After a lingering silence in which the dusty looking cat had washed his hand, Draco rather promptly asked Kreacher to help him to bed.
Harry hadn't realised until he saw the animal follow them upstairs that he still didn't know whether Draco would be able to talk to Tristan.
He resignedly decided to ask him first thing in the morning.
…
And now there was nothing to distract him, the guilt pulled him back under.
How could he not have realised how fucked up Draco's situation was?
Had Voldemort's soul rubbed off on him?
Who knew how much more harm he'd caused without knowing.
Harry had to keep busy.
He got up to look for journals and things, to find out more about the familiar residue of Grimmauld place, and didn't realise until he was halfway out the kitchen that there was no need to.
The piano had been dealt with.
He had to learn more about Malfoy manor, but the place was a death trap. He couldn't go there at this hour.
So what else could he do?
He needed Narcissa's and Draco's statements about Burbage, yeah, but this was no time to talk to them.
The residue was the one thing for him to dive into, because it factored into Kerry's death.
He tried to go through his books on the stuff, but the information in them was far too basic. The tome Hermione had brought might have been useful, but he'd given it back to her and he didn't want to bother her now. Besides, she'd stepped away for a reason.
Crookshanks did not leave his side, not even when he dragged himself to his empty bed.
As Harry lay there in the dark, he fixed his attention on the streetlamps out the window. They were too bright to exist in a cupboard.
Yet despite them, he expected footsteps to thunder down the stairs above his head before a looming figure in a rectangle of light told him off.
Part of him was still locked in a chain of days strung together by chores, his only respite in stolen moments.
Another part of him used to be Voldemort.
How little of him was really his?
He should not have fallen asleep at the kitchen table.
It had taken the edge of his exhaustion so now he was alone with nothing to do, his brain refused to recognise the present.
Crookshanks placed his chin on Harry's leg. It wasn't enough to snap him out of it.
Harry eventually left his bed to go to the basement. There he attacked the wall with his bare hands, kicking it and shouting as if it cared, until he remembered Sirius telling him that what mattered was the part he chose to act on.
What was this then? Aggressive lunacy?
He should not be allowed to be an Auror.
He should have died alongside Voldemort.
Exhausted, hopeless and with blood on his hands, he dragged himself to Sirius' room.
He did not remember dozing off.
When he awoke, the hollow dread from his dream retreated into the crevices of his mind, becoming increasingly elusive the more he tried to remember.
His guilt slammed back into him during his shower and he resignedly healed his hands, not wanting to risk being 'excused from duty' and leaving Draco with someone even worse than himself.
He asked Kreacher to make sure Draco was ready to leave at seven.
With forty minutes to spare he went through the monitoring log and added what he could, making a strong coffee for the other if he wanted it.
When Draco entered the kitchen, their conversation didn't move beyond 'good morning'.
The flutters in Harry's abdomen went mad as his conscience wore him down.
At some point Draco cleared his throat and when Harry looked up at him, he nonverbally hovered a spoon.
Dusty, which was how Harry mentally referred to the pale grey cat, questioningly cocked its head to the side at it.
Harry logged the charm without question, keeping his attention on his plate as much as he could.
When Harry suggested they should go to the department, Draco smiled at him. "Today is the day." He said as if he was excited for something.
"What day is that?" Harry asked from his daze.
Draco shrugged rather casually. This was nothing like his demeanour last night.
Harry eyed him surreptitiously, which earned him no further information. "Should I be worried?"
In response, Draco handed over his wand, handle first. "Not remotely."
He didn't respond to any of Harry's further prompting though the hint of smugness or whatever did not leave his face.
The second they apparated into the department, Draco nearly collapsed. Harry helped him to a sofa in the waiting room and then realised how busy it was.
He'd spotted three unfamiliar people already and there were many voices coming from ahead.
Liv appeared from the break room and he gestured her over. "What's going on?" He asked her conspiratorially.
"Got MACUSA in, don't we?" She looked at Harry over the rim of her mug as she held it, apparently surprised Harry wasn't aware. "They'll send for Mal— " She stopped herself when she spotted Draco over Harry's shoulder. "Well. Or not."
"He's only here to give a statement." Said Harry pointedly.
"Yeah…" She said unconvincingly. "Anyway, I've been told not to let you in. You're off today."
He raised his eyebrow and she shrugged.
"Tell Robards I put up a fight yeah? I've got to get to work." She smiled before going over to her desk. Shortly after, two memos took off and flew down the corridor.
Harry had a bad feeling about this.
Draco's apparent optimism was weird enough, but 'having MACUSA in' was even stranger.
Then again: Kerry, an American Auror, was dead.
When Harry had asked Draco about when Kerry fell through the stairs, Draco hadn't wanted to 'give Harry up' in front of Himmelman. So instead of saying a word, he had handed over his memory of what happened.
The very memory that proved he had motive to harm her.
…which Harry had left in a pensieve in the Auror department, because he was nothing if not aggressively incompetent.
Harry didn't think Draco had done anything, but that didn't matter.
Nobody knew exactly how the Residue worked so fuck knows whether he'd had means and opportunity.
A word out of line and he'd be put away for murder.
Harry promptly went over to Draco and sat down beside him. "You need a lawyer," he said under his breath.
Draco snorted and sat more upright. The worst of the after-effects of apparation had apparently worn off.
"What? I mean it, this is — "
"I know." Draco said, apparently amused. "I'm prepared."
"You don't understand," Harry insisted.
Maybe the case could be thrown out on a technicality if he told him Kerry was dead? He'd heard 'horror stories' about stuff like that during his training.
Then again, if he was too obvious, conspiring with Draco would get them both arrested.
Harry wondered whether to risk it. "Is this a wrong box moment?" He asked to help him decide.
Draco shook his head with a small smile on his mouth.
Every part of him came across as confident and the butterflies in Harry's abdomen went mad with it. "Draco… what's going on?" He asked, carefully steady.
"You're about to see me in my element." Draco looked smug. "You will watch, won't you?"
"Er." Harry felt his face burn as the flutter roared up. "But — "
"Their 'Prior Incantato' will match your log, I'm unarmed, unwell, and innocent." Draco shrugged to make a point. "In case whoever speaks to me won't offer,… could you ascertain I have Invigoration Draughts?"
"Yeah… course." Harry said, taken aback.
"Help me up."
Harry did so, just when the doors opened behind him. He turned and saw Tiberius McLaggen, Head of International Magical Co-operation, walk in and stop when he saw them.
He wore a purple cloak and held a walking stick, reminiscent of the thing Lucius Malfoy used to have.
"Good morning," The man said with toffee-nosed surprise.
"Good morning sir," Said Draco, apparently unfazed by anything today. "You look well."
McLaggen could obviously not say the same so after a moment of hesitation, he smiled, nodded, and turned to Harry. "And you, Auror Potter."
"Sir." Said Harry, now absolutely sure Draco was about to be interrogated in relation to the death of a foreign official.
He saw Liv hurriedly walk up to the man before politely but urgently escorting him away.
"Why are you so calm?" Harry asked Draco intently as the other started down the hall too, taking his time but pushing on all the same.
He received no answer.
The walkways crossing the high ceiling above them were full of people and snippets of the chatter reaching them were undeniably American.
When someone said 'you guys', Draco mimicked it and made a face. "I'll be sick if it's an American," he muttered, out of breath, then stopped to lean against the wall.
Harry wanted him to stop so they could talk but even taking him by the arm felt like crossing a line. "Should I send for a lawyer? I will, if you wait, I'll — "
"Shhh…" Draco responded. "I know."
Why was he comforting Harry?!
"Look, I don't mean to be ominous but you should really be more worried." Harry said desperately. "This isn't — "
"Tarot yesterday morning," Draco stated, panting slightly, as he adjusted his posture against the wall. "The Devil, remember? I thought it was me."
Harry stared at him.
"It wasn't. It was last night… maybe today." He shrugged as if in concession. "But there was more." He smiled at that statement, as if it explained a single fucking thing.
"You — What? There's no time, they want to talk to you — Are you feeling faint? Maybe if you're really unwell, they'll — "
"Sh-sh-shh…" Draco shook his head. "There is more, Harry." He said meaningfully.
Harry's face burnt at the use of his name.
"Overall contentment, remember?" Draco smiled and his eyes glittered. "This will go the way it ought to."
"Right." Harry tried to restrain his scepticism.
People clung to anything in desperation, didn't they? Draco must have lost the plot entirely.
"Who represented you during your trial?" Harry asked urgently. He remembered the man's appearance but couldn't remember his name.
"Ogden Fenâdé, we still owe him." Draco said wryly. "Done?"
"No, not 'done'." Harry said firmly. "I'll pay for — "
"Auror Potter." Himmelman suddenly said from behind him.
Harry hoped to communicate with his gaze that he'd do anything, but Draco calmly shifted his focus.
"Auror Himmelman, sir." The blonde said politely. "I was just telling Auror Potter here that I insist on his presence whilst I give my statement." He was already out of breath. This could never go well.
"He can't be in the room." Himmelman said shortly before fixing his attention on Harry. "Charge's wand." It wasn't a question.
As Harry handed it over, he saw Draco look taken aback and then nod as if in acceptance. When their eyes met, Draco looked like he was awaiting an answer from him.
Like he had asked something.
Did he expect Harry to sneak in?
Harry's mind went to the Invisibility Cloak, which lay neatly folded in the wardrobe at Grimmauld.
Himmelman cast a Prior Incantato and a hovering spoon appeared. He nodded approvingly, undid the spell and pocketed Draco's wand. "Come with me."
Draco obeyed.
Harry quietly followed them.
Talking to Draco now was a bad idea because the things he wanted to ask might suggest he had a conflict of interest.
Don't you, Junior Auror Potter?
REGARDLESS, They could not speak privately anymore, and fuck knows what he'd miss if he nipped off to get the cloak.
The hallway narrowed and conversations between unfamiliar faces hushed as they passed.
Harry was used to experiencing this with their eyes on him.
He had expected to be more comfortable in the periphery but he wasn't, this wasn't right. He felt like debris burnt up in the tail of a comet, streaking past beside the point.
Himmelman took Draco to Interrogation Room ᚱ1, which was the biggest one. Harry joined as if he was supposed to.
He'd only had part of his interrogation training but he knew that the Auror department had to come across like a unified front, to wear down any suspect's confidence.
This meant they weren't likely to kick him out, especially not with both MACUSA and the Head of another department watching.
Himmelman made a point to look over at Harry for a long moment but Harry stoically ignored him and crossed his arms, his attention fixed on Draco.
The blonde had taken the far seat and the smile he restrained on his mouth danced in the shadows of his eyes.
Himmelman released a small sigh through his nose and turned to Draco too, who shifted his attention to him with exaggerated interest.
"They will be here for you shortly." Himmelman stated.
Draco nodded.
Before the man could start his next sentence, Harry asked: "You mentioned Invigoration Draughts, do you want anything else?" He tried to convey with his gaze that this was a great time to ask for a lawyer.
Draco smiled. "My preferred representation has… withdrawn, has she not?"
Why was he being so casual about Hermione leaving?
Harry struggled to sound neutral when he said "Yes. There are alternatives though…"
Ask for Fenâdé, he thought to him with all his might, hoping Residue allowed Draco to read it from his eyes somehow.
Draco nodded as if taking note of a simple instruction. He did not otherwise respond.
"There are two Healers present." Himmelman stated. "One of them has asked to assess you before you give your statement. Do you agree?"
"Healer Prince?" Draco asked.
Himmelman shook his head. "She is unavailable. Neither of these Healers have met you. This part—"
"Then I politely refuse." Draco stated. "Thank you sir." His smile looked less genuine. "If Auror Potter can't be in the room," he interrupted himself to breathe, "Will he see and hear me… whilst I give my statement?"
Himmelman briskly nodded.
Draco nodded too, then looked at Harry with a small encouraging smile. "You won't mind staying for that, will you?"
The flutter behind Harry's navel went mad. "No, that's fine." He said, trying not to speak too quickly. He briskly nodded and left the room, grateful to his instincts for getting him out of there before things got really awkward.
The insufferable butterflies wouldn't stop though and they doused him with guilt. Why couldn't they just disappear?
They made him feel awkward and out of place and he nearly bumped into a Healer walking by. The lime green robes were clearly visible, how had he not registered that he'd stepped right in their path?
He had dislodged from the world somehow, gone out of step compared to everyone else and he felt uncomfortably off-beat. In a bid to get out of the way in the most general sense, he nearly bumped into Quiesko.
"Hey, Potter!" He said pleasantly. "We're setting up in ᚱ2, wanna join? I'm getting drinks."
Harry looked into the room in question and saw people take seats so they faced the wall behind which Draco was positioned. Joining them would provide the best possible view of Draco giving his 'statement'.
"Yeah," He said resignedly, hoping Quiesko wouldn't be a fucking knob today.
How had Harry not expected this to be a big deal?
And to think it could have been prevented if he hadn't had his Cupboard Moment the other day… Draco would have given his statement then and yeah, he would have been called in for further clarification, but it wouldn't be as much of an Event.
Now, everyone Harry saw was too animated with an abrupt edge to their every move, infused with a bright kind of tension, a feverishness.
It was infectious.
He flexed his fingers as the itch on the back of his hand flared up.
I must not tell
He was about to step into the room, some faces already turned to him in polite enquiry, when - "Auror Potter."
Harry turned to find Himmelman activate the runes in the doorway to interrogation room ᚱ1. Draco could no longer hear or see what happened outside.
"Monitoring log?" Himmelman demanded.
Harry handed it to him just when the crack! of a house elf could be heard, probably McLaggen's.
"You were present when I told the charge you couldn't be in the room." Himmelman stated.
"Wasn't that during the interrogation sir?" Harry asked as if he was unaware of any wrongdoing.
Himmelman sighed. "Who taught your interrogation training?" He clicked the FieldScroll open and began to read.
"Auror Hughes, sir."
Himmelman nodded. "I will speak to her. For your information, Auror Potter: you do not enter an interrogation room unless explicitly invited." He peered up and fixed his gaze into Harry's. "By the investigating Auror."
Harry managed to keep his face in check. He did not want to be sent out of the department until Draco was able to come with him. "Understood sir. Who is interrogating him anyway?"
"We do not yet know who is taking his statement…" Himmelman sighed through his nose. "But MACUSA consider him a suspect." His focus returned to the monitoring log in his hand. "The 29th, why did he cast so many wards?"
Harry only dimly remembered passing out in exhaustion before waking up to a note that said which wards Draco had cast… Before falling asleep again, this time with an arm around his waist.
Draco might be asked about that night.
A cold sweat broke out on Harry's back. "I wanted him to," He hoped he sounded casual enough. "Will you be taking his statement then sir?"
"Unknown." Himmelman's attention had left the conversation. He clicked the FieldScroll shut and marched into the Agora.
The arches that separated it from the corridor usually provided a magically blurred view. The charms had been taken down though and Harry could see Gawain Robards stand just inside his office door. He was speaking to a man Harry hadn't seen before: He was slim, wore his mousy brown hair in a loose ponytail and he had a horseshoe moustache. There was a slowed ease to his movements that starkly contrasted with everything about Robards, who looked stiff and agitated.
His relief when Himmelman interrupted them was palpable, even from this distance.
"Hey man," Quiesko said from behind Harry. "I got you a tea, you coming?"
"Who is that?" Harry indicated the man talking to Robards.
"That right there is Atticus Meyers, President of MACUSA." Quiesko said with amused incredulity. "I'm sure he'd love to meet you."
"I'm okay thanks," Harry had shaken enough important hands for a lifetime so he turned away, hoping he hadn't been spotted.
Over Quiesko's shoulder he saw a surveying charm on the wall beside the door, allowing a direct view of Draco.
Though people were milling about in front of it, he could tell the spell had been well cast. The view was so clear it looked like there was no wall there at all, just an angular oval hole with a blueish sheen outlining its clean edges.
Harry had been impressed with Kerry's execution of it, about a week ago. When she'd cast it on Draco's bathroom door.
When Draco had been in the bath.
Harry's only thoughts at the time had been about what Johnny and Draco could have been saying in there.
He hadn't had any reservations about Draco's privacy.
His conscience thrashed around wildly between the butterflies and Harry wished he could vanish the entire zoo inside of him.
"How's Dr-the charge?" He asked with all the eloquence of a potato.
"An elf just offered him a drink," Quiesko said thoughtfully. "Is that normal? MACUSA doesn't employ elves."
"I didn't know we did," Harry confusedly tried to look through the handful of people crowding the wall, but to no avail. Their ongoing murmur had blocked any conversation from inside too, so he'd had no idea that anything had happened.
A telltale Crack! sounded from inside though.
"The only elves I've seen around here were with people who came in," Harry added as he made his way into ᚱ2, trying to get a better view.
Harry managed to get through a dozen casual introductions as he tried to secure a good spot in the room. Everyone here was American and if the accents wouldn't have given it away, their response to him would have. None of them knew who he was. Someone did ask him 'aren't you that guy?' and Harry had said 'no, I'm Harry,' and that had been that.
He had managed to steer himself through the flurry though so now he leaned his bottom against the table, which offered him a direct view of the surveying charm.
Draco was seated in the same chair as before, a wooden affair with its back against the wall. Whichever Auror would be sent in would enter from the left, and judging from the positioning of the other furniture, they would not block Harry's view.
To Harry's relief, there were three angular vials of Invigoration Draught on the table.
It was odd though, to know he wouldn't be able to touch it from here. It looked like he could stretch his arm out and move it, knock over those vials and that fancy cup and saucer he hadn't seen before.
Draco looked alright though — in the sense that he looked well, Harry hastened to add in his mind. The butterflies continued undeterred as his attention was drawn to Draco's demeanour. He showed none of the stiffness that had become so usual as of late. He just sat there, waiting, as if this was Potions class and Snape hadn't yet entered the room.
If the table would have been at Draco's other side, he might even drum his nails on it.
"Any idea who is going to talk to him?" Harry asked the room in general.
Quiesko shook his head beside him.
"Meyers wants one of us, Robards wants one of you." Said a man from behind them. He had introduced himself not two minutes ago but his name had got lost in the flurry.
"Right, thanks." Harry said over his shoulder and then inhaled deeply, hoping to stifle his nerves.
Over the past months, Harry had caught snippets of conversations comparing interrogation techniques. He hadn't yet learned enough to discern whether the differences he'd heard about were a matter of individual preference. If they weren't, Draco might be in for a nasty surprise.
Harry himself wouldn't be asked, that much was certain, and he hadn't seen any British Aurors here today apart from Himmelman.
Himmelman was a senior Auror, wouldn't he know if it would be him? It would probably be an American…
They had come from a five hour time difference at least, so it was truly fuck o'clock over there. That was probably why their energy felt so feverish.
Then again, one of theirs had died. It made sense that they were eager to take the lead.
It wouldn't be Tristan, would it? Harry hadn't seen him around yet but that didn't say much.
His attention fixed on Draco again, who calmly watched the door. Would he be tired already? Would this be over if he passed out?
It was a good thing there were Healers present, they would likely be needed.
Then Draco's focus visibly sharpened. The door opened ahead of him and for the briefest moment, fear appeared on his face.
All the murmur surrounding Harry ceased when he realised Gawain Robards himself had entered. The door shut behind him of its own accord.
"Draco Malfoy." Robards said with imposing steadiness, his natural authority unimpeded by his obvious exhaustion.
"Head Auror Robards." Said Draco with an undertone of sceptical amusement. It seemed forced and Harry tightened his grip on the tea Quiesko had given him. He had a bad feeling about this.
Robards inclined his head forwards at an angle in a calculated nod. "I will be taking your statement."
