A/N: Hi there, readers! I'd like to first thank everyone who's read this story and followed/favourited it. It means a lot to me. It would mean just as much if those of you who are enjoying the story would leave a bit of feedback for me, as it really does offer motivation. I obviously don't make any money off of this, so my 'payment' comes from the reviews you all leave :). I didn't get any for chapter 2, so I'm hoping this chapter will bring about some reviews.
There's one small Hufflepuff bash somewhere in this chapter, but I hope no one will take it personally. I don't discriminate against any of the Houses, but we all know that Draco is a hardcore Slytherin and that the HP characters have been known for a bit of House-stereotyping.
In what could've been an entire day━ or maybe two, as far as Draco knew━ nobody had come to see him or interrogate him after Longbottom left. He'd been laying on his cot, bored out of his mind, humming to himself when the large metal door unlatched loudly and swung open, admitting Harry. Draco sat up in his cot, tossing the scratchy blanket off of him at the sight of the man.
"Harry," he breathed in relief. In a rush, he began the apology he'd had all planned out. "I'm so sorry, I tried to tell you what was happening, but I couldn't get enough control."
"It's okay, really," Harry said as he leaned against the stone wall. "Well, it's not okay, but…" Harry shook his head, giving up on trying to clarify. "I saw your memory." He pulled a glass phial from the pocket of his robes and tossed it to Draco.
"This is what's missing," he whispered as he inspected the contents of the bottle. Draco patted the pockets of his robes before remembering he'd had his wand confiscated. "I can't put it back."
Harry took his own wand from his pocket and sat down beside Draco. He took the phial back from Draco and uncorked it, then lifted it from the bottle with his wand. When the memory entered his head, Draco felt as though he were an apple with a worm crawling to its centre, a very uncomfortable thing; However, when the memory sank back into place where once there had been a black patch, he felt whole again.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Harry's hand came up to rest on Draco's shoulder, causing him to start at the contact.
"I understand why you couldn't tell me," Harry said. "I'm just glad that you didn't decide to go through with your mother's plans." There was a pause, in which Harry seemed to be struggling to speak whatever thoughts were going through his head. Apparently he decided it was best to be forward and said, "I just don't get why you would agree to something like this in the first place. It doesn't make sense to me. We may have been enemies in school, but I didn't think you hated me enough to agree to do something so… so fucked up.
"She wanted you to marry me," he continued, looking down at his wand, which was twisting in his fingers. "To spend a large portion of your life trying to catch me and convince me to be with you, just so you could kill me in the end. That's the most ridiculous, long-term murder scheme I've ever heard of, aside from what Voldemort was trying to do to me." Draco flinched against the sound of that name, but Harry pressed on regardless, not seeming to care. "When I first started watching your memory I was disgusted with you. I thought that all the trust I'd put in you, that I'd started caring about you, even if just a little, was for nothing. I felt betrayed.
"But then I saw your face when your mother finally said she wanted you to kill me in the end." Harry looked up at Draco, then, and the relief in his gaze was unmistakable. "That's when I knew that you weren't just some mindless automaton, doing whatever your parents asked of you. That's when I knew that I'd been right to trust you and care about you━ just a bit." Harry exhaled and shook his head. "But I need to know why. Why agree to a plan that could've taken years to fulfill, Draco?"
It took Draco a long while to figure out what to say to all of that. He'd expected Harry to shout at him when he'd discovered what Draco had been planning to do━ what Mother was planning to do━ and tell him he never wanted to see him again. Well, in reality, Draco hadn't expected to ever get the chance to hear Harry tell him those things; he'd assumed Harry would be so appalled by him that he wouldn't bother coming tell him anything at all. That Harry was here, telling him that he trusted and cared for him, was beyond imaginable. And now Harry wanted to know why he'd done as much as he had, even if he was glad Draco hadn't gone through with things completely. How was he supposed to explain?
Thankfully, Harry waited through Draco's silence for whatever was to come next. He had a countenance of absolute patience, which enabled Draco to think through his reply thoroughly, without feeling he had to rush and risk making a fool of himself.
"I don't know," was the shitty reply he came up with. So much for not making a fool of myself. "I can't tell you why I agreed to it because I don't know. I didn't think I had another choice. When Mother came to me with her plan I felt sick, and even weeks after I'd started working here, up until the day I told her I couldn't do it, I continued to feel that way. For over a month I debated whether or not I could do it, wishing that there was a way out. I didn't see one until yesterday, and that didn't end very well." Draco frowned and shook his head. "I'm probably going to Azkaban. I deserve as much. But if going to Azkaban keeps you alive, I'll do it."
"You're not going to Azkaban, Draco. Kingsley wants me to set you up with housing under the Fidelius Charm. I'll be your secret keeper." Harry offered Draco a thin smile that only looked slightly forced. "I guess I can see where you're coming from. If I had your parents I'd be scared to disobey them, too. I'll be honest, though. It's going to take a while for me to trust you again."
A large grin spread across Draco's face because that meant that Harry was willing to let him build that trust. It was better than Draco could've hoped for. He was being given a second chance, and this time he could take it without fear or guilt. This time, he would keep his motives pure, and nobody could tell him otherwise. Except, perhaps, Harry.
"That's more than I could've expected," said Draco.
"You can thank me later. I have to get going, though," Harry said as he stood up. "I've got your housing to figure out, and works already piling up with you gone."
"I can't go back to work? Am I fired?"
"No, you're not fired. But in order to keep you safe from your parents, Kingsley wants you to stay here. You can come back to work as soon as your mum and dad have been caught." Draco's brows turned downward at that news.
"What's going to happen to them once they've been arrested?"
"They'll go through the trial process. They're probably both going to prison." Draco nodded and swallowed. He knew they wouldn't be incarcerated for very long and hoped that whatever housing the Ministry was setting him up with would truly keep his parents from finding him. "We're doing what we can to keep you protected. You'll be okay."
"Thank you so much, Harry."
"I thought I told you to do that later," Harry joked. He grinned, unlocked the door with a few flicks of his wrist and was gone.
It took the rest of the day just to set up housing for Draco. Harry had struggled to find a place that was within close range to the Ministry and his own house, so that if anything were to happen he could be there to help and the Aurors wouldn't have to go far either; being the secret keeper, Harry would have to be available to show the Aurors where to go in the case of an emergency. Couple that task with finding a place which wasn't under the Ministry's Housing Plan for Victims list and could be kept confidential, and Harry had a late work day.
He'd put off all his meeting that day in his search for adequate housing for Draco and was behind schedule. That hardly seemed to matter, though, when Draco was currently in a holding cell, unable to do much of anything. As Harry swept through files on houses that were available, a thought suddenly struck him. Why didn't I think of this before?! he wondered as he recalled the house Sirius had left to him when he'd died. Grimmauld Place was probably in complete disarray, but it wasn't listed in the Ministry's files and it was already under a Fidelius Charm. Ron, Hermione, and he knew where it was, as well as Kingsley, but they didn't need to know that someone was going to be inhabiting it. Can a Fidelius Charm be renewed once people know about the house it's cast on? That thought brought about another couple hours of research.
Even after work Harry had important things to do, which kept him even longer from sleep. Once he'd eaten, showered, and changed into his night clothes, Harry began working on creating a portkey for Draco, which would allow him to get to Harry's house if he was in danger. It had taken Harry a long time just coming up with what he would use to make a portkey; it had to be discreet, easily accessible, and something Draco would be able to keep with him on a daily basis. I could use a button, Harry thought. But then he'd have to sew it onto every outfit he wore, and if he lost it, someone else could find it and… that would be bad.
Harry's house wasn't under Fidelius, and as soon as he'd bought it the Daily Prophet had put a picture of it in their next issue, so it was common knowledge where Harry lived. Even so, his house was under incredibly strict and secure wards, leaving almost no way in for anyone the wards weren't already familiar with and those who came with ill intent. The portkey, however, would allow Draco to transport directly into the sitting room, if he could figure out what to use to make it. That was a privilege Harry didn't want just anyone to have. Even letting Draco have that privilege made Harry a bit dubious, but the Ministry had even stricter wards against any sort of travel, excluding their designated Floo connections. Harry thought back to the time he, Ron, and Hermione had accidentally let Yaxley in on Grimmauld Place's secret and made it unsafe for them. Draco had risked his life to save Harry's. Giving him a way out of a bad situation was the least he could do in return, even if he didn't trust him as much anymore.
"I just need to figure out what to use…" Harry searched his room for something that could be used everyday, that wouldn't be obvious or a hassle to keep on one's person constantly. Picking up a pebble he'd kept from the beach Dobby had died on, Harry winced internally and knew he couldn't part with it. He spotted a comb on his dresser and considered it, only to decide it was a bad idea, too. "That could easily be lost as well," he mumbled to himself.
With one more scout of the bedroom, his eye was caught by a silver ring Ginny had returned to him when they'd broken up. It didn't have much sentimental meaning, since he and Ginny were still on good terms. Really, the ring was just something that sat there being looked over as it collected dust. When Harry did notice it, he would think to himself that he could probably pawn it and get a good sum of money for it, but he never did. It would work perfectly as a portkey, but Harry wondered if it would be weird to give Draco a ring.
He'll just have to deal with it if he doesn't like it, Harry decided as he grabbed the ring. If it'll save his life, I think he can manage to get over it.
Harry didn't end up going to bed that night until nearly three in the morning. It had taken him nearly an hour just to learn the incantations to enable Draco to wear the ring without activating the portkey, and then another to properly use them. After that, Harry had to test it out by leaving his house, Apparating somewhere near where Draco would be staying, and activating it. The first time he tested it, he'd wound up in the back garden. The second time, in the loo standing on the toilet lid. The third time put him in the pantry closet, which was painful; it was only a small cupboard with a low ceiling and Harry had hit his head on it rather hard.
Finally, after several more failed tests, Harry activated the ring and it put him dead centre in the sitting room. He'd shouted with joy, pumping his fist in the air at his success. Maybe it would be a strange gift to give, but after how much effort he'd put into it, he couldn't back out. He even looked forward to giving it to Draco, now that he could say he'd made it himself. Harry went to bed that night feeling incredibly proud of himself.
The following day Harry was instructed to join Kingsley in his office during the lunch hour. He was hoping that the Minister had good news regarding the arrests of the Malfoys, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. Draco was taking a personal day, so he had no idea how he was handling life on his own. He's an adult and can take care of himself, Ron would tell me. I need to stop worrying so much.
"Afternoon, Harry," Kingsley said as Harry walked in and sat down in his usual seat.
"Afternoon," Harry replied in kind. "You wanted to see me?"
"I did. I have good news and bad news. Which would you prefer to hear first?"
"The bad news," Harry said with little hesitation. Kingsley offered a tight-lipped smile in return.
"The bad news is that Draco still has to be involved in the trial process. Due to the nature of the case and his involvement, he'd necessary as not only a witness, but the Wizengamot has informed me that he's required to stand trial himself." Harry felt his jaw tighten at this piece of information.
"Isn't there something you can do? I don't want to press charges against him."
"I only have so much power, Harry. I can't tell the Wizengamot to let him off when he was involved in the plot as well. There's no real chance that he'll end up in Azkaban for this. In fact, I can't imagine he'll get more than community service at the most."
"He didn't do anything illegal, though," Harry said, not really understanding why he felt the need to defend Draco so much, just that he had to. "He asked for a job, he got that job, and he's done nothing to hurt me or anyone else since the war. You know this."
"I do. The fact still stands that he agreed to attempt to murder you. I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't stop him from going on trial. You know just as well as I do that he's done very little wrong, and what he did do wrong he only did by force, but the Wizengamot doesn't know that."
Harry really didn't want to argue, especially because Kingsley agreed with him. It just seemed unfair, and he felt that the only reason the Wizengamot wanted Draco on trial was due to who he was, who he was associated with. With a sigh, Harry let go of most of his irritation. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.
"And the good news?" he asked.
"The good news is that we were able to arrest the Malfoys. They're in holding now and both have been interrogated. Veritaserum was necessary, as neither wanted to talk, but as far as anyone can tell, their stories match up with Draco's memory." Harry wanted to point out that he would've known if the memory had been tampered with, since he'd seen Slughorn's altered memory with Dumbledore, but didn't bother. "The maximum sentence is what they're being tried for, and I don't think the Wizengamot will go easy on them."
"What's the maximum sentence?"
"Ten years, for intent to kill. The fact that you are who you are practically ensures they'll get max."
"So we've got ten years before Narcissa gets out and attempts to harm Draco again," Harry said, mostly to himself.
"My, aren't we optimistic?" Kingsley laughed and shook his head. "He's under very good protection, wherever he is."
"That's true. I just know how bad Bellatrix was when she got out of prison. Her time spent cooped up in a cell didn't seem to lessen her lust for blood."
"Yes, but she was always a bit… strange. I'm not confident she wasn't already mad before she went to Azkaban. Not to mention, Narcissa doesn't seem to be 'blood-thirsty.' Just conniving and money hungry." Harry pursed his lips and had to nod in agreement with that. Narcissa wasn't evil, just misguided. "Anyway, Harry, I'd best let you go. Get something to eat. I'll let you know if anything changes."
"I appreciate that." Harry stood up and left the office, hoping that the Wizengamot would be kind to Draco. He really hadn't done anything wrong. Or at least he came clean before he did.
The house Harry had set up for Draco was an absolute disaster. The wallpaper was peeling all over the place, the ceiling was crumbling in even more spots, there were thick layers of dust over the furniture, and it looked like nobody had stepped foot in the place in years.
Harry had explained that it was safe, that nobody knew he'd be here and that he was working on finding a way to renew the Fidelius Charm on it, but Draco had to wonder if there was anywhere else he could possibly stay. Since his parents had been arrested, could he really not live in their house? Even if he didn't want to, it was in much better condition than Grimmauld Place. But Harry had told him that it wouldn't be safe there, and the Minister's orders were precise. He wanted Draco somewhere that no one but Harry could find. Draco supposed he should be grateful that the Minister cared so much about his wellbeing, but it was difficult to do when he was sitting in a house that looked like this one.
In an effort to tidy the place up, Draco had taken a personal day from work. It would take hours and a lot of magic to get even half of the house looking neat, but he was willing to do it, if this was his only option. He'd just finished deep cleaning the bathroom on the second floor when he turned and caught sight of some movement near the doorway. When he turned around fully, there was nothing there. I swear I… No, it's probably just this house getting to me. It's so dark and dreary. Draco continued cleaning and put the thought of being watched out of his mind. Harry said no one knew he was here, so why would someone else be in the house?
The same thing happened again, however, as he was cleaning the kitchen in the basement. This time, he saw a small cupboard door shut on its own. It had only been open a crack, but Draco knew he had seen a large, yellow eye peering out at him before the door shut.
"I know you're in there!" he shouted as he backed away from the cupboard, wand pointed directly at it. He hadn't been bad in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he hadn't been as good as Harry. He thought he knew enough to hopefully fight off whatever was hiding in the cupboard, though. "Come out, if you know what's good for you." Nothing happened. With shaking hands, Draco stepped closer to the cupboard slowly. "If you show yourself now, I won't hurt you," he lied. Still, nothing happened. He wished he'd learned to cast a Patronus, so he could send for help. Then again, if he did there was no way anyone would recognise his Patronus anyway.
Deciding there was nothing else he could do, Draco stomped across the large room and swung the cupboard door open, summoning bravery from out of nowhere. He was shocked and relieved to find an old, leathery looking house elf cowering inside the cupboard.
"Do not hurt Kreacher!" the elf cried as he clutched his head in fear. "Kreacher was curious! No one has come since Master Potter!" Draco stood in silence, taken aback at the sight of the shivering, terrified elf.
Finally, words seemed to come to him once again. "I won't hurt you," he said, in as calm a voice as he could manage. "I was just surprised. I didn't expect anyone else to be here, either." The elf didn't respond to Draco, even though he'd spoken softly to him. If Mother and Father could see me now, comforting a house elf, he thought with disdain. Though, look where all the rest of their 'training' has got me. Draco decided it might be time to rethink some of the things his parents had taught him. Nothing good had come from all their lengthy instructions on how a Malfoy should behave.
"Listen," Draco began, kneeling down to be at eye level with the elf. "I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to. What did you say your name was?"
"Kreacher," the elf grumbled.
"I'm Draco Malfoy," he replied. He'd thought about offering a hand to shake, but decided that would be going too far. Being nice didn't have to degrade him at the same time. "I'm a… friend of Harry's. That's why I'm living here now."
"Master Harry has given his house away?!" Kreacher uncovered his face and turned to glare at Draco.
"No, he hasn't!" Draco said hastily. "He's letting me stay here. It's for my protection. He still owns the house." Kreacher seemed to calm down, at that.
"Then Kreacher offers you his services," the elf said as he bowed to Draco. What a strange house elf, Draco thought as he watched the rapid mood swings taking place.
"I appreciate that," he said, disregarding the odd behaviour Kreacher was displaying. "I could really use your help cleaning this place up. It's filthy." Draco had half a mind to ask why Kreacher hadn't bothered to keep up on the place, but held his tongue. It might set him off again, and Draco didn't want to deal with that at the moment.
"Kreacher can do this." The elf stood up straight from his bow, and with a twist of his wrist, the entire kitchen was spotless. Draco's eyes widened. He'd never seen a house elf perform such powerful magic all at once. Even the cracks in the ceiling were gone.
"How did you…"
"Kreacher has been with Grimmauld Place for a very long time," Kreacher explained. "Master Draco will learn." Draco watched the elf wobble up the stairs, looking much more frail than he probably was.
Harry could've at least warned me that the house had an elf, Draco complained mentally. I could've avoided that entire scene had he been forthright with the information. I wonder what else he's hiding here. Draco had the sudden urge to explore the house fully, but decided it would go against the effort to build Harry's trust if he did. Harry had specifically told him that only the basement, ground level, first, and second floors were at his access. The rest of the house was off-limits. Draco would be off to a poor start in rebuilding Harry's trust if he went against Harry's wishes on his first day in the house. Or any day, for that matter. I'm sure he'll answer whatever questions I have, and if he doesn't there'll be a good reason for it. Draco desperately wanted Harry to consider him a friend, someone he could trust, but he was beginning to realise that it would involve a lot of unanswered questions.
The rest of Draco's day went smoothly after he found Kreacher. It hadn't taken long at all for the house elf to clean and repair the levels of the house within Draco's access. After that was finished, Kreacher cooked Draco a delicious, filling meal and washed the bed spread for the bedroom Draco had taken as his own. Draco had taken to sitting in the drawing room, where there were several bookshelves loaded with volumes he'd never read before. Some of them were on Dark magic, and he avoided those, but there were others that piqued Draco's interest.
He'd been fully immersed in a book about the Black family history when the fireplace in the room burst to life with green flames. Startled, Draco dropped the book to the floor, only to find Harry's head forming within the flames.
"Oi, Draco, are you there?" Harry asked. Draco quickly went to kneel before the hearth.
"I'm here," he replied, slightly out of breath.
"How are things going for you over there?" Draco narrowed his eyes.
"Fine. You could've told me you have a house elf living here. I was about to cast a blasting curse before I figured out what was following me around the house all day." Harry took on a confused expression.
"But Kreacher doesn't live there anymore. He went to work at Hogwarts, last I knew."
"Well he's here now. I don't know how I would have managed to make this place livable without his help. The place was falling apart, Harry."
"It's the best I could do with such short notice. I can try and find someplace better for you, but it'll take time."
"That won't be necessary." Draco felt guilty for bringing up anything suggesting he wasn't thankful for Harry's efforts at keeping him safe. "It's… better, now that Kreacher fixed the place up."
"Well good, I'm glad to hear it." Harry paused, then said, "Do you think you'll be coming back to work tomorrow?"
"I'll be there. I just wanted to take a day to work on the house, but that's finished already."
"Excellent. Do you have enough food? I tried to stock as much as I could before I had to get back to work."
"More than enough. Kreacher's kept me fed. How was work today?"
"It would've been a lot better if you were here. Paperwork is piling up around me. I'm glad you're coming back tomorrow, because I can't put off these meetings I've scheduled anymore."
"Sorry," Draco said with a smirk. "I didn't realise my presence would be missed so greatly."
"Well it is," Harry replied shortly, not looking Draco in the eyes. "I have something for you. Would it be okay if I popped over for a minute? I won't be long."
"Sure, I was just reading anyway. Some company would be nice." Harry nodded and the Floo disconnected momentarily. When it flared again Harry's whole body appeared in the hearth, not just his head. "Welcome to my humble abode," Draco said with an overly grand sweeping gesture of his arms.
Laughing, Harry said, "Why thank you, good sir."
Draco motioned for Harry to sit in one of the armchairs and did so himself. "So, you've got something for me?"
"I do," Harry replied with a sheepish smile. "I made this for you." From his pocket he pulled a silver ring and tossed it to Draco.
"You made me a ring?" Draco inspected the silver band. There was a small triangle engraved in it, but Draco wasn't sure what it signified. "Er… thanks, but I think it's a bit early to be asking for my hand in marriage."
"Ha-ha," Harry deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. "It's a portkey. While you're wearing it, if you twist it so that the triangle is facing up it'll transport you to the sitting room at my house." Draco felt his face adjust to the gratitude and confusion he felt.
"I— thank you... You made this? For me?"
"Took me forever, but yeah, I did. This way, if anything happens here and you need an quick escape, you've got a way out." Harry watched as Draco tried to put the ring on his index finger and failed. Draco tried them on all his fingers and it didn't fit any of them.
"It's too small."
"Transfigure it," Harry said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Right…" Draco took his wand and transfigured the ring to fit perfectly on his index finger. He wasn't usually the type to wear rings, or any jewelry for that matter, but it had come from Harry and it was a physical piece of evidence that he cared what happened to Draco. "I don't have any way to pay you back for this."
"Don't bother. I didn't do it expecting something in return. Just… don't hesitate to use it if anything does happen."
"Deal. Though, I was raised with the standard that if one is given a gift, they must repay the favor in some way." Harry scoffed.
"You really don't need to. If you can manage not to agree to any more plans to kill me, that'll make up for it." Even though Harry was joking, Draco felt a pang of remorse twist in his chest.
"I'm really sorry, Harry." Harry sighed.
"Don't be. Nothing happened, in the end, so you've got nothing to be sorry for. But… Well, Kingsley gave me some bad news today. That's part of why I wanted to speak to you."
"What's going on? Haven't they arrested my parents yet?" A note of panic had snuck into Draco's tone as his brain fumbled to figure out what would cause Harry to look so worried.
"They've been arrested, yes, but the Wizengamot wants to put you on trial. They also want you to participate in your parents' trials as a witness. They'll probably want to use the memory you showed me. I'm surprised you haven't received a letter— right, they don't know where to send your post." Harry sighed heavily. "Is it alright if I have your mail sent to my house? I can just bring it to work with me and give it to you then."
"That's fine…" Draco's mind was on the fact that he'd be standing trial. Against his own parents. And then standing trial for his own crimes, whatever they may be. "What are they trying me for?" Harry averted his gaze, something Draco was beginning to associate with his lack of desire to be honest.
"I don't know, exactly. They're trying your parents for intent to kill. I doubt they'd try you for the same thing, because you didn't come up with the plan, but I can't say for sure."
"Wonderful." That single word was loaded to the brim with sarcasm.
"It'll be alright. I'm going to be a witness at your trial, and you can take veritaserum to prove that you didn't want to go through with killing me. Kingsley said that you'll probably be given community service at the most." Harry's look of dedication was enough to convince Draco that he didn't have much to fear when it came to his own trial, at least.
"You'd defend me in court?"
"Of course I would," Harry said, his voice full of bewilderment. "You're the reason this plan failed in the first place. I… I suppose I probably owe you a life debt."
"I actually have to save your life in order for you to owe me a life debt." Draco shook his head. "I didn't."
"Yes, you did. If you hadn't decided not to follow your parents' orders, I would have died. One of you would've killed me."
"Then it's null. I can't owe you a life debt if I was going to take your life in the first place." "You're ridiculous."
"I could easily say the same about you."
Just as Harry opened his mouth to retort, Kreacher popped into the drawing room holding a tray laden with more food than Draco could possibly eat on his own.
"Masters," he greeted the two wizards. "Kreacher has prepared dinner." The elf rested the tray on the coffee table between Harry and Draco, bowed, and then left with another loud crack.
"I guess he wants you to stay for dinner," Draco said as he looked over all the food with hungry eyes. There was a dish of some sort of casserole, peas pudding, a loaf of bread, steamed vegetables, and treacle tart.
"Apparently so," Harry said. "You don't mind?" Draco quelled the desire to tell Harry how lonely he'd felt since being holed up in his cell and simply nodded his head. "This reminds me of dinner at Mrs. Weasley's."
"Why's that? My hair's not turning red, is it?" Draco said in mock panic, running a hand through his hair. Harry snickered and shook his head.
"There's just a lot of food is all." He began filling up a plate, taking a scoop of each dish and cutting himself a large piece of treacle tart.
The two ate in silence, for the most part, sometimes commenting on how good the food tasted. It was the best meal Draco had had since he'd moved out of the manor. When they'd had to give up their house elves because of Granger's stupid law, his father had learned to cook, but wasn't very good at it. Draco remembered, then, that he didn't have the money to pay Kreacher for his services, and was breaking that very law just by having him around.
"Kreacher can't stay here," Draco said, suddenly, once he'd swallowed the bite of broccoli he'd been chewing.
"Why's that?" Harry asked, his mouth full of treacle tart.
"I can't pay him. I've already committed multiple crimes today by having him help me clean and cook for me. If anyone catches wind of it I'll have more than community service to face when I go on trial."
"First of all, the only way someone would catch wind of it is if you or I told other people," Harry explained as he swallowed his food. "Secondly, you're not breaking any laws. Since Hermione passed that law I've been paying Kreacher, even when he left to work at Hogwarts. Speaking of which, I'd like to know why he didn't stay there." Harry frowned momentarily before continuing. "Finally, since this house belongs to me and you're only staying here, it would be me breaking the law, not you. That is, if I wasn't paying Kreacher. No one is breaking any laws."
The Wizengamot doesn't think so, Draco thought with contempt. He had to admit that what he'd been doing was wrong in nature, but he hadn't actually harmed Harry. Draco didn't feel it was necessary to go to court, but if he were to refrain from doing so he'd be considered a fugitive of the law, and that was far worse than having to do community service.
"Your parents will probably get ten years," Harry said, bringing Draco out of his mental pity party. "Kingsley thinks they'll be tried for the maximum sentence."
"Ten years…" Draco wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was glad they wouldn't be able to hurt Harry any longer, or control him to the point that his life was miserable. On the other, they were his parents. Even if they were a bit fucked up, he loved them. They were the only real family he had.
"Yeah. Hopefully that teaches them not to do this sort of thing again."
"Let's hope." Draco took a bite of his own piece of treacle tart, which was much smaller than Harry's, and did his best to put the thought out of his mind.
It had taken the Ministry until the day before Draco's trial to send him a letter announcing it. Or, rather, send Harry the letter. He was frazzled and unprepared as the hour of his hearing came nearer. Hardly any work had been done, though he'd tried to focus his brain enough to get things done. He'd only sorted through half of his usual sized stack of papers before the lunch hour, and his hearing was directly after that.
Though Harry was just as busy as Draco, if not more so, he'd still made an effort to soothe Draco's fears. He had prepared himself as Draco's witness, even if Draco hadn't prepared himself. The Wizengamot was, apparently, trying him for intent to kill, and no matter how many times Harry told him there was no way he'd get prison time for his crime, he couldn't shake the feeling that his freedom was limited. He'd blamed that feeling on his anxiety about the situation, but it was still there.
When the lunch hour was near its close, Draco and Harry walked together to courtroom seven. It was short walk, much to Draco's dismay, thanks to the lift that took them nearly to the doors of the room. In the time it took them to get to the courtroom, Draco's paranoia had built to a peak. He stood outside of the room and took several deep breaths while Harry stood patiently beside him. When Draco felt a hand on his shoulder, as he was gathering was the only way Harry knew how to comfort another person, he looked up.
"It's okay, Draco," Harry said stoically. "You'll be fine. This will be over with before you know it."
"Not exactly," Draco countered. "I'll still have to stand witness for my parents' trials."
"Even so, you'll get through it. And I'll be here for you."
Before Draco could really think about what he was doing, he was embracing Harry tightly. To think that not even two months ago they'd been enemies and now Harry was offering him comfort was something Draco could hardly comprehend. But he was glad for it. He didn't have anyone else to turn to in times of need, and although Harry may not consider Draco a close friend, he was treating him like a human being, like he genuinely gave a shit whether Draco was alright or not. It took Harry a moment to return the hug, but Draco couldn't care. At least he did.
"We'd better get in there," Harry said as he pulled away, only a short moment after he'd had his arms around Draco. It would have to be enough, however.
"Right." Draco put on his bravest face, taking inspiration from the Gryffindor accompanying him, and entered the courtroom.
"There you are!" A woman with sleek black hair tied back in a severe looking bun approached Draco, a look of impatience making her face less pretty than it could be, Draco imagined.
"I'm sorry?" Draco asked.
"You're nearly late! Get over to the accused's seat this instant, Malfoy, the hearing's about to begin." She turned and looked at Harry. "And you, go over to the witness' booth. We almost just locked you both out. You're lucky we waited as long as we did."
"Erm, my apologie—"
"Get a move on!" The rude woman pointed them both in their respective directions, glaring after them, if the burning sensation on the back of Draco's scalp meant anything.
Draco took the intimidating seat in the centre of the large, circular room and waited patiently for the Minister to get to his designated chair as well. The Wizengamot stood and waited for their cue to sit back down, and before Draco knew it, the hearing had begun. Looking up, he saw the rude woman sitting down stiffly in her chair among the other members of the Wizengamot. He hoped that their encounter just now didn't sway her even further against him, though the way she'd reacted to him being almost late gave him little hope in that regard.
"Good afternoon, all," Minister Shacklebolt began. "We've called Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy to the stand today due to charges against him, namely intent to kill." The Minister went over the details of the charges, what had supposedly transpired between his parents. "I'd like to call Narcissa Druella Malfoy and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy to the stand at this time."
Draco felt his heart come to a halt as he watched his parents being led into the courtroom by a team of Aurors. Both his mother and father were in heavy chains and had wands pointed menacingly at their backs. Neither of them acknowledged Draco as they were brought to the centre of the room and two chairs appeared for them, these ones with shackles. Nobody said we'd have our trials on the same day, Draco thought in a panic. What am I supposed to do? I thought they'd have separate trials! Looking over to where Harry sat and seeing the expression of alarm he wore, Draco knew he wasn't alone in his lack of information; however, there was nothing he could do but wait to hear what the Minister said next.
"The three of you are being charged with the same crime; intent to kill, as previously stated. As you should know by now, the moment you enter the courtroom during a hearing, you are under oath. During previous questioning, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you both stated that you had ordered your son to entrap Harry James Potter in a marriage between himself and your son, with the intent to end his life once all links to his wealth had been acquired and signed over to your son. You stated this under the effects of the potion Veritaserum. How do you defend yourselves?"
Narcissa, with an expression of pride perfected long ago, rose her chin and met the Minister's eyes. "Of course we can't defend ourselves," was the unexpected, simple response she gave. No, Draco hadn't thought she would try to lie her way out of this, especially since the Veritaserum had made that impossible, but he hadn't expected her to admit guilt this early on. It was startling, to say the least.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Shacklebolt asked, regarding Draco's father.
"My answer is the same," Lucius responded, not bothering to meet the Minister's gaze.
"Very well then," Shacklebolt said. "So you both agree that you designed this scheme to kill Harry and forced your son to go through with it?"
"We do not," Narcissa stated firmly.
"Please explain."
"While we did invent the plan, we did not force Draco to be involved. He chose to do so of his own free will, though he was less than happy to do so."
"Then you deny that Mr. Malfoy used the Unforgivable Curse, the Imperius Curse, to force your son to continue abiding by you after he changed his mind?"
"I do not."
"Then there was an element of force involved, which implies that he never had a choice to begin with." Shacklebolt turned to the Wizengamot and asked, "A vote? How many of you feel that, with the threat of being cursed, the younger Malfoy had a choice in his decision?" Only a few hands raised from the crowd seated behind the Minister. "And how many of you feel that he had no choice?" The majority of their hands went up, leaving Draco with a sense of hope. Maybe I will manage to get a simple punishment after all. "That's settled, then." Shacklebolt turned around and let his eyes rest on Draco, then. "Mr. Malfoy, how did you feel when your mother asked you to get close to Harry, to win his trust, to marry him, to have him write you into his will as heir, and to kill him?"
Draco cleared his throat and said honestly, "I felt terrible, sir. Sick, more like."
"And yet you agreed to it anyway. You procured a job that would allow you to interact with Mr. Potter on a near daily basis. You managed to build trust between yourself and him, knowing what you would have to do. Can you please explain to the court why this is?" And just like that, Draco's hope was dashed. He closed his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts. This is it. This is when I finally turn against my mother and father…
When he opened them again, he looked to Harry for strength, appreciating the small smile he was offered. "I didn't feel I had a choice," Draco began, facing the Minister. "Since I was very young I was told that, as a pureblood, my most important duty was to respect my parents, never to disobey them, never to betray them. That's why, when I was sixteen, I got the Dark Mark, even though I knew it would cause others pain, that I was taking on a permanent tattoo which only symbolised evil, hatred, and genocide. My parents demanded it of me, because the Dark Lord demanded it of them. This is why I did all of the things that I've already stood trial for previously.
"Had I gone against their demands then, it would have meant the death of my family, myself included. During this time, and afterward, I watched my father torture people. I was forced to do the same. I witnessed my mother stand by and watch with no sympathy for those whose lives were taken in her home. Again, I was forced to do the same. I watched a madman turn my parents into strangers and I was made to keep my mouth shut, or else I would lose my life right along with the two people I thought loved me most." And all over the purity of one's blood.
From beside him he heard his mother sniff, which probably meant she was seething with rage. He heard an odd ringing sound begin in his head as he realised the meaning of what he was saying and just how much he felt it was true. It was disorienting, and he felt as though he might vomit, but he pressed on anyway.
"I was ordered to kill the saviour of the wizarding world, someone who…" Draco's words caught in his throat. He licked his lips, swallowed, and tried again. "Someone who I owe my freedom to, and someone I cared a great deal about, though he didn't know at the time." He still doesn't know. "And yet, that lingering fear of losing my life held fast. I don't know if I have some sort of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or if I'm just a coward, but I knew that if I went against my parents wishes I could lose everything I had. It took me more than a month to make up my mind completely about what I was going to do, whether or not I would go through with my mother's plan. During that month I made myself sick with the anxiety I felt. My options were lose my parents, my home, everything I had, when most of my life had been given away after the war, or… kill." Draco pushed past the lump that was forming in his throat again. "I've never killed anyone," he whispered. "I didn't want to kill Harry. I don't want to kill anyone." His voice hitched as he began to cry. He hadn't known just how upset he'd still been over this whole ordeal, but now the emotions were coming back to him full-force; his fear of his parents' reaction to his desire to turn against their wishes; his pain from feeling he had no options; his sadness that his parents were who they were; his utter lack of control over his own life.
"That's quite alright, Draco," the Minister said in a soft voice.
Draco stared down at his hands, which were clenched into fists in his lap, and watched his tears drip onto the dark fabric of his robes. In front of a roomful of people was the last place Draco wished to expose his innermost feelings, but at this point he had no ability to prevent the tears from falling.
"A vote?" Kingsley asked. "Who is willing to hear Mr. Potter's testimony?" A pause. "Go on, Mr. Potter. Whenever you're ready." Draco kept his eyes glued on his white knuckles and willed his brain to stop jumbling around so he could at least hear what Harry had to say.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said. "I recently watched a memory that belonged to Draco, alongside Minister Shacklebolt. This memory showed the conversation that took place between Mrs. Malfoy and Draco when she asked him to follow her step-by-step process to take my money and my life…"
Harry went on to explain how he felt as he watched Draco sit there and listen to his mother as though he had no brain of his own, something that was no less painful to hear now than it had been the first time. But then, as Harry described seeing Draco's countenance change when he heard he'd have to kill Harry, Draco found himself crying for a different reason altogether; Harry understood. Harry could tell by a single expression on Draco's face just how much turmoil he'd been in. Of course, Draco had already heard Harry explain all of this, but in less words. Not to mention, at the time that Harry had told him, he'd just been freed of his father's Imperius Curse. He wouldn't hesitate to put the blame on his lack of response on the fact that his brain was still trying to reorient itself.
"It was clear to me that Draco never wanted to be a part of his mother's plot. I don't think he ever meant any harm, even with the things he did in an effort to follow the guidelines he'd been given."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Shacklebolt said. "Do you have anything else to to say on the matter?"
"No, sir," Harry replied respectfully.
"Alright, then. Does anyone in the Wizengamot have questions for the younger Malfoy or Mr. Potter?" A silence greeted the Minister's question. "Very well. Who in the Wizengamot considers Draco Lucius Malfoy guilty of having the intent to kill Harry James Potter, beyond a shadow of a doubt?" Draco refused to look up at this point. "And who believes him innocent?" Draco clenched his eyes shut. "That settles that, then. Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have been deemed innocent of your charges."
Draco's head shot up, then, and he looked at the Minister's face. He was smiling down at Draco. When he surveyed the rest of the Wizengamot, he found faces filled with pity, which would normally have irked him, but he was more than grateful for it at that moment.
"Does anyone feel that more testimony is required from the younger Malfoy?" No one raised their hands. "And does anyone object to his dismissal?" Again, the Wizengamot kept their hands lowered. "You've been dismissed, Mr. Malfoy," the Minister said with a mirthful twinkle in his eyes that could rival that of Dumbledore's.
The Wizengamot had requested that Harry stay for the remainder of the Malfoy trial, though he couldn't see why. He hadn't been asked to provide any further testimony after Draco left. Perhaps this is Kingsley's way of allowing me to tell Draco about the trial when it's through, Harry had wondered.
It was a lengthy trial and in the end both Lucius and Narcissa had been sentenced to nine years in Azkaban, five years probation with a magical limit of fourth year spells on their wands, and six months community service. Harry hadn't thought to ask Kingsley beforehand if there would be other punishments for their crimes aside from prison, but he was glad to see that the Wizengamot was throwing the book at the pair of Malfoys. They deserved it, and this time they didn't have the funds to stay out of trouble, not that Harry thought it would work this time around anyway. They'd expended that card from their hands already.
As Harry entered his department after the trial his eyes fell on Draco. He was seated at his desk with his head buried in the folds of his arms, which were resting on his desk. Harry walked over to the forlorn wizard and placed a hand on his shoulder, as was becoming more regular lately. It seemed a strange way of comforting another person, but he wasn't sure how else to handle Draco. With Ron and Hermione he could easily show his concern for them by hugging them and it wouldn't be strange or uncomfortable. Not that the hug Draco gave me before the trial was all that bad, he admitted. It was quite nice, actually…
"Hey," he said softly. "You alright?" A muffled noise came from beneath Draco's arms. "The hearing's over. Why don't you come to my office and we can talk about it?" Draco lifted his head up and shook it.
"No thank you," he monotoned. "We're behind on work." Harry had to chuckle, despite the nature of the situation.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but there's no one else here. The work day is over, Draco. If you'd prefer, we can go to your house. Or mine, whichever would make you more comfortable."
"I think I should just go home."
"I don't know if you should be alone right now, Draco." Harry could understand wanting to be alone with one's thoughts after something intense happened, but he also knew from the look on Draco's face and the way he'd cried at the trial that he was in a bad state. As much as Harry liked to disagree with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys about his 'hero-complex,' he didn't think it would be right to leave Draco to sulk by himself. "Come on, I'll make you dinner and we can talk. Or not talk. Or, if you're not hungry, I have some delicious tea that you might like. Or coffee, if you're in the mood for that. Or some firewhiskey, if you think that might help. It's gotten me through some rather tough times and—"
"Alright," Draco interrupted, standing up. Harry had to hide his grin by pinching his lips together. "Alright, just… stop offering me things. You've done enough for me as it is." He paused for a moment, then said, "Though some firewhiskey would be nice."
"Then firewhiskey it is."
To Draco's surprise, the firewhiskey was hitting him a bit harder than it normally would. He typically prided himself on his ability to hold his liquor, but tonight it wasn't as easy to do. He'd only had three glasses of firewhiskey and was working on his fourth, but that was all it had taken to open him up.
"I just feel like… I can't believe all of this has happened," Draco was saying, his words slightly slurred. "I didn't think Mother would go to such lengths to stay rich, you know?"
"I don't know," Harry replied with a laugh. "I don't know your mother very well, so in a way I'm surprised and not."
"Yeah, well apparently I didn't know her very well, either," Draco grumbled. "I'm happy she's in prison. Is that bad?"
"No, she wanted you to kill me. I don't think you should feel bad about it. It would be weird if you were upset that she got arrested. At least, I think so."
"Maybe… you're probably right." Draco leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. "My parents are in Azkaban."
"I know," Harry chuckled. "I saw them get taken away by the Aurors."
"Obviously. I just felt like saying it."
"Did it help?"
"No," Draco said as he lifted his head and grinned. "Not at all."
There was a pause in the conversation that Draco probably would've considered awkward had he been more sober. The two wizards simply stared at each other, with nothing to say, as far as Draco was aware. He didn't think Harry had anything particular on his mind, and when he finally did speak Draco was slightly embarrassed.
"You said something at your trial that I didn't expect," Harry stated plainly. Draco waited for him to say more, but he didn't.
"And what was that?" Draco could hardly recall all that he'd said, it had been so spur-of-the-moment. Even if he were sober he didn't think he'd have an easy time conjuring up the full memory.
"You said that you cared a great deal about me," Harry explained. "But we didn't even talk, back then, so I'm confused as to how you could care about me when we'd had no connection other than a rivalry that mainly happened in school." Did I say that? Shite… I think I did. "So… care to tell me about that?" There didn't seem to be a good way around the situation and Draco realised that he would have to tell Harry eventually. At least I've got a bit of liquid courage in me, he figured.
"That's a long story." If he didn't at least try to avoid answering he didn't feel he could call himself a proper Slytherin. Though lately I've been acting like quite the Hufflepuff.
"It's Friday, so we have as long as you need. I'd like to know."
"I've actually cared about you for a long time." Draco admitted, then took another sip of his firewhiskey for strength. That was about as much as he was willing to say, at the moment, about his true feelings for Harry, even with alcohol assisting him. "I did a bang-up job of showing that, for the longest time, because I didn't know that I was gay and I didn't know why I was so angry that you didn't want to be my friend."
"So you liked me." Of course he can put it so simply.
"Indeed I did," Draco sighed.
"And you still do." Draco desperately wanted to deny this, but he had the suspicion that Harry wouldn't buy it.
"I do," he said, looking away from Harry's inquiring eyes.
"I had a feeling that you might. After the way you reacted during your hearing and seeing your mother's memory I sort of knew." Harry nudged Draco's knee with his own, causing him to look back up at Harry. "I'm not upset that you like me, Draco. It doesn't make me uncomfortable."
"Why ask if you already knew?" Draco had to wonder. "You saw my memory, which I should've known would tell you more than I wanted to, but I didn't feel right altering it to remove parts of what my mother said. If you knew that I like you and you don't care, why bother asking?"
"I wanted to hear you say it," Harry said with a shrug. "It's one thing to be able to assume, but I wouldn't know for sure until you told me."
"You don't feel the same, though, do you?" Nothing good can come from this question, Draco thought a moment after asking. Obviously he doesn't feel the same; he just found out only two weeks ago that you planned to kill him. He doesn't trust you, so he can't like you.
"I'm starting to, but I still don't know enough about you to make that judgement. I like who you are, as far as I can tell. I enjoy being around you. I think you're funny, smart, and attractive."
It amazed Draco that Harry could be so open about his feelings. Then again, he'd never had parents who forced him from a young age to keep his emotions hidden. You idiot, he didn't have parents at all, he chided himself, thankful that he hadn't said that out loud. The other thing that staggered Draco was that Harry had basically told him he was willing to give Draco a chance to prove himself worthy of his affections. This was the chance that Draco had hoped for, for so long, but had thought he'd never get, and he told Harry as much.
"As much as I hoped I would hear you say those things, I definitely didn't think I would."
"Well why not? I guess, when I first saw your parents' file requesting financial aid, I did dread seeing you again, but that was mainly because I thought you were still the prat you used to be."
"Gee, thanks," Draco said sarcastically.
"It's true," Harry shrugged again. "But since I've gotten to know you a bit, and since I've seen that you haven't changed much from before you exposed your parents' intentions, I've grown to appreciate you as a person."
"Thank Circ for small miracles," he mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing important," Draco hastily said. He felt heat rising to his cheeks and turned his face away, pretending to be more interested in the boring wallpaper of Harry's sitting room.
"I have to say, you're adorable when you're flustered." Just when I'd thought I couldn't be more embarrassed Harry has to say something like that.
"I should probably go home," Draco said as he stood up from the sofa.
"Did I make things weird?" Harry sounded as though he really couldn't tell.
"No, but if you keep talking like that I'm going to think you like me more than you do." Draco turned to face Harry, feeling a strange mix of emotions, the prominent one being gawkiness.
"What, are friends not allowed to compliment each other?" Harry asked, innocently enough.
"Do you call your Weasel adorable when he's flustered?" Even as he tried to stifle it, Draco was beginning to feel defensive. Harry seemed to be appalled by his question, though, which broke Draco's concentration on how he was feeling as he giggled at the sight of Harry's twisted features.
"God, no! Ron's not cute at the best of times." Harry shivered, as though he'd been tainted by the thought of finding Weasley attractive. "Maybe you're right, though. I probably shouldn't say things like that, even if they are true."
"I am right, and you shouldn't." No matter how much I want to hear you say them. Although it was nice to be told that he was adorable, especially by Harry, it didn't mean as much knowing that Harry meant it in a platonic way. Well, no, that's a lie, Draco thought. It does mean as much, and that's the issue. "Anyway… I should go."
"Alright, well, have a good night then." Harry smiled at Draco and pointed him in the direction of the Floo powder jar near the fireplace.
"Same to you," Draco said before he left Harry's sitting room for his own.
I probably was being a bit of a berk, Harry considered as he ate breakfast the following morning. Knowing how he feels about me, I should watch my tongue with things like that, unless I've decided I want something more with Draco.
But would something more really be all that bad? he couldn't refrain from asking himself. Then he shook his head and took another bite of toast. I can't know for sure until I know him better. He's going through too much right now, anyway, to be involving himself in a relationship. Then again, that's not really up to me, is it?
Harry sighed. He'd been doing a lot of thinking that morning, and the night before after Draco had gone home. From what he'd learned of Draco so far, he didn't think he would mind being in a relationship with the bloke. Still, he wanted to figure out who Draco was better, especially now that his parents weren't controlling his behaviour. No, Draco hadn't changed much in the couple of weeks since Harry had seen the very telling memory and all was disclosed between them, but that didn't mean he really knew who Draco was. For all Harry knew, Draco was still a raging blood-purist, and that was something he refused to tolerate in a partner, no matter how enchanting they were in other aspects. One of his best friends had suffered through school because of Draco's name calling, and if any part of Draco still felt he could guiltlessly refer to Hermione as a Mudblood Harry wanted little to do with him in a romantic respect. Working with Draco was something he would do regardless, even if he did hold beliefs that Harry thought were abhorrent, but he had a choice when it came to who he involved himself with in more intimate relationships.
Even with all of that in mind, Harry continued to entertain thoughts of what it would be like to go on a date with Draco, to dance in a Muggle club beneath the strobe lights— if Draco would even enter such an establishment— to eat out together and talk about everything and nothing, cook meals for each other, read books together in a comfortable silence, snuggle in the warmth of a cosy bed with the fireplace crackling in the background…
I'm too fucking lonely for my own good, Harry decided as he finished off his eggs. This is getting out of hand. He had an entire weekend left before he had work to busy his mind and he refused to spend it all pining after some nonexistent relationship with someone he didn't know if he wanted to be with.
In an effort to ease his loneliness and stop thinking so much about him, Harry chose to Floo Ron and Hermione. He tossed in the green powder and waited for one of them to poke their heads through the connection.
"You really need to work on your timing, mate," Ron said as soon as his head appeared in the flames. His hair was swiped back from his face and he seemed to be sweating a lot.
"Er… is this a bad time?" Harry asked, not wanting to think about what it was his friend had been doing when he'd answered the Floo. Ron sighed at length, a long-suffering expression on his freckled mug.
"Not anymore," he grumbled. "What do you want?" Harry snorted at Ron's shortness.
"Well pardon me," he said in his best impression of Umbridge, a voice he often found himself using when he was pretending to be offended. "I was unaware that I needed a reason to talk to my best friend."
"You don't, I guess, but we were just in the middle of—"
"I really, really don't want to know," Harry said, cutting Ron off. "Really. Don't finish that sentence."
"I was just going to say we were—"
"Don't tell me!"
"Moving our furniture around! Merlin, Harry, like I would really tell you if Hermione and I were shagging!" Harry laughed, loving the feeling of taking the piss out of his best friend and getting away with it. "You're a knob, you know that?"
"Takes one to know one," Harry countered. "What have you two got planned for this weekend?"
Regaining his composure, Ron replied, "Nothing, really. Want to come over? I'm warning you, though, Hermione might put you to work. She's been reading about 'feng shui' lately, and now she's got a bug up her arse about rearranging the furniture so it promotes health and happiness." Ron rolled his eyes dramatically and wiped some sweat from his brow. "Not sure why I have to move the wardrobe so that it's precisely one meter from the wall sconce in order to be happy, but far be it from me to point that out…"
"On second thought…" Harry said, and smirked at the look of despair that took over Ron's countenance. "Only joking. Be there in a second." Harry closed the connection and tossed in yet another handful of powder, glad to have his mind off of— things he didn't want to think about.
Similar to Harry's internal struggle was the one Draco was having. No matter how much he tried not to think about Harry he couldn't seem to get him off his mind. Had he really meant what he'd said the night before, that he found Draco to be intelligent, funny, and attractive? Does it even matter? Draco tried to debate with himself. He doesn't think of me the same way I think of him, and though he says he's starting to he'll probably change his mind as soon as he starts to see who I really am.
Fuck, I can't even say I know who I am, these days. I'm not sure I ever really knew. That thought brought Draco to one that ran a bit deeper than his long-lasting crush on Harry: what sort of man he was, and what sort of man he wanted to be. For the majority of Draco's life, from the time he was able to absorb his parents' views until… well, until very recently, Draco had known himself to be the spitting image of the people who raised him. That is to say, a pureblood, a blood-purist, a member of the highest ranks of the social elites, just to name a few things. He hadn't really wanted to be a Death Eater, though he'd pretended to in the hopes he could convince himself it was the right thing to be. In the end he couldn't even manage that.
What did he truly believe? Do I really agree with all I was told? That someone's blood could possibly determine their worth? Granger's one of the brightest witches of our time. Not even I can deny that. How could she be, if having muggle parents is so detrimental to who someone is? Draco thought about the war, about the Dark Lord's methods of purifying the wizarding world, how he was so steadfast in his belief that purebloods were the ultimate beings that he attempted to wipe the muggleborns out entirely. How can I keep believing these things, the same things he valued, and still call myself a good person? Draco felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears as guilt he'd held back for years forced its way to the surface. I've done so much wrong in my life. I've hurt so many people, tortured people… How could I? How could—
As the sins of his past worked their way to the forefront of his mind, Draco was unable to produce a clear thought. He curled himself into foetal position on his bed, letting his tea grow cold, as he experienced an identity crisis that put the one he'd had in sixth year to shame. It was a very long time before his tears stopped flowing, with all the grieving he had left to do. In the span of nearly two years he'd lost everything he thought he'd keep forever. Gone was his family's wealth and status, gone were his parents, and gone was the man Draco had once thought he was. Far from his mind were thoughts of whether Harry could ever learn to love him. First, he had to figure out how to love himself, and as his body shook with sobs he'd pent up for more than four years he considered that he may not ever be able to.
A/N#2: I'm sorry that this chapter ended so sadly, but it's sort of necessary for character development. I promise it'll get better with the next installment. Thanks in advance to those who review.