realizes this. He wasn't coherent when we revived him. He had stopped breathing for a few minutes. But he didn't seem to notice. He just… stopped."
"Why?" Ron asked.
Joseph shook his head. "Many reasons – none of them good. I'm sure you know what I'm saying."
"He's not happy…"
"Perhaps he'd rather be dead than live like this," Joseph murmured, Draco's words echoing in him.
Narcissa was once again the lady of the Malfoy Manor. Draco watched his mother with insurmountable happiness as she straightened her once perfect home. She had her wand after years of being pulled away from it. She was clearing the manor of all things unpleasant, she had said. Draco sat on the couch with a cup of tea in his hands, staring after his mother as she flitted around the large drawing room. "I can't believe you let this house come to this, Draco," she scolded.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, hiding his smirk behind his cup.
"It'll take me days to straighten it out."
"Take all the time you want," Draco said.
"Don't give me lip," Narcissa snapped.
Draco nodded, chuckling. To have someone to talk to was a relief unto itself. To have someone to talk to who didn't look at him with loathing was bliss. "I missed you, Mother," he said.
Narcissa turned to her son with a soft smile. "I missed you too…"
An hour later, they found themselves in the study. After her imprisonment, her energy reserves had lowered significantly. She wasn't able to work around the house for long hours as of yet. Neither minded. They saw this as a vacation from the world, where no one bothered them and they couldn't be bothered to bother about anyone.
Narcissa was on the chaise with her book while Draco laid his head on her lap, looking up at her. It was quiet and calm, something the Malfoy Manor had not seen. There was no more hate, no more anger. Draco turned over and hid his face against Narcissa's stomach. "I never took you as being one for cuddling, Draco," she said absently.
Draco blushed, scowling. "Maybe it's time to start," he retorted.
"Perhaps." She patted Draco's back, humming. Draco closed his eyes, content. "Can you tell me about the trial?" she asked.
"I don't know anything about it, Mother. I wasn't allowed inside," Draco said.
"This new evidence everyone's talking about. What is it?" she asked.
Draco looked at Narcissa. "You don't know?" he asked incredulously, sitting up.
"I wasn't told anything, Draco."
Draco frowned deeply. "It– it was Potter's testimony," he said.
Her eyes narrowed. "Potter's testimony?" she asked.
"He told me what happened that night. How you– you lied to save him and find me. He told me about you. He said that he– that he wanted me to know so that I– I could have you back. He wanted me to have you back," Draco explained hesitantly.
"I thought he was dead," Narcissa said in disbelief.
Draco shrugged half-heartedly. "Very much alive. Out of his mind, but very much alive," he murmured.
"Out of his mind? What? And… after all these years?" she asked, confused.
Draco looked away, feeling uneasy. "He's– something's wrong with him, Mother. He… he hasn't spoken in five years, did you know that?" Draco asked. Narcissa looked shocked.
"He's in the hospital. Post-traumatic stress is what they call it. Until a few months ago, he was nearly catatonic. Then I got a letter from his attending Healer. He told me that Harry asked for me. He wanted to try introducing me to Harry. He wanted to see if I could get a response from Harry. And… I did," he smiled awkwardly, shrugging as he wrung his hands.
"After a few weeks, he– he talked to me. He talked to me about you. He said that before he–" Draco swallowed thickly. "Um… he said that he wanted us to know about you. How you aren't supposed to be in Azkaban because you are supposed to be with me…"
"His testimony…"
"Yes."
"Potter…"
"Yes."
Narcissa nodded slowly.
The house was filled with strained silence. Hermione was on the couch, leaning her elbows on her knees and weaving her fingers together while watching Rose play. Ron was pacing the length of the room, hands in his pockets and eyes on his feet. Hermione murmured, "Maybe…"
Ron paused, looking at his wife. "Hmm," he answered, rubbing his tired eyes.
"Because I…" she trailed off.
Ron nodded, moving to sit beside her. "Me too. He'd do anything and everything for us. Shouldn't we do the same?" he asked.
"We should," Hermione murmured.
"Malfoy helped him so far. And right now…"
"Harry's not doing well. No matter how we go at this, we get to Malfoy, don't we?" she laughed humorlessly. "We need him. How pathetic are we? How damned pathetic is this?"
"How long do we shelter him, 'Mione? How long do we hide him?" Ron asked desperately. "If Malfoy helps, I'm… I'm willing to try it."
Hermione sat back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling as tears slid down to her brown hair. "I'm so scared," she said, shuddering. "I don't– I don't know what to do. I've never felt so helpless."
Ron pulled Hermione close, kissing her gently. "It's what I'm here for," he whispered. "We'll work through this together, okay?"
That night in the forest, Narcissa was shocked into silence when Harry revealed himself to the Dark Lord. The Boy-Who-Lived was walking into the snake's lair. He looked small and frail. How is he the one who could destroy Lord Voldemort? Why is the burden on his shoulders? Narcissa watched her Master eye Harry as though he were a marvel, a toy to be played with. The man raised his wand while Harry stood with a determined stance. Why isn't the boy defending himself?
"Avada Kedavra."
Just as the spell hit Harry, both man and boy fell to the ground as though struck dead. Narcissa's heart thumped hopefully. The Dark Lord is dead? And she lived? Never had she thought it possible. She was rooted on the spot while the rest of the Death Eaters approached the Lord Voldemort. She had eyes for Harry Potter. Except, in his place, she saw her son. She saw Draco sprawled on the ground, unmoving and dead. She heard her mind screaming in pain at the thought as she looked on passively. Her body soon joined in the pain and she fell to the ground.
"Examine him. Tell me if he is dead."
No.
The Dark Lord was alive. She felt the Cruciatus Curse lifting off of her. She stood up shakily, staggering towards the fallen boy. A boy. Why did the boy die? What did the boy do? She knelt down and brushed a hand against Harry's cheek.
Still warm.
She pulled up his eyelid.
Constricting.
She had to stop herself from breathing in spurts. She moved her hand inside Harry's shirt. The soft heartbeat held strong. She knelt down, feeling the exhaled air rustle her hair.
"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"
She waited, feeling the pounding of Harry's heart and wishing it could be Draco's.
"Yes."
She gasped inaudibly, relief making her weak. She let go of Harry. She needed to be strong now. She needed to find her son. She needed to get into the castle. She would be willing to lie for her son. She would be willing to die for her son.
"He is dead!"
Narcissa shook herself out of her reverie, blinking at the expansive grounds of their manor. There were no more majestic peacocks. The hedges and grass were overgrown. The castle walls were mossy and ivy-ridden. But it was still her home. She was alive. She had her son. "Draco," she said, looking at him.
"Hmm?" he asked.
"I want to thank Potter."
He looked up at her in puzzlement. "You want to what?" he asked. His mother was the proudest of women. No thank you or sorry for her.
"But I can't leave… So could you…"
"You want me to what?" he asked, sitting up.
"We owe him so much, Draco," she said.
Draco blinked at Narcissa. How she had changed. She spent half her time in introspection. She had a faraway look in her eyes. And she was earnest. "You want to thank him."
"Yes."
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.
Harry wouldn't move. He wouldn't get out of bed. He just couldn't be bothered. Why bother? He hugged himself, keeping warm. He could hear Lily's voice in the distance. He couldn't be bothered. Harry wouldn't move. He couldn't move. He felt lethargy dragging him down. He was bored. He was tired. He was here. Blissful bed. Where nothing mattered, not even him. He fell asleep for the fifth time in three hours.