Chapter 5

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly and pushed back his chair.

'Coffee.'

His tired brain refocused on its most pressing need and dragged his exhausted body into the kitchen. Resting a hip on the bench as the coffee brewed, he crossed his arms, hugging his ribs tightly. He knew it was just a trick of exhaustion and worry, but he felt colder, like the warmth that Draco brought to his life was fading away.

Rousing himself when the machine finished, he walked back across the open space between the kitchen and his study nook. He liked having the space to practice his martial arts without having to go to The Kiln. The polished hardwood floors weren't as easy on the joints as the spring floors, but they were considerably easier to keep clean. The open space was soothing, the scattered brick pillars lending a stable feeling to the room. He stood, looking at the large pin board he had transfigured from a broken pencil and stuck to the wall.

Ron had gone above and beyond for him, managing to get a self-updating copy of the Thomas case file. Together the three of them had gone over every single piece of parchment and photograph until exhaustion had forced his friends home to get some sleep. But Harry couldn't rest. He knew that he wasn't going to solve the crime in one night, but that didn't ease his feverish need to find the answer. Ron and Hermione, bless them, had taken his statement of Draco's innocence as gospel, and were equally determined to find the real perpetrator. His assurance that Draco had been with him the night of the murder was met with supportive nods and offers of help, as well as a pleasant lack of disgusted noises or scowling from Ron about it being Malfoy.

Harry sipped his coffee, barely noticing he had forgotten to sweeten it. Gazing blankly at the board, he forced his wandering brain to think, rather than panic about what Draco might be suffering in the custody of the Aurors. Ron was going to check on him, and would report back if anything untoward was happening. He refused to consider what he would do if Draco wasn't being cared for properly.

'One problem at a time.'

'Releasing the vow won't be enough', he mused as the coffee began its work. 'They'd keep after him, even if he's cleared with Veritaserum. The evidence is substantial, but it's also circumstantial. The problem is it doesn't look circumstantial with him unable to speak freely because of the vow. And even then, unless we can point them in the right direction they'll refuse to look further.'

Closing his eyes and tilting his head back until he faced the ceiling, he rocked slightly in place as he allowed his mind to drift. 'He isn't his father, but the societal hatred for anyone from that family is going to make this harder than ever. No, anything less than finding the real murderer, before rescuing Draco will just be asking for trouble later on.'

He rubbed his eyes and sighed, rolling his shoulders to work out some of the stiffness. 'I doubt we'll have much time to find the answers before Draco's trial. If he's sentenced it'll be nearly impossible to get the case reviewed.'

He sighed, and daydreamed wistfully of just breaking Draco out and disappearing together, never to be heard from again.

'Maybe Canada. Canada was supposed to be nice, wasn't it?'

His lip curled in a half smile as he pictured Draco's girly shrieks if he met a moose.

Focus restored, Harry took the pictures of the crime scene off the board and leaned over them with a magnifying charm, ready to begin again.

Draco sat up blearily as the lights in his cell brightened suddenly. They never turned off, but they had been dimmed a little so he could sleep. He turned towards the door and tried to keep his face neutral when he saw who had decided to pay him a visit.

Ron Weasley sneered at him, then turned to the Auror who had let him in and slipped him a small vial of iridescent blue potion.

Draco thought it was a narcotic that had been popular in the party scene lately. He didn't react when the door shut behind Weasley, locking them in together. When the barely felt buzz of the monitoring charms disappeared, Draco raised an eyebrow and sighed in resignation. "I assume you'll be keeping to the same rules as the others then; nothing visible? Alright. Get on with it."

He was mildly surprised at his lack of audible bitterness.

Weasley's gaze sharpened on him. "They've hurt you?"

Draco sneered but refused to answer.

Raising his wand, Weasley quickly cast a few diagnostic charms, hissing under his breath as the results wrote themselves on a conjured parchment.

"Cracked ribs, pain curse exposure, dehydration, bruised organs… Oh, Harry is going to be pissed." He looked back to Draco.

"Do you remember who did this to you? He'll tear them to pieces for laying a finger on you."

His expression was grim.

Snorting softly, Draco lay back down and closed his eyes.

"Of course I remember who they were. Well, some of them anyway. But nothing will happen to them, from Harry or anyone else. We both know Harry isn't coming back to the Wizarding world, even to keep me out of prison."

Ron snarled, surprising Draco into opening his eyes to look at him.

"You prat! Do you really think Harry would let the man he loves go to prison for something he didn't do? He's turning over the daily running of The Kiln to one of his staff so he can devote himself to finding the evidence to free you!"

Draco blinked.

"What? He wouldn't do that. He loves that place and doesn't trust any of his staff enough to manage his baby." He paused, assimilating the rest of that statement.

"Wait, 'the man he loves'?" He stumbled to a stop, staring at the blushing redhead.

"Um, yeah, he loves you. When he tells you, just act surprised, alright? If he finds out that I told you before he gets to, he'll hit me again."

Weasley winced at the memory, then shook his head.

"Anyway, he sent me to make sure you're ok, and to tell you that he's working on your case. Hermione and I are doing what we can as well, although we can't be seen helping in case it's a deliberate plot.

"Harry's really going to war on this." Ron closed his eyes for a moment and shivered. "I'm telling you, if you're being set up I don't envy the bastard who's trying. Harry's going to bring everything he has against them to protect you. And if the courts don't do enough, I wouldn't be surprised if he deals with it personally.

"It wouldn't be the first time he went 'hunting' when someone hurt a person he considers as being under his protection."

He shook his head sharply, and adopted a more business-like tone.

"But the main thing right now is to not give up, and do what you can to remember anyone who causes you problems. I'll come again when I can."

He turned and put his hand on the door, then paused and looked back.

"Did you want me to pass on a message for you?"

Blinking hard against tears, Draco swallowed. "Tell him – tell him I'm sorry I missed dinner."

Ron nodded and smiled slightly. "I'll tell him."

He turned back to the door and knocked to be let out, adopting a pleased and slightly malicious smirk as he left, muttering something to the guard about feeling better for having a go at the poncy git. The guards laughter was cut off as the door shut and the monitoring spells snapped back on.

Draco closed his eyes again and tried to slow his breathing to ease the ache in his ribs. But nothing could dull the elation running through him. 'He loves me, and he's going to save me. He isn't going to let me go.'

Harry snapped awake on the knock at the door. Glancing at the wall clock, he was surprised to realise it was nearly nine in the morning. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, and carefully detaching a clinging piece of parchment from his face, he ran his hand through his hair and shuffling across the room while yawning hard enough to crack his jaw and make his eyes water. He tried to pull his muzzy thoughts into some semblance of order.

He staggered back with a curse as he walked into one of the pillars that he had been admiring last night, casting an irritable glare at the offending brick work.

Leaning forward to peer into the peephole, and cursing again as he bumped his head in the exact same spot, he grumpily contemplated if he should get an award of some kind for not killing whoever was on the other side of the door. Impatiently throwing it open, he waved Hermione in with a negligent flick of his hand.

She eyed his dishevelled and slightly smelly state with resignation. "You fell asleep at your desk didn't you," she stated, and clucked disapprovingly at his sheepish look. "I knew you would, so I took the day off work. Go have a shower while I cook you breakfast." Levelling a stern look at him when he opened his mouth to object, she stalked into the kitchen.

Smiling fondly at her back, Harry yawned again and drifted into his ensuite. She would make his normal breakfast, he knew. She understood. She always had.

Stripping off and stepping into the shower, he groaned as the hot water hit his shoulders. He hadn't realised how tense he was, or how sore his back was from sleeping slumped over his desk.

Leaning against the wall he let the water run over and pummel his weary body.

His lips curved into a slight smile as he remembered the time Draco had decided Harry needed pampering, and had proceeded to scrub and massage every centimetre of skin he could get his hands on. Of course this led to Harry taking him against the shower wall while they both half drowned in the spray. Draco had complained bitterly about getting water in his ears and demanded that Harry make him the secret recipe hot chocolate, that Harry had gotten him addicted to, as restitution.

Twitching when the wards tingled to let him know someone else had arrived, he relaxed when he heard Ron's voice. Scrubbing quickly with the faintly scented body wash and shampoo that Draco had decided should stay, since he was over so often and Harry's muggle products were so inferior, he stepped out of the shower and snatched up a fluffy oversized towel. Rubbing himself down, he wrapped it around his waist and went in search of the most comfortable clothes he owned.

He emerged from his room refreshed and focused, sporting bare feet, track pants and a Metallica shirt that Draco had slept in and hadn't washed yet.

Harry pinned his desperate gaze on Ron.

"Did you see him? Is he alright? Have they hurt him? What did he look like? What did he say? Did he send a message?"

His frantic flurry of questions came to a sharp stop when Ron simply placed his hand over Harry's mouth and gave him a patient look.

"Yes I saw him," Ron began quietly. "I bribed the guard to let me 'have some fun' with him." He grimaced in disgust. "I wasn't the first. He's alright, but he's been worked over a bit."

He handed Harry the parchment with the diagnostic results and waited quietly while Harry read them.

Harry skimmed the parchment quickly and loosed a low, bone rattling growl. The sound was dangerous and animalistic, and quite possibly the most terrifying thing Ron had ever heard in his entire life. The shivers rolled down his spine and it took everything he had not to touch his wand for reassurance. He remembered the last time that he had heard Harry make a sound like that. Someone had attacked one of the street kids that Harry volunteered with, putting her in hospital. The girl had been beaten and raped, and Harry had disappeared for two days, returning with scraped knuckles and a grim smile.

Ron had no doubt that someone was going to die for Draco's injuries.

He cleared his throat. "He asked me to pass on a message."

He was gratified when Harry's eyes snapped to his, eliminating the immediate danger.

He smiled gently. "He says he's sorry he missed dinner."

Harry closed his eyes and choked slightly. Typical of Draco to focus on that, trying to make Harry feel better the only way he could. He may be vain, arrogant, self-centred, and thoroughly spoiled by living it up on Daddy's money, but he would do anything he could for the people he cared about.

Hugging himself, he turned his head to his shoulder and focused on the faint scent that clung to the shirt. He supposed that finding comfort from the scent of his lover's unwashed clothing was pathetic, and possibly a little gross, but right now he didn't care. He needed it.

He didn't realise tears were leaking from his eyes until he felt both Ron and Hermione wrap their arms around him, holding him tightly and stroking his back and hair. Resting against them, he drew on their solidity to keep himself grounded. No matter what, he knew they would support him. The ache in his heart eased slightly, and he felt his body starting to relax.

Ron's stomach rumbled.

Laughing, they separated, sat at the table and dug into the mountain of food that Hermione had prepared. She had thoughtfully brought along some bacon and sausages for Ron, who was never satisfied even with the large amount of food that Harry prepared; apparently because of a lack of grease. According to Ron, Harry's diet was proof of some underlying lack of British pride, and was therefore unhealthy. Their debate about it had been ongoing for years, and didn't show any signs of being resolved in the near future. Hermione's rolled eyes and determined silence merely made them argue louder and longer.

What she didn't know was that whoever made her crack and step in won a bottle of wine and a box of Honeyduke's finest.

Harry scowled and leaned back in his favourite chair with an irritable huff. His friends glanced up at him sympathetically. "I don't understand it," he muttered. "Why Draco? There's no doubt the witnesses think they saw him entering and leaving Thomas's cottage regularly for the past month, and they all assumed he was her lover. A reasonable assumption, if you overlook the fact that he's gay, and very publicly so. But then suddenly she ends up dead? What changed? Is it even related? Maybe there's another motive that isn't related to the Draco impersonator." He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he stared at the wall.

Hermione tapped her pen on her notepad as she pondered. Harry was grateful she hadn't insisted on using quills and parchment. Notepads and pens were just tidier. "I think we need to break it down further than that, and assume the impersonator is the first key. We know it wasn't Draco. Even if he wasn't gay, the visits coincide too closely to his visits with you. The times aren't exact, but they are enough that he wouldn't have an alibi for any of the times he was seen there. We'll address the fact that someone must have been watching him pretty closely to pull that off, but later. So how did they see him? The only ways I know of to alter a person's appearance like that is with Polyjuice, or some seriously advanced glamours. Possibly Transfiguration, but again, that's prohibitively complicated. No, my money would be on Polyjuice. But that then begs the question of how they got his hair?"

Harry wracked his brains. He could feel something tickling the back of his mind, but couldn't quite grasp it. "He's almost as fussily clean as I am. Someone would have to get very close to him to get the hair, and if they were using it that often for a month, then they must have had a decent stock of it, or regular access to him or the manor."

He rubbed his scar, trying to pull the teasing idea into the light. It resisted.

"I think that ties in with why he was being watched," Ron suggested. "If we assume Polyjuice – and I agree it's the most likely – then I think the timing of the visits will point us towards who was providing the hairs." He sipped his water, frowning into space as he thought aloud.

"Pass me the transcript of the interview with Dean and Mrs Thomas?" Harry asked. He peered at it, skimming through the usual platitudes and declarations about what a good girl Magda was. He started when he found what had been niggling at him. "Here! Dean says that he didn't know she was dating Draco, but was only mildly surprised that she'd pursued him. He says she had been "slightly obsessed" with him since he had saved her in school. Apparently when the Death Eaters were running Hogwarts, he deliberately distracted some of the more enthusiastic Slytherins and gave her a chance to get away unharmed. She fixated on him after that, but always seemed to be content to "worship from afar"."

Ron was blinking dumbly when Harry glanced up.

Harry stared. "What?"

"He really did that? I thought he was too much of a coward to do anything that might put himself at risk for so little personal benefit." He winced, realising how his words could be interpreted by the emotional and stressed martial arts expert sitting within arm's reach.

Fortunately Harry was too immersed in the transcript to pay much attention. "Hmm? Yeah, he did it as often as he could get away with. He did what he had to do, but he tried to protect the younger years as much as possible."

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, stunned into silence. He glanced up irritably. "What now? Why are you staring at me?"

They glanced at each other, employing the silent communication that irritated Harry so much. Ron cleared his throat. "We're just surprised, is all. You've always refused to talk about the war. Every time we tried to bring it up, you said that living it was enough, you didn't see why you should relive it by talking it over." He faltered at the flat look directed at him.

"I don't talk, I just listen to him when he needs to. You had each other to talk to, but Draco had no one." Harry tried to keep the snarl out of his voice, but only partially succeeded. He was tired and irritable anyway; he didn't see why they thought now was a good time to reopen an old and volatile argument. "Despite appearances, Draco isn't a coward."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "We're sorry Harry, we didn't mean it like that. We worry about you; we just want you to get some help. We can see the scars the war left you with, but you refuse to talk about it. You just go on hiding and suffering from the nightmares and paranoia and obsessive behaviour alone, and won't let us help! We hoped maybe if you wouldn't talk to us about it, you might have talked to him."

She bit her lip as Harry transferred his flat look to her.

"No. Now if we could maybe focus on getting Draco out of custody before he gets cursed into the Janus Thickley ward at St Mungo's? Unless you'd like to chat about something else irrelevant, that is? No? Good."

Harry resolutely turned back to the file.

"Now, I think someone needs to go talk to Dean again, get more information on this crush she had."